Page 99 of Tight End

I shake it off. “Fuck that. Don’t coddle me. Just tell me.”

He sighs and brings a hand to the back of his head. “Brixton suffered penetrating cardiac trauma from the gunshots. He’s in surgery now, but…” He trails off for a second and averts his eyes. “There’s a lot of damage to his heart. It’s not looking good.”

“No,” I say. “Don’t you tell me that. He can’t…don’t let him…”

My mind spins like an out-of-control top.

“You can’t let him die. Please. He has to be okay.”

“Look, Sam. You need to understand the severity here. One of the bullets had a clean exit. No damage. But the other one really did a number on him. Tore through his chest and injured the right ventricle and surrounding vessels. I’m not a heart surgeon, but I know the ones working on him are the best in the state. They’re going to do everything they can to keep him alive. But you need to prepare yourself. The damage is extensive and his body is very weak right now from blood loss.”

“And what about the shooter? Does anyone know any fucking thing about the shooter?” My voice rises and people look over at me.

Chase shakes his head. “Security is going through footage on the data feeds from the garage surveillance, but the shooter’s face was covered. Windows tinted. License plate covered.The cops aren’t confident they can find the person, or people, who did this.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” I yell.

“I know, but they can only do so much with what they have. They’re working hard, though. Nobody wants to see this go unsolved. There will be a lot of pressure to find the person, or people, responsible.”

Allie sobs loudly and I tighten my arm around her. “So we’re just supposed to sit around and wait?”

Chase nods. “And pray. Very freaking hard.”

Déjà vu washesover me as I hunch over the top of the pew in the hospital chapel. My mind trips back to the night two years earlier when I was praying for my family and Chase.

How the hell am I here again?

And what will the outcome be this time?

I breathe in the spicy scent of incense.

I ball my hands into fists and pound them on the shiny wood.

Will I be able to tell him how I feel about him?

Or will I have missed my chance because I was too afraid of what might have happened if I was honest with him?

So many questions.

And no answers at all.

The door to the chapel creaks open. I whip my head around, half-panicked about seeing Chase in his white coat.

But it isn’t Chase standing in the doorway.

It’s Allie.

She drops into the pew next to me. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

I nod. “Of course.”

She swipes at the tears on her cheeks. “It’s so wrong that he’s here right now. He’s a great guy. So few people get to see all the good in him. I know that’s his fault,” she says with a small smile. “But he opened up to you. In the whole time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him smile so big or laugh so hard as he did with you yesterday. I mean, before Martin showed up.”

I shake my head. “How could he say those things to Brixton? And worse, how could he mean them?”

Allie tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Their relationship was always rocky. They pretty much stayed out of each other’s ways. Barely spoke. It had gotten worse as Brixton got older and started the band from what Davis told me. B went kind of rogue for a while, attracting negative attention, getting into trouble. It was all a cry for help, according to Davis. But Martin didn’t know how to deal with it. He never really ‘got’ Brixton. And he definitely never got over losing his wife.”

She leans forward onto the pew, resting her head on her arms. “Both of them are so lost. And they’re hurting badly, especially after losing Davis. They need each other now more than ever.”

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