Page 80 of Tight End

I want to tell him the truth, that Jack is smothering the shit out of me and that he won’t leave my damn side unless I lock myself in the bathroom.

But I know I’m lucky. He’s a great guy. He wants a future with me. He gets me.

Yeah, I’m lucky.

Seems like I’ve been saying that to myself a lot lately.

“He had hockey practice and I just needed to get out of my apartment. Feeling like the walls are closing in on me, you know?”

He nods, a chill licking the back of my neck when his ice blue eyes sweep over the length of my body.

“It’s good to see you. Been a minute.”

I nod. “Yeah. Long week. Sofia calls me every day to check in, says all the kids miss having me around. I figured I’d stop by and say hi.” I nod at him. “How about you? Been busy?”

Brixton spins his keys around his finger. “Can’t complain. The label isn’t gonna fire me. And I think I can do damage control with the band to make sure they don’t kick my ass out.”

“Couldn’t blame them if they did.” I wink at him. “You’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

“Damn. That’s the best you can do?” Brixton chuckles. “I’m disappointed. I figured you’d have a lot more colorful shit to say about me.”

We laugh and then a weird silence falls over us.

“So, um,” I say. “Are you coming or going?”

“Going,” he says, pointing to a black truck parked a few up from mine. “Headed to my sister-in-law Allie’s house to see her and my niece, Julianna.”

“Oh.” I feel my shoulders slump because I don’t want him to go. He’s one of the main reasons why I’m here. I needed to see him, needed to torture myself a little bit even though I know there’s no future for us. No other guy has ever affected me the way Brixton has, and much as I hate to even think it, I’m addicted to the way he makes me feel.

It’s a dangerous addiction, and one I desperately need to break.

Because all it takes is one little taste to fall right down the rabbit hole again.

And I know that every time I tumble into that hole, it might be the last time and I won’t make it out.

“You wanna come with me?”

He snaps his fingers when I don’t answer. “Hello?”

It’s then that I snap to attention. He just asked me a question and I missed it because I was so focused on his gorgeously stubbled face.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

Where are we going?

“Come on, I’ll drive.” He looks at me on the crutches. “You need any help?”

“Nah, I’ve got it.”

He shakes his head at me. “Isn’t that, like, illegal? Driving like that? If you hit someone, they could sue the fuck outta you.”

“How do you know so much about legal shit?” I laugh and hoist myself up on the padded tops of the crutches.

Brixton clicks the alarm on the truck and then runs over to the passenger side to open my door. He takes the crutches and sets them in the backseat. I grab onto the top of the truck and swing myself into the passenger seat. My body screams for Brixton’s hands to help guide me into the truck but my brain says no fucking way. I’m not helpless, and I want his hands on me for other, much more carnal reasons.

“Davis was a lawyer,” he says. “And he loved to talk about his job. I listened.” Brixton shrugs, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

The door closes and my eyes follow him as he walks around the front of the truck.

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