CHAPTER 8 Liam Bradley
Forty-Six Minutes
I’m back on another plane a mere seven hours after I got off the last one. I sat in the first-class lounge with Madden and Kennedy and gave them the rundown of my visit, and they’re two rows behind me as I stare out the window while the rest of the passengers board.
The visit went well. Incredibly well, actually.
While I’m only six years younger than Tanner, one never knows what the future holds. He’s got a wife and two stepkids. Maybe he’ll want to hang it up to be with them, or maybe he won’t. Maybe his ACL isn’t the same as it used to be, and it’ll slow him down. Maybe it’s stronger than ever.
There’s just no telling, and rather than sit back with the same imposter syndrome I had in Pittsburgh or feel like I’m second best, I’m leaving San Diego feeling like I just haven’t had my chance yet.
I just need to get out there and show a new team what the fuck I’m made of. I’m made of determination and grit, and I will show the whole fucking world that I deserve to be on the starting line every Sunday.
I met with Tanner today, and he made me feel like I was already part of the team. The head coach, Brian Dell, did, too, as did the general manager. I had my physical with the team doctor and even did a quick training session with Nick, the head trainer.
The general manager showed me around the facility and the practice fields, and I got a strong sense that this was going to be my next home—not just because the phone hasn’t been ringing off the hook with other offers, but because I think this is where I want to be.
It helped that I was leaving behind a windy forty-two this morning and landed in a sunny sixty-eight, and next I’ll be landing in Vegas, where it’s eighty right now.
I’m not sure when I became one of those old men who’s interested in what the weather is in each city I’m visiting in a single day, but here we are.
“At this time, please make sure all portable electronic devices are in airplane mode.”
I pull my phone out to switch it into airplane mode when I see I have a new text from the contact I saved just last night.
My chest tightens with something unfamiliar, something warm and unexpected, and I race to open the message.
Penny: Hey, it’s Penny Calloway. Sorry to bother you and I know we’ll both be in Vegas but in case I don’t see you there, I was just wondering…
is there any chance I can still take you up on your offer to stay with you for a little while?
It would be me and my two kids. I know it’s a big ask, but I just need to get out of this house. Hope your visit in San Diego went well.
It’s like I can feel her pain physically coming through the message, and my first and only thought is what the fuck did her motherfucking sack of shit husband do now?
I’ll fucking kill him.
My fist clenches involuntarily, and rage seems to color my vision as I read back her message.
She sent it forty-six minutes ago. For forty-six minutes, she’s been vulnerably waiting for my reply.
If I could give her the fucking world, I would. She deserves it.
Me: Yes, absolutely. I’ll have the guest rooms ready for you by Sunday night when we get back. Are your kids safe now?
Her reply is incoming, as noted by the little bubbles that appear while she types.
As I wait, I flip over to my thread with Dolores.
Me: Hey, I need a huge favor. Change of plans.
Penny and her two kids will be staying with me starting Sunday night.
She’ll stay in the guest room. Make it cozy and relaxing if you can.
Let’s put up two loft beds in the office, twins are fine.
Fill it with kid stuff, two boys, ages 5 and 7.
Dinosaurs, sharks, Lego sets. Use my black card.
Move my office furniture into the weight room for now.
I know you’ll ask what I’ll do about Ivy, and we’ll tackle that next. Maybe she can stay at Ev’s instead.
I hit send and see Penny’s reply came in, so I flip back to my conversation with her.
Penny: Yes, they’re safe. He mainly pawns them off on a nanny. He’s fine with them. He’s just a trash human to me, and I can’t take it anymore.
I settle back into my chair and finally flip to airplane mode as the plane takes off toward Vegas. I turn on the Wi-Fi so I can continue messaging her.
Me: What did he do?
Penny: He baited me into a reaction and recorded me.
Me: Without your consent?
Penny: Correct. He also cheated on me without my consent, so there’s that.
Me: What did he say that baited you?
Penny: It doesn’t matter.
Me: Tell me.
Penny: Essentially he said he cheated on me because I’m lazy.
Me: What a waste of space that guy is.
Penny: Tell me about it.
Me: You’re anything but lazy, Penny.
Penny: It was the first time I sat down all day yesterday, and he happened to walk in when I was relaxing.
He said I left trash on the table, but it was B’s Happy Meal box that he cried over when I threw it out.
All this after running the kids around from the moment school ended until the moment I finally got S down after 9:00.
Me: I hope you told him off.
Penny: I wanted to throat punch him.
Me: That can be arranged.
Penny: I appreciate it, but he’s not worth it.
I spot a new text from Dolores, so I flip over to read it.
Dolores: On it! This place could do with a nice woman and some kids running around. [smiley face]
I roll my eyes. That’s not what this is. I still don’t even want children. I’m just doing this as a favor to my sister’s friend.
You know, my sister’s friend who fucks like an animal and made me feel things I don’t know that I’ve ever felt before.
A frisson of excitement darts up my spine.
She’s going to be in my home. She’s going to be staying with me. She might even find her way to my bed again.
I hope I get to see her this weekend. I hope she winds up in my bed in Vegas, too.
Penny: Anyway, thank you SO much. I don’t know how I can possibly repay you.
Me: I can think of a few ways… [fire emoji]. Kidding, kidding. You don’t need to repay me.
Penny: At least let me cook for you. Surely a single guy like you could use a home-cooked meal.
I don’t bother to tell her I’m already paying someone to make those for me. Instead, I reply with one simple word.
Me: Deal.
Penny: Are you staying at the Cosmopolitan this weekend?
Me: Yes, under Ev’s reservation.
Penny: Same. Maybe we’ll be neighbors in her room block.
Or maybe you’ll end up in my bed again.
I delete that one before I actually send it.
Me: Keep it down.
Penny: No promises. If a hot football player happens to knock on my door after the party ends, I might not be able to control the volume.
I smile down at my phone at her flirting.
Me: Is that an invitation?
Penny: Dude, I’m going to a joint bachelor/bachelorette party for an NFL star and his brand strategist fiancée. I’m expecting there to be football players everywhere. Surely I can snag the attention of one of them.
Me: You’ve already snagged the attention of one.
Penny: And the party hasn’t even started yet…
Me: Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure the party started Wednesday night.
Penny: No corrections necessary.
Me: Then maybe we find time to continue it this weekend.
A text comes through from Everleigh, and I flip over to read it. It’s a group text to a whole bunch of people, and I opt out of replying even though others don’t extend that same courtesy.
Everleigh: We’re all checked in. Keys are waiting at the front desk under your name. Party’s already in full swing! See you all soon! [champagne glasses emoji]
Penny’s reply to me comes in, too.
Penny: I don’t land for another couple hours. When are you getting in?
Me: We land in twelve minutes.
Penny: Hope to see you later.
Me: Hoping for that as well.
I’m not sure if she’s just being nice, flirting, or genuinely wants to meet up. I know what I want…but I also know her situation is complicated, and I know another night with her isn’t going to make things less complicated.
We land, and I share a car with Madden and Kennedy to the hotel. We head to the reception desk to check in, and it turns out my room is on the same floor as Madden and Kennedy’s.
“No wild sex,” I warn as we get onto the elevator and press the button for the thirty-eighth floor.
“No promises,” Madden says, tossing his arm over Kennedy’s shoulders and pulling her in close.
She shrugs and turns to press her lips to Madden’s.
“I think I liked it better when you two were enemies,” I mutter.
They both laugh.
“Enemy sex was pretty wild,” Kennedy says.
Madden glances down at her. “Not wilder than sex now. Though vacation sex is the best sex.”
Actually, sex with your older sister’s best friend is the best sex, but I refrain from that particular retort. And now I’m wondering if sex with your older sister’s best friend while on vacation might be the best sex.
Fuck, I’m horny.
I want Penny in my bed again, and I’m on a quest to make that happen.
The only problem is that Maverick wants to go out for steaks with all the guys, and Everleigh arranged some dinner for the girls.
So I have to meet at this damn steakhouse before I get the chance to see Penny.
Dinner is slow. It takes for-goddamn-ever as I tear through my steak in ten seconds flat.
Everyone else is still eating. Still sipping. Still enjoying.
“Dude, what’s going on with you?” Dex asks me. He’s the reformed bad boy of the Bradley siblings, a thirty-three-year-old defensive end who plays for the Vegas Aces and has a wife and kid now.
He’s on my left, and Madden, the brother a decade older than me, is on my right, but he’s talking with Maverick.
“Nothing’s going on with me. What’s going on with you?” I ask.
“You wolfed down your steak. Are you not feeding yourself at home? Steaks are meant to be enjoyed.”
I roll my eyes. “I did enjoy it. I’m just ready to get to the party.”
“Typical.” Dex rolls his eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“You’re in single guy mode. Looking for your next piece of ass. Let me tell you, Liam—”
“Here comes the lecture,” I mutter.
“You’re goddamn right I’m about to lecture you. You can’t chase tail forever. Someday you’ll settle down, have a kid, a wife, and a life. A different woman every night…it’s not just dangerous and stupid, man. It’s also lonely as hell. Trust me. You deserve more.”
“Guess I have to live it out and determine that for myself,” I say thickly.
It’s not like I can admit that I finally found someone I want to be with again when she is who she is.
Not to mention she’s seven years older than me—the same age as Dex, actually.
Several months older than Everleigh. “Don’t you miss that life? ”
He chuckles as he shakes his head. “Not even once. When you know, you know. And with Ains? I guess I just knew.”
As it turns out, he might be the most interesting person to talk to about all of this. Our stories parallel in the fact that he married our youngest sister’s best friend. He’s eleven years older than her, an even bigger age gap than Pen and me have.
But the big difference is that Penny is older, married, and has two kids.
Dex had a kid, too—one he didn’t know about.
One he needed help with, and Ainsley happened to step up.
They’re a family now, and that’s where the similarities die.
I had a fun night with Penny, and maybe we’ll even meet up later tonight, but I’m not ready to step in and help raise her kids, not that she asked me to, anyway.
But all of that is reason enough to keep my mouth shut.
We toast. We drink. Our plates are cleared away, and Maverick orders another kind of whiskey, as if anyone can really tell the difference at this point.
He’s not really a strip club kind of guy, and he got into some trouble for getting caught at my dad’s underground casino, so he’s not much of a gambler anymore. Instead, once we finish our drinks here, we head over to Caesars Palace to a cigar bar where we have more whiskey and high-end cigars.
If I wasn’t itching to get Penny naked, I might even be enjoying myself.
Instead, I’m counting down the minutes, glancing at my phone to see if I missed a text from her, and definitely not living in the moment and enjoying myself the way my brothers, soon-to-be brother-in-law, and several of his friends are.
Madden takes notice next, but he’s slightly more subtle than Dex.
“Is everything okay?”
I nod. “Fine.”
“You seem…jittery tonight.”
“Sorry. I’m just…” Just what? Preoccupied with Penny Calloway?
“I get it. You’re worried about today’s visit. Worried about getting the official offer. I’ve been there, man.”
He hasn’t, though. Not really. He wasn’t a quarterback, either. Not that wide receivers don’t have their fair share of pressure, but the pressure I feel with what he’s talking about is totally different than anything he ever experienced. He was a star. Always a starter. Never second best.
“Yeah,” I murmur instead of any of that. It’s a good enough excuse to deflect what I’m really dealing with.
“No worries, bro. Shit will work out the way it’s supposed to.”
Deep down, I’m sure he’s right.
But rarely does the way it’s supposed to intersect with what I want.