CHAPTER 13 Everleigh Bradley
I Don’t Think You’re Broken
What a mess.
I’m a brand strategist, not a public relations coordinator, but it seems I’m supposed to be both for Maverick—according to Jack, anyway.
I feel like I’m stepping into unknown territory, maybe especially because I’ve never represented a football player before.
Even as I think it, I realize I’ve never actually represented an individual before.
It’s always been a corporation or an organization.
I’m not quite sure who to hit up. I text my brother first since he’s the closest person I have locally, and as an added bonus, he lives in the same building as the two of us.
Me: Maverick drunkenly punched someone at Dad’s lounge. What would you do?
His reply is pretty quick.
Dex: Do nothing. Let him sleep it off.
He’s literally no help at all, and I’m not sure I should be sharing details with him considering the animosity between the two men.
I’m lost, but I feel like I met someone who can help.
I have a budget from the Aces. I don’t care if Maverick hasn’t agreed to my terms. I’m the one running the show here.
Me: I’m so sorry to bother you, and I know he’s not your client, but Maverick’s drunk, and he just punched Nick Crawford at a VIP lounge. Can you help?
Ellie’s reply is quick.
Ellie: Crisis management. Contact his lawyer, contain the issue, and control the narrative. Are you still at the scene?
Me: No, we’re in a car on our way back home.
Ellie: Good. Keep him off socials, sober him up, and we’ll work damage control in the morning. Come by my house at nine.
She sends me her address.
Me: Are you sure? And thank you. If you don’t mind, could you draw up a contract for representation? If he doesn’t sign it in the morning, I will on behalf of the Aces.
Ellie: I’ll have it ready at nine. And I’ll have Luke grab some chocolate croissants from Ava Nash’s bakery. Best in town!
It’s after midnight on a Sunday night after game day, and she’s positive, professional, and readily available. Now that is the kind of friend I’m looking for in Vegas.
That’s the kind of friend I’m looking for anywhere, to be honest.
Except for Penny, I suppose I’ve let my friendships fall by the wayside in favor of working my way up.
But all my life, the majority of my friendships have been fleeting.
I’ve never had a girl gang. I grew up surrounded by boys who played sports, and I was dragged to their games whether or not I wanted to be there.
The way I see it, friendships come and go. My career will last me the rest of my life.
Is that a part of the reason that I’m thirty-two and single? Possibly. Probably.
But the other, much larger part of the reason that I’m thirty-two and single has everything to do with Billy Hawthorne.
I fell in love with Billy when I was twenty-two. God, an entire decade ago.
He didn’t fall in love with me until I was twenty-nine.
We were together two years, two days.
He ended it because he was afraid of commitment. We’d gotten to the point where we needed to make a decision on our future together, and he ran.
It’s been six months. I’ve picked up the pieces. I’ve started moving on.
And it actually sort of helps to be moving on in a place where I don’t run the risk of seeing him day after day.
We didn’t work together or even for the same company, but we worked in the same building.
I started at Langford fresh out of college along with Penny, and he was two floors up at a law firm.
He was just a mid-level associate, two years older than me at the time I first saw him in the elevator.
Penny was with me. We agreed he was hot as hell, but she was in a relationship at the time with the man she eventually married and now has two boys with.
I saw him again the next day, and the next. My crush grew. We rode the elevator up every morning, and sometimes I’d see him around lunchtime, but I never saw him when I left at five. So I started staying later. I didn’t see him at six, either, or seven. But eight seemed to be the magic hour.
Yep, that’s right. Independent boss bitch Everleigh Bradley stayed later, worked harder, took on more clients, and built her entire career for the chance to run into the object of her most serious crush to date.
Looking back, even I am disappointed in my own behavior.
I chalk it up to being young and na?ve, but on the other hand, it worked.
I held onto hope, and eventually it happened.
Something inside me told me he was different, that we were destined to be together.
We both had a strong work ethic. We had a lot in common, actually. We had the same values. We liked the same kinds of movies, music, and television shows, and I always thought that was part of what made our connection so strong and stable.
But when talk of kids came up, he shut down. When the idea of marriage came up, he’d change the subject.
He was happy where we were, and I was ready for more.
So when I pushed too hard for what I wanted, he opted out.
The first month after the breakup was the roughest. I’d given up my personal life when I chose to stay late at the office each night all those years before.
Sure, I still got invitations at the beginning, but they dwindled each time I issued the same rejection.
Sorry, staying late at the office tonight.
I stayed close with Penny since we worked together, but she was busy planning a wedding, so we really only saw each other during the workday.
I had exactly three things in my life aside from Pen: my career, Billy, and, to a lesser extent, my family. And when Billy left me, I clung a little more tightly to the two things I had remaining.
I tried to be closer to my parents, but my father was always asking me to sign oddball documents, and my oldest brother, Madden, would often call and tell me not to do whatever my father was asking.
My mother is a whole other story.
I was always jealous of my friends who would go on shopping dates with their moms, or girls’ trips, or even something as silly as a pedicure night.
My mom invited me to go get fillers with her once, but it wasn’t because she wanted to spend time with me.
It was because of the dark circles under my eyes from getting up too early and staying up too late.
I couldn’t lean into my family the way I wanted to, but damn if I’m not always trying to fix it anyway.
Forcing family dinners when we’re in close proximity with each other.
Calling my siblings to keep in touch. Creating a group chat for the seven of us when I’m the one who always starts every conversation.
Inviting my mom on those shopping trips even if I’m not ready for fillers.
And that left me with one thing: my career. I dove headfirst into it, putting everything else in my life into second place—those family group chats included.
Now it feels like my career is being ripped away, too, because of the drunken idiot who’s currently passed out beside me in the car on the way back to the building we both live in.
Milton helps me wake Maverick enough to get him on his feet so he can walk himself upstairs, and I’m forever grateful for Milton’s help.
He’s subdued on the way up to our floor, and he fumbles with his keys for a few beats.
He seems to be moving around just fine, so maybe he’s not as drunk as I thought.
Maybe he wasn’t drunk at all, and he was pretending to be asleep in the car so we didn’t need to have a conversation.
It’s probably for the best. I’m a little tipsy myself.
Before he disappears into his condo, I say, “I booked a meeting with Ellie Dalton at nine tomorrow morning. We can go together. Let’s meet in the lobby around eight forty, okay?”
He doesn’t reply.
“Hey!” I yell, and he turns to look at me. “Set an alarm for eight. I’ll bang on your door to remind you.”
He grunts, and he’s still messing around with his keys.
“Do you need any help?” I ask.
“No,” he mutters, and he gets the door open and slams it after he walks through it. I wait until I hear the slide of the lock, and then I move toward my own door.
Before I even get my own keys out to unlock it, though, Maverick’s door flies open again.
I turn to look at him, and there’s fire in his eyes as he pins them on me.
My chest tightens under his scrutiny. God, he’s hot.
“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” he demands.
“We’ve only been working together a couple of weeks. Why would I give up on you?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Everyone always does.”
I wonder if he’d be so candid if he were sober.
“I won’t.” I say it simply, but the silence that spans between us after my voice quiets seems to say more. It seems to imply that it doesn’t have to do with the job so much as the person.
I’m starting to care.
He’s an enigma, and I’m a problem solver.
I always have been.
“Why not?” he challenges. It feels like he’s trying to get me to admit that I care.
“Because it’s not in my nature to give up. I’m a problem solver, Maverick. I’m a fixer.”
He takes a step toward me, and it’s menacing. “You think you can fix me?”
I shake my head, my eyes steady on his. “I don’t think you’re broken.”
He scoffs. “You’re dead wrong about that.”
“What’s broken?” I whisper.
He presses his lips together as he does his best to mask the flash of pain I see cross his face.
He’s hurting. He’s hiding something. There’s some reason he’s chosen to lash out at the world, and I’m going to get to the bottom of what it is.
I’m going to find what’s broken, and I’m going to figure out how to fix it.
He remains tight-lipped.
“It’s okay, Maverick,” I say softly. “You can trust me.”
A small huff escapes him. I don’t mistake it for a chuckle. It’s more like a puff of disbelieving air. “You’re too pretty to trust.”
My brows raise. “Excuse me?”
“You can’t trust the pretty ones,” he says.
“You’re drunk.”
“Maybe. But it’s still true. And you’re as fucking pretty as they come, Ev.” It’s the first time he’s called me Ev. Hell, it might be the first time he’s used my name at all.
“Stop flirting with me,” I scold softly.
“Is that really what you want?” he asks, and his low rasp causes butterflies to take flight in my belly.
I can’t answer that. The truth is no. I don’t want him to stop. But we can’t take this into a new territory sober, never mind when he’s been drinking.
“Goodnight, Maverick.” I turn toward my door, unlock it, let myself in, and close it without looking back.
Because I know if I look back, I’ll see him standing there, and I’m quite sure I won’t be able to stop what would inevitably happen next.