CHAPTER 14 Everleigh Bradley
I Love That For Me
I glance at my watch when I feel it vibrating against my wrist.
Billy Hawthorne flashes on the screen, and my stomach turns.
Why would Billy be calling me? I don’t answer, obviously.
I can’t. I’m in a meeting with Ellie and Maverick, and we’re drafting a crisis management plan.
“So you were there?” Ellie asks me, and I shake off the distraction of my phone call and send it to voicemail.
I nod.
“Can you describe to me exactly what happened?”
“Sure. So we were sitting at the bar, and Nick Crawford came up and offered to buy me a drink. Maverick went off on him since we’d been talking even though we weren’t there together, we’d only run into each other, and—”
“You don’t need to give that much detail,” Maverick whines.
I lift a shoulder and offer him a glare as I turn back to Ellie. I blow out a breath. “Anyway, Nick made some dumb comment about how Maverick was acting like a tough guy, which Maverick clearly didn’t like, and he hauled off and clocked the guy in the jaw.”
Ellie closes her eyes for a second and shakes her head. “I’ll put in a request for video footage from the lounge, but because it’s a VIP place, it may be hard to get.”
“My father owns it,” I admit.
Maverick’s head whips in my direction. “What?”
I glance over at him. “It’s why I was there. Dex mentioned it, and I was curious, so I went.”
“The pocket I was feeding money into is your father’s?” Maverick demands, and I laugh.
“Did you lose last night?”
“Twenty K!” he yells.
I can’t help my giggle. “Sucks for you, but sounds like it’ll pay my future kids’ college tuition, so at least you know it’s going to a good cause.”
He’s glaring and sulking at the same time, and I can’t help but love the irony of it all. I only showed up because Dex, this dude’s mortal enemy, told me about the place.
I love that for me.
I love how angry he is right now, and I’m not sure why.
I want to keep pressing his buttons.
Instead of dreading this job, I’m actually starting to like it. Who would’ve thought?
“Be that as it may, we have an issue to deal with. I need your lawyer’s contact info.
I’ll get in touch with the team, and we’ll sell it like you were standing up for Everleigh.
” She doesn’t ask if that’s okay, and instead, she turns to her laptop.
“Let’s issue a statement.” She starts tapping on her keyboard.
“I’ll issue it. Maverick Jennings’s publicity team is aware of the incident involving him and another man last night at an exclusive VIP lounge in Vegas.
We are gathering details and will release a statement once investigations have been completed.
Thank you in advance for privacy as we handle this matter. ”
“Do we have to issue that?” he asks.
“You need to control the narrative, my friend. This is the way,” she tells him. “Next, we’ll need you to read a statement. Something apologetic. Hm.”
“No,” he says, interrupting her before she even gets started. “I’m not issuing an apologetic statement when I’m not sorry.”
Ellie glances at me and jerks her thumb at Maverick. “Is he always like this?”
I nod and purse my lips. “Always.”
“Maverick, you realize the team could suspend you, right?” she asks.
“The fuck difference does it make when I’m already sitting?” he asks.
I mean…it’s a fair point.
“You know what they’ll do. They’ll have Dr. Baker clear me a week early, I’ll serve my time, and I’ll be back on the field when I was supposed to be.” He puts air quotes around the word clear.
“Is that how they did things in Dallas?” Her eyes study Maverick carefully. “Because in Vegas, that’s not how we operate. You won’t be cleared until you’re medically healthy to play, and then you’ll serve out any sentence deemed appropriate by the team and the league.”
He huffs out a sigh. “It’s not the first time I slugged an asshole who had it coming, and it won’t be the last.”
“It’ll be the last here in Vegas, Maverick,” Ellie warns. “You need to get control of yourself if you want to step foot on that field. I know Jack and Lincoln, and they won’t stand for this kind of behavior.”
“Can I issue the statement?” I ask Ellie.
She nods. “Of course. It might be better coming from you anyway. It’ll explain why you’re by his side all the time. Just the intro to the Vegas media circus you were searching for, right?”
I chuckle, and I see her email pop through, so I format it and send it off to the local outlets while she taps around on her computer and Maverick sits there looking uncomfortable.
Ellie looks up. “I was gifted two tickets to the Hope Gala in LA next Monday. You can attend with Everleigh.”
I glance over at him. I don’t particularly want to attend as his date, but that’s not really what this would be.
It would be him taking part in a charity event—and a big one, too.
She’s right. Normally he wouldn’t be able to attend an event of this scale, so why not use this time off to our advantage?
It’ll show him doing some good for once instead of constantly making the wrong sorts of headlines.
“No,” he says at the same time I say, “Yes.”
Ellie purses her lips and turns to me. “Hotels might be tight since the event is sold out, but it’ll be the perfect place for him to start showing he cares about more than just himself.
The mission is to offer hope and opportunities to underserved youth in the greater Los Angeles area,” she says, reading from her screen.
“Thanks, Ellie. It’s a great idea.” I look up the event, find the location, and book a two-bedroom suite at the hotel where the event is being held, and then I book us two plane tickets, too.
If he won’t give me material to work with or ideas for what sorts of ways he can impact the community in a more positive way, Ellie and I will have to work together to create these opportunities for him.
And if he doesn’t like it? Too damn bad.
“You should talk to your publicist back in Dallas and let them know we’re handling things here in Vegas. Too many cooks in the kitchen, you know?” Ellie suggests.
He gives her a death stare, but he taps something out on his phone anyway.
We leave Ellie’s place shortly after that. It felt like a productive morning despite the hell of a time he gave me when I banged on his door at eight o’clock to get him out of bed. I called him first, and when he didn’t answer, I sent Lincoln a text to let him know he wasn’t answering me.
I hate to be a tattletale, but I’m just doing my job.
“I’m not going to Los Angeles with you,” he hisses when we’re in the car.
I drove despite his protests, but on the way to Ellie’s, I explained what we were doing while he sipped black coffee from a tumbler.
He was clearly not at one hundred percent this morning, and I couldn’t pretend like I wasn’t getting the tiniest bit of joy out of putting the music up to a volume that was just a little higher than background noise.
He seems less hungover now than he was when we drove here, but less hungover apparently means more objectionable and louder.
“I’m sorry to say that in fact you are,” I say as I merge onto the highway.
“I hate this,” he mutters.
“I know. It’s not a walk in the park for me, either.”
He glances over at me. “How’d you end up stuck with me?”
I keep my eyes on the road as I give him my full, honest answer.
“I work for a marketing firm in Chicago. I guess Jack Dalton is friends with my boss, and he asked for my boss’s best brand strategist. I gave up thirty-two clients in Chicago for one in Vegas with the hope that I can launch my own branding firm once our term is up. ”
“Did you know it was going to be me?”
I shake my head. “In fact, I told my boss I didn’t want to work with an athlete.” My voice is dry as I say it.
“Why not?”
“I have five brothers who are all professional athletes. I’m sure you can piece together why.”
“Spell it out,” he says.
I can’t help my laugh at the irony. “That’s why.”
“What is?”
“You’re all the same. Demanding. Egotistical. Annoying.” I shrug. “I wanted to build my own thing separate from their world, and somehow I ended up in it anyway."
He turns and looks out the side window. “So why take the job?”
“Well, for one, I didn’t know who I’d be working with when I took it. But my main motivation is that I want to open my own branding firm, and my boss opened that door for me by giving me this.”
“Did you want to come to Vegas?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nope. I love Chicago. I miss it every day. My best friend is back there, my family. I like being close to Dex, Ainsley, and Jack, but I haven’t had a ton of free time lately.” I sigh. “Did you want to come to Vegas?”
“No. I got a fucking custom silver and navy paint job on a truck that sticks out like a sore thumb in Aces country. A star tattoo on my shoulder. I thought I’d start and end my career in Dallas, but I guess the football gods had other plans.”
“I thought I’d start and end my career in Chicago,” I admit. “Where did you grow up?”
“Ohio.”
“You’re a Midwestern boy?” I ask.
“Born and bred.” He lifts a shoulder.
“You wouldn’t go back?”
“Fuck no. I don’t miss the snow and ice in the winters,” he says. Those are his words, but his voice gives a subtext that makes me think there’s more to the story than snow and ice keeping him from Ohio.
“Do you still have family there?”
“Yeah,” he says vaguely.
“Who?”
He clears his throat. “My mom’s in Cincinnati. She’s not doing well. My dad, who knows. He’s a fuckin’ deadbeat anyway.”
Somehow I’m not shocked he’s not close with his family. “Sorry to hear about your mom. Any siblings?”
This is the most I’ve gotten out of him since the day we met, and it’s honestly a little…refreshing. Unexpected, that’s for sure.
He shakes his head. “No.”
“My dad always talks about the Bradley legacy. How his kids are the family legacy. Something to think about with your own legacy, anyway.”
“You’ve got a litter of siblings, right?”
“Six. Five brothers, one sister, and me. The boys are mostly scattered, but Madden has a place in Chicago, and Liam’s still there. My sister’s there. I try to keep everyone in a close circle, but it’s a lot to wrangle, and it’s not always very easy.”
“You’re a wrangler.”
I huff out a chuckle. He’s not wrong.
I pull into the parking garage, and that seems to end our conversation. That’s the most I’ve gotten out of him since we started working together, and the pieces are slowly starting to click into place.
Something happened with his parents, perhaps. Something that made relationships even harder for him despite the marriage.
God, I still can’t picture him with a woman. He’s too gruff. Too grumpy. I can’t picture him having fun or taking pleasure.
I bet he’s a hell of a good time in bed, though.
I shove the intrusive thought away.
We bid each other goodbye, a rare pleasantry between us versus him slamming his door when I’m mid-sentence.
Though I’m sort of open to the idea of him pushing me up against the door and running his nose along mine again, just this time ending with a kiss instead of a harsh remark about how he doesn’t make mistakes.
I finally listen to the voicemail from Billy.
“Hey, Ev, it’s me. It’s been a while, huh? I’ve been thinking about you. A lot. I heard you moved to Vegas. I’ll be in town next week on business and would love to meet for a drink.”
He’s been thinking about me? A lot? And he wants to meet for a drink?
I blow out a breath.
He was supposed to be my greatest love story, but he turned out to be my greatest heartbreak.
It took me a long time to feel like I’d gotten over him, and I’ve never really believed in second chances when it comes to love.
It didn’t work out once. Why would it work out the next time?
People don’t change. Not really. People are who they are at their core despite the different masks they try to wear to cover it up.
Like Maverick. I think at his core, he’s not a bad guy.
He’s played football his whole life, and I’ve learned enough about being on a team from my brothers to know that those types of relationships can easily be fleeting.
Between injuries, trades, retirements, practice squads, salary caps, and draft picks, players come and go every season.
I don’t think there’s ever been a team that kept all fifty-three men for back-to-back seasons without some movement.
And on top of that, players tend to be absent for big chunks of time during the season, which makes it hard to maintain relationships with people who aren’t a part of that lifestyle.
I can see why he has a hard time letting people in.
And I’m working hard to unlock the way in so I can see what’s under those masks he’s keeping firmly in place.
But Billy? He never wore a mask. He wasn’t ready for commitment, and I don’t believe that six months later he is.
But…what if he is?
What if he realized life sucks without me and wants me back?
I realized how much it sucked without him the moment he ended things. I went home to an empty house. He’d been staying over nearly every night for two years, and I saw him everywhere.
I missed having him to come home to. I missed commuting to the office building together even though we didn’t work together. I missed lunch dates when he could get away. I missed having someone to kiss goodnight. I missed having someone’s hand in mine.
I longed for it all for a long time. I craved it.
But we’ve been apart now long enough for me to have forgotten the minor details that I missed so much when we first broke up.
I’ve found myself again. Billy didn’t like my red lipstick, so I wear it all the time now. He thought bright colors were too overstated and preferred a more monochromatic palette except for the occasional navy or brown.
I’ve found color in my world again.
I had a one-night stand a couple of months ago.
I can’t say I’d do that again, but I got to experience it.
I don’t love the dating process. I’d love to find someone and for things to just magically fall into place.
And maybe that’ll happen here in Vegas. Maybe it won’t happen until I return home to Chicago next year.
Or maybe it’ll happen if I agree to a drink with someone I thought had already been written out of my story.