“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.
