CHAPTER 22: Everleigh Bradley
I Need to Forget
Something’s off with Maverick, but I can’t put my finger on what.
I’ve studied him enough to know that he’s not himself right now. It’s in the way he’s sort of hunched over where he usually stands straight. Maybe his rib is bothering him.
He’s sitting with a group of teammates at dinner, yet it seems like he’s sitting alone. He stares at his plate, barely picking at his food. He doesn’t interact with anyone. I’m not even sure why he bothered to show up.
I need to know where he went. Or maybe I’m just curious to know. Curious as to why he left by himself to take care of something. What was he taking care of?
I’m supposed to be shadowing his every move, but this felt…confidential. And I’m not sure why.
Once dinner ends, players are dismissed for the evening. They can’t really go anywhere since they have a curfew, andmost players congregate to watch film together or head up to their rooms to get into their game mindset for tomorrow.
Maverick stays at the table picking at his plate until the tables have been mostly cleared. I’ve been getting to know two of the females on staff—Stephanie, who manages the team’s social media accounts, and Allie, who’s part of the public relations staff—and they both just headed up to their rooms for the night.
I walk over to Maverick, who finally glances up at me. His eyes are positivelytormented. What the hell happened?
“Is now a good time for our meeting?” I ask tentatively.
He clenches his jaw for a beat, and then he grinds his teeth. “Fine.”
I sit across from him despite the waitstaff in here furiously picking up the room from the team who just gathered in here.
“Just a quick debrief. The day seemed to go well. I saw you talking with Brandon on the plane. I’d venture to guess he’d be on the bitter side that you’ll be starting over him since he’s been waiting for his moment for the last decade, but any bonds are worthwhile. See what you can do with your O-line. Did you see the quarterback from San Francisco got his offensive linemen trucks? Others have done gift cards, YETI coolers, Rolexes, you name it.”
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and I purse my lips.
“Look, I’m not saying you have to win them over with gifts. But theoretically, these guys will be saving your life each week when you’re out there, and it wouldn’t hurt to at least befriend them. Hell, share some of the sports drinks or apparel with them for all I care.”
He raises his brows and returns his eyes to the table.
“Anyway, one day at a time. We have the game tomorrow and the Hope Gala Monday. That’s as far as I’m taking your agenda for now, but keep those sponsorships on your short-term radar.” I open my phone and go over the stats on today’s socials, and he barely grunts in reply to anything I say.
I stop talking and openly stare at him for a full ten seconds, and he doesn’t remove his eyes from his staring contest with the table. “Dude, what’s going on with you?” I ask.
His eyes lift to mine. “Did you just call medude?” Those six words are the most he’s strung together during this conversation.
“I did. Sidestep it. What’s up with you?”
He blows out a breath. “Nothing. It’s been a long day. I need to head up to my room.”
“You’re not playing tomorrow,” I remind him.
He glares at me.
“Fine. I’ll walk up with you.”
He presses his lips together, but it buys me a little more time. We wait together for the elevator, and we step on with a few other people. We get off together on the eighth floor, just the two of us, and as we walk down the floor to our rooms, I finally get up the nerve to ask. “Where’d you go earlier?”
He doesn’t answer as he pulls his room key out of his pocket. He taps it to his door, which we arrive at first. I move to stand in front of my door, digging through my crossbody for my own key.
He opens his door. “I went to see my mom,” he finally says softly. He doesn’t look at me.
I freeze as I recall his words that she wasn’t doing well. My head whips over toward him. “How is she?”
He sighs as he steps into his room and turns back so his door is resting against his backside. He avoids eye contact with me, but even from here, I can see how affected he is by this. “Worse than the last time I saw her.”
