“Fuck,” I mutter, and I flip over to Liam’s call. “Hey.”
“Hey. I’m not calling with good news.”
I grip my phone a little more tightly. “Is Mom okay?”
“She took a turn. Her vertebrae were too weak and collapsed.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“She broke her back, and they have this cement to try to keep her comfortable, but they can’t do much to fix it. She’s wearing a back brace but hates the fuck out of it and knows she’s going to have to be honest with everyone pretty soon since she can barely breathe without pain.” His voice breaks a little at the end, and I know this is hard for him.
He’s the only one still in Chicago aside from Ivy, who’s finishing her senior year in college, so a lot of the care falls on him even though he’s in season.
“And that’s not all. Dad’s assets were frozen after the raid, and what he has access to is running short. I don’t think it’ll last long with Mom’s care.”
“Okay, so we’ll all pitch in,” I say. It’s the logical answer.
“There’s more.”
Fuck. “What?”
“Dad got word there’s a grand jury convening to bring charges against him. He could be arrested at any time, and there won’t be any money left for his bail.”
I blow out a breath. “Then he sits in jail. You saw what he’s done to this family.”
“With Mom in the hospital? You really think that’s the best course of action?”
“Fuck,” I mutter, knowing he’s right. “We couldsell the house.”
“Sell the house?” he repeats.
“Dad asked me if he could put it in my name about a year ago. He must’ve seen this coming. Madden said he had everyone sign different shit, and somehow he picked me for the house. Probably because he knew I wouldn’t be tied emotionally to it like the rest of you simps.”
I throw in the jab because it feels like I need to lighten the mood on this call. This is some heavy shit we’re dealing with, and I’m used to just playing football, pretending like I’m not in love with my brother’s girlfriend, and finding a regret to pick up at a bar when I go out with my buddies.
I’m the only one in Tampa, so I’m pretty far removed from the rest of the Bradley clan. I can’t honestly say I don’t like it that way. The occasional group text is enough to keep me in touch while I can live my own life away from this drama.
“You can’t sell the house, dude.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“You always do this. You’re focused on the money. The rest of us have a connection to that place. Despite everything Dad has done, it’s where the seven of us grew up. It’s part of our legacy. Don’t you want to take your kids there someday and show them the spot on the wall where we learned how to spackle because Dex plowed right through the wall when he was twelve? Or have a drink in the backyard while we watch our kids run around together?”
“I didn’t know you wanted kids so badly,” I mutter.
“In the extremely distant future, dickwad. Listen, I’m just saying that it’s our history. It’s not just Mom and Dad’s place. It belongs to all of us.”
“Look, Liam,” I say, doing my best to be gentle when I’m used to just giving straight facts. “There’s a shitload of money tied up in that mansion. If he’s not denied bail, it would be plenty to pay that, Mom’s bills, and still have some left over to divvy up between the rest of us.”
“Where will they go?” Liam asks, and it feels nearly rhetorical.
I’m back to fighting with myself for how gentle to be with my younger brother here. Mom took a turn for the worse. We don’t know how much more time she has. She’s in the hospital for now. Dad’s possibly about to be arrested, and he won’t need the mansion if he’s in prison.
I blow out a breath, and I take the route of joking because it feels easier than spelling out the truth. He’ll get there eventually anyway. “They can stay with you.”
He barks out a laugh. “Fuck that, man.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I say. “But this might just be our best option.”
