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Chapter 18
Izzie
The water cascades down my body, easing my sore muscles. Who would have thought that being a nutritionist could be so exhausting? It’s turned into much more than just creating diet plans for the players.
I love seeing the dietary decisions I make for them manifest on the field by increasing the kicker’s distance by a few crucial feet or by helping Brady improve his arm strength.
It’s crazy to think that in just the short time I’ve worked for the San Antonio Rangers, I’ve gone from ducking into random offices and closets avoiding him to helping him improve his game. Unfortunately, my present living situation makes it impossible to escape his intense gaze and probing questions when I’m away from work.
That’s why this shower is such a reprieve—and why I’m probably taking the longest shower of my life. Staying at Brady’s house opens up a whole mansion-size crater of anxiety and fear.
I’m always on guard to make sure I don’t accidentally slip. I’m relieved that I was able to remove the picture of Lucy and me in my office before he spotted it. To be honest, I’m not convinced that he would recognize her after all this time, but it’s a risk I’m not willing to take.
It’s great timing then, that today, Liam and I are moving to Alex’s place until we get the all-clear to go back home. This way, I’ll only have to be on pins and needles at the stadium. I can finally relax when I’moff duty.
But he does have a kick-ass shower, even in the guest rooms,I think as I grab the expensive coconut-scented shampoo and lather my hair. There’s no way I could afford this brand on my salary, but I have no problem using it for my last shower here before I return to my small-life reality in my small house.
I could literally stay under this rainfall showerhead all fucking day. Hell, the shower is big enough that I could move in, at least sit down for a spell on the built-in bench. It beats the hell out of my ranch house even when termites aren’t eating it from the inside out.
Turning off the water, I grab a towel—one of the plushest towels I’ve ever felt—and dry myself off while I go over my list of things to do today. Liam is reading in his room, and he’s going to have to start packing his belongings. I’m not looking forward to that conversation.
I use the seafoam green towel to dry my legs, thankful that I’ve managed to squeeze in some workouts in the team gym here and there. It wouldn’t do for a nutritionist to have flab on her. Thankfully, that’s not a problem for me.
My hands slow near my waist, thinking back to walking in on Brady making a smoothie yesterday morning, fresh from his own shower. His hair still damp, toned chest glistening in the sunlight—I see why my sister fell so hard and fast for him and why he’s always been able to get any woman he wanted, which is probably why even if I showed him Lucy’s picture, he wouldn’t be able to remember her. She was just one of many for him.
Dressed, I walk down the wide hallway toward Liam’s room. He always takes full advantage of these rare teacher workdays by lounging around the house doing absolutely nothing all day.
“Hey, buddy,” I say as I simultaneously open the door and lightly knock on it. “Time to put the book down—”
Only he’s not there. My heart momentarily stops. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare—not knowing where your child is. It’s too early to panic, but I’m primed for a freak-out if I don’t find him soon.
I leave Liam’s room and walk down the seemingly endless hall, checking each room as I go. When I feel the vibrations notifying me of a text, I grab my phone and see that it’s from Alex. I unlock my phone to read her text:Hey, girlie. Headed back to town now. Can’t wait to see you and Liam at my place at 3. Gonna have so much fun!!!!
Knowing Alex, she’s planned all sorts of fun boy stuff for our stay at her place. I start to text her back, but she can wait. I return my phone to my back pocket and continue my search.
Liam’s made himself at home here, so he could be in any room.
He loves it here. Who wouldn’t? It’s like a kid’s playground with the large-screen TVs, basketball court, even a few pinball machines in the game room.
It’ll be hard to break it to Liam that we’re leaving, but he’ll take the change of plans like a champ. He’s a roll-with-the-punches little man—always has been.
I’m halfway down the stairs, ready to search for a missing little boy, when I hear talking coming from the den. As I walk closer, I internally relax as soon as I hear Liam’s sweet laughter fill the house. The unmistakable sounds of a video game solve the mystery of why he abandoned his book.
What boy can resist the call ofMadden NFL? Arriving at the door, I’m about to push it open, but instead, I stop and listen.
“You really learned how to play football from Madden?” Liam asks, moving his controller intently.
“Well, not all of football—and I do know it all—but strategy, yeah, definitely,” Brady says, just as involved in the game. “I was about your age when I started playing, back when Madden was still on the covers. You can learn a lot from this game.”
“When areyougoing to be on the cover?”
“Maybe next year, if I keep playing like I am.”
As I stand there and silently watch them play against each other, I’m struck by how alike they are. I’m looking at Brady and mini Brady sitting beside each other on the couch, each slightly hunched over, staring intently at the screen, their controllers clenched in their hands, which are curled around them in the same way. They are both sticking out their tongues ever so much as if that’ll help them concentrate and beat the other.
It goes beyond just their movements, although if I knew how to play the game, something tells me their way of planning a game-winning strategy would be identical, just like their profiles and their jawlines. It’s eerie—not nearly as eerie as seeing a duplicate of Brady’s determined look copied onto Liam’s face.
It’s like God himself clicked Ctrl + C on Brady, then clicked Ctrl + V on Liam.
