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Chapter 25
Izzie
The house is quiet. Liam is asleep, and Brady is doing who-knows-what in the game area. If it wasn’t for Liam and their bonding moments in that room with theirPac-Man, I would become suspicious as to how much time he spends in there.
He’s a man-child. And I find it oddly so endearing.
I’ll blame it on Liam and their bond. It’s clouding my better judgment, not allowing me to see Brady for who he really is. It’s blinded me to all the reasons why I shouldn’t be falling and feeling what I do for him.
I make myself a cup of tea to relax before going to bed, mulling over what I should do—if and how I should approach Brady about me and Liam. To tell him the truth about everything.
The longer I stay here, the more likely I’ll spill. But I know that when I do, everything will change, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I’m not ready for his reaction and for the repercussions I’ll deal with for betraying my sister.
Most importantly, I don’t know if Liam is ready to know. He’s the most significant factor in this decision—I have to do what’s best for him, regardless of my feelings. Even if all I want to do is tell Brady how I feel about him.
Pouring the steaming hot water from the kettle into a mug and infusing the honey lavender tea, I spot something out of the corner of my eye. From where I’m standing, I can make out the title—Sports Illustrated—and I quickly recognize the model: it’s Brady and his half-naked body.
No wonder it caught my eye—he’s always so distracting.
I head toward it, recalling our conversations and wondering if I missed him saying anything about the interview, but I can’t place any.
Once I reach it, I see a sticky note withFOR BRADYscribbled on it. Well, it’s definitely his. I hesitate to reach for it, feeling like I’m prying, voyeuristically peering into a part of his life I’m not supposed to see.
But at the same time, I’m in his house, and I already know so much about him. More than he knows.
And I’m also his co-worker, who dedicates her day to managing his diet. So really, I have every right to read this.
Reassuring myself, I settle into the couch with the magazine and tea in hand. I aim to get comfortable, preparing for an entertaining read, but for some reason, my anxiety is heightened. I’m feeling almost nervous to read it.
I don’t understand why.
My eyes linger over his cover, amazed at the definition of his abs and arm muscles. They glisten impeccably with the oil painted on him. He looks bigger and more alluring than usual.
A familiar shiver travels down my spine as flashbacks of the other day play on repeat. I revel in the moment, feeling the warmth envelope and tingle my body.
My eyes follow over the white, bold lettering spelling his name, and I swallow the lump in my throat.
Football’s resident bad boy talks women, money, and the one thing he never wants in his life, the cover reads.
For some reason, nausea suddenly consumes me, and I regret having peeked inside. Nothing about the subtitle seems reassuring in the slightest. A part of me hoped that reading this interview would motivate me to tell him, or at least make the decision for me, but now, having read that, I’m not sure.
I tell myself to continue and to avoid jumping to conclusions. Those have failed me a lot lately, especially concerning Brady and my feelings for him.
I flip through the pages and fall upon the article. It’s quick to find—a large two-page spread of him in front of a mirror in the weight room, bench-pressing two hundred and fifty pounds.
I bite my bottom lip as I stare at his image, imprinting his figure into my memory, despite it already being memorized.
I shake my head, redirecting my attention to the actual story. From the start, I find it enlightening, somewhat informative albeit familiar. The article dives into his background a little at first but barely spends enough time on it.
And as the subtitle indicates, this interview is not interested in his career; it’s concerned with what it’s afforded him off the field and out of uniform.
Most of the conversation rehashes old stories that I’ve known or heard of. For instance, he’s reputation with women. Apparently, he’s had more than enough conquests to fill a luxurious five-star hotel, which he’s frequented many times, while leaving suites looking like some sort of rock star was there.
The depiction suits him well, seeing as that’s exactly how he thinks of himself.
The interview goes into detail regarding his latest stint on a yacht with a prince and mentions the few other infamous incidents coloring his football career, despite them having nothing to do with football.
Brady admits that he has a bad boy reputation that precedes him, and I chuckle at this omission. He does have a knack for being candid and reckless.
