Page 46 of Mad Rivals (The Bradley Legacy #1)

We’re a Family

“I need your help.”

They’re four words my father has never spoken to me before. Maybe he’s never spoken them to anybody before. I can’t imagine him saying it to my mother, or to a business partner, or to a sibling or a client.

“We’re a family, and family comes together when one member needs help.” It’s wild to me how when my coach spoke those exact same words earlier— we’re a family —they meant something to me. And now my father is speaking them, and I’m not sure they mean anything at all.

“What?” I mutter.

“I need you to come home to Chicago. I need you in the office here for a few days to make it look like we’re working on a big project together.”

“Why would I need to be there for that?” I ask. “I can work from here.”

“I may be facing an investigation, and if it comes to that, I’ll need you to potentially gather bail and liquidate the shell companies.”

“I don’t want anything to do with the illegal activities,” I say firmly.

“You should’ve thought of that when you started sniffing around.

” His voice is firm and to the point, and it pulses a shudder of fear through my spine as I think about how Kennedy was with me when I was sniffing around.

She knows, too, and for the first time, I wonder what sort of danger that puts her in.

“You have a legacy to protect, and if I’m hauled off because I was trying to provide for my family, it’s you who will need to step into my place. ”

“I have a season starting in a few weeks,” I say, and I hear the fatigue in my own voice over all this. “I can’t just drop everything and come to Chicago.”

“You can, and you will.”

“What are they investigating you for?” I ask.

He sighs. “It’s complicated.”

“No shit,” I mutter. What the fuck isn’t complicated these days? “If you want me there, I need to know what’s going on.”

“I gave someone on the zoning commission a little nudge to push one of my permits to the top of the list, and his boss found out.”

“What do you mean by a little nudge?” I ask. “Is this wrapped up in your gambling operations? ”

“I can’t talk about this over the phone.” His firm words tell me that yes, that is exactly the issue here. “Just another reason why I’d like you in town.”

Right. Because I’m sure he’s planning to spill all the details to me once we’re together. I clench my jaw. He’s not giving me much choice here. “I can’t.”

“Look, I’ve dealt with this guy before, and I know what works with him. Okay? He’s a big Bears fan. I just need you here to smooth things over with him for me.”

I think back to other times he’s used me for tickets to games or merchandise or whatever it is that he wants at any given time from me or any of my siblings.

He’s been doing this our whole lives…but I was too na?ve or too trusting to realize that he was just using us for his benefit.

“Think of the legacy, Madden,” he says quietly, as if that will be the thing that kicks my ass into gear.

“The legacy! The fucking legacy! I’m so goddamn tired of hearing about the legacy!” I yell into the phone. I hang up on him and slam the stupid phone down on the counter, cracking the screen.

What choice do I really have here? Let my father go to prison for bribing a government worker? Let his underground casinos be discovered? Let him serve his time no matter what it does to tarnish the Bradley name?

Let him drag me into this now that I know about his illegal activities?

I’m too tied up in this company now to let that happen. If it’s supposed to be my future after my playing days are over, I can’t let it all blow up, and I can’t let investigations happen that would reveal how he’s been laundering money through the real estate development business.

Maybe I’m the only one who can save this family. This company.

The legacy.

And maybe I’m the only one who can protect Kennedy from the fallout.

I know what I have to do, and once my mind is made up, there’s little that will change it.

I move to action.

I start by picking up the phone with the cracked screen and giving her a call.

She doesn’t answer. She’s mad. I get that.

But she’s going to be even angrier after I say what I have to say to her.

I hang up and text her instead.

Me: I’m on my way over. We need to talk .

And then I pack my small suitcase and head for her place.

She doesn’t text me back, but she does open her door once I ring the bell .

“What do you want?” she asks tiredly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I made the wrong call, okay? But I need to talk to you.”

She opens the door a little wider to let me in, and I storm past her.

I don’t want to do this. Everything inside me is screaming that I’m making the wrong decision.

But I have to. It’s the only way I can protect her from whatever investigation might come next.

She folds her arms as she leans against the front door, and when she sees me pacing like a caged tiger, she asks, “What’s going on?”

I finally stop and face her. “I need to get to Chicago tonight, and I just stopped by to let you know I’ll be out of town for a few days.”

Her brows dip together. “Is everything okay?”

I shake my head. Fuck, what a day it’s been. First the bid, which went well. Then the emergency wide receivers’ meeting. Then the call from my father.

And now…this.

“No. It’s not. There’s too much bad blood between our families for us to do this.” My chest feels like it’s cracking in half as I say the words I rehearsed on my way over here.

“To do what?” she asks.

“You know too much, Kennedy. It’s too dangerous. I can't be with you, and I need you to keep your mouth shut for your own safety.”

Her brows crease together as anger steps its way back in—as it should, considering the words I just spoke to her. “Keep my mouth shut?” she demands. “But I’m on the video footage of you breaking into the warehouse.”

“I can easily say you were someone else and let it die there,” I say.

“Where is this coming from?” She hasn’t moved from her spot where she’s leaning against her front door, but now it almost looks like she’s slumping against it, like it’s holding her up now instead of just being a place to lean, and I feel it, too.

I feel like my legs could buckle beneath me at my words to her. I can’t believe I’m really doing this.

“My father may be under investigation, and I need to make sure you’re not involved in any way,” I finally say. “I need to protect you and your family.” The last part comes out much more gently than any of my prior words.

Her hand moves to cover her mouth. “An investigation?”

“I can’t get into particulars, Kennedy. I need to catch a flight to Chicago.”

“Let me come with you,” she says, and there’s a low, begging quality to her tone.

I shake my head. “You can’t.”

“Don’t do this,” she says, and her voice is edged with desperation as tears start to fall. “You know how right we are for each other.”

“I know. And that’s why I have to end this now. It’s the only way to keep you safe.” I press my lips together as an unfamiliar heat pools behind my eyes.

I won’t break down here. Not in front of her. Not when I’m the one ending this.

I manage to hold it together for the moment. “I need to go.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” She steps aside from where she stands by the front door.

“I wish that, too. And in another life, maybe this was meant to be. But in this life, I have to say goodbye.” I leave those words behind me as I open the front door, walk through it, and shut it behind me, the click reverberating through my whole chest as I make my way to the car.