Page 50

Chapter 49

Lia

Sleeping in is the best. Brooks left early to do rehab before watching film and I’m still in bed with Rocky. No one tells you how hard it is to get out of bed when you have a dog. Like, I’m supposed to leave him here? All snuggled up? No way. The only thing that would make this morning better? Brooks, if he was next to me. And if I had a mug of hot tea or a Dr. Pepper. Any of my favorite drinks would do.

Brooks. The way this man has me down bad. All the way down in the best way. Yesterday he jumped in while I was using icepacks and eye masks to get the swelling down before the game. The way he supports me, without question, is something I’m trying to get used to.

Stretching my arms above my head, I feel the muscle knots in my shoulders. Probably from being nervous at the game. It wasn’t as intimidating as being in the booth for a televised game, but it was just as rewarding. Another pinch me moment for the books, and my muscles. I melt, thinking about the slow yoga I can do to loosen up. Something about me is I love a yoga session that’s only for me—when I’m not in charge of anyone else.

With nothing but time, I sink back into the bed, replaying last night’s game. Wes got to see the Jags win in overtime, and I got to do some on-court interviews, all from some of the best seats in the house. He was blowing up my phone last night, freaking out. It didn’t help that Brooks signed his jersey and threw it to him, and Jalen’s jersey to Wes’ friend, after the game .

I’m sure there must be a hilarious social media post where Wes is fangirling and I so badly want to see it. I look for my phone and remember it died last night. I unplug it from the charger and power it on as Rocky comes to lay right next to me. It’s like he always has to be touching me. When the screen comes to life, the notifications are nonstop. Like, one after another, differentiating from text messages and social media.

What is happening?

I reach for it but the only thing I see are notification banners, one after another. I open my text messages and go to Shelbie’s contact, since she’s a favorite and pinned at the top.

Shelbie

omg are you alright

how did they get those photos?

call me

Why wouldn’t I be alright? What photos? It’s like I’m playing a board game and everyone else knows the rules while I’m flying blind. I see the red bubble next to a social media app, letting me know something is blowing up because that’s a lot of notifications.

When I open my account, the one I use for the Jags, I see it. Or some of it. A picture of Brooks and I kissing in the pool. A video of me pulling into his driveway, only for him to meet me at the door. A picture of us at Willow’s concert.

Oh my god.

And then I see the headlines.

Foul Play? NBA Star Brooks Caught in Secret Romance with Jags Employee.

Caught on Camera: Brooks and Lia’s Heated Pool Night .

Insider Scandal: Did Brooks’ Relationship with Lia Influence Team Decisions?

No. No. No. I throw the blankets off and run down the stairs. I immediately call Shelbie, who answers after the first ring.

“Lia, finally! I’ve been calling!” Shelbie shouts as a greeting.

“My phone was dead. What the fuck is going on?”

Shelbie lets out a slow breath. “Secret’s out. One of those gossip accounts released a bunch of videos and pictures. A few anonymous tips.” Her voice trails off and I’m a statue.

I can’t say anything. My muscles are frozen. My brain stalls.

“Lia? Are you there?”

“No.” It’s the only thing I can bring myself to say.

“No? You are.”

“What?”

“Lia, it’s going to be fine,” Shelbie insists, trying to console me. “This will blow over. Is Brooks with you?”

“No. Practice. His phone is off. Film day.” The voice that comes out of my mouth doesn’t sound like me. It’s more like a robot than myself.

“Listen, maybe you should call your boss?”

I groan. “Fuck.”

“You guys probably need to disable the Jags social media account. I’m telling you right now, it’s ugly.”

I can’t breathe. Megan. What will Megan say? They’re for sure going to fire me.

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

Shelbie tries to say something, but I hang up anyway. I need to get out of here.

I run upstairs, put on a crewneck and leggings and grab my purse. When I open the front door, it’s like I’ve stepped into hell. The flashes of cameras go off, like I’m in the middle of a thunderstorm. They’re not in the gated area but they’re right outside the fence.

There’s nothing I can do. Everyone’s already gotten pictures of me.

I don’t put my hand in front of my face or do anything to avoid them. What’s the point? I’ve already lost.

I get in my car, slamming the door harder than necessary, and put in the code to the gate. I’m careful while pulling out, as people yell my name while some shout questions. Luckily, I can’t decipher one question from the other since they’re all on top of each other. I watch the gate close behind me and pull onto the road.

Every one of my movements is being cataloged. Photographed.

Fuck.

Our secret’s out.