Chapter 28

Brady

I stretch nice and hard as I crawl out of bed. Having the entire day off yesterday made me feel so refreshed to start my day today.

I walk over to my bathroom and freshen up: wash my face, brush my teeth, and get rid of this fucking morning wood.

I stumble back into my room, throw on some pants and a wife beater, and head downstairs to get started on my hard boiled eggs, two strips of bacon, and grapefruit recommended to me for breakfast by Dr. Isabella Williams herself.

But before I make my way into the kitchen, I decide to sit on my porch for a few minutes and soak in the morning sun and the smell of my freshly trimmed grass. God, it’s great to have landscapers.

I plop down onto my porch swing and see a newspaper thrown carelessly at my doorstep. I reach over to get it.

Normally, I wouldn’t care. I would just wait for one of the maids to toss it. But, shit, do I care about this; it’s my name on another headline.

But this time, it’s nothing I did.

IS ALL STAR QUARTERBACK BRADY THOMAS A FATHER? The article says in big, bold letters.

I can’t even do something nice for a family that needs help for one day without getting accused of something. There’s no foul play here, so why does everyone have to invade my privacy?

I decide to read the whole thing just to see how ridiculous this little theory is.

Recently traded quarterback, Brady Thomas, was spotted yesterday at Malibu Elementary school with Isabella Williams and a young Liam Williams. I was one of the lucky reporters to have a moment to see the group and identify the parties, and I’m here to dish out what information I’ve learned in the last twelve hours about the trio.

Isabella Williams is the aunt of Liam Williams. His biological mother is a woman named Lucy Williams, who passed soon after his birth. It is believed that Brady Thomas and Lucy Williams were once together, based on multiple sources who wished to remain anonymous.

There is a strong likelihood, in my eyes, and in the eyes of my fellow reporters, that Brady Thomas is the father of Liam Williams. The sheer similarities in their facial structure leave little to the imagination.

Will Brady be leaving football to have a shot at fatherhood? We tried to reach out to Mr. Thomas but our attempts at contacting him were unsuccessful.

What the actual fuck?

Father? Liam? Lucy?

Can any of this actually be true?

Just as I drop the newspaper to the ground, Izzie emerges from inside.

“Izzie, I need you to be honest with me,” I say, very pointedly. I lift the paper back off the ground and hand it to her. “Is this true?”

She scans the article and I can see the color in her face physically change to a paler shade.

“Well?” I demand.

“Yes,” she finally responds. “Yes, Brady. It’s true.”

“Are you shitting me?” I almost yell. “Seriously, Izzie? You’ve been hiding my own son under my nose this whole time? How long have you known?”

“Since the day Lucy told me she was pregnant. She didn’t want to tell you, Brady. How was I supposed to?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Isabella. But it’s a damn shame to me that you would choose the feelings of a girl that died almost eight years ago over the other living, breathing parent that Liam has. This is seriously fucked up.”

“I’ve been wanting to tell you! I really have. Liam’s gotten so close to you. I fought it every single day.”

“Why? Why would you fight something like that? Have you thought about anyone other than Lucy this entire time?”

“I’m not the one who told everyone that kids were such a burden, and that they would only hold you back from your future! That’s exactly what Lucy feared, and after that interview was published, it made me even more hesitant,” she counters.

Fuck, I really did say that. But it’s no fucking excuse. This is my son we’re talking about.

As I argue with Izzie, I can’t help but imagine all the things I would have done differently had I known.

“Lucy fucking died from having this child. It hurt too much to try to explain it. And after so long, after seeing how big you’d become as an athlete, I wasn’t going to track you down and just spill to you one day that Liam is yours. It’s just not a possibility I would have entertained,” she says.

“God, I knew he looked just like me, too. I thought about it, and, for just a split second, I thought he could even be my son. The instant bond I had with this kid is insane. It doesn’t happen. I shouldn’t have been so naive. And I shouldn’t have even begun to trust you.”

“Trust me? How can you even say that with a straight face? You abandoned this family before it was even whole. I’ve made it my goal in life to make sure that Liam feels nothing short of loved and wanted. And I’ll be damned if this is going to ruin it for him!” she shouts.

She rushes inside the house and stomps up the stairs.

I go inside and decide to sit alone in my room, trying to process all of this. As I lay on my California king-sized bed, I hear furious movement, followed by a slamming door.

Just hours ago, I enjoyed what I had going on with them, whatever it was. But now, it’s more complicated than that, and I don’t even know what to think or where to begin.

Rather than chasing after them, I’m going to sit back, just for now. I can’t fuck this kid up by not addressing this tactfully. I just can’t.

God, she fucking knew I was an orphan.

Shit, she was one, too; I guess that’s why she’s so guarded with Liam. He thinks she’s his mom, and she doesn’t want him to know otherwise. I guess I can’t blame her; knowing that kind of loss is heart wrenching and literally the worst hurdle to jump as a kid.

As much as I fucking hate her right now, I understand where she was coming from, too.