Breaking the Playbook [COMPLETED]

Chapter 37

LOLO'S POV

The next morning, I woke up with a sense of dread hanging over me, like a dark cloud that refused to lift. Last night's conversation with Dad had been... intense. But it had also been necessary. We couldn't keep going the way we were—fighting, butting heads, pretending like everything was fine when it was clearly falling apart. Something had to give, and it had. We'd reached some kind of understanding, but it still felt fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

I sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and glanced at the clock. It was early, too early, but there was no way I was going back to sleep. Not with everything on my mind. I needed to talk to Brooks, to see him, to make sure he was okay. Last night had been tough on both of us, and I knew he was probably feeling just as torn up as I was.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, scrolling through my messages, but there was nothing from him. Not that I was surprised. We'd said our goodbyes last night, and I knew he was trying to give me space, but I couldn't help the pang of disappointment. I wanted to hear his voice, to feel his arms around me, to remind myself that we were in this together.

With a sigh, I tossed the phone back on the bed and got up, heading for the bathroom. A hot shower was what I needed to clear my head, to shake off the lingering tension from last night. As the water cascaded over me, I tried to focus on the day ahead—on the plan we'd come up with to navigate this mess, to keep our relationship under wraps until things cooled down. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best we could do for now.

But even as I went through the motions, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach—the fear that no matter what we did, it wouldn't be enough. That we were fooling ourselves into thinking we could outsmart the media, the team, my dad. That in the end, we were just delaying the inevitable.

I finished up in the shower, wrapping a towel around myself as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked tired, worn out, like I'd aged ten years overnight. But there was a determination in my eyes, a resolve that I hadn't seen before. I wasn't going to let this break me. I wasn't going to let it break us.

I got dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater, something comfortable but presentable. If I was going to face the day, I needed to feel like I was in control, even if I didn't feel it. I grabbed my phone again, hesitating for a moment before I finally hit the call button.

It rang twice before he picked up, his voice groggy, like I'd woken him up. "Hey."

"Hey," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, but the relief I felt at hearing his voice was overwhelming. "Did I wake you?"

"Nah," he said, but I could hear the exhaustion in his tone. "I've been up for a while. Just... thinking."

"Me too," I admitted, sinking down onto the edge of the bed.

"Yeah," he said, and I could hear the tension in his voice, the same worry that had been gnawing at me all night. "It's a lot to take in."

"I know," I said, my heart aching at the thought of him going through this alone.

I wanted to reach through the phone, to hold him, to make him believe that we could do this, that we were strong enough. But all I could do was talk, to try to find the right words to reassure him, even though I wasn't sure I believed them myself.

"I love you," I said, my voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too," he said, and this time, there was more conviction in his voice, more certainty. "And I'm not giving up. Not on us. Not ever."

"Good," I said, feeling a small smile tug at my lips, even though the worry still lingered. "Because I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You won't have to find out," he said, and I could hear the determination in his voice now, the resolve that had been missing before.

"Good," I repeated, feeling a sense of calm wash over me.

The conversation was quiet for a moment, the two of us just breathing together, letting the silence settle over us like a blanket, comforting in its familiarity. It was in these moments, where we didn't need words to express what we felt, that I knew we could survive this.

Brooks broke the silence, his voice softer now. "I'll see you later?"

"Yeah," I said, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. "I'll be there."

We said our goodbyes, the weight of the world still heavy on our shoulders, but there was a new sense of determination, a resolve that hadn't been there before.

This wasn't going to be easy, but nothing worth having ever was.

COACH'S POV 

I watched Lolo leave for the day, a mix of emotions churning in my gut. We'd reached some kind of truce, but it was far from a resolution. The plan we'd come up with was solid, but the doubts still gnawed at me like a persistent itch I couldn't scratch. There was too much at stake to leave anything to chance, and I knew that this plan—this charade—was only going to last so long before something broke.

As I sat in my office, going over game footage, my thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation with Lolo. She was strong, resilient, but I could see the cracks forming, the weight of the situation bearing down on her. She was trying to stay tough, to keep up appearances, but I knew my daughter better than she thought.

The stress was getting to her, and if I wasn't careful, I'd lose her to it.

I picked up the phone, dialing a number I hadn't used in years, but the familiarity of the voice on the other end was like an anchor in the storm. "Bob," I said, my tone gruff. "It's Mark."

"Mark," the voice replied, surprised but warm. "It's been a while." 

"Yeah," I said, leaning back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. "Listen, I need a favor."

"Anything," Bob replied, and I could hear the loyalty in his voice, the respect we'd built over years of working together.

"I need you to keep an eye on things for me," I said, my tone serious. "The team, the media, everything. I've got some... personal shit going on, and I need to know if anything starts to go sideways."

There was a pause on the other end, and I could almost hear Bob's mind working, piecing things together. "This about your daughter?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"Yeah," I admitted, my voice rough. "And Brooks."

"I figured as much," Bob said, a sigh in his voice. "You know I've got your back, Mark. But if you're asking me to keep things under wraps..."

"I'm asking you to keep an eye out," I interrupted, not wanting to get into the details. "Just... let me know if anything starts to blow up. I need to stay ahead of this."

"I understand," Bob said, and I could hear the sincerity in his voice. "I'll keep you in the loop."

"Thanks," I said, hanging up before he could respond. I didn't want to hear the sympathy in his voice, the understanding. I didn't want to be reminded of how far I'd let things spiral out of control.

But as I sat there, staring at the phone in my hand, I knew that I couldn't do this alone. I needed help. I needed people I could trust. Because this was bigger than me, bigger than the team. This was about my daughter, her future, and everything she'd worked so damn hard for.

And I'd be damned if I let it all fall apart because of one fucking relationship.

I picked up the phone again, dialing another number, this time for the team's PR department. If we were going to play this game, we were going to play it right. The media was already sniffing around, and if we didn't get ahead of the story, it would blow up in our faces.

"Jill," I said when the line connected, my tone all business. "We need to talk about damage control."