Breaking the Playbook [COMPLETED]

Chapter 41

LOLO'S POV

The day after Brooks' explosive outburst was a whirlwind of chaos. I woke up to my phone blowing up with notifications, each one a reminder of the media frenzy that had erupted. My social media feeds were flooded with clips of Brooks' emotional confession; every angle of his breakdown was broadcast and analyzed. It was everywhere—news websites, social media, even late-night talk shows.

I had hoped that the media circus would die down, but it seemed like the situation was only getting worse. The headlines screamed about Brooks' potential dismissal from the team and the scandalous details of our relationship. It felt like the world was crashing down around us, and I was trapped in the eye of the storm.

The weight of it all was suffocating. I had managed to grab a few hours of sleep, but I woke up feeling like I had been hit by a truck. My thoughts were a jumbled mess of anxiety and fear. I needed to see Brooks, to be with him, to figure out what we were going to do next. I couldn't handle the thought of him being dragged through the mud, his career, and our relationship hanging in the balance.

I got dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, not bothering to do much with my hair or makeup. There was no time for that. I needed to get to the facility and find Brooks before the media swarmed him again.

The drive to the facility was a blur of red lights and honking horns. The streets were packed with cars, and I could see the press everywhere—outside the facility, across the street, even in the nearby park. They were like vultures, waiting for the next piece of juicy news.

When I finally arrived, I could barely get through the crowd of reporters and photographers. They were relentless, shoving microphones and cameras in my face and bombarding me with questions about Brooks and our relationship. I ignored them as best I could, focusing only on reaching the entrance of the facility.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense. The usual hum of activity was replaced by a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of worried staff and the clacking of keyboards. I could see the stress etched into the faces of the team members and coaches, their brows furrowed in concentration.

I found Brooks in his locker room, sitting on the bench with his head in his hands. The sight of him, so defeated and broken, made my heart ache. I walked over and sat beside him, my hand reaching out to touch his shoulder.

The door to the locker room opened, and Coach—my father—walked in. His face was a mask of professionalism, but I could see the strain in his eyes. He took a deep breath and walked over to us.

"Brooks," he said, his voice steady but edged with tension. "We need to talk."

Brooks stood up, his posture rigid, with a mix of anxiety and anger. "What's going to happen?" he asked, his voice tight.

Coach took a seat across from us, his expression serious. "The team's board is meeting today to discuss your future. There's a lot of pressure on them, and the decision could go either way."

"Great," Brooks said bitterly. "So I'm just a pawn in this fucking game."

Coach looked at him, his eyes softening slightly. "I know this is hard. Believe me, I'm trying to do what I can to keep you on the team. But it's not just up to me. There's a lot of politics involved."

The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. A team representative entered, looking grim. "Coach, the board's meeting has started. They're ready for you."

Coach stood up, giving Brooks a nod of encouragement. "I'll keep you updated. Hang in there."

As Coach left, I could feel the tension in the room increasing. Brooks looked at me, his face a mix of worry and resignation. "I don't know how much more of this I can handle," he said, his voice breaking.