Breaking the Playbook [COMPLETED]

Chapter 42

LOLO'S POV

It's been more than a week since Brooks' explosive outburst and our subsequent declaration to the media that we're together—come hell or high water. The storm of flashing cameras and invasive reporters has settled into a more predictable hum; the frenzy is now merely a backdrop to the new reality we're trying to navigate. Brooks is still on the team; his public apology didn't undo the media circus but at least it kept him on the field. The intensity of that moment, when he stood outside the facility, all rage and raw honesty, admitting to the world that he loved me and that the shitstorm around us was fake, remains a vivid flash in my memory.

It's strange how something so messy can also be oddly clarifying. Our relationship is out in the open now, with no pretense. And for once, I feel like I'm not just being watched but seen—really seen—for who I am and what I stand for.

The aftermath has been a whirlwind of media coverage, fan reactions, and more than a fair share of judgment. Yet, amidst the chaos, Brooks and I have found a new rhythm. It's a strange comfort to know that the world knows the truth—even if it's less than flattering and more than a bit chaotic. We've been forced to confront our feelings, not in the privacy of our own space but under the glaring spotlight of public scrutiny.

Sitting here in my room, I can still see the dark circles under my eyes from the lack of sleep and the relentless pressure. My office has become a fortress of solitude, but even here, the noise from the outside world occasionally creeps in. Papers are strewn about, evidence of my attempts to maintain some semblance of normalcy, but nothing feels normal anymore. Every decision, every action, is now intertwined with the media's ever-watchful eye.

It's been a fucking rollercoaster. The press releases, the social media reactions, and the constant need to stay on top of everything—it's overwhelming. There's a part of me that wishes I could just shut it all out and disappear into the normalcy of my pre-Brooks life. But then I remember why I'm fighting so hard and why the chaos is worth it.

Brooks has a game coming up, a crucial one, and it feels like the entire weight of our new public image is resting on his shoulders. It's a make-or-break moment, not just for him but for us. If he plays well, it could mean solidifying his position on the team and giving him a chance to prove that he's more than just a headline. If he falters, it could mean the end of more than just his career.

Our conversations have been heavy with the stakes of this game, and it's hard to separate my anxiety for his performance from my personal fears about our future. The balance is delicate—support him without suffocating him, be present without being overwhelmed by the pressure. It's a dance I'm learning to navigate, and some days, it feels like a damn tightrope.

I get it now more than ever. It wasn't just about defending our relationship; it was about reclaiming some semblance of control and honesty in a situation that was spinning out of control. And as much as I hated the chaos it stirred up, I also know it was necessary.

Before all this, my life was neatly compartmentalized—career, family, and personal life all had their places. Now, those lines are blurred, and it's been a fucking eye-opener.

Brooks is still the same guy I fell for—passionate, intense, and fiercely loyal. But seeing him handle the pressure, the public scrutiny, and the weight of his career with a kind of raw resilience has made me fall for him all over again. His outburst wasn't just an act of rebellion. In these quiet moments, when the noise of the outside world fades and I'm left alone with my thoughts, I find clarity. We're in this together, not just because we have to be, but because we choose to be. The media can continue to speculate, and the critics can continue to judge, but our reality is ours to shape. And right now, it feels like we're on the brink of something new and exciting, despite the fucking circus surrounding us.

The next few days are critical. Brooks' game is approaching, and with it, the opportunity for him to prove himself not just as a player but as someone who can rise above the chaos. I'll be there, watching, supporting, and hoping that this game will be the turning point we need. The stakes are high, and the pressure is immense, but I believe in him. I believe in us.

As I prepare for the days ahead, I'm focused on the one thing that really matters—staying true to ourselves and to each other.