Loving You {Chicago Book 1}

prologue

PROLOGUE - HAILEY ALLEN

Hate is a strong word.

I hate that phrase. My parents used to tell me it all the time when I was younger when I used to say that that I hated my brother.

Right now, however? Right now, I'm walking on that fine line between love and hate because he is genuinely annoying the heck out of me.

"Hailey, c'mon! Just a little bit further!" He begs from his position hanging out my bedroom window. "I can almost reach it."

"Brad, it's not going to work. I'm not strong enough to hold up much longer!" I state, my arms starting to feel dead from holding his heavy legs up. He isn't the lightest person around, considering he's the starting quarterback of our college football team.

But he's adamant. "Hails, just a little bit longer. C'mon. You can do it."

In case anyone is wondering, this isn't what we do for fun. The idiot locked all his things into his room and now can't get inside. He installed the lock his senior year of high school but it's one that you lock from the inside so how he managed to lock himself out, I will never know.

Bradley Allen really is in another realm of special.

And that's when it happens. It's almost like slow motion, really. "I've got it!" He exclaims before he pulls himself out of my grasp. I assume it's because he has pulled himself into his bedroom window.

But of course, that's not the case. It's because he's hanging onto the windows sill, dangling down the side of the house.

He's going to fall. There's no way to avoid it. "Hailey! Fucking help me!"

"What am I supposed to do?" I ask in a frenzy, currently hanging out my window myself.

"I don't know!" He shouts. "Just don't let me fall!"

"Brad, tell me how to help you!"

But he can't because his fingers slip and then he's on the ground, withering in pain. Crap. Without hesitation, I sprint downstairs and out into the back yard where I find him now sitting up against the wall.

"Hospital. Now," he orders me through clenched teeth as he grips his shoulder with one hand and his knee with the other.

I know exactly what's currently going through his mind. Football. If he's got a knee or shoulder injury, he's as good as finished. It's his senior year and he's aiming to get drafted this year but it's not going to happen from the bench.

As quickly as possible, we get into the car and I speed the entire way to the hospital. The sooner we get there, the more chance of his career surviving.

Three hours later, his name is finally called, and he hobbles into the room without a second look in my direction except his cell landing in my lap. Just as he does, the phone starts to ring, and I see 'Mom' written across the screen.

With an inward cringe, I slide my finger across the screen and hold it up to my ear. "Hey, Mom," I greet her as cheerily as possible.

"Hailey? Why are you answering your brother's phone?" She questions on the other line, sounding a little confused.

"Give me two minutes," I tell her before standing up and walking out the sterile waiting room, leaving the smell of disinfectant behind. Once I'm safely away, I revert my attention back to the phone. "We're at the Royal. Brad hurt himself being Brad."

And because he can do no wrong, she turns it on me. "Why weren't you watching him? He's the quarterback, Hailey! He can't just hurt himself!"

"Mom! He's two years older and a hundred pound heavier! How was I supposed to stop him crawling out my window? He bench presses heavier than me!" I defend myself, leaning back against the rough brick of the hospital exterior just as an ambulance comes skidding to a halt.

With all the fuss happening in front of me, I don't manage to catch whatever rubbish she tells me next. "Hailey Jane Allen! Are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry, Mom, there was an ambulance. I was curious. What did you say?"

"Jesus, child. I said that I was on my way. Dad is going to stay with Kylie and then you can drive home. Get back to school so that you can go and tell his coach what has happened," she tells me.

Oh, of course. I'm going to have to be the one to look the scariest guy I have ever met in the eye and tell him that his best player is out for the season because he fell out my window after locking himself out his room. Thanks, Mom. Love ya, too.

"Okay, cool," I reply before we say our goodbyes. Just as I'm entering the waiting room, Brad emerges from the small consulting room, this time with a crutch and one of those cloth slings. He hobbles over and sits next to me again.

"Where'd you go?" He asks me, propping the crutch up beside him.

"Outside for a smoke," I deadpan.

Of course, he doesn't believe me. "Oh, yeah, because Hailey Allen, the girl who has never touched a drop of alcohol in her life has suddenly decided to start smoking. Now, tell me the truth."

"I am," I press, not a hint of a smile in sight. "It's what you've driven me to this summer."

"Shut the fuck up, Hailey. Seriously, where'd you go?"

"Mom called," I finally concede, seeing that he isn't in the joking mood like he normally is. To be fair, I wouldn't be either if I had just caused my career to go down the drain. "She's on her way. She wants me to go back to school so I can go and tell your coach what happened."

He nods before pausing and swinging his head towards me, looking at me with wide eyes. "You can't tell him the truth! Tell him I was out for a run and I tripped and fell into a ditch or something. Please just don't let anyone know the truth. I might not be the quarterback anymore, but I'm still Brad Allen. I still need my social life."

Jeez, I have some amazing blackmail material under my belt now. "Okay," I nod. "Just remember you owe me something massive."

"Yeah, whatever. Just make sure that this stays between us."