by Nacole Mills
Morgan's heart fluttered when she saw him, and she could feel it swelling deep within her chest. No matter what happened, she could not fight that feeling of love for him that seemed to always take her over. Morgan took and deep breath and thought to herself, Just hear him out.
When she walked in, Brent's tired, but still beautiful, blue eyes looked up and widened when he saw her. He stood quickly, saying, "You came!"
Morgan walked over and sank into the seat across from him. She was shaking from nerves and a little bit of repressed anger, but she forced herself to be quiet.
Brent sat quickly, scraping his chair as he did. "I am so glad you came," he said, rushed with a voice that sounded as old as time, "Do you want a coffee?"
Looking down at her shaking hands, Morgan said, "No, I better not."
She looked up and her eyes met Brent's. He did not speak, so she started. "How could you? You offered me up like a slab of meat!"
Tears welled up in Brent's eyes and he did nothing to hide them. "I know. I could say that I was drunk and stupid and high on adrenaline, but it's no excuse." Brent leaned forward and took Morgan's hand in his. "I am so sorry. I will never be able to say how sorry I truly am."
Morgan regarded Brent's hands, both clasped around hers, holding her gently. There were many times before that she had marveled at his hands, but she looked at them this time in a new light. "Brent... I... I don’t know." She kept her eyes on those hands, holding her and cocooning her.
"I'm so sorry, so sorry," Brent said as his tears fell. "I love you so much, more than I ever thought I could ever love another person. And I cannot believe that I risked everything between us for what? Dick points?"
But Morgan said nothing. What does one say when they have been betrayed like that?
"Please, tell me what I can do to make it better. I just want you back, back to where we were yesterday afternoon, cuddled on the couch and eating Chinese food and watching football like an old married couple."
Morgan smiled at the memory, and if she was to admit it to herself, she wanted to go back there, too. But could they? "What are we going to do?"
Brent dropped his head into his hands. "I don’t know," he moaned, "If I go back on the bet, Levitt wins. And I'm starting to wonder if I am good enough to beat him."
Morgan looked down at her sweet boyfriend who was so full of doubt that it was spilling out of his eyes. No, she was not happy with what went down the night before. And it would take a lot of work to convince her that Brent did not view her as an object. But right now, for the week leading up to the big game against the Blue Kraits, she needed to be by his side.
Slowly, Morgan leaned forward and grabbed Brent's hand in hers, just like he did to her. She cradled it gently, turning it over and looking at the hardened lines that ran across his palm. Morgan had never fully taken in every small detail of Brent, but she caught herself noticing them now. There was a scar across his thumb pad, one that looked deep and rigid. A series of small freckles clustered at his wrist, and she leaned forward and kissed them. Nothing could ever take away the love that she felt for Brent, and he needed her by his side, now more than ever.
"You can do this," she said in her low voice, her eyes boring into his, "You can beat him. You are better than him, faster than him, and stronger than him. Your head is cool and calm and collected, while he is a hot head bursting at the seams."
Morgan reached up and touched Brent's face with her palm. A short bit of stubble caught on her skin, but she stroked him gently, lovingly. "You can do this, and I will be by your side the whole time."
Chapter Seventeen
The week before the game seemed to move both lighting fast and agonizingly slow for Morgan. Brent seemed to gain his confidence back with Morgan by his side, and he trained almost every waking moment all week. He would wake, eat his protein-only breakfast, then spend hours in the gym before going to practice with the rest of the players. And after dinner, he would work in his home gym until he collapsed for the night.
Morgan, meanwhile, was trying to just keep her head down. It seemed that everyone in the world knew about the bet. Her coworkers either stared at her with wide eyes or gave her a wide, silent berth. Sydney and Gary, who she was mildly close to, made teasing little remarks in order to break the tension, then all seemed to go back to normal.
But when Morgan found herself alone in an elevator with her boss, Mr. Dryer, she suddenly felt overwhelmed with fear. Her whole body seemed to knot up with nervous tension when he climbed on next to her and her mouth suddenly became very dry.
"Ahh, Morgan," Dryer said with a nod when he saw her.
Morgan nodded back, unable to speak.
The pair stood in silence as they waited for the doors to close, and Morgan wondered why she reacted that way. The only person in the world that she was afraid to tell, her dad, took it with ease. "You're a grown woman," he has said to her, "You have to make your own choices in life. And if you chose to stand by Larson, then I stand with you."
But now, she was filled with an anxiety that went all the way to her core. Why was she so afraid of what Dryer would say? His last words to her echoed through her mind... Just guard your heart, my dear. They were the words of a worried and loving father, not a hardened boss.
The silver doors slid closed, trapping Morgan in with her boss. They were alone as they rode up to the seventh floor, where Dryer would get off and Morgan could feel her fingers and her toes twitching uncontrollably.
After a few seconds, Dryer stared forward as he said, "I know that you are waiting for me to say something."
Morgan had no response. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable.
Dryer sighed. "It's a hard place to be in, Ms. McMinn, and I know that I am just your boss and nothing more." He looked over at her, their eyes meeting for the first time. "But you remind me of my daughter. She had the same fierce look of determination that you carried on your first day here. It's made me fond of you, and sometimes I consider you one of my own."
Morgan blinked hard. Yes, she had her own father, but since the very beginning, she felt a father-like connection with ol' Dryer. She could not believe that he felt the same.
The old man sighed, and suddenly he looked as old as his years. Morgan saw, for the first time, the lines that crisscrossed his tanned face. He looked starker, frailer, and she felt a rush of protectiveness wash over her.
"I trust you to guard your heart," Dryer said as they passed the sixth floor, "But if you ever need anything, please do not hesitate to ask." Dryer's hand reached out and grabbed Morgan's shoulder. "Know your worth. Know that you are good enough. And please, know that you are more than arm candy."
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open slowly, revealing the seventh floor. Dryer stepped off, but he turned to give Morgan one last look. "You've got this, kid." The older man stood there smiling, waiting for the doors to close and the elevator to take Morgan to the eight floor.
***
Morgan took to spending her lunch breaks watching the team practice downstairs. She wrote it off as "filming b-roll", but she knew that Brent played better when she was around. His confidence seemed to soar when he saw her. He could make every catch. He could run twice as fast. And he could dodge everything that tried to stop him in his tracks.
With only two days to go before the big game, the coaches were working the players harder than ever. Sure, they knew of the bet between Larson and Levitt, and sure they knew about the record in questions, but for them, it was more about beating the rival. The years before Brent Larson and Sam Smythe joined the team were dark ones and the Blue Kraits won more games than they lost. But with the Smythe/Larson duo on the field, the Caimans had won every game they played against the Blue Kraits. And the coaches were determined that this year would not be the exception.
Morgan sat herself on the silver bleachers and she watched the team with her video camera beside her and her sandwich for lunch in her lap. She nibbled every now and then, but she mostly
kept her eyes on the number 93. She watched him play, and now more than ever, she was confident that he would not lose that bet.
Somewhere in her mind, she knew that she was waiting for something, someone else to appear on the bleachers with her. And that day, two days before the big game, Dryer joined her for lunch.
Her boss seemed to materialize beside her on the steel bleachers, carrying his own bagged lunch. He sat without saying a word and took out his own sandwich. Morgan watched has he took a bite and chewed. Dryer swallowed, then said, "Larson's really got the speed this weekend. I think he can pull it off."
Morgan smiled to herself. The nerves that she had felt before when she was around her boss were gone now. "Yeah, and Smythe has been incredibly accurate all week long."
"True." Dryer pointed at the defensive line. "Those monster-sized boys have really got their work cut out for them."
"Well, they can’t catch Brent, but I doubt that with Levitt’s size that he could outrun him, or the defense."
Morgan met Dryer's eyes and they shared a small smile. Both of them went back to their lunches, chewing silently. The noises and shouts of practice would have drowned out their words anyway. But there were no words that Morgan could find to express to Dryer how happy she was that he came to eat lunch with her that very day.
At the end of lunch, Morgan stood to get back to work. Dryer stopped her and said, "Hey, he's going to win."
***
Morgan McMinn woke up alone in Brent Larson's apartment. She looked around and it took her a moment to remember that she stayed with him at his request the night before the game.
It was the day.
Morgan's heart fluttered nervously and her body seemed to seize up a little. She forced herself through it, and she reached over to Brent's side of the bed. She found it empty and cold.
She climbed from Brent's bed and pulled on the cream-colored sheer robe that Brent had gifted her earlier in the week. She wandered to the home gym, but the lights were off and the machines were cold and dry.
"I'm in here," Brent's voice called out from the kitchen.
Morgan found him cooking an omelet with bacon and sausage. Next to him was an empty glass with the remnants of a protein shake left in it. He looked more at ease than she had seen him all week, and it made her smile. She sank into one of the bar stools that overlooked the kitchen and Brent poured her a fresh cup of coffee.
"Did you sleep well?" Brent asked as he slid the coffee in front of her.
Morgan smiled and took the mug with both hands. "Yep," she said brightly, although it was a lie. She had tossed and turned all night with nightmares of Erik Levitt chasing her down on the football field.
Brent gave her a half grin, and Morgan wondered if he could sense the lie in her voice. He turned back to the breakfast that he was cooking and Morgan blew the steam off of her joe. "I'm going to head down soon," Brent said, "I want to get there early and do some extra stretches and stuff."
"Sydney gave me the day off," Morgan said. She paused to sip her black coffee, then continued, "I'm going to be in the stands, I think. I do not want to be with the other media guys. None of the know quite what to say to me after that video got out."
Brent turned and looked at her with sympathy. "Oh, baby," he said, his eyes looking sad.
But Morgan waved him off. "They will all forget about it in a few weeks and things will go back to normal."
"As long as I win," Brent mumbled under his breath.
"You WILL win," Morgan said with emphasis, "Positive thinking, babe."
Brent gave her a halfhearted grin that quickly disappeared from his face. He tossed his food on his plate and began eating quickly. The pair spent the morning mostly in silence, showering and dressing together before leaving for the stadium.
Today was the day.
Brent Larson versus Erik Levitt. And Morgan was terrified to know who would win.
Chapter Eighteen
There was a strange air of savagery in the stadium when Morgan arrived. It unnerved her and made her uneasy, and she was incredibly thankful for the baseball cap and sunglasses that she had donned before arriving. She hoped that no one would recognize her from the video that had already gotten over 5 million hits, and so far, so good.
Morgan had come to the game alone. She did not dare give her dad a ticket to the game where his daughter's body was up for grabs. So, she took the one lone ticket that she asked for and made her way to her seats right behind the Caimans.
She sat and pulled her hoodie up and over her cap-clad head and wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. Everyone around her was acting blood thirsty, ready for the Caimans to beat the snot out of their rivals. It seemed that the bet had riled everyone up more so than ever. It was Larson vs. Levitt everywhere she turned.
Morgan tried her best to ignore everyone around her talking about the bet. She kept to herself, looking forward to the field and counting down the minutes until the start of the game.
"Ma'am?"
A voice above Morgan made her head turn. She saw a security guard standing there, looking down at her with squinted eyes.
"Yes?" she said, not taking off her sunglasses or hat.
"Are you Morgan McMinn?"
At the sound of her voice, it seemed that everyone within a 5-yard radius had turned to look at her. She sank a little lower in her chair and nodded ever-so slightly. She knew that a blush was rising up on her face, hot and fast, and nothing that she could do would push away the mortified feeling that washed over her.
"Coach Boss as requested your presence in the locker room. Will you come with me?" The security guard nodded a little way down the steps to a locked gate.
Morgan nodded and stood. She looked around at everyone that she passed, and people seemed to be regarding her as some kind of a celebrity. They smiled and waved, some took pictures with their phones, and she heard a few voices shout her name. "Go Morgan!" "Whoo, we love you, Morgan!"
The security guard flashed a card at the locked gate and Morgan heard it click open, she followed him down to the field, then down a hallway toward the locker room. Coach Boss was waiting with his arms folded over his chest. He looked impatient and put out and he nodded when he saw Morgan.
"Thank you," he said to the security guard, dismissing him.
Coach Boss stared down at Morgan and she felt herself tremble from nerves. As she pulled away her sunglasses and took her hat from her head, she wondered where the sweet, kind man was that she had originally interviewed at the start of her internship. Now, he looked hardened and scary, especially to tiny little Morgan.
"Ms. McMinn, you are not going to sit in the stands today."
Morgan's heart fluttered. Was he kicking her out? Was she not even able to watch the game where there was so much at stake?
"We are moving you to the press section on the field."
"What? Why? I'm not on duty today," Morgan said, dumbfounded that not only was he letting her stay, but he wanted her so close to the team.
Coach Boss sighed. "If you must know, we have had a credible threat leaked from the Blue Kraits. It seems that Levitt was bragging that he would 'bag his prize' one way or another. Larson and I agree that this is the best way to keep you safe. You will have Max, our security guard, and he has agreed to stay with you the entire time"
Morgan nodded, but on the inside she was panicking. Levitt still wanted her? So much that he was willing to do something to her in the stands? She took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. Not only would have the security guard with her, but she would be surrounded by her friends from work and dozens of giant, hulking football players. She would be safe, right?
***
Once the game had started and the players were on the field, Morgan and her security detail, Max, slipped in to the press area seemingly unnoticed.
"Try and enjoy yourself," Max had said to her, "I'll be on top of things and you will be fine."
Morgan regarded her security detail and she found that she
was fond of him. Max was tall and muscular like the football players that he worked for. His skin was a deep, rich chocolate color and his head was shaved bald and shiny. He wore a black security uniform and slipped glasses over his dark brown eyes. Morgan found herself feeling calm and safe when Max stood in her shadow.
The game began with the Caimans on the defense, and soon Morgan found herself shouting and cheering along with the rest of the fans. She tried her best not to look over at Brent, who was seated on the sidelines, trying to rest and relax. Instead, Morgan's eyes searched out Levitt among the crowd of players.
It was easy to find Erik Levitt among the crowd. His tall, bulky body made him stand a hair above the rest, and his growl could be heard over the roar of the crowd. Morgan watched as his number 12 jersey lined up with the rest, and it seemed that he was determined to break Larson's record and win Morgan's body.
Morgan tried to remind herself that he needed one more touchdown to tie the record. Levitt ran for passes, but the Caimans' defense was strong, and the quarterback for Levitt’s team was sacked quite often.
With every sack, Morgan watched as Levitt’s ugly face grew redder and angrier. He was shouting and screaming at his team mates, throwing around horrible obscenities that would make a grown man blush.
"Come on, fuckers!" Levitt screamed above the den, his voice like nails on a chalkboard to Morgan.
But it was no use. The defense intercepted the ball and the Caimans broke out into a cheer! Levitt had lost his first chance to best Larson.
Larson grabbed his helmet and ran on to the field with the rest of the offensive line. Morgan screamed and cheered for her man, and she watched his perfect ass in those tight pants run away from her. No matter what the stakes, she had to admit that Larson was the most beautiful, sexy man that she had ever laid eyes on.
Soon, the Caimans were off, desperate to get the football to Larson. He already had one up on Levitt, so any other touchdowns would make it harder for Levitt to catch up. However, the defensive line for the Blue Kraits was not going to give up easily, and from what Morgan saw, they were ready to play dirty.
