In the End Zone: A Sports Romance (9 page)

Levitt shoved the mic back into
the interviewer's hand and ran off to join the rest of the celebrating team.
Morgan had no words for what she just saw, and it seemed that the blonde
interviewer was at a loss, too.

When Brent screamed a scream
that was full of rage and frustration, it made Morgan jump. Brent jumped up and
grabbed the end of the coffee table, flipping it on its side. The room was
showered with leftover Chinese food and half-drunk beers, and Morgan gasped,
trying to make herself small on the couch. She had never seen Larson, a man who
always seemed so easy going all of the time, react in such a way.

Larson began pacing around the
room. Morgan watched him as his muscles bulged and flexed with pent up rage. He
was angry, angrier than she had ever seen. "He thinks that he can best me
on a national level. Well, he's got another thing coming!"

"Brent... baby..."

But Larson did not hear her. He
stomped off toward his home gym, and Morgan jumped up to follow him. He was
already stretching when she got in there, and she stood in the doorway.
"Baby, please calm down," she said in a small voice, trying her best
to calm him.

Brent looked up at her, and his
eyes had a sort of fear behind them. "You don't get it, babe. You don't
know." He dropped to a bench and grabbed a weight, curling it quickly as
he talked. "Erik has been doing this to me for years. He's always tried to
be a better me than me."

"No one is better than
you." Morgan's heart ached to see Brent so upset.

"But I just have to be
great next week," Brent grunted with every curl. "I have to be better
than great."

Morgan sank down wordlessly. She
sat on the floor, leaned against the doorway, and she watched as Brent Larson
worked himself to death, pushing his tired, aching muscles to the brink. By the
time he pulled himself away from his home gym, he practically collapsed, and
Morgan had to prop him up and help him to bed.

Her heart ached for him. But how
could she help?

Chapter Fifteen

A few hours later, Brent woke
from his long, overdue nap to find Morgan attempting to clean the mess in the living
room. She was on her hands and knees, scrubbing at the cream-colored carpet. Brent
sank down next to her and wrapped her up in his strong arms.

"I am so sorry that I did
this," he said, his voice small and kind and gentle. "I don't usually
have a temper. I just..." Brent sighed and Morgan laid her head on his
shoulder. "Forget it. I'll call my maid and have her come over.

"It's really no trouble,
Brent," Morgan said.

But Brent pulled her to her
feet. "There's still a few hours left in the day, right? Let's go get a
drink or something."

***

An hour later, Brent and Morgan
walked arm in arm into their little dive bar. Since it was by week, a lot of
the other players were there. Morgan saw Sam and some others playing pool, and
Mitchell the kicker was telling a story to a gaggle of wafer-thin females, all
of which seemed to hang on his every word.

"I'll grab the drinks if
you grab a table," Brent said.

Morgan replied, "You got
it!" She kissed her boyfriend's cheek and wandered off into the darkness
of the bar.

She finally found a little booth
in the back that was unoccupied and she slid in. From here, she could see
almost everything. She waved at Sam and the others and watched as Brent ordered
a beer for himself and a gin and tonic for her.

"Well, well, well."

Morgan turned to face the
vaguely-familiar voice that addressed her, and she quickly found herself looking
into the cold blue eyes of Erik Levitt. She gasped as the big man seemed to
tower over her, and his very facade frightened her to her core.

"Aren’t you a right pretty
little thing?" Levitt cooed at her, his ugly face smiling down. He seemed
awfully sure of himself, but Morgan just moved a little farther away.

"Uh..." Morgan could
not find the words to respond to him.

Levitt leaned against Morgan's
booth and he winked. "I know, it's hard to talk in the face of such
greatness." He sighed and flexed his muscles. "Did you get a chance
to see my performance on TV today? I'm Erik Levitt of the Blue Kraits."

"I know" Morgan was
having a difficult time not wrinkling her nose. What surprised her the most was
that it seemed that Levitt did not recognize her from the other night.

"You know," Levitt
leaned down and Morgan could smell the heavy aroma of beer on his breath,
"We could get out of here, you and me. We could... uh... get to know each
other better."

This time, Morgan's disgust was
painted on her face. "Uh, no thanks," she said, trying to move as far
away from the huge man as she could.

Levitt only smiled wider at the
rejection. "Oh, come on!" he said, "This place is so stuffy. I'd
love to get you somewhere quiet and get those nice clothes off of you
and--"

"I said no," Morgan
said, her voice louder and firmer now. "Now leave me alone."

When Morgan's tone changed, Levitt's
whole body stiffened. It seemed that he was not used to being rejected.
"You...
Ya
... Uh, fuck it."

And with those words, Levitt
reached into the booth and grabbed Morgan. His large hand wrapped around her
tiny arm easily and he pulled her out of the booth in one swift motion.
"No one says no to me," he grunted in a low, angry tone.

"Get your hands off of
me!" Morgan shouted with all of her might. She began hitting Levitt’s arms
with her little fists, but the blows were all in vain. He was too strong, too
hardened, and he batted her flying hand away as though it was a bothersome
gnat.

"Come on," he said,
dragging Morgan to the door, "We are getting out of here. I'm going to
have a good time tonight whether you like it or not."

Fear rose up in Morgan, making
it hard for her to breath. Was this massive man really going to pull her out of
the bar caveman style to do whatever he wanted? She hit and kicked at him
again, screaming, "Let me go,” but it was to no avail.

"Levitt,
you
son of a bitch! Get your hands off of her!"

Brent Larson seemed to appear
out of nowhere. He slammed the drinks that he was carrying down on a nearby
table and he flew across the bar. He moved so fast that it took Morgan's breath
away. Erik Levitt dropped his hands from Morgan and she rushed as fast as she
could to get away from him.

Levitt raised his hands.
"He-
ey
, Larson!" he said, baiting the
running back for the Caimans, "Fancy meeting you here!"

Brent looked murderous.
"You better not put your hands on my girlfriend ever again."

The bald football player just
smiled in response. "Oh, this is your woman?" he asked with a tone
that told everyone with ears that he knew who Morgan was all along, "My
bad, bro."

"
You
fucker, get your ass out of here." Brent stepped forward and Morgan moved
behind him. Her arm still ached where Levitt had grabbed it and she could
barely bring herself to look up at him.

Levitt just raised his hands
higher in mock defeat. "I'll go," he said, walking backward toward
the door, "Just know that I'll have that tight pussy on my cock before you
ever get that record back."

Brent lunged for Levitt again,
knocking them both to the bar floor. Morgan screamed and everyone around began
pulling them off of one another.

Brent was pulled away and there
laid Levitt with bright red blood pouring from his nose. If nothing else,
Larson had gotten a good jab in on his rival. Morgan watched, and she thought
it strange that Levitt was laughing.

"Is that all you got,
Larson?" He asked as he climbed to his feet.

Brent struggled against the
grips of his teammates. "I would flatten your ass in the ground if I was
given a chance."

"Then let's go!" Levitt
roared. He wiped some of the blood away from his face, but nothing could take
away that maniacal grin of his. "You and me on that field next week.
Whoever holds the record at the end wins."

"I'll take that fucking
bet," Larson said, "And if I win, I get to beat the shit out of
you."

Levitt laughed. The sound echoed
eerily throughout the quiet bar. Every patron there was watching the drama
unfold, and out of the corner of her eye, Morgan saw someone holding up a
smartphone. "Deal," Levitt said, "And if I win, I get to fuck
that pretty little slip of a thing hiding behind you."

It took Morgan a moment to
process what the behemoth had requested. He wanted to fuck her? Rip her to
pieces for an hour? There was no way that Brent would agree to something like
that. Morgan, who was standing behind Brent and surrounded by his teammates,
could feel herself shrink into the ground. Every player from the Caimans
stiffened; they all knew her and liked her. Brent would never take that bet,
right?

"You're on."

Chapter Sixteen

Morgan woke up the next morning in her bed, and for a few
blissful moments, she had no memory of the night before. Then it all came
roaring back: watching the Blue Kraits win, seeing Brent's horrid outburst, the
bar, Erik Levitt’s awful face so close to hers, the blood... The bet.

Morgan rolled over and pulled the pillow over her face and she
sobbed. As soon as the words had left Brent's mouth, the players shook on it,
but Morgan did not wait around. She could feel the outrage from everyone else
around her, but to her, everything was a horrible betrayal. She had
ran
away from the bar in tears, not stopping until she had
arrived back at her own place alone. If Brent had followed her, she had paid
him no mind.

And why should she pay him any mind? Did he show the slightest
bit of concern for her when he laid her body out for the taking? Was she not
her own woman, capable of making decisions on who to give or not give her pussy
to?

The buzzing of her phone on vibrate caught her attention. She
rolled over and fished for the phone, finding it deep in her purse.

"12 new messages from Brent Larson."

"15 new messages from 93ToBe."

"7 missed calls from Brent Larson"

"2 unheard voicemails from Brent Larson."

Morgan groaned and threw the phone across the room. "I
don't want to talk to you!" she screamed to her empty room, her words
meant for Brent.

Did he even know what he did? Or, was his pride such a blinder
that he did not even care? Morgan pulled the blankets from her body and forced
herself up, craving coffee and toast. And no matter how upset she was, she
would not let herself lay in bed all day over a man.

Morgan made her coffee and toast and settled down at her laptop.
She pulled up her favorite gossip site, only to be bombarded with a story that
made her shake:

LARSON VS LEVITT! THE WINNER GETS THE
MYSTERY GAL!

If you weren't at the Blue Ridge Bar last night, then you
certainly missed the drama.

Most football fans will agree, the long-standing feud
between the two greatest running backs in the history of the game has been a fun
one to watch. But last night, things turned personal.

An anonymous source states that they saw Erik Levitt, the
monster running back for the Blue Kraits, hitting on the longtime girlfriend of
Brent Larson. The men sparred, then the argument devolved into fisticuffs.

Before the end of the night, they were betting on who
would win the big game coming up next week. And the biggest bombshell of all:
Larson put up his sweet little girlfriend for Levitt to devour!

Watch the video below and tell us what you think!

Morgan's jaw dropped as her eyes landed on the video. It was
taken by a cell phone and as it played, she saw herself freaking out and
running out of the bar, only for Brent to call for her.

She could not stop herself from reading the comments. They ranged
from attacks on Brent for offering her up like a piece of meat, to horrible
opinions about her weight, hair, looks, and breasts, to people being nasty to
each other. Tears poured from her eyes and she slammed her laptop shut.

The cell phone began vibrating again, and Morgan walked across
the room to retrieve it. Brent's face and name buzzed on the front. He was
calling, and Morgan had no intentions of answering.

"Whatever," she mumbled under her breath as she denied
the call.

But what was she going to do? Just never speak to him again? Was
this the end... Were they going to break up over this?

When Morgan looked deep in her heart, she realized that no, she
did not want to end things with Brent. She felt a love for him that was so deep
that it was rooted inside of her heart permanently. It wove within her, tangled
like vines. It was becoming her. She had a hard time giving that up so easy.

The phone buzzed again.

"3 new unheard voicemails from Brent Larson."

Morgan sighed and unlocked the phone. A few swipes later and her
voicemail appeared before her. There were three messages in all. She listened
to the oldest first. The first message was from last night at 11:47. Morgan
racked her brain, then realized that he must have left that message as soon as
he realized that she was missing from the bar.

"Baby? Baby, where did you go?" Brent's voice was loud
and slurred, and Morgan knew that the brew that ran through his veins was
stopping him from thinking clearly. "Sam said you left. I hope you aren't
mad at me. I love you baby, and there's no way in hell that Levitt is going to
win!"

The second message was from 4 in the morning. Morgan must have
slept right through all of the calls, but from the sound of Brent's voice, he
had been doing no sleeping. His voice in the second message was weak. Morgan
could almost hear the tears rolling down his face, and she certainly heard the
sobs that he fought to bite back as he spoke.

"Baby girl? Please pick up the phone. Please." He
sobbed and sighed. "I'm a monster, a fucking monster. I don't know why I
did it, and I know that you are probably going to hate me for the rest of my
life." He paused as if he wanted to say something else. But, he just ended
the call by whispering the words, "I love you, baby girl."

Morgan blinked back tears, and she went right to the third
message. Brent's voice sounded tired and hollow, and he spoke so quietly that
Morgan had to raise her volume up all the way.

"Baby girl? Morgan? It's me." Brent sighed heavily.
"I know that you probably don’t want to see me right now, or hear from me,
frankly. I know that I did you wrong. My darling baby, I would take it all back
in a heartbeat. I don’t know why I did it, honestly." He paused and Morgan
heard the clinking of dishes in the background. "If you want to talk, I'm
at the
Starstruck
Cafe. It's about a block away from
your place. I'll be here until 1 o'clock, then I am supposed to be
training." His voice cracked with emotion as he said, "Please,
Morgan. If you want to talk, come down here. I don’t want to lose you."

Morgan sighed and wiped a lone tear from her cheek. She wanted
to see him, to talk to him and press her face into his chest to let all of her
sobs out. But she was afraid to see him, mostly because she wanted to dump
coffee in his lap, break plates over his head, and shout that she never wanted
to see him ever again.

Finally, she decided that she could take it no longer. She
dressed quickly and practically ran down to the
Starstruck
Cafe. She had always liked that little place. It was a great coffee shop with
decent sandwiches and they never gave her any hassle over hanging out for hours
at a time trying to study during her college years.

When she came up on the cafe, she could see Brent sitting just
inside near a big window. He was looking at his phone and did not see Morgan
staring. But she could not believe what she saw.

The confident, cocky man that had won her heart was not sitting
there. This man was broken. His eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks were
sunken in. The coffee and Danish in front of him were untouched, which was
quite unusual since Brent devoured all food sitting within a yard's radius. He
wore the same clothes as the night before, and if Morgan had to guess, he
looked as though he had not slept or showered at all.

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."