“Tell me you’ll come with me to my game.”
Levi’s gruff command slides across my still heated skin like a gentle caress. Teasing my fingers over his strong forearms, I can’t find any reason to deny him. In the short time that we’ve spent together, I’ve come to see a side of Levi that I never knew existed. A side that is full of hurt and disappointment. A side that just needs someone to show him that he is worthy of love. Plus, life is too short not to spend it smiling.
Reaching up behind me, I slide my fingers into his hair as I tilt my head sideways and back so I can meet his eyes. “Okay.”
A soft smile twitches at the corners of his mouth, and Levi leans in to steal a sweet kiss.
23
After guiding me to a seat among the players’ friends and family and close to the action, Levi made me promise to stay put until he retrieves me. Then he left to get ready for the game.
I’m so out of my element. The stadium is packed, fans for both teams everywhere creating a sea of red, blue, black, and white on my side, and black and gold dominating the opposite. The noise level is deafening, but the excitement that charges the air fills my chest and helps me understand why people love this stuff. Especially when the players take the field to begin their warmups.
I’ve never been a big soccer person. Hell, I don’t follow sports at all, but I follow Levi. Like he possesses some magnetic draw, I can’t take my eyes off him. Behind me, I hear women squealing over the men as they perform some simple drills, and I smile to myself. I bet he’s loving this.
When I’d said I would come here and watch Levi play, his whole mood shifted. He’s normally upbeat, but he was over the moon ecstatic to be able to bring me back with him. I never realized how much something so seemingly simple could mean to him.
I barely had enough time to call Janey and inform her of my plans before he was putting me on the back of his bike and driving us out of one city and into another.
His hotel room is larger than my entire apartment. A hell of a lot nicer, too. It makes me feel kind of ashamed to have had him there, but the thing about Levi is that he doesn’t judge. At least, not on the outside.
I don’t know why I thought he was anything like David Black. Levi is a much better man and human being than his father could ever claim to be. He is loving, considerate, honest, generous, goofy, and smart. He might just be some sexy, young soccer player to the world, but to me, he is everything. He’s given me my smile back.
Once the players finish their warmups, they take off back inside to, I assume, get ready for show time. It doesn’t take long for them to return, and when they do, their arrival is impossible to miss.
Music pounds throughout the stadium and the announcer shouts over the sound system, introducing each of the players over the excited roar of the crowd, beginning with Levi’s team, the Chicago Fire. The fans surrounding me are on their feet shouting, clapping, and stomping so hard the ground quakes beneath me. The commotion effectively drowns out the boos that filter from across the stadium as each of the players take to the field, their faces and stats displayed on the enormous video board.
They save the best for last. As soon as I see Levi, my smile grows wide enough to make my cheeks ache. Levi is devastatingly sexy in his red and blue uniform, his tattooed arms on full display. Hell, he even manages to make knee socks sexy.
When his face hits the big screen, the noise decibel goes through the roof and Levi lifts his arms up, flashing a cocky smile to his adoring fans. Then, as if in slow motion, his tropical blue eyes locate mine and with the kind of suave, carefree way he has about him, he puckers his lips and blows me a kiss.
A pang of nervous energy hums through me, squeezing the air from my lungs and making my heart pound madly in my chest. I hear chatter around me brought on by his attention, and I know people are questioning our connection. My face grows hot, but I keep my attention plastered to the field. My eyes glued to one figure in particular. I can’t take my eyes off him, my attention fixed even as our side of the stadium erupts into raucous boos when the announcer begins introducing the home team.
Once the players kick off, the game rushes forward. It’s a struggle to keep up with what is happening, especially since I know next to nothing about soccer. All I know is that there’s a ball and a goal and what direction Levi is headed.
It doesn’t take a soccer guru to know, however, that Levi is in his element. Even if I didn’t know that he is one of the top and most sought after players in the league, his footwork alone would give him away.
He’s absolutely breathtaking to watch. The speed in which he runs is astonishing. The fluid way in which he weaves in and out of other player’s paths, kicking and passing the ball to his teammates, faking left and right, using his knees and head to send the ball through the air all keep me riveted. Every time he takes a hit, my heart stops, and every time he recovers and rushes forward it sends it thudding into overtime.
I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, chewing my bottom lip, as I watch Levi race alongside one of his teammates, guarding the ball as he kicks it downfield.
As they close in on the goal, so does the other team. It’s coming to a head and, from where I sit, it looks like a pileup waiting to happen. They’re all converging on one spot, on a collision course with one another.
A burly guy charges up from the left, headed straight for the guy controlling the ball. The crowds on both sides of the stadium are out of their seats shouting, and I’m certain something terrible is about to happen. I can feel it in my chest. This unbearable tightness threatening to smother me.
Then it happens.
Levi’s teammate kicks the ball backward with his heel, Levi moves in to retrieve it, and then, with a move that’s pure speed and agility, he spins around, toes the ball into the air, and jumps. As his feet leave the ground, Levi’s body contorts, rounding backward in a flip. At the same time, his leg comes up, connecting with the ball, and sends it flying over his head.
The goalkeeper lunges a second too late and the ball strikes the net.
It’s a score for his team, but I don’t have the time or luxury of enjoying the moment. What happens next steals what little breath I have left. The linebacker looking guy slams into Levi before he’s finished his flip, sending him sailing through the air. His body slams into the ground with a force that knocks my heart down into my stomach.
The referee’s whistle blows to signal the end of the game. The Chicago Fire’s won.
But Levi…he’s not getting up.
Soon, everyone notices. The coaches and medics rush to him, the teams stand aside, worry clearly marring their faces. The crowd murmurs. The announcer speculates. I hold my breath, my vision blurring as I watch the man I love lying there, motionless in the grass.
Please, God, let him be okay. I send as many prayers as I can to whoever is listening, hoping at least one of them makes it through. Levi needs to be okay. My hand finds my stomach as I think of our child never getting to meet its father, and I almost shatter apart right here. I can’t do this without him.
I don’t know how long he lays there, but it feels like an eternity. When I see the coach stand up and the other players back off, I hold my breath. Please repeats on a constant loop as I stare down at the field, at the spot where Levi is spread out in the grass. I catch a glimpse of his grass-stained cleats first, and I swallow down the lump of fear that’s been steadily rising in my throat since he went down.
The next part of him that’s revealed is his right leg, followed immediately by the left. There are some minor scrapes, but I don’t see anything concerning. No breaks that I can tell. Thank God!
The medics rise up and the circle of staff loosens even more, giving the first full view of Levi as they help him stand.