Roswell Fanatics

Alrighty, here's the new part. It's short, but that's because it's kind of a stand-alone chapter. Things are about to get interesting, so stick around!

So nobody has seen my Patriots Diet Pepsi commercial? The one where they draft the machine? And the Pats player pats the machine on the butt after a play, and the machine spits out a Diet Pepsi? lol

Damn. I love that commercial. I'll update again either later tonight or tomorrow.



Part Ten - It’s All Fun And Games Until Someone Loses An Eye…


“All right. They’re expecting us to throw it, because they don’t think we could run it past them. Therefore, this is what we’re gonna do,” Liz said to an unenthusiastic Maria, as they huddled together at the left end of the park. “You’re gonna snap me the ball, then I’m going to drop back and pitch out to you. Once you get the lateral, I want you to rush the line of scrimmage and pitch it back to me. We’ll run a cut back till we get into the red zone. They’ll never know what hit them!”

Maria blinked, nonplussed. Then she growled, “Liz, would you please speak English?”

“What? Oh, sorry. You’re going to hike the ball – you know, hike? That means you’re going to toss me the ball from between your legs. That sets the play into motion,” Liz explained hurriedly. “Then I’m going to move back a bit, and I’m going to throw it over my shoulder to you, at the line of scrimmage. That’s called a lateral throw.”

“A…lateral.”

“Then you’re going to run down the line of scrimmage – oh, that’s like…well, it’s like an imaginary line that you can’t cross before the snap.”

“An imaginary line,” Maria echoed, looking bewildered. “Liz…I don’t know…”

Liz stifled a sigh of frustration as she caught Maria’s glazed expression. She glanced across the field and found Max smirking at her, knowing exactly what was going through her mind. Damn him. Well, she might be stuck with Maria, but she’d be damned if she’d let it slow her down.

“This isn’t rocket science, Maria!” she snapped, causing Maria to jump. “You’re going to run, and I’ll run parallel to you. You’ll throw me the ball, I’ll throw it back to you. It’s really easy.”

Maria didn’t look so sure. Shifting in the pair of sneakers Liz had loaned her before they’d taken off for the park, she nibbled her lip. “Okay. So I’m running?”

“Yes, you’re running.”

“What’s taking so long, ladies?” Max called, amusement coloring his features. “Stop postponing your defeat. Maybe if you beg…”

“Shut it!” Liz snapped again. She turned to Maria, who was now a pale green as she watched Max and Michael performing stretches across the field. “You ready? Maria?”

Her best friend appeared to snap out of a daze. “Oh. Yeah, sure. You throw the ball. I run. Line of cabbage, and all that.”

“Scrimmage!” Liz barked, throwing her arms in the air. “Line of scrimmage, Maria!”

“Scrimmage, cabbage, what’s the damn difference?” Maria cried. “We’re going to get dirty!”

“Oh, my God…”

Liz took three steps away and stifled a scream. The urge to pull her hair out was strong, but the presence of a sneering quarterback across the park was prominent enough to force her to keep her cool. “Okay. Let’s just get this over with,” she muttered, stomping over to where they’d decided to start.

Max trotted over to meet her, Michael following. He grabbed hold of the knees of his sweatpants, hiking them up as he bent to eye level with Liz. “Scared, Potter?” he breathed with an affected British accent.

“You wish,” she sneered, completing the quote from Chamber of Secrets. “Michael runs like an ape, and you’ve got a shoulder injury. How hard could it really be to beat a klutz and a gimp?”

An unreadable expression crossed his features, and she could have sworn he was trying to hide a smile. “Well, let’s just see about that. Remember…we ain’t playing touch football, sweetheart,” Max answered in a low voice. “And your teammate is afraid of breaking her nails. I’d say that evens the playing field a bit.”

She scowled, then shouted over her shoulder. “Maria! Here.” She threw the football at Maria, who shrieked and caught it against her chest.

“A little warning would be nice, y’know,” Maria sniffed, eyeing the ball with distaste. She brushed it with one sleeve, then sighed and stood in the spot Liz pointed at. “So, what, I bend over and throw this sucker between my legs?”

“When I tell you to, yes,” Liz answered, not looking away from Max. She called out a cadence, and then called for the hike. She held her hands out to receive the snap.

Nothing happened.

After a moment of silence, Maria turned halfway around and asked hesitantly, “Now?”

Michael and Max both muffled snickers. Liz closed her eyes, praying for patience. She loved Maria. She just had to remember that right now, when her competitive nature threatened to take over.

“Yes, sweetie,” she said through gritted teeth. “Now would be a really good time.”

Maria sighed, grumbled beneath her breath, and bent over once again. Before Liz could speak, the ball was coming straight at her. She caught it easily, and fell back as Michael immediately ran straight at Maria and knocked her down to the ground.

“Encroachment!” Liz hollered, dodging away from Max and dropping the ball to the ground. “That was a foul!”

“No way!” Max answered heatedly. “Did you see him touch her before the snap? You need your eyes checked, Parker.”

They carried on for another five minutes, debating whether or not a penalty had occurred, and only paused when both had to take a deep breath. A throat cleared from nearby, and they both looked over to see Michael and Maria goggling at them.

“We’re just playing for fun, right?” Michael wondered. “I mean…you two didn’t start a money pool, did you?”

“No,” Max answered, glaring at Liz. “Why?”

Michael looked like he wanted to say something else, then shrugged his shoulders. “Never mind.”

“Repeat first down,” Liz clipped off, turning her nose in the air as she moved back behind Maria. “Same play, Maria. And this time, try to step out of Michael’s way?”

“Well, you didn’t say he was going to come barreling at me!”

“Forget it!” Liz barked. “I’m calling the play now! Blue 22! Uh…Jimmy…cracked corn, and I don’t care!”

“Oh come on,” Max stood again. “What kind of play is that?”

“I can call it whatever I want,” Liz sneered. “Hut!”

Maria threw the ball, and this time she managed to do a halfway decent block. It gave Liz enough time to juke around Max, who was coming at her with an intense expression on his face, and then run for a few yards. When Max finally managed to get her down, she wriggled out from beneath him and jumped up with a squeal.

Maria squealed, too, an excited expression on her face. “Yay! Did we do something good?”

“Yes, we…you know what, never mind,” Liz said quickly.

“Clock’s running,” Max snapped, obviously not happy about the last play. “Stop twitching your ass, Parker, before you get a delay of game.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, turning on her heel and giving her ass an extra twitch as she took her place again behind Maria.

The game continued, but the girls weren’t as successful running the ball as they’d been before. Max and Michael showed no mercy, and Liz found herself tackled to the ground time after time by two hundred and twenty-five pounds of raw muscle. Apparently, Max’s shoulder injury wasn’t bothering him nearly as much as she’d worried.

The guys got the ball time and time again, and ran the score up appallingly despite Liz’s best efforts to the contrary. After one particularly embarrassing play – where Maria somehow intercepted the ball and proceeded to run the wrong way for at least eleven yards before finally clueing into Liz’s screaming instructions – Liz took a brutal hit when she chased after Max and took him down with a clip to the waist.

They both hit the ground with a thud, and Max immediately rolled over and crushed her further. “Nice try,” he managed, short of breath. “But you’re gonna have to do better than that to…Liz?”

“Gerroffme,” she muttered, trying to dislodge him. “Can’t…breathe…”

“Shit, are you okay?” Max questioned, coming to his knees and helping her turn over. “Why the hell did you go at me like that? You could have hurt yourself.”

“Don’t discount it too soon,” she managed, sitting up and rotating her arm carefully. “Ouch.”

“Let me see.” He pushed her hand away, gently prodding the spot she’d complained about. “That hurt?”

She winced, but it didn’t feel nearly as bad as she stared into his concerned eyes. A flush began to work its way up her cheeks, and she attempted to take her arm away. “I think I can get it.”

He gazed at her for a moment, expression indecipherable, then shrugged and sat back. “You might want to put some ice on it.”

His voice was so soft and - damn it - concerned, that she couldn’t look at him. The moment somehow felt too important. She stared hard at the grass instead, and tried to dredge up a sneer. “What, and whine like all you professional boys? I think I can handle a few scratches, Max.”

He didn’t get his back up like she’d expected, merely lifted a brow. “If you say so, Liz.”

He held out a hand to help her up, and she took it after a moment’s hesitation. Trying to ignore how rough and warm his palm felt against her own, she released him as soon as possible and sprinted back to where Michael was tickling Maria in the grass. “Hey, lovebirds. We still have one play left.”

“Don’t you think it’s pretty pointless by now?” Max’s voice sounded behind her, and Liz was relieved to hear the sarcasm once again coloring his tone. Whatever had happened between them moments ago had seemed to pass. “There’s no way you guys will ever catch up.”

“So?” Liz replied, turning around to face him. “It’s the principle of the matter. I refuse to go down easy.”

A bemused expression crossed his face. “Parker, nothing about you is easy,” he answered enigmatically. “But whatever. One more play.”

Liz ambled over to a bored Maria, and looped her arm around her shoulder. “This’ll be an easy one, Mar. Hail Mary pass. Go long.”

“Go long,” Maria parroted, eyeing Liz uncertainly. “Where’s long again?”

“Just run to the other end of the park,” Liz said slowly. “When I call your name, turn around and catch the ball. Can you handle that?”

“Uh…”

“Good.” Liz clapped her hands together and moved back to the line. “Let’s do this!”

They all made there way over to join her, and Maria stifled a yawn with her fingers before sighing heavily and shooting Liz a frown. “After this can we go back? I’m starting to smell like sweat.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Liz replied. She called out the audible, and had the ball in her hands in seconds. She saw Maria start running out of the corner of her eye, toward the opposite end of the field. But most of her attention was focused on the two men currently rushing toward her. She ran a cut back, hoping to confuse them long enough for Maria to make it into the makeshift end zone.

Finally, she could hold them off no longer, and she shrieked as Michael leaped at her, arms outstretched. She cut a sharp left, and found herself staring into the leering face of Max. With a wild look around, she caught sight of Maria standing across the park, staring at her nails with sorrow.

She yelled her friend’s name, lobbing the ball as hard as she could and watching it sail toward an oblivious Maria. Max tackled her to the ground just as Maria glanced up. Her best friend’s eyes widened in horror, and Liz scrambled out from beneath Max just in time to see her pass connect with Maria’s face. Maria let out a shrill cry and fell to the ground as Liz covered her mouth.

They all rushed toward the other end of the park, Michael helping Maria to her feet as her friend whimpered and babbled, refusing to let Michael pry her hands away from her injured face.

Liz could feel Max shaking with mirth next to her, and turned a mortified expression on him. “Don’t…even…say it,” she warned lowly.

“It’s gonna be a black eye, babe,” Michael’s voice sounded, and Max’s control broke. He grabbed his thighs, howling with laughter.

Michael and Maria – a bruise already burgeoning across her eyes – turned toward him with incredulous expressions.

“Sorry,” he managed between gasps of laughter. “Deja vu.”

Okay, I have a spare minute between throwing my guts up, so I decided to post this next part. Thanks for all the concerned PMs, guys. I'm going to be fine...just a relapse from last week. I'm on antibiotics so that should help kill it. Sigh.

Oh, for any of you who care, I got Nicky's halloween costume in the mail yesterday. He's going as a mini Tom Brady. I'll try to take a pic and post it for you all, since he looks too damn adorable.

Anyway, enjoy the new part...



Part Eleven – If You Were Waiting For The Opportune Moment, That Was It


“Maria, I’m so sorry,” Liz was saying again a few hours later as they all seated themselves around the dining room table.

Max didn’t even hide a chuckle, which earned him dark looks from both women. He caught Michael’s gaze, and the other man pulled an exasperated face before rubbing his girlfriend’s back reassuringly. Max quickly turned his attention elsewhere, lest he break into a guffaw right there in front of everyone.

He had to admit, he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about Michael Guerin, considering it was Michael’s fault that Liz had come to interview him in the first place – and was therefore responsible in an indirect way for everything else that had happened as a result. Since Max still wasn’t certain how he felt about that, he had decided the jury was still out on the guy, although he couldn’t deny that he’d enjoyed Michael’s company thus far.

“I look awful!” Maria bawled, tears glistening in her big green eyes. Well, one green eye. The other was swollen and every color of the rainbow as the bruising began to set in.

“Sweetheart, I have something that will ease the swelling,” Nancy Parker cooed, shooting her daughter a disapproving look. “Elizabeth, I cannot believe you! Roughhousing in the mud like a hooligan! What the Women's Auxiliary would say if they found out…my goodness, I don’t even want to contemplate it.”

Liz sank even lower in her seat, catching Max’s eye with a pleading expression. Since he did feel sorry for her, although he still found the situation abnormally funny – the image of Maria, slip-sliding through the mud as they made their way home, clutching one eye and wailing like a banshee just wouldn’t leave his mind – he quickly put on a sheepish face and said, “Actually, Mrs. Parker, it was my idea. I guess I just missed playing the game so much, I couldn’t resist.”

Liz sighed in relief, and then a smirk settled over her features as her mother’s stern expression came to rest on Max instead. She almost seemed to be saying, “Right. Let’s see how you wiggle out of this one, stud. My mom hates sports.”

But Nancy’s features relaxed into a fond smile. She even went as far to ruffle Max’s hair as she passed by. “Well, boys will be boys, I suppose.”

Liz’s mouth dropped open in disgust. “Oh, please! Mother, that is such a sexist statement! You’re saying that it’s all right for Max to play sports because he has a penis? Ugh!”

“Elizabeth!” Nancy shrieked, appearing as if she might faint at the idea of her only daughter mentioning that part of a male’s anatomy at her dinner table. “We have guests,” she hissed.

Liz snorted. “Like it would have bothered you to hear the word when you were trying to sic Max on me a few days ago?” she snarked, although in a much quieter tone. Max still heard her, and lifted his brows at her from across the table.

Nancy was still in the middle of her diatribe. “Jeff, please tell your daughter.”

Jeff Parker blinked, looking away from the platters of food that had been laid out on the table. Max had a feeling that he hadn’t heard a single thing since the dishes had been brought in. “Tell her what?” he grunted. “And when can we eat?”

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Nancy snapped, ignoring Liz’s snickers, “Your daughter has been playing football in the mud!”

“Really?” Mr. Parker replied calmly. Then, “Who won?”

“Jeff!”

“What?” He appeared pained. “Nancy, when can we eat?”

“Well, I never…daughter behaving like a hooligan…” Nancy was muttering beneath her breath as she gave up, moving to take her seat at the other end of the table. Then she pasted a smile on her face. “Elizabeth, will you please say Grace?”

They all bowed their heads as Liz quickly went through the blessing, then everyone began passing plates around the table. Max couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so much food, and said as much to Nancy, who beamed.

“Well, dear, I always outdo myself on holidays, as I’m sure Liz and Jeff will tell you. Although, this year is special because we have the three of you, as well.” She smiled warmly at Michael and Maria, and then turned her attention back to Max. Innocently taking a sip of wine, she added, “Actually, Maxwell, Lizzie helped me make nearly everything. She has a very good hand in the kitchen. She’ll make some lucky man a wonderful wife one day, if she ever manages to curb that horrific attitude.”

Max choked on a mouthful of mashed potatoes, quickly grabbing a napkin. “Sorry,” he managed, shaking with the urge to laugh. “And I’m sure you’re right, Mrs. Parker.”

“Nancy,” she chided, apparently not noticing that anything was amiss, or that her daughter was currently shooting daggers in her direction. “And do you have a girlfriend, Max?”

It was a measure of Max’s strength that he didn’t lose it right then and there. The idea that Nancy would only now think to ask that of him…it was just too much.

Liz gasped so loudly that it shook the rafters, coming to her feet and shouting, “Mom! I cannot believe you!”

“What? It was just a question, honey,” Nancy frowned. “And sit down! We’re in the middle of dinner. Honestly, Liz, I have absolutely no idea what’s gotten into you lately. You don’t want to go shopping with me, you don’t want to meet any of the nice men from church that I try to introduce you to—”

“Mom—” Liz interrupted in a choked tone, turning bright red.

“—all you care about is flying all over the country to these football games! I understand it’s your job, sweetheart, but don’t you think it’s about time you started making room for other things? Like a family? I was so happy when you brought Max home, but then you had to go and ruin it by saying you two weren’t involved.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Max tried to break in, hoping to dispel some of the tension mounting in the room. He glanced over and met Michael’s equally uncomfortable expression. Maria was nodding at Nancy’s words, and Mr. Parker…well, Mr. Parker was taking advantage of Nancy’s distraction to help himself to another serving of sweet potato casserole.

“I’m twenty-four, Mom!” Liz barked, although she did sit back down. “How many times do we have to have this conversation?”

“Liz, maybe she’s right,” Maria ventured bravely. “You need to take a break and have some fun.”

“My job is fun!” Liz answered, exasperated. “That’s what the two of you don’t get!”

“Are you gonna eat that?” Mr. Parker whispered to Max, nudging at the plate which held a single buttered yeast roll.

Max shook his head, nonplussed, as Jeff grabbed it happily and went back to eating. Apparently he was used to such antics from the three women, although Max wasn’t sure how any guy could handle it. The estrogen was enough to make any sane man do something crazy – like lay his head down and cry.

He tuned back into the conversation in time to hear Liz saying, “—all over the country, but I love traveling. Maybe it’s Athens, Georgia instead of Greece…but I like it! I also like sports, which you both know. I’d happily stand outside in sleet or pouring rain during the dead of winter in Foxborough, just to catch the Patriots make an amazing play. I’d gladly sweat myself dry in Miami if it meant I’d get the chance to see Ricky Williams return to the Dolphins.”

“I think that guy who plays for the Chiefs is pretty hot,” Maria added trivially, a faraway expression coloring her features. “What’s his name…Brent?”

“Trent Green,” Liz snapped in annoyance.

“Does this Ricky Williams have a girlfriend?” Nancy wondered hopefully.

Liz stared at her mother, flabbergasted. Then, “My God, you’re completely hopeless!”

Max took the chance to clear his throat, and blurted out, “So, I’m leaving in the morning.”

Everyone stopped and stared at him, even Jeff, whose mouth was full of corn. Nancy appeared distressed, wringing her hands together woefully.

“Oh, Max, why? I feel like you’ve barely even been home…”

“I have some pretty amazing news, actually,” he returned brightly. Catching Liz’s questioning eye, he added, “I found out just recently that I was cleared to play again. I’m starting Monday night, against Atlanta.”

Dead silence met his proclamation.

Nancy was the first to speak. “Honey, do you think that’s wise?” she wondered nervously. “Liz told me about the injury…I was under the impression that it was very serious.”

“No, it’s not too bad,” Max lied, glancing at Liz who still remained silent, although her mouth was wide open. “Liz is a pessimist, anyway. Close your mouth before you swallow a fly.”

That got her. “Excuse me?” she demanded icily. “I’m a realist, which is more than I can say of you! Or have you completely forgotten about the Falcon’s defense?” Her expression changed to concern. ‘Max, if you play with your shoulder the way it is…you could ruin it for good. Why are you doing this?”

“The doctor okayed it,” Max responded, stabbing viciously at a stalk of asparagus. “And don’t try to dictate to me, Liz. I know what my body can handle, more than you do.”

“Obviously you don’t,” she snapped back, face flushed. “If you could even think about returning this early…Max, it’s just crazy!”

“It’s been three months! What did you expect me to do, sit on the bench all year? Did you think Kyle was going to win us a damned Super Bowl?”

They forgot that anyone else was in the room as emotions began to take hold. Liz pushed her chair back and snarled, “Is that all you care about? The Super Bowl? What about the people who care about you?”

“I’m thinking about the fans,” he retorted, trying unsuccessfully to bury his anger. “I want to give them something back, for all the support they’ve shown us and—”

“I’m not talking about the goddamned fans!” Her voice broke, and Max went silent.

“Liz…” Nancy scolded, although very weakly. Everyone else was hanging onto their conversation, enraptured, although trying not to appear so.

Liz was breathing heavily, tears stinging her eyes that she didn’t try to hide. “You’re so blind, Max. And I’m a complete…I’m a complete idiot.”

With that, she jumped up and began walking swiftly toward the stairs that led to her room. Max stared after her, completely bewildered as the sound of a door slamming echoed from upstairs. He blinked, feeling a strange pang in his chest. He could feel everyone staring at him, and a dull flush began to crawl up his neck.

“I’m…uh…I’ll be back,” he managed, pushing his own chair back and offering Nancy an apology before taking off after Liz. He tried the handle on her door, only to find it locked. He tried knocking first, calling out hesitantly.

“Go away!” Her muffled voice answered, thick with tears. “I’m not in the mood, Max.”

“Liz,” he tried softly. “Look, just let me in. I…I think we need to talk.”

“Talk to your ass, since your head’s already up there!”

He gritted his teeth, knocking harder. “Open the damned door.”

There was silence, then he heard stomping before the door swung open. He stared into her red eyes and dark expression. “What?” she snapped. “Can’t you see I’m having a hormonal moment? Or were you here because you wanted to offer to run to the drugstore and buy me some tampons?”

That took him aback. “You mean…you’re acting this way because you’re on your—” he gulped “—period?”

“Well, duh,” she snapped, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Now get out of here, Evans.”

She tried to slam the door shut again, but he caught it with his foot, maneuvering his way into the room. “I don’t think so,” he said easily, as she gasped in affront. “Not buying it, Parker. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I don’t have to tell you anything,” she growled. “Besides, you’re too thick to understand it anyway.”

“Try me.”

Her jaw worked, then she threw up her arms. “Fine! You’re a complete idiot, do you know that? What’s with you stupid athletes, anyway? Why is it so important that you play no matter what? You’re injured!”

“I can’t believe you even have to ask me that,” he answered incredulously, following her as she paced the room. “Liz. You’ve been around football players for years. You know how this works – if we don’t play, we get saddled on the bench, and possibly replaced by someone better. Or younger.”

She snorted. “Please. Like there’s anyone better than you?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she turned red and mumbled quickly, “And you’re not that old.”

He felt abnormally flattered, and couldn’t find words for a long moment. He reached out and took her arm as she tried to get past him, bringing her up short. When she met his gaze with a challenging one of her own, he murmured, “Thank you. Coming from you, that means a lot.”

She bristled, yanking her arm away. “Don’t patronize me, okay?”

He closed his eyes in exasperation. “I wasn’t…” He trailed off, wondering why he was even surprised that she’d misunderstood him. Their entire relationship had been a mixture of misunderstandings and unsaid words. “Just…never mind. Tell me why you care what I do, Parker.”

“I don’t,” she snapped, looking away. “Well, I do…but for the interview, of course. I mean, how do you expect me to be able to report on you in a good light when you do something so absolutely asinine?”

“Oh, I don’t know…you could lie,” he answered, unable to help feeling amused. “You remind me of your mother.”

She snapped her gaze up, horrified. “Don’t ever say that.”

“Why? She’s a wonderful person. And she means well, she just wants you to be happy,” he said softly, catching her arm again. She seemed too distracted by his words to realize he was pulling her closer again. “But I don’t want to talk about her. I want to know why you’re mad at me again.”

“I’m not mad,” she denied vehemently. “I just…I don’t get it, Max. Why put yourself at risk like that? It’s just football.”

He stared at her, deadpanned. “Is this the same woman who claimed she’d freeze her ass off in Massachusetts because she loved the game so much?”

She blushed, nibbling her lip. “That’s different. I’m not the one who has to stand back there and get sacked.”

“Oh, so you think I’m going to get sacked on a regular basis now?” he joked. “I’ll be sure to tell my offensive line what faith you have in them.”

“You know what I meant,” she snapped. Her features were serious. “Did the doctor really say you could play? Or is this some kind of macho thing, where you can’t stand seeing Kyle get some attention?”

He scowled. “This has nothing to do with Kyle. For God’s sake, Liz, I feel like an impotent jackass out there on the bench. There’s nothing like knowing you can help and being unable to. I want to do my job, okay? How would you feel if Michael told you tomorrow that you had to give up your position to some new reporter hot off the market? Would you just sit back and let it happen?”

“I’d…fight it,” she whispered.

“Damn right you would.” He took her shoulders, shaking her slightly. “And so would I.”

They stared at each other in silence. Then her shoulder slumped and she looked at the floor. “I just…I don’t want to see something happen to you,” she said so quietly that he almost wondered if he’d imagined the words. It seemed impossible that she was actually admitting them.

And yet, it was so natural to pull her closer so that her head rested in the crook of his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her as she gave a shuddering sigh and whispered, “I know, baby. Nothing’s going to happen to me. I promise.”

He could feel her hesitating, then her arms came up around his neck. He could feel her trembling, and was pretty sure he wasn’t so steady himself. When she spoke again, the words were muffled against his chest. “I have to tell you something, but I don’t know how.”

His heart was racing. “Just say it. No icing, no frills. It’s easiest that way.”

She pulled back to look him in the eyes, licking her lips slowly. “Okay then. Max, I think I…I think I like you.”

He stopped breathing. The words were so innocent – something a girl would say to her high school crush, which was ironic in itself - and yet it sent a shot of yearning through him that left him hard and aching. His arms tightened. “I like you, too, Parker.”

She started slightly. “Max, I meant…you know. I like you,” she muttered, and he could hear the mortification in her tone.

He only smiled. “I know. What are we gonna do about it?”

Thanks for the feedback guys! Because I've been asked several times, this story is twenty parts long, so we're closing in slowly but surely.

Hope you all enjoy the new part, and I'll do my best to be back tomorrow.

hugs, Linds


Part Twelve - Never Miss A Good Chance To Shut Up


Liz couldn’t believe it.

There she was, standing in her childhood bedroom that still bore posters of the New Kids on the Block, swapping spit with the guy she’d spent nearly her entire life fantasizing about. It felt like some scene out of an old Molly Ringwald movie, but it was actually happening. Sure, she’d kissed Max before. Twice. But neither time had ever been like this…where they’d openly admitted feelings prior to the kissing.

She let out a giggle, unable to help herself. Max lifted himself slightly off of her, looking down with heavy lidded eyes filled with question.

“What?” he wondered huskily.

“Um, nothing.” She shook her head, biting her lip to keep from grinning. He looked like he wanted to press the topic, so she grabbed his head and brought his mouth back to hers. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly.” He pressed her back into the mattress, lips nibbling at the corner of her mouth in delicious torment. God, the guy could kiss, she thought dreamily, running her foot up the length of his calf. Although she’d never expected anything less.

He made a rough sound that sent shivers down her spine and kissed her harder. She answered by running her fingers through his hair, enjoying the silky feel of the strands. They rolled around on the bed, fully dressed; yet it was one of the most sensuous experiences in her life.

“Mmm…I can’t believe I’m making out with Max Evans, pro-quarterback,” she teased a minute later when he let her come up for air. They were lying on their sides, staring at each other with varying degrees of desire as he ran his fingertips softly up and down her arm.

He growled, nipping her lip in reproach. “I really hope this doesn’t end up in your column,” he said wryly, although there was no accusation in his tone. Not even two days ago she might have been offended, but now she could only snicker in response.

“I don’t know...it might make for interesting analysis,” she answered with a coy expression. “For instance, I’m sure our female readers want to know – is it true what they say about men with fast…hands?”

He grabbed her palms, stretching them over her head and pinning her against the bed. “Don’t you dare,” he murmured, leaning down and brushing a burning kiss at the base of her throat. “Unless you want me to talk to the press about this little mole you have…right here…”

He hooked a single finger in her v-neck, tugging it down just enough to reveal the small blemish that decorated the otherwise milky skin at the swell of her breasts. She caught her breath, flushing with heat as he made a considering sound.

He glanced up, meeting her gaze with a smoldering one of his own. “Fast hands, huh?” he murmured. “Why don’t I show you what I do when it’s fourth and long?”

“With a minute on the clock?” Liz breathed, arching into his hands as he moved to cover her lips again. “Max, that feels so—”

“Liz! Are you in there?”

They both froze at the sound of Maria’s voice just outside. Max’s features said that he’d love nothing more than to ignore Maria’s presence. However, a quick look at the door told Liz that it was unlocked, and knowing her best friend’s lack of respect for private situations, Liz hurriedly pushed Max off of her. He landed with a thud on the ground next to the bed, looking up with her with a disgruntled expression at the precise moment Maria strode into the room.

“Unnecessary roughness,” he grunted, rubbing his ass with one hand. “Fifteen yards.”

“Uh, okay. What’s with the sports euphemisms?” Maria cocked a brow, looking back and forth between them. She zeroed in on Max, eyes narrowing as she took in his rumpled hair and shirt. “Max, are you wearing lipstick?”

“What? Of course he’s not,” Liz laughed unnaturally. “Maria, don’t you ever knock?”

Maria’s brows rose higher. “Since when do I have to knock before coming in here? We’ve always had an open door policy, Liz. I’ve seen you in your underwear and vice versa.”

“Oh, do tell,” Max replied slyly. “I’m all ears.”

Maria’s eyes roamed his face, stopping at the point where his ears protruded slightly from his head. She smirked. “Yeah. No kidding, stud.”

Liz choked. “Maria….”

“Just what were you two doing in here, anyway?” Maria’s voice rose with her curiosity. “You missed Nancy’s pumpkin pie, which was unbelievable as always. I would’ve saved you a piece, but your dad stole it.”

“Doing?” Liz echoed. “We weren’t doing anything!”

She caught Max shaking his head at her poor attempt of secrecy. She shot him a glare, and tried – discreetly – to straighten her clothes while Maria continued to stare at Max on the floor. “We were just discussing the interview, that’s all—”

“Oh, my God!” Maria gasped, pointing a finger accusingly at Max. “I recognize that color, Liz. I bought you that lip-gloss! You two were sucking face! And now you’re trying to hide it, like a couple of teenagers!”

Max sighed, shooting her a glance from beneath his lashes. “Looks like you solved the case, Nancy Drew.” To Liz he added, “We’ve been found out, babe. Might as well fess up to it.”

While Maria cackled triumphantly, Liz scowled and reached down to slap him upside the head. “You moron, she didn’t know anything! She was just trying to trick us into talking!”

“She’s right! I just tried to come up with the most pathetic scenario I could think of,” Maria admitted.

Max blinked. Then, rather sheepishly, “Really?”

“Maria, don’t you dare tell my mother,” Liz was warning her friend with a pleading expression. “The last thing I need is for her to start knitting me a freaking wedding dress or some inane thing. Or even worse, tell the Women’s Auxiliary.” Both women shuddered.

“Fine, I won’t say anything.” Maria mimed zipping her lips. “Although if he doesn’t wash his mouth off, I won’t have to. Nancy Parker could spot MAC’s Sheer Plum from a mile away.”

Liz made a strangled sound and Max wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking down at the streak of color.

“Why did you come in here, anyway?” Liz demanded, desperate to change the subject.

“Michael and I are driving back tonight,” Maria sighed. “There’s just no room in the inn, and to be honest, I’d rather sleep in my own feather bed than have to share a bunk with you. Although by the looks of things, I wouldn’t be sharing it with you alone.” She sent them a leering look.

“Okay, time to go,” Liz chirped brightly, taking Maria by the arm and steering her toward the door. “Remind me to kill you later,” she hissed when Max couldn’t overhear them. “I mean, really.”

“As long as you tell me everything before I go,” Maria replied with an impish smile. “Does he know you still have his—”

“Out!”

“Fine, fine. Go make time with Lover Boy. Don’t say goodbye to your best friend in the whole entire world,” Maria sniffed in affront. Then her expression turned serious. “Although I’m warning you now, when the papers find out, the crapola is going to hit the fan. You two will be under total scrutiny, you realize that?”

“Do I look stupid?” Liz answered. “I know more about this stuff than you do, Mar. Trust me – it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Her best friend watched her a moment longer, then sighed. “I sure hope so, Liz. I love you, and I’ll call you when we get back to Albuquerque, okay? I’ll tell Michael you’re, uh, indisposed.”

With Maria’s footsteps growing fainter, Liz turned around to find Max lounging across her bed, playing with a tattered red object she couldn’t quite…

“Oh, no!” Liz muttered, meeting his wicked expression.

“Is this what I think it is, Parker?” he questioned, brows raised as he held up the bandanna with two fingers. “It looks awfully familiar, and now that I think about it, I’ve been missing one just like it.”

She considered lying, but realized it would just make her seem that much sillier, seeing as how it was perfectly obvious that the bandanna belonged to him. It had his initials on it, for God’s sake. She’d spent many hours tracing the M and E with loving affection.

Without looking at him, she walked over and snatched it from his hands. “I was just saving it as a memento to remind myself of what happens when you get in the way of insufferable jocks.” She added a sniff for good measure, then squealed when he grabbed her around the middle and dragged her on top of him.

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it,” he mock-growled, nuzzling her neck with his lips. “God, you smell amazing. What is it you wear, anyway?”

“What makes you think it’s anything besides my naturally wonderful smelling self?” she demanded flirtatiously, wriggling around until she trapped him beneath her. She could feel every defined inch of him pressed up against her, and it gave her a thrill of feminine power to have very evident proof of how she was affecting him.

His lids grew heavy, and he flashed her a slow smile, sliding his hands up the inside of her shirt. “Hmm…well, let’s find out, shall we?”

“Liz!”

They broke apart again, extremely frustrated as Nancy Parker’s voice echoed from downstairs. Liz buried her face against Max’s neck for a moment before calling out, “Yes?”

“Your father and I are turning in for the night,” Nancy replied. “We’ll be locking our door. The house is yours. You and Max stay up as long as you’d like, after all, he’s leaving tomorrow. Make the best of it, and don’t forget…the door will be locked!”

Feeling her face burn as Max snickered into her hair, she managed to call back, “Thanks, Mom!” Then she pulled away with a disgusted moan. “God, could she be anymore obvious? I can’t do this, knowing she’s lying in bed planning the color of our children’s nursery schemes.”

All amusement fled rapidly from Max’s expression to be replaced with intense frustration. “You’re kidding me. Liz, I’m dying here.” To accentuate his comment, he grabbed her hand and pulled it to the fly of his jeans, where a bulge that made her eyes widen resided. “Feel that?” he whispered in a wicked voice.

“I-I feel it,” she managed, feeling her pulse begin to race as desire warred against common sense. “But I can’t, Max. Not here. Can’t we…wait? Is it absolutely necessary we do this now?” A sudden horrible thought had her swallowing. “I mean…unless you didn’t plan for this to go…anywhere past here. In Roswell, I mean.”

His expression didn’t change, which confirmed her worst suspicions, and she bit back a sound and began to rise from the bed. She was halfway off when he grabbed her and pulled her to a sharp halt.

“Wait,” he whispered against her stiff back. “Slow down a minute, Liz. You hit me with one thing, then another. I can’t keep up with you.”

“What’s to keep up with?” she retorted angrily. “All you wanted was a quick lay, and I nearly gave into you. God.”

His grip tightened, and so did his voice. “I did not want a quick lay, Parker.”

She turned around, a challenging expression coloring her features as she reached down and placed her hand once again against his fly. His expression turned strained as she palmed him roughly. Sick triumph speared through her. “Oh, really?”

He stopped her with one hand, jaw working. “I won’t deny that I want you, Parker. We both know that,” he said in a low voice. “But I never said…where did you get the idea that I wanted a tumble in your parent’s house on Thanksgiving? That that was all I wanted?”

There was enough genuine outrage in his voice that she felt markedly reassured, and just as equally embarrassed to have – once again – jumped to conclusions about Max Evans. Still, she felt it necessary to ask, “What do you want?”

He pulled her against him, kissing her on the forehead before pulling back and looking her directly in the eyes. “I thought we already covered this earlier. Remember?”

She flashed back to the scene where they’d professed their "liking" for one another, then the impromptu make out session on her bed, and blushed. “Um…yes.”

“So then, stop thinking whatever it is that’s running through that devious mind of yours,” he demanded brusquely. “I like you, you like me, I really like this…” He punctuated the comment with a soft kiss, then added, “Isn’t that good enough for now?”

Well, yes it was. Yet something was still missing, something she couldn’t quite put a name on. It seemed she’d dreamed of this moment since she was a little girl, but something about the moment lacked what she’d always imagined in her girlish heart. Perhaps she was just expecting too much, as she always had from Max.

“Of course it is,” Liz answered softly. “I’m sorry, Max. I’m just…this is new for me.”

“What?” he wondered, catching her lips again. “Being with a man? I know that’s not true, I’ve seen you with them before.”

“Not men like you,” she replied, then stilled as his words sunk in. “Wait, what do you mean you’ve seen me with men before? When?”

He froze, and she thought she caught a flash of embarrassment in his eyes as he cleared his throat. “Oh, well…you know. On TV and all. I’d catch sight of you every once in awhile.”

Her brows rose as a wonderful feeling began to fill her. So, he had kept up with her over the years? At least enough to know details about her private life. “Well, none of them were the Golden Boy,” she teased softly.

“Oh, Christ, not again,” he mumbled, although he appeared pleased by her statement. “You realize you made me dread hearing that name after all of your columns, don’t you? I seriously considered giving it up altogether after the piece you did on me last summer. The one about me and the two Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders?”

She had the grace to appear chagrined. “Oh. Yeah…I might’ve stretched the truth a bit on that one…”

“Might’ve?” he answered ironically. “The poor girls’ had a flat tire and I called them a cab and waited for it to show up. You had the three of us orchestrating an orgy in the parking lot of Texas Stadium.”

“I don’t remember that,” she mumbled, turning bright red as she refused to meet his eyes.

“And just what was the Golden Boy up to after his golden win against Dallas? Why, what any Good Samaritan would do, of course. Frolicking through the empty parking lot with two busty Cowboys’ cheerleaders, whose car had seemingly ‘broken down’ after the home loss. Evans proved his talented hands are good for more than just throwing a cannon down the field—”

“Okay, I get it,” she snapped, cutting off his uncanny quotation of her column. “God, I can’t believe you memorized it.”

“You’d be surprised what I remember,” he answered solemnly. “I did keep up with you, Liz. I know we didn’t part on good terms when I left for Ohio State, but—”

She caught her breath and quickly put a hand up to cover his mouth. Her blood was pounding. This was what she’d longed to hear for so many years - an explanation for his actions that night so long ago. And yet, the idea of finally knowing the truth somehow unnerved her.

He was staring at her, obviously confused. She forced a smile and whispered, “I don’t care, Max. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Liz…”

“Shut up and kiss me good night,” she blurted out, reaching out and yanking him closer by the collar. “You’re leaving tomorrow, remember?”

He acquiesced without argument, and they sank onto the bed together for several long moments. When he broke away for a breath, his hands framed her face as he stared down at her. Then he whispered, “Come back with me.”

“W-What?” she wondered dazedly, lips swollen and fingers itching to stroke across his bare skin.

He made a rough sound, kissing her hard before pulling back again. “I said, come back with me. To Tampa Bay. Stay with me for awhile.”

She blinked. “Stay…with you? Where?”

“My place. Will you? After all, we still haven’t done the interview, and I—”

“Yes, I’ll come,” she said quickly. “I’ll come.”

His expression eased, and she was amazed at the idea that he actually thought she would protest. A dazzling smile crossed his features and he murmured, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

I'm back! Okay, before I post the new part, a few things:

1. No, I'm not going to tell you guys when the sex will happen lol. But yes, it WILL happen. Just hang in there.

2. I've been taking certain liberties throughout this fic. An example would be Green Bay actually winning (hee), and I've also made other teams/players better or worse than they might really be THIS season. If I portray your favorite team or player in a light you don't agree with, just remember this is fiction. I have my reasons for doing what I'm doing, and it's not because I hate "fill in the blank". Kay? Great!

3. Yes, everything I write about Raymond James Stadium is for real. They really have cannons that fire when the Bucs score, and they really have all the other cool goodies I've written about. It's arguably the best stadium in the NFL, in my humble opinion. It's just...fun. Anyone who's been to a Bucs home game knows what I mean. So no, I'm not making any of it up.

Okay, I think that's it. Here's the new part! And we're now leading up to several different things happening...see if you can figure them out.

hugs, Linds


Part Thirteen - What Would Tom Brady Do?


Christ, it felt good to be suited up again.

That was the single thought that circled through Max’s mind Monday night as he finished tying the laces on his shoes. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, and couldn’t keep the shit-eating grin off of his face as the red and black jersey met his gaze.

“Hey, Max.”

He glanced up to find Kyle standing there, a ball cap shielding his eyes as he looked down at Max. A slight pang of guilt hit him, but he brushed it away with impatience. It wasn’t his fault that Kyle was once again leading the second string. It had been his job first, and he’d be damned if he’d let some sniveling backup make him feel shitty about coming back.

“Yeah?” he questioned, a bit remotely, attaching a wristband that held the teams play schemes to his arm. The invention allowed for easier communication between the coaching staff and the quarterback, cutting down on the time it took to recite long play names by issuing each play a number instead.

Kyle hesitated a moment, then propped a foot on the bench where Max sat. “Just wanted to wish you good luck, man. I know you’ve been itching to come back, and I think you’re probably just what this team needs to win the NFC South for us.”

Max lifted a brow in faint surprise. “Thanks, man,” he murmured, reading the discomfort evident on the younger man’s face. Despite himself, he felt compelled to add, “We wouldn’t have made it this far if you hadn’t stepped up.”

Kyle snorted, looking away. “Yeah. Right. I couldn’t get shit done, Max. Don’t sugarcoat the truth. This team’s better off with you. I get that now.” He paused, and then added, “I’m finishing out the season, then going free agent.”

Max jerked his gaze up. Kyle was staring forlornly at the opposite wall, looking as if someone had taken away his favorite toy. “If that’s what you feel you need to do,” he murmured. “But you’re not giving yourself enough time here to prove yourself, Kyle.”

Another snort. “Trust me, there’s no point. This team – this city is one hundred percent behind you, Max. That’s the way it’s going to be, and that’s fine. Really. But I want to find that for myself. I don’t want to play backup to the Golden Boy for the rest of my career.”

Max listened quietly, and while there was frustration evident in Kyle’s voice, it lacked any of the accusation or bitterness he’d expected.

“Besides, Tampa Bay’s not for me,” Kyle continued with a wry smile. “The heat’s killer. I’m from Washington, you know. I think I’m gonna look for somewhere up north. I heard Baltimore’s looking for a new QB since Boller’s not doing so hot, and they don’t want to go through the draft. They want someone with experience, so who knows? Maybe it’ll pan out.”

Max made an agreeing sound. “Then maybe it will.” He finished sliding the last play card into his wristband, then stood up to look Kyle in the eye. He stretched out a hand. “Good luck in whatever you find, Kyle. You’re a damned good ball player. Remember that.”

Kyle grinned, shaking his hand gratefully. “Thanks.”

“Am I interrupting?”

Both men glanced around to find Liz standing at the entrance of the locker room, a puzzled expression clouding her features. Max lit up in a smile as she walked forward, clad in a sophisticated, wine colored linen pantsuit. Her hair was down and wavy to her shoulders; a pair of retro white sunglasses perched on her nose.

“Not at all,” Kyle managed a smile. Neither of them had really spoken about Max’s newfound relationship with Liz, but something told him it hurt Kyle more than he let on. So it came as no surprise when Kyle politely excused himself after a moment of small talk. Once they were alone, Max shut his locker and leaned against it.

“So, we’re back to the pantsuits?” he wondered, eyeing the fitted tank appraisingly while shaking his head in mock-disappointment. “I thought you would have worn something a little more…festive to a home game, Liz.”

She lifted a brow, reaching up to remove the sunglasses and meet his gaze. “I’m sitting in the press box, Max. I have to at least appear to be non-biased.”

“Right,” he sighed dramatically. “It’s a sad day indeed when a guy’s girlfriend can’t even support him.” He sent her a doleful glance from beneath his lashes, hoping she’d take the bait and lean forward to plant a kiss on him. Or something even better.

She just snorted. Then a coy smile lifted her lips and she moved closer. “Actually, I am wearing something…festive. Wanna see?”

Max’s brows rose at the insinuating tone. “Let’s see it then.”

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, glancing around to assure that they were alone, before crooking a finger to draw him closer. He quickly complied, holding his breath as her fingers went to the front of her pants. “Liz, what’re you…?”

His words trailed off in stunned arousal as he caught sight of the tiny red and black thong that bore the Bucs logo, and his own personal roster number. “Oh, holy shit,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Like them?” she murmured teasingly, playing with the jacquard trim.

“Is that a trick question?” he managed to laugh, fisting his hands against his thighs to keep from grabbing her. “I can’t believe you’re wearing…Christ, Liz.”

“You don’t like them, then?” she pouted. Then added, “Should I have gone with the Tom Brady ones instead?”

He froze. “Tell me you’re joking,” he choked. “You better not have any fucking—”

He trailed off when he realized she was laughing at him. That did it. With a growl, he pulled her against him and captured her lips in a punishing kiss. “Don’t even joke about wearing anyone else’s number on your ass besides mine,” he murmured against her mouth. “And remind me to kill Brady later. You’re just entirely too enamored of him for my liking.”

“Oh, speaking of Tom,” she said a moment later when they resurfaced, “He’s at the game today. He’s sitting up in the press box with us, and he asked me to deliver you a message.”

Max’s brows rose as he wondered what his friend would possibly want to impart, considering he’d seen the other man just a few days before. The Patriots were in Florida to challenge the Dolphins, and he and Tom had met to play a quick game of golf, which the New England quarterback had won since Max was anything but skilled at the game.

“What did Pretty Boy have to say?” he murmured, nipping at her jaw line, fingers inching steadily up her waist.

“Mmm….” Liz sighed, arching her neck to grant him better access. “He wanted to tell you that you better kick Atlanta’s ass, so you guys can play each other in the Super Bowl. He also said – God, Max, that feels good – that he’s been dying to show up the Golden Boy for years, and if you screw up his chance, he’ll personally tell any tabloid that will listen about the time you got drunk in Boston and mooned a bus full of senior citizens. Max, do you know what he’s talking about?”

Max had frozen, an expression of fixed horror on his face. “He wouldn’t.”

Liz blinked, then chortled, “So it is true? Oh, my God! How did I not know about this?”

“Oh yeah, that would have been perfect!” Max sneered. “I can only imagine what you’d have had to say about it. Christ, I’m gonna kill fucking Brady. Really.”

“Aw, he just wants you to win,” Liz murmured consolingly. When Max gave her an ironic look, she corrected, “Well, he wants to beat you, but he wants you to win today!”

“Uh huh,” Max answered, amused. Players began reentering the locker room and he shot a quick glance at the clock. “You’d better get back up to your box. We have to do the team prayer and go over some last minute plays before we get announced.”

She nodded. “Okay. Good luck.” She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips, then turned to move away. He caught her around the waist and spun her back around.

“I think you can do better than that,” he said huskily, and then gave her a kiss that left both of their heads spinning. When he finally let her go, she blinked at him dazedly, then turned and walked right into the wall.

“Oh…um, excuse me,” she said, shaking her head as she found the door. He watched her, hating that he had to play a football game for the first time in his life. At that particular moment, he’d have much rather gone after Liz and finished what they’d started.

As soon as she disappeared, he became aware of the silence in the room. He turned around to find the entire team watching him with wide grins stretching their faces. Several started making kissing sounds, while others began hooting and laughing.

“All right, all right,” he called out, flushing darkly. “I get the hint.”

Just then Coach Gruden walked in. “Everyone shut up! It’s time to get this show on the road, boys. This one’s a big one, so listen up…”

A few minutes later, they were all lined up, waiting for the Tampa Bay announcer to call them out onto the field. The sound of sixty-six thousand fans could be heard from just beyond the tunnel. At the end of the line, Max felt jumpy and over-excited, ready to go out and play for the first time in far too long.

Finally they were announced, and the Buccaneers took off with a run onto the playing field, pumping their arms over their heads to get the home crowd to pump up the volume. Max was just about to take off after them, when a hand fell on his arm. He glanced over to find Coach Gruden watching him with an unreadable expression.

“Take it easy out there, Max,” his head coach said. “Don’t try to do too much too soon. Let it come naturally.”

Max nodded. “You got it.”

“Good.” Gruden moved as if he were going to turn around, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh, and Evans?”

Max quirked a brow, nearly fidgeting with the urge to join his team on the field. “Yeah, Coach?”

The distinct sound of kissing came from Gruden’s pursed lips, before they split into a wide grin.



<center>***</center>



Max sprinted off of the field at the half, unable to keep from grinning as he shot a sly glance at the scoreboard. The Buccaneers were up by three touchdowns, and the offense showed no sign of slowing down. It was amazing, really, seeing as how it was his first time back since being injured, but he felt like he was possibly playing his best game ever.

Atlanta was no joke, but so far they’d been unable to get anything started. Max was reading the Falcons’ defense like a book; calling audibles left and right to compensate for whatever style the defense was running. His shoulder, surprisingly, hadn’t been much of a factor at all. It had only taken him two minutes to warm up and get rid of any stiffness, and then he’d been lobbing balls with the same precision he’d always had.

Meanwhile, the Buccaneers defense had been able to cork Michael Vick’s running game and force the quarterback to make split-second decisions he wasn’t comfortable with from within the pocket. All in all, it was a recipe for success for Tampa Bay.

The sound of the crowd was deafening as the teams left the field at halftime. Max glanced up toward the press box, and did a double take as he caught sight of a blazing sign pressed up against the window that read “WWBD: What Would Brady Do?”

Before he could help himself, a guffaw slid past his lips and then he was laughing outright. He couldn’t see them, but he knew exactly who was responsible for the banner. He was still chuckling as he entered the locker room to find the other players whooping and congratulating one another on a well-played first half.

When they caught sight of him, several of his offensive linemen moved forward to wrestle him into the center of the room. Max laughed, attempting to shake them off, which was futile considering their combined strength.

“Unable to perform, my ass!” Gruden hollered in a hoarse tone. “You’re turning me on out there, Evans! Keep it up and I’ll kiss you myself! Christ boys, this is the kind of playing that’ll get us to Detroit!”

A series of shouts echoed and Max just grinned like an idiot, being bumped and tossed around as the players started an impromptu chant of the Tampa Bay fight song.

“Hey, hey, Tampa Bay! Let’s scream and shout, set the sail…Tampa Bay’s about to wail…”

“…Go Bucs!” Max joined in at the end, sweat dripping off the end of his nose as a roar went up from the team.

They spent the remainder of halftime making a few adjustments, just to throw Atlanta off track when they started again. Max listened with avid interest, yet a small part of his attention was focused on the press box above the stadium. He couldn’t help but wonder what Liz was thinking of his performance. Had she doubted his ability to return?

The stray thought stuck with him as the special teams lined up to receive the kickoff. Max watched from the sidelines as rookie Cadillac Williams made his debut on kick return, rushing for an astounding forty-five yards before being brought down by Atlanta. It put the Bucs in perfect position for another scoring drive.

He could hear BucVision – a technologically advanced video and scoreboard system - going over the thunder of the crowd, playing the fan-pleaser, Yo, Ho, Ho We’re the Buccaneers.

“We’re gonna rip their bloody heads off, mate!” an animated pirate’s voice cackled over the loudspeakers, to which the crowd started screaming in delight. “Right off their shoulder pads…”

Booming sounded from Buccaneer Cove as the cannons went off, and Max and the offensive line did a quick jig on the sidelines before sprinting onto the field.

The rest of the game came as easily as the beginning. Max gave the Bucs another touchdown pass late in the third, then pitched it to running back Michael Pittman for another end zone play at the beginning of the fourth and final quarter.

After it was all over, Tampa Bay fans knew they were a shoo-in for the NFC Championship against the winners of the NFC East, the Philadelphia Eagles. And - perhaps more importantly - thanks to Philly’s loss to Atlanta earlier that season, Tampa Bay would get home field advantage.

Reporters flagged him right and left as he made his way back to the locker room, but there was only one journalist he wanted to see, and she was nowhere to be found. He gave distracted answers to the press while scanning the area for any sign of Liz.

“Max, what part did your previous injury play in tonight’s game?”

He shot the eager reporter a glance. “It made me want to whup them even harder.”

He caught sight of Liz just then, rushing toward him from across the field, a wide grin on her face. He excused himself from the clamoring press, tossing his helmet on the ground as he moved to meet her halfway.

He caught her in a hug, their laughter mingling as he pressed his face into her neck. “We’re in,” he breathed excitedly. “If we can just get past Philadelphia in January, we’re in, Liz. I can’t…I can’t believe it.”

“You’ll win,” she said confidently, lowering her cheek against his hair as he spun her around. “God, Max, if you play anything like you did tonight…how could you lose?”

He let her feet touch the ground again, shooting her a boyish grin. “I did good, huh?”

“You were amazing!” she laughed. “As you well know. Watching you was just…it was incredible.”

“Good game, Evans!” a familiar voice called, and he looked over to see Tom Brady saluting him on his way out. “See you in Detroit! Don’t screw it up…”

Max flipped him the bird, but couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. “Just make sure you eat your Wheaties, Brady! You’re gonna need them.”

He turned back to Liz, and took her hand. “Let’s go home.”

She squeezed his fingers, and smiled.

Okey dokey! I'm back again. I'm really trying to post these parts as soon as I can, so I can finish this story up and get back to Denial. No, I haven't forgotten Denial. It just so happens I only have enough attention to post one fic at a time lol.

Anyway, I promised you guys a reading enchancement, so here it is. I happened across the two songs I used in the last chapter: the Tampa Bay fight song, which Max and his teammates were singing in the locker room at halftime, and the Yo, Ho, Ho We're the Buccaneers song that played through the stadium during the game. So if you're interested in hearing either of these songs for yourself, click the following links

Tampa Bay Fight Song
Yo, Ho Ho, We're the Buccaneers

Also, someone asked me if the thong Liz wore in the last chapter was for real. Do people actually wear those?? Um...yes. I happen to have one with Tom Brady's number. Heh. Don't believe me?

For the Serious Fan...

Okay. Now, we're moving forward pretty quickly from here on out. This chapter takes place about a month after the last chapter, around Christmas, and the next chapters all skip months or weeks at a time. It's necessary for the story, so don't expect to get day-to-day details on what Max and Liz are going through. I promise you'll get the story better without them.

Enjoy...


Part 14 – Some Days You’re the Dog, Some Days You’re the Hydrant


The month of December flew by rapidly as the dates of the Divisional Playoffs approached. The Buccaneers were still picked by nearly every sports expert to win their division and go on to face Philadelphia, who was slated to represent the NFC East. The North and West contenders, Green Bay and Seattle, had both fallen to non-playoff teams during the past week and were therefore considered ineligible by the people whose opinions in that sort of thing really mattered. Philadelphia at Tampa Bay was nearly a sure-fire thing.

But first, Liz had to get through Christmas.

It had happened earlier that day when she’d been on the phone with her mother, planning her trip home for the holidays while at the same time deflecting any and all probes her mother put out about her relationship with Max.

She’d been staying with him for a month now, a fact that equal parts exhilarated and frightened her. She was excited because everything seemed to be going so wonderfully between them, despite the fact that they’d shown no signs of growing more intimate since the night in her room at Roswell.

At first she’d thought it was sweet that he so obviously wanted to prove that he respected her, but lately she was growing extremely vexed by his control. He’d do nearly everything but make love to her, a fact that was hard not to notice. She’d taken to doing everything in her power to break him, but so far, nothing had worked.

But not getting any was the least of their current issues. As news of their burgeoning relationship had hit the media, they’d been subjected to scrutiny from anyone and everyone. None failed to bring up their stormy past, wondering slyly - but never coming out and saying – whether or not Liz was getting something out of the relationship. Which was ironic, when she thought about what she’d like to get out of it, and definitely wasn’t.

The Tampa Bay crowd had eventually warmed up to the former bane of the Golden Boy’s existence, and now she was greeted just as affectionately and charitably as Max wherever she went. But the constant reporters flagging her footsteps threatened to wear on her patience. She found herself genuinely looking forward to the trip back to Roswell, although she’d been there less than a month ago and usually couldn’t handle more than a small dose of her mother at a time.

Max had found her on the phone discussing rising plane ticket costs, and before she’d been able to blink, he’d been offering to fly her parents over to Tampa Bay the next day for the holiday. Her mother had eagerly jumped at the chance; wanting an opportunity to check out both the town her daughter was currently living in, as well as the man whom she was living with. It didn’t seem to matter that she already knew Max, and had already tried to get them together.

After they’d hung up, she’d gone looking for Max, finding him lifting weights in his personal gym while watching Army of Darkness on television. She cleared her throat, waiting for him to glance over before plastering a dark expression across her face.

“Hey, babe,” he grunted, curling his arm easily despite the weights. He shot her another, longer, glance. “What’s wrong?”

She came fully into the room, not sparing the fact that he was bare-chested and sweaty, wearing only a pair of threadbare sweat shorts, a second thought. At least, not much of one. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and glared. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

He exhaled deeply, lifting the weight again. “A hundred reps?” he replied absently. “Coach says I have to keep my conditioning up since we don’t play again until the playoffs start—”

“I’m not talking about that,” she choked out. “I’m talking about inviting my parents for Christmas. Inviting my mother. Here.”

He was silent for a moment, then set the weight down and reached for a towel, mopping his face before turning to meet her gaze head on. “What’s the problem?” he sighed, leaning back on his elbows. “I thought it might be nice for them to get the chance to get out of New Mexico for awhile, that’s all.”

“They like New Mexico,” she snapped, wondering why she felt like pulling her hair out. Why couldn’t he understand she needed a break from everything? From the rabid reporters practically camped on his front porch, desperate for a view of either one of them.

His brows rose. “I didn’t say they didn’t,” he replied slowly. “I just thought it might be nice to—”

“You thought,” she repeated sharply. “But you didn’t bother asking me how I felt about inviting my parents here!”

He stared at her. “It’s my house and I can invite anyone I want to come here,” he responded in a deathly calm tone. “And I didn’t hold a gun to their heads to make them agree, so what’s really your fucking problem?”

Her mouth worked like a fish as he spun around and jerkily grabbed another set of weights. The line of his back was ramrod straight, and he was lifting the weights with palpable anger. It took the wind right out of her sails.

“Max, I’m sorry…I just…”

He stilled, obviously listening for what she was about to say, although he didn’t turn around. “Sorry about what, Liz? Biting my head off when I was just trying to do something for you? If you really must know, I wasn’t going to be able to go back with you, and I wanted to see you for Christmas. Therefore I thought the easiest solution would be to invite your family. I thought they might enjoy the trip as well, and everyone would be happy. Obviously, I was wrong.”

His words, and the obvious hurt behind them, deflated her even more. Feeling incredibly small, she murmured, “No. No, that’s not…Max. I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you. I’m just feeling so…”

This time he did look at her, expression unreadable although his eyes glowed fiercely. “What? You feel what?”

Did he really not get it? Didn’t it bother him to be the center of so much attention? Although, she guessed he’d grown so used to it over the years that their situation barely scratched the surface. She immediately felt like a moron. “Nothing. It’s…nothing.” Feeling helpless and frustrated, she turned to leave, but was stopped by his voice.

“It’s because of what they’re saying about us, isn’t it?”

She froze, glancing over her shoulder and finding him staring at her. She turned fully around, taking a deep breath before admitting, “Well…yes. Doesn’t it bother you?”

His answer was a wry smile. “Liz, I’m used to this. I can’t take a piss in a public bathroom without someone reporting on it. Hell, you know how they work. You’re one of them.”

She flinched. “Low blow,” she mumbled, although it was true. She walked over and glanced out of one of the windows, seeing a local news van parked inconspicuously down the street. Well, she assumed they thought it was inconspicuous. “God, was I really this bad?”

That earned her a snort. “Babe, you were the absolute worst.”

She let the blinds fall grumpily, turning around and leaning against the wall. “This must be Karma’s way of biting me in the ass.”

He wiggled his brows, piling on more weights. “And what an ass it is.”

“Not like you’d know,” she grumbled snarkily. He merely lifted a brow, but didn’t reply. After a moment of silence save for Max’s heavy breathing and the TV, she sighed. “Fine. They’ll come here. I’ll prepare myself for whatever my mother might say or do in front of those damned reporters…God forbid.”

“That’s the spirit,” Max replied cheerfully, setting the weights down and crooking a finger towards her. “C’mere and give me some sugar. Where are you going anyway?”

She complied, moving between his outstretched legs until he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap. She settled there easily, breathing in his masculine aroma. “Mmm…out,” she managed as he began tracing her ear with the tip of his tongue. “I have to ch-check in with Michael. About the interview.” She sighed as his teeth closed around her ear lobe.

“Ah, yes,” he murmured, filling his hands with her bottom and kneading gently. “The interview that still hasn’t taken place?” His lips found her neck and she made a soft sound of pleasure.

“That’s the one,” she whispered, arching into him. “You know, I could blow Michael off and we could…?”

He stilled, his fingers digging into her bottom so hard she wondered if there would be bruises there the next day. A fiercely aroused expression colored his face, and her heart skipped a beat. This was it. He was finally going to—

“I can’t,” he croaked out, releasing her so abruptly that she would have fallen onto the floor if she hadn’t had her leg bent at an awkward angle to catch her fall. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and turned around to begin fiddling with his exercise equipment. “Not right now. I have conditioning to do. If I don’t, my injury could relapse and—”

“Fine,” she snapped, feeling a dark flush heat her features. “Forget it. I’ll leave you alone to do…whatever it is you have to do. I’ll have my phone.”

“Liz, wait,” he called after her, an anxious hint in his voice that only made her feel more foolish.

She turned around and began walking backward to the door, pasting an unnaturally bright smile on her face. “Don’t, Max. It’s okay. I understand. We’re not ready to…you know. Obviously. I’ll see you later? Bye!”

She turned to rush away, imagining she heard his voice still calling her name. She climbed into her Miata, ignoring the van that moved in behind her as she sped off. She slid in an Alanis CD, desperately needing the outlet of angry chick music, and belted the lyrics out at the top of her lungs as she maneuvered through weekend holiday traffic.

Twenty minutes later, she was walking through the ESPN local network station downtown, smiling at everyone who stopped to greet her. She paused for small talk several times before finally excusing herself to find the pressroom.

Her smile faded as she turned the corner, finding herself alone in the building. She rubbed her temples, inwardly cursing herself for the fight with Max. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t want—

She rammed into something solid and muscular, letting out a squeak of surprise as she looked up and found herself staring into the eyes of Tampa Bay head coach Jon Gruden. He appeared equally surprised to see her, and after making sure she was all right, he took a few steps back and eyed her with not a little suspicion.

“Miss Parker,” he drawled in his distinctly gruff voice. “What brings you out on Christmas Eve, Eve?”

He wasn’t a tall man, but his presence was intimidating nonetheless, added to the fact that she always got the vague impression he didn’t approve of her for some reason. She stared up into his tanned face, noting almost absently that he was really very good-looking for a head coach in the NFL.

“I’m…” She struggled to remember just what she was doing there as his eyes narrowed. “I need to get in touch with my boss back in New Mexico. His office has direct contact with this one.”

Coach Gruden nodded. “Does this have anything to do with the Max Evans interview?” he asked candidly.

Liz squirmed beneath his scrutiny, which raised her irritation level to the extreme. “Yes, actually it does. I’m letting Michael know we need an extension on the deadline.”

“I see.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then took her by the arm and began to steer her down the hallway. Liz thought about yanking herself from his grip, then glanced at his stormy expression and decided not to risk it.

“Miss Parker…Liz, mind if I call you Liz?”

“Of course not,” she managed between her teeth. “Do you mind letting me know where you’re taking me?”

He ignored the latter part of her comment. “I don’t usually interfere in my players’ lives. Not because I don’t care – I do. But they’re grown men, and unless they’re fucking up on the field or breaking some kind of League rule, I stay out of it. Pretty decent of me, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes,” she answered dryly, knowing exactly where the conversation was leading.

“Hmm. What’s not decent,” he continued in a darker tone, “is when I suspect that maybe someone is…let’s say, using, one of my boys. I don’t like it. It doesn’t put a smile on my face, you see?”

“I definitely can see that,” she murmured, steeling herself not to punch the arrogant man in the eye. “Coach, if there’s something you’d like to say to me, I’d rather you just came out and said it. I don’t care all that much for flippant remarks and vague accusations.”

His gaze flickered, and Liz imagined she saw a hint of admiration in his eyes. Then he grunted and his grip tightened around her wrist as he brought her up short. “All right. I think you’re using Max, for whatever reason. Although I have my suspicions.”

“Is that so?” she snapped, flushing with anger. “And have you bothered to ask Max what he thinks?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.”

She caught her breath, not sure if she really wanted to know what Max had said in response, yet knowing she couldn’t resist. “And…what did he say?” she demanded sharply when he didn’t immediately offer the information.

Gruden appeared frustrated. “He thought I was joking at first. Then he got upset. Wouldn’t really talk about it. He seems to trust you, Miss Parker. Despite everything you’ve put him through over the years – and believe me, he wasn’t nearly as impassive about your column as he came across with the media – he seems to believe that you genuinely care about him. God help you if he’s wrong.”

“Are you threatening me?” Liz asked in amazement.

“Only if there’s something to threaten you about,” he answered enigmatically. “Max is the most promising player I’ve seen in fifteen years of the NFL. I think of him like a son, and God only knows his own father couldn’t care less. So you can imagine how upset I’d be if anything were to affect him or his ability to play on the field.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying, but I’ve really had just about enough of this conversation,” Liz choked out, trying to move past him. He held her with a single statement.

“Why haven’t you told him what your getting that job at SportsCenter will mean?”

Her mouth fell open, and the color left her face as she stared at him in shock. “How do you…”

Instead of answering her, he continued with, “Sooner or later, it’s going to dawn on him, Liz. And how do you think he’s going to feel when he figures it out on his own, and not from you?”

She couldn’t think of a thing to say. She blinked, a thousand thoughts churning through her mind as he watched her reaction. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought about the SportsCenter job in the same way since she’d first arrived in Tampa Bay and been reintroduced to Max. The knowledge of what it would mean to take it…

“Here’s the pressroom,” Coach Gruden interrupted her musings, stretching out an arm to point toward the half-closed door. “I assume this is what you were looking for.” He moved to turn away, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Think about what I said, Liz.”

She nodded absently, staring at the wall in front of her for a long moment after hearing him leave. Shaking her head, she pushed open the door, and came face to face with quite possibly the last person she’d expected to see.

“Hello, Liz.”

“Isabel,” she said incredulously, gazing at the tall blonde who uncurled herself from an empty chair. “What in the…”

“I need your help,” Isabel broke in quickly, and Liz realized the other woman had been crying. “You’ve got to get him to see me, Liz.”

“Him?” Liz echoed, still trying to gather her thoughts. “Max?”

“Yes!” Isabel snapped. “He won’t…he’s never…God! I can’t handle this anymore, I miss my brother!”

Liz watched in shock as Max’s sister erupted into a new fit of tears, covering her face with her hands and shaking. Liz stepped forward, moving to pat her back awkwardly. “Isabel…what in the world are you doing here?”

“I know he was in Roswell over Thanksgiving,” Isabel choked out. “With you. You obviously have some sort of influence over him, Liz, so you’ve got to help me. You’ve got to make him realize that I…I…”

“Yes?” Liz wondered softly, feeling sorry for the other woman as she fought with her emotions. The prior bitterness and antagonism she’d felt for Max’s sister disappeared when confronted with the misery she carried. “Isabel, what’s going on between you and Max?”

“Nothing!” she wailed. “He won’t see me…I’ve tried and tried to get him to talk to me, but he won’t take my calls and he returns all of my letters. I j-just want him to forgive me, to forgive all of us. Why can’t he do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Liz murmured. “Because he feels like you and your mother abandoned him, Iz. You fell in with your father’s dismissal of Max without a single protest and—”

“That’s not true!” she interrupted fiercely. “Is that what Max told you? It’s not true! Yes, Mom and I didn’t want him to leave for Ohio, but we never imagined that things would end up the way they have! My father…he’s a proud man, Liz. So is Max. That’s why everything’s so horrible…neither of them will ever admit that they did something wrong.”

“What did Max do wrong?” Liz broke in heatedly. “Want to go somewhere else besides where Phillip Evans dictated? You know what, it doesn’t even matter. The fact is that Max was young – barely out of high school – and your father was a grown man. He should have known better. This is his fault.”

“You’re right,” Isabel said wearily. “But Max never even gave us a chance to support him…he and my father fought, and it was a done deal. He never even looked back. It broke my mother’s heart that first year when he didn’t come home for the holidays.”

“He didn’t seem to think any of you cared what he did,” Liz said quietly, wondering if perhaps Max had been wrong about the feelings of his family all of those years ago. “You tried to contact him?”

Isabel flushed, looking slightly away. “Not at first,” she admitted. “But you have to understand – I was so angry with him. Max and I…we’d always been so close. To have him turn his back on me the way he did, it infuriated me as much as it destroyed me.”

“I’m pretty sure he felt the same way. And when you did finally contact him?”

“It took me awhile. By that time he was so well known that there were all sorts of security measures I had to get past. I managed to get the number to an apartment he was living at once, but he never came to the phone. I assumed he’d had me blocked. I tried writing him, but they all came back unopened. And now I’m getting married and I feel like, for whatever reason, this is the last chance I have to mend fences with him, and you’ve absolutely got to help me Liz! I know how he feels about you – you’ve always been able to get through to him!”

Liz resisted the urge to laugh at that absurd comment. If it had been true, she and Max would have had a much different past than the one they shared. She stared at his sister, somehow knowing that if she didn’t do something to help, then she’d regret it forever.

Finally, she heaved a sigh. “God, I can’t believe I’m doing this…but here’s what we’re going to do…”

I'll probably be updating again later on...so stay tuned!


Part Fifteen – If All Else Fails, Stop Using All Else


Max jumped up as the front door opened. Shoving a hand through his hair, he quickly schooled his expression into one of casual indifference, rather than the angry worry that had been consuming him for the past few hours.

Ever since Liz had left, he’d battled against the urge to follow her. It was obvious that she’d been hurt by his consistent refusal to make love with her, but he wasn’t sure how to explain to her his reasoning.

Yes, he wanted her, more than anything. It seemed like it was all that occupied his thoughts as of late, and that was the problem. If he concentrated on her, he couldn’t concentrate on his job. And while he’d finally conceded that not being with her was far worse than losing some of his focus for football, he wasn’t quite ready to risk the possible damage that being intimate with her could bring.

It had been different in New Mexico, when it just been the two of them and none of the responsibility had weighed him down. But now that they were back in Tampa Bay, he was hit with it everywhere he turned. She affected him in ways that were dangerous to the single-mindedness that was necessary if he were to lead his team to victory.

More than once he’d found his thoughts drifting toward her during practice, to the point that he’d forgotten two play calls and had nearly gotten sacked before managing to break himself out of the daydream consisting of tangled limbs and soft sighs. His lack of concentration had not gone unnoticed by either his teammates or the coaching staff, and while no one had called him out on it directly, it had thoroughly embarrassed him all the same.

If he could just make her understand that they had to wait until the season was through…was that asking too much? Plenty of athletes abstained during their working periods, afraid that any sort of extracurricular activity could deplete them of much-needed energy and stamina. That wasn’t his problem so much as he just couldn’t get her out of his mind when he had to.

“Your own fault, Evans,” he chided quietly. “You brought her here, now deal with the consequences.”

“Max?”

He glanced up as Liz walked into the room, an expression of exhaustion and, strangely enough, nerves coloring her features as she nibbled her lip, hesitating in the doorway.

“Hey,” he greeted her in relief, walking forward to embrace her. She wrapped her arms around his waist, meeting his kiss with her own. “I wondered why you were so late. I was about to send the dogs out,” he joked lamely, inwardly debating with himself on how to approach the argument they’d had earlier.

“Oh, well, I…I ran into some people at the station,” she hedged, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Your coach, for one.”

Max’s brows rose. “Gruden? What’d he have to say?”

Her smile thinned, fingers stilling on his neck. He thought he glimpsed a flash of fire in her eyes before she replied, “Nothing significant.”

He cocked his head, ready to press her further, then remembered the importance of what needed to be said. Everything else could wait. Sighing heavily, he framed her face with his hands. “Listen, Liz. I don’t want to fight with you. About earlier…there’s a reason I didn’t…I couldn’t really…”

Her face flushed, and she quickly tried to interrupt. “Max, it’s all right. I understand. Really. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he broke in determinedly. “You need to realize that it’s not because I don’t want—”

“Max,” she said in a strangled tone, glancing behind her warily. “Now’s not really the best—”

“—make love with you, I do,” he trailed off when he caught sight of movement from the corner of his eye. He looked back to find Liz staring at him with something akin to guilt in her eyes. The hair on the back of his neck began to stand up on end, and he got a really bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Liz, what’s going on?”

She laughed a bit forcedly. “Max, remember how I said I ran into some people at the station?”

“Yes,” he said slowly, anxiety pooling as he read the apprehension on her face. “What’s going on?” he repeated sharply.

When she didn’t answer right away, he made a rough sound and moved to push past her. She squeaked, jumping in front of him, using her hands against his chest to attempt to stop him. “Wait!” she whispered. “Max, there’s something you need to know. Please don’t freak out.”

He stared down at her, feeling his jaw tighten as all sorts of horrible thoughts flittered through his mind. Had she brought some other man here, to throw in his face? Was this to get back at him for not giving into what she wanted? The manipulative… “Move,” he commanded tersely. “Now.”

“Please,” she repeated desperately. “Max, you have to understand—”

He picked her up by the shoulders, ignoring the squeal of protest as he set her down behind him, then turned to confront the intruder in his home. Liz made another grab for him, but he evaded her as easily as he dodged tackles in the pocket.

“Come on out and let’s get a look at you,” he called out gruffly to the person lurking around the corner. “Stop hiding behind a five-foot woman.”

The figure stirred, and Max immediately consigned himself to murder if the person turned out to be of the male persuasion. Breath held, he watched as the figure moved into the light of the foyer, revealing a tall form with long blonde hair…

The sound that came from his throat was unrecognizable as he suddenly became aware of what – or rather, whom – he was staring at. Where only seconds before he’d been filled with a sick sort of anger, he now only felt…sick.

“Isabel?” he managed, feeling Liz’s panicky gaze on him as he stared at the sight of his sister for the first time in ten years. She appeared unable to speak, gazing back at him with a pallid expression. She moved slightly, and the light caught the sheen of tears in her eyes.

“Hello, Max,” was all she whispered, but it was enough to break the spell that had seemed to come over him.

All at once, a decade’s worth of emotions cascaded through him, and he felt his blood pressure rising as he fought not to scream in rage. Carefully regulating his voice, lest he frighten every living body in the hundred-mile radius, he chose his words carefully. “What the…what the fuck are you doing in my house?”

Isabel flinched at his shaking tone, but to her credit, she held her ground as he glowered at her from across the room. She shot Liz a helpless glance, to which Liz cleared her throat carefully behind him.

“Max, before you—”

He spun around on her, making her blink at the fury coloring his features. “Don’t,” he warned in a dangerously soft tone, “tell me not to freak out. Do you understand me?”

She nodded, although her eyes blazed at the command in his statement. Considering how stubborn she was, it was a measure of Max’s ire that she remained silent.

Forcing a deep breath, he turned back around and said, “I want you gone. Now. I don’t care why you’re here, and I don’t have anything to say to you. Just…leave.”

Tears spilled over from her eyes, but he looked away, refused to be moved by them. “Max, please just listen to me,” she begged, voice cracking. He flinched slightly, but offered nothing in return.

“I-I know you hate me,” she began softly.

“What finally clued you in?” he wondered icily. “The fact that we haven’t spoken in over ten years? Give the lady a gold fucking star.” He accentuated the statement with sarcastic clapping that sounded like gunshots in the tension-filled room.

He felt rather than saw her stiffen. Despite the time they’d spent apart, he still knew her better than he knew anyone else in the world - with the possible exception of the petite woman standing behind him. He knew that she’d take only so much before exploding in a fit of raw anger that equaled his own.

“You son of a bitch,” she whispered, trembling from head to toe. “Is this the way you want things to be? Fine! I-I don’t know why I even bothered, you’re so…” Her voice broke again, and she turned around, pressing her hands to her face.

Unable to help himself, Max found himself moving toward her. It had been easy to dismiss his sister when she’d been thousands of miles away. It was quite another to do it when she stood sobbing in his foyer, due to harsh words that had come from his own mouth.

He felt awkward and angry as he paused beside her. “Stop crying,” he commanded, tongue feeling thick. “You…you deserve this. You…”

She looked up at him, brown eyes swimming, and his words died. In a tremulous voice, she said, “Max, I’m sorry. Please, I—”

“Christ, shut up,” he begged, conflicting emotions roiling inside of him as he grabbed the hair at his temples in frustration. “Why are you doing this, Isabel? Why now?”

“Because I should have done it ten years ago, but I was too scared,” she answered defiantly. “I was scared to lose you – to football, to Ohio State - but I ended up doing just that anyway. I never agreed with what Dad did, Max, but I didn’t fight it because…because I just wanted you to stay so bad.”

His body stiffened at the mention of their father. He stared down at her with unreadable eyes. “Is...is something wrong with him? Or Mom? Is that really why you’re here, out of some misguided sense of duty to see the family happy and smiling before—”

“No!” she cried out. “Dad doesn’t know I’m here.”

Of course he didn’t. Phillip Evans would have never condoned his daughter pleading on his behalf. Max didn’t know why he’d allowed himself a moment to hope… He brushed the thought aside and struggled not to feel any lingering despair. He didn’t care what he thought. He didn’t care what any of them thought.

“Do you need money? Is that what this is really about?” he questioned harshly. Liz gasped behind him, and he wished he could take the words back as Isabel’s face blanched. No matter how angry he was with his sister, he knew Isabel better than to truly believe she’d use him for his wealth. He’d just wanted to hurt her somehow, force her to feel the way he’d felt when she’d—

His cheek stung as she slapped her palm across his face, expression glowing with pain and rage. “How dare you,” she managed. “I came here because I love you, and I wanted to do what I could to fix things between us before it was too late. God knows I’ve tried for years, but you’ve shot me down every time. Now I see that it…it’s just a waste of time. You’re not the person I remember, Max.”

He frowned, latching onto one part of her diatribe. “What are you talking about? You’ve never tried to do anything before now.”

She made a strangled sound. “I’ve tried a million things! You never gave me a chance!”

“Explain,” he managed roughly.

She glared at him through teary eyes, but shrugged her shoulders. “Fine. I called, but always got a wrong number. I wrote, but they always came back unopened. I even went to your games in the hopes that I’d be able to corner you somehow, but they never believed me when I said I was your sister, even when I had indisputable proof. After all, it’s common knowledge the Golden Boy has no family, isn’t it?” she finished, sadness creeping into her anger.

His mouth had fallen open. Shaking his head, he replied, “I never knew…I didn’t get any calls. No letters. I had no idea you were at…are you telling me the truth?”

“Would I be here if I wasn’t?” she sighed, suddenly weary. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re a lost cause, aren’t we, Max? I thought…I thought if I could just see you for a moment alone, I could make you understand…” She trailed off with a soft sob. “I was wrong. Liz, thank you but…it’s no use.”

She turned to flee the room, Max standing shell-shocked behind her. Part of him wanted to go after her, but the other part warned him he was better off alone. If he didn’t let himself expect anything from his family, they couldn’t hurt him. It was the adage he’d lived by since leaving home for college.

Until now, Liz had remained silent during the exchange. However, after the front door slammed, she strode up to Max and punched him in the chest. “How could you?” she wondered angrily. “Can’t you see she’s begging you for a chance, Max? Or do you not believe in second chances?”

“Second chances are for fools,” he managed. “If you give someone a second chance, you’re asking to be hurt again. I won’t be.”

She stared at him, shaking her head slowly. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” she murmured. Then, “What about me? You gave me a second chance. By all rights, you should hate me for what I’ve done to you over the years, and yet…here we are. What do you have to say about that?”

He finally met her gaze, feeling like he was moving through water. “That’s different,” he replied thickly. “You don’t understand, Liz.”

“Maybe I don’t,” she conceded. “After all, I’ve never had the opportunity to love a sibling as much as you love Isabel. Don’t deny it,” she said when he began to speak. “I can see it all over your face, Max. She’s your sister, and you can try to hate her as much as you want, but you can’t quite manage it. Can you? God, it must absolutely kill someone with your kind of self-control.”

“Stop right now,” he warned shakily, not wanting to hear the blunt truth she provided. His head was spinning. “You don’t know—”

“Here’s what I do know,” she broke in. “If you let her leave this way, Max, it will be over. You have the opportunity – no, the gift – of rectifying your relationship with her. And you’re throwing it away because of what? Pride? Self-respect? Isabel put her pride on the line to come to find you. And you destroyed it without a second thought. This time there’s no one left to blame but yourself.”

She was right. The fact did nothing to ease the weight in his chest. He met Liz’s eyes with his own, feeling lost and uncertain. “What if I…what if I don’t know how to…” He cursed, unable to finish his thought as he stared at her hopelessly.

“You will,” she said softly, understanding what he’d meant anyway. “Go after her.”

He was quiet for a moment, then reached out and hugged her to him tightly. “I’m really glad you’re here. What would I do with you a hundred miles away?” he joked, referring to her office in New Mexico.

She smiled, although he imagined there was a strange light in her eyes. “You’d be lost without my remarkable wit. Now go.”

Which was how he found himself running across the lawn, trying to catch Isabel as she opened the door to her car. “Isabel!” he called, watching as her head snapped up in surprise. He arrived at her side, neither of them looking at each other.

Finally she spoke tiredly, “What, Max? I think we’ve said everything there is to say, haven’t we? I’ll leave you alone now. It’s obviously what you want—”

“Hell, I don’t know what I want, so don’t pretend you do,” he answered in exasperation. “Tell me something, Iz. If Dad doesn’t know you came…what are you going to tell him when you go back and this is plastered all over the news?”

She blinked. “I’m sorry?” she questioned, obviously not understanding his implications.

With a discreet nod, he gestured down the street where an unmarked van was sitting by idly. “They’ve been here all week, trying to get any juice on me that they can,” he said wryly. “Believe me, this is some major juice.”

Her face whitened. “But…they won’t know who I am. They’ll probably just assume I’m one of your football groupies or something.”

Max grimaced. “Please, I just ate.”

A small smile appeared on her lips, although it quickly faded as she stared at him in earnest. “Max, to answer your question, I don’t care what Dad thinks about me seeing you. To be honest, I think he misses you, too, although he’d never admit it.”

“You’re wrong,” he clipped off, feelings of inadequacy and bitterness rising within him.

Realizing he wouldn’t discuss their father just yet, she sighed. “I’m serious, Max. I don’t care what he has to say. In fact, I came here to ask you something…something that will really make him go ballistic if you accept.”

His brows rose as she licked her lips nervously. “Isabel, what aren’t you telling me?” he wondered, correctly interpreting her anxiety.

“I’m getting married,” she blurted out. “To an engineer from Cornell. We met when I was up there visiting a friend…and one thing led to another and…” She flushed.

“Wow,” was all he could manage, squirming uncomfortably as older brother protectiveness kicked in like no time had been wasted between them. “What’s his name?”

“Alex Whitman,” she said, voice softening into an intimate caress. “He’s perfect for me, Max. He’s sweet and funny, and he’s laid back enough to handle me when I go a little high-maintenance…”

“Thank God,” he joked, causing her to let out a strangled laugh. “How long have you…been engaged?”

“A month,” she admitted softly. “It’s what made me finally decide to lay it all on the line and come find you myself. I want you there, Max. Alex doesn’t have any brothers and his best friend is serving overseas and won’t be able to make it to the wedding. I…we want you to be the best man. I know you probably aren’t interested, but if you’d just at least come—”

“Okay,” he interrupted before he had time to think about it. “I’ll do it.”

She stared at him, lips parted in surprise as tears begin to fill her eyes again. “You…you will?” she choked out. “But…but what about what you said in there, when you said I deserved nothing from you and that you…you hated me?” She finished the sentence in a whisper while Max winced.

“I’m not over what happened,” he admitted quietly. “But I want to try, Isabel. I’ve…I’ve missed you, too. Maybe I didn’t realize just how much until you were staring me in the face again.”

She blinked, then threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “Max, I’m so sorry,” she murmured tremulously. “If I could do it all over—”

“Don’t,” he said gently. “Let’s just forget it, okay? We both deserve a second chance.”

She nodded. They stood embracing for a long moment before he finally pulled back and asked, “How did you find me, by the way? My address isn’t listed.”

“Oh.” She flushed. “I…arranged a meeting with your coach,” she admitted. When Max frowned, she hurried to add, “But please don’t be upset with him. He didn’t tell me anything, just said I should try asking someone else. Someone who had the means to do something about it. Then Liz was there and I just…” She trailed off with a shrug.

Max was deep in thought. “But why would Gruden tell you to…” He broke off, deciding he’d worry about that angle later as a wave of exhaustion hit him. “Shit, I have practice in the morning, and it’s already pretty late.”

“But…but tomorrow’s Christmas Eve!” Isabel argued. “How can you practice on Christmas Eve?”

He smiled fully for the first time. “You do realize some teams actually play games on Christmas, don’t you? And Thanksgiving. And New Years.”

She appeared horrified. “That’s awful! Christmas is for family, not for running around trampling people while trying to grab a ball in the mud.”

“It all depends on your point of view, I guess,” he snickered, throwing an arm around her shoulders and leading her inside. “Some people like watching us trample each other in the mud during the holidays. Some might even call it tradition.”

“I call it asinine.”

“That’s just because we always picked you last for flag football,” he countered. “It’s given you an unfair hatred of the game.”

“Whatever.”

He paused on the front porch, turning to look at her warily. “Liz’s parents are coming into town and I promised I’d pick them up from the airport tomorrow,” he began. “If you want…you could stay for Christmas? Or is Alex expecting you home?”

She blinked, then a small smile lifted the edges of her lips. “No, he’s not. And I’d love to,” she answered.


<center>***</center>


Christmas came and went without a hitch. Despite Liz’s anxiety, her mother was extremely well behaved during the visit and only mentioned what an adorable couple they made two times. Of course, coupled with the several not-so-veiled comments about how Max’s home was the perfect place to raise children; he supposed it all evened out.

He and Isabel had spent a lot of time together, trying to slowly overcome the ten years worth of bad feelings that still lingered. They hadn’t erased their differences completely, but Max felt they’d come a long way as they parted the next week with the promise that they’d keep in touch about the wedding.

The Parkers left soon afterward, Nancy pulling him aside to make sure he realized that there was no time like the present to get started on filling his home with the pitter-patter of little feet. Amused rather than annoyed, he’d managed to charm her to distraction so as not to have to answer the probing comments.

And then, there were two. As nice as the visit had been, Max couldn’t deny that it was nice to be alone with Liz again. He said as much one afternoon while they were lounging together in front of the fireplace in the den, playfully attempting to conduct the interview while exchanging soft kisses.

She’d simply smiled in that coy way that he’d come to appreciate, and continued asking him questions. He couldn’t even remember what answers he’d given, and found that he didn’t really care.

Unfortunately, moments like these grew scarce as the days progressed and the Conference Championships approached. Max spent more hours than usual on the practice field, running drills and perfecting new plays as the Buccaneers stayed strong in their hope for a trip to Detroit.

Wild Card Weekend was slated for the first weekend in January, and Max and his teammates watched with interest as the NFC contenders – the Detroit Lions and the Carolina Panthers – battled it out for a Wild Card slot in the Divisional Playoffs. When it was over, the Panthers came out on top while the Lions tasted the bitter flavor of defeat.

The playoffs flew by just as quickly, and Max and the rest of Tampa Bay barely had time to revel in each win that brought them closer to the NFC Championship before the next game started. He kept an eye on the goings on in the AFC, and wasn’t surprised to see that the Pats were kicking all kinds of ass on their way to the top.

And then, the Bucs were done. With the defeat of the St. Louis Rams, they secured their slot in the championship game against the Eagles. No one claimed to be surprised, and yet Max found himself unable to sleep that night due to extreme relief.

The NFC Championship would take place the next week, and Max prepared himself for two-a-days that would drive him to the brink as the Buccaneers prepared for the game against Philadelphia. The Eagles had proven they were a force to be reckoned with, with Pro-Bowl quarterback Donovan McNabb and controversial wide receiver, Terrell Owens.

When it was all said and done, the Bucs were as ready as they could be as they took the field at RJS seven days later. The stadium was filled to maximum capacity, the game having sold out within hours of tickets going on sale.

Max stretched with the rest of the team on the grass, looking up to meet Liz’s eyes. He’d given her a sidelines pass for the game, wanting her as close as humanly possible during such an important moment of his career.

He could hear the loudspeakers playing some kind of rap music that coalesced with the roar of the crowd, but it all dimmed as he struggled to focus on what had to be done that day. If they won, they were on their way to face New England – who had won their championship game against the Steelers earlier that day – in Detroit. If they lost, the season would end, along with any hopes of a Super Bowl victory.

Time seemed to speed up so that Max abruptly found himself taking the field for the first snap, staring over the heads of his offensive line to meet the gazes of several Eagles linemen. They all looked like they’d love nothing more than to send him reeling all the way back to Roswell.

He played the first quarter the only way he knew how – to win. The Buccaneers managed to get ten points up on the board, but the score was hard won as they suffered two minor injuries in the secondary. Both players returned, but it was enough to have Tampa Bay on tenterhooks as the second quarter began.

The Eagles dominated this round, with McNabb throwing a touchdown pass to Terrell Owens, then pitching to All-Star running back Brian Westbrook, who waltzed into the end zone with five seconds remaining in the half.

The score at halftime read 14-10 Philadelphia.

The Buccaneers departed for the locker room with the thunderous sound of thousands of fans booing in their ears at the fact that the home team was losing. Max felt the beginnings of a headache taking place as he listened in silence to Gruden’s shouts and adjustments.

Fifteen minutes later, Tampa Bay was lined up to receive. Carnell Williams ran it up the field for a sweet gain that put the Bucs offensive line in good position for their first drive in the second half.

Max was perfection itself, completing twelve out of twelve passes – two for touchdowns – as the fourth quarter started, giving Tampa Bay the lead in a game between two well-rounded teams.

There was two minutes on the clock, and the crowd was going wild with the knowledge that there was no way Philly could come back from the deficit Max and the rest of the Bucs had created in time to pull off a win. Celebration had already started in several places throughout the stadium, and Max and his teammates wore huge smiles on the sidelines as their defense stopped McNabb time and time again.

Max took the field one last time, prepared to put a quick end to the game. He couldn’t keep from grinning at the defensive line of the Eagles as he called out a trick play.

Then disaster struck.

The Eagles, apparently realizing they had no chance of winning, had obviously decided that the least they could do was as much damage as possible before going down. Thus, Max found himself on the end of a monster blitz that the offense was totally unprepared for at this late of a point in the game, and five linebackers from Philadelphia plowed him into the ground.

A sick pain filled him, turning his vision dark around the edges as he dimly heard shouting and whistles blowing in the distance. He lay prone on the field as the pile-up decreased, until he found himself staring blankly at the sky.

“Max! Look at me,” he heard Liz’s anxious voice demanding, and he turned his head just enough to find her staring at him with worried eyes.

“Move back!” Coach Gruden was ordering the players who had come to watch the event, his voice typically gruff and hoarse, although Max read the concern in his eyes as he came to his knees beside him.

“Can you feel this, Max?” a doctor was asking, prodding at his extremities with a sharp tool. He winced, then nodded.

“Yeah, I can feel it. What happened?”

“You got a late hit,” Liz answered angrily. “The Eagles got penalized, not like it matters. Are you all right?”

“I-I think so,” he managed thickly, struggling to sit up. His shoulder strained, and he flinched. “My shoulder.”

“Let me see,” the doctor said immediately, peeling back layers of jersey and padding. After a moment of tense silence, he said, “It’s only bruised. I don’t see any added damage to the ligaments, although we’ll obviously need to run an MRI. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,” Max replied automatically, beginning to feel better as his major concern passed. His eyes narrowed as he looked out onto the field. There was still a minute on the clock. Without looking at Liz or Gruden, he said, “I’m going back in.”

“What?” Liz cried out at the exact same time Gruden shouted, “No fucking way, Evans! Valenti will end this game, and you’re going to the emergency room to make sure nothing’s—”

“Am I the captain of this team or not?” Max met his coach’s gaze belligerently.

“Of course.”

“Then it’s my decision. I’m going back in,” he repeated.

“Max, why?” Liz demanded. “You could get hurt….it’s not worth it. Just let Kyle finish the drive, and I’ll go with you to the hospital—”

“Hey,” he cut her off gently, bringing her hand to his lips and placing a kiss in the center of her palm. “I know you’re upset and scared. But I’m fine. And I have to do this, Liz.”

“Why?”

“If I don’t go back out there, it’ll prove I don’t have what it takes. They want to make that clear, all right? They want to see what I’m made of. And I have to show them that I can take whatever they, or anyone else, want to throw at me.”

“But you’re not invincible, Max,” she argued. “You’re not Superman.”

“I’m the Golden Boy,” he answered with a wry smile. “Now it’s time to prove it.”

Liz looked to Coach Gruden in exasperation, but he was silent. Max knew that his head coach understood what he was trying to do, even if he didn’t agree. Liz, however, did not. She threw her hands up, crying out, “I’ll never understand testosterone and it’s ability to turn rational men into raging buffoons!” She stomped off, leaving the rest of the raging buffoons looking at each other with raised brows.

Max stood up, putting his helmet back on to the sound of deafening cheering and applause as he saluted the fans and jogged back to the line of scrimmage. Thanks to the personal foul, the line had been moved up by fifteen yards, and the Bucs were now once again in scoring territory. Max was determined to make something of it.

He kept his gaze on the defense, reading their formation and adjusting accordingly. He called a play-action, faking the ball to one of his running backs before passing it down the field for ten yards and a fresh set of downs. They were now first and goal.

The seconds ticked by. Thirty-five. Thirty-four. Thirty-three. The ball was snapped and he fell back into the pocket, scanning his receivers for eligibility. They were all being covered by Eagles defenders, and Max was faced with only one option.

Tuck the ball and run like hell.

Not anticipating a quarterback sneak, Philadelphia left a wide gap in coverage which Max easily slid through, running the three yards he needed into the end zone and resulting in the end of game buzzer, as well as a much-needed reminder that he was one of the best in the game.

The rest of the Bucs rushed down the field and jumped on him, slapping his butt and butting helmets as the Tampa Bay crowd went wild. He caught Liz’s gaze on the sidelines, and she was jumping up and down, squealing at the top of her lungs as Coach Gruden hurried forward with a football in hand.

“We don’t usually do this now, but game ball definitely goes to you, Evans!” he shouted in a cheerfully hoarse tone. “Congratufuckinglations!”

Max grinned, motioning for his teammates to drop him as Liz came hurtling toward him. He caught her easily, burying his face in her neck and laughing as a giant banner waved in the distance.

Tampa Bay was Super Bowl bound.

I hope this satisfies everyone. I'm sick of the hate mail. Just kidding...


Part Sixteen – If Lovin’ You Is Wrong, I Don’t Wanna Be Right



Liz struggled to keep pace with Max as he sprinted through the training facility, hand firmly grasping her own. She could hear the echo of their excited laughter in the empty hallway, mingled with the fading sounds of celebrating Buccaneers fans in the distance.

“Max, where are we going?” she managed breathlessly, laughing in delight when he spun around and backed her up against the wall.

She caught a hint of his intense expression in the dimly lit hallway before he crushed his mouth to hers roughly, spearing fingers through her hair as she gasped. Her hands came to rest on the pads hanging from his shoulders and she angled herself closer. He smelled of the field and was slick with perspiration, and yet she thought he’d never seemed sexier.

At last he pulled away, catching her bottom lip between his teeth in retreat. “We’re celebrating,” he whispered in a husky voice, a devilish grin curving his lips. “There’s something I want to show you.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to demand where he was taking her, but at the same time it didn’t even matter. So long as he was there with her, he could lead her into the lowest bowels of Hell and she wouldn’t care.

They left the facility, entering the main section of Raymond James Stadium. Max nodded at the night guard, who merely grinned and shot the NFC Championship quarterback a thumbs up, letting them in without a protest. Liz blinked as she suddenly found herself walking through the tunnel that led to the field itself.

“Max?”

“Take your shoes off,” was all he said. “They’ll tear up the grass.”

“Like what just happened out there didn’t tear it up?” she joked, but bent to untie her shoes, hopping on one foot as Max looked on in amusement. “What now?” she wondered, looping the sneakers on two fingers. “Where are we going, Max?”

“Trust me,” he said softly, taking her hand and leading her toward the north end zone of the stadium. The entrance to Buccaneer Cove gleamed ahead, and she paused momentarily at the sight of the menacing Tampa Bay skull and crossbones.

“Come on,” Max urged, pulling gently on her hand.

She allowed him to lead her up the steps, past the fishing village portico to the main deck of the ship itself. She stared out over the field, remembering the last time they’d been alone together in that same spot. A strange anticipation bubbled inside of her, as if she knew that somehow tonight would be different than anything she’d ever expected.

The night air was pleasantly cool, and a breeze blew through her hair as she turned to find Max watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. Feeling suddenly shy, she ducked her head and said, “You were amazing tonight, you know.”

She felt rather than heard him move closer, until the heat from his body pressed against her back. Her breath caught as his fingers gently pushed the length of her hair to one shoulder, baring the other to the cool air. When he spoke, his voice was a silky whisper that started her pulse hammering.

“You’re not cold out here, are you?”

“N-No,” she stammered as he tugged the neck of her shirt aside, placing an openmouthed kiss against the nook of her shoulder. “It’s Tampa Bay, after all.”

“You’re trembling,” he pointed out huskily, fingers resting lightly on her hips as he pulled her more firmly against him. “I can feel goose bumps on your skin.”

She gasped as his hands slid beneath her shirt, gently rubbing her abdomen as heat pooled within her. “That’s because you’re…” she trailed off with a helpless moan when his hands filled with her breasts. She tried to turn around, but was caught in his arms. Their eyes met and she stared at him through her lashes. “Max, what are you—”

He cut her off with a hot kiss, and she gripped his hair and tugged him closer as he tore the shirt over her head. She responded by fumbling with the ties to his shoulder pads, making a sound of frustration that had him chuckling sinfully.

“Wait, I’ll help,” he whispered, capturing her lips once more before moving back just enough to untie the protective gear and let it drop to the ground, leaving him in nothing but a scrimmage vest and girdle. He reached back, tugging the mesh tank over his head, eyeing her with the same kind of intensity he exhibited on the field.

She resisted the urge to shiver, staring hungrily at the muscles gleaming in the moonlight that spilled from the sky. She’d seen him fully naked before, but it seemed more intimate now. Erotic, as he rested his weight on one leg and watched her watching him. She licked her lips, blurting out before she could think about it, “God, you have the best body.”

“Hmm…I think that’s my line,” he murmured, tugging her close again. “I want your mouth.” With one finger he lifted her chin just enough to align their lips again as he plundered hers mercilessly. She soothed her frazzled nerves by running her fingers up and down the silken heat of his skin, learning every ridge and contour.

“I want you.”

The whispered words spilled from both of their mouths as hands roamed. Liz lost sight of the fact that they were outside in a fairly public venue as Max laid her down against a blanket that had suddenly appeared at the bow of the ship. As he came over her, she reached up and played with the sweat-dampened strands of hair at his temples.

His eyes closed at her caress; jaw locking as he battled for self-control. Nothing could have pleased her more than when his eyes reopened, blazing with careless fire that spoke of dark desires that needed to be fulfilled. She slid her hands between them and found him hard and rigid, eagerly awaiting her.

“Christ, your hands feel good,” he managed, arching into her touch as she began to unlace his waist girdle. “You’ll let me have you tonight?”

“Oh, yes,” she laughed lightly. “Although you’re not letting me do anything. I plan to be a fully active partner in this.”

“Thank God.”

They rolled around, neither caring about the hard wooden floor that cushioned their bodies. They laughed together, nipping at each other’s mouths as they discarded the rest of their clothes. Rubbing sinuously against him, Liz sighed, “What if someone sees us?”

“No one’s here,” Max answered, tugging on her ear lobe with his teeth while his hands played across her abdomen. Sliding lower he added, “The place is locked at midnight, which was approximately fifteen minutes ago.”

Liz paused at the matter-of-factness of his tone. “You planned this,” she accused softly. “Tonight. Didn’t you?”

He lifted himself enough to gaze down at her with those golden eyes that she’d dreamed about for years. “Ever since Christmas,” he admitted hoarsely. “I couldn’t be with you before…things were too crazy and I wanted our first time to be…different.”

She glanced around at the blowing sails and makeshift cannons, gaze lingering on the leering skull before smirking, “Well, it’s definitely different.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You don't like it? You wanted…rose petals and candlelight?”

That’s when it hit her. She didn’t want rose petals or candlelight or any of the other feminine fripperies that most insisted upon. Somehow, Max had known she’d rather make adventurous love on a pirate ship than slither around on silk sheets drinking champagne. Not that the latter wouldn’t be fun…but for their first time, she couldn’t have dreamed up a more perfect scenario.

“No, this is…this is perfect,” she admitted softly, looking up at him beneath heavy lids.

He seemed to relax, going as far as to shoot her a smug smile. “Good, otherwise I’d have made you walk the plank.”

She giggled, running her foot up his calf the way she’d learned he loved. “Hmm…is there really a plank?” she wondered, glancing around with interest.

“Don’t tempt me to find out. I’m only so daring,” he joked.

She rolled her eyes and pulled his grinning mouth back to hers. Her fingers slid down to cup his muscular buttocks, tracing the tattoo that marked the tawny skin. When he shivered in response, she drew his tongue deeper into her mouth, mimicking a more intimate act, driving him wild in the process.

Before she could say “Aaarrgh, matey!” she found herself pinned to the ground as he panted above her.

He positioned himself against her flesh, prodding her gently as she moved to accommodate his entrance. Perspiration dotting his forehead, he stared down at her with an expression so ravenous it took her breath away. “You remember what I told you about the cannons?” he asked gutturally.

She gasped as he slid inside her so easily it should have been embarrassing. Instead, it was simply perfect. “I-I believe you said that they go boom every time you score,” she replied through a moan, breathing heavily as he began a slow and steady rhythm inside of her.

“Boom…”

His whispered word ignited a need so fierce inside of her that she momentarily lost sight of where she was as she bucked and arched into his ministrations. He groaned roughly, picking up the pace as his hands found hers above her head.

“Liz…so sweet…” he kissed her between mutual groans. “You’re…fucking perfect…”

She exploded in a chasm of blistering heat and pleasure, crying his name out so loudly she wondered dimly if it could be heard outside of the stadium. He followed, freezing for a split second above her, features harshly defined, before he crumpled into her with a gasping breath. “Oh. Sweet Christ…”

The sound of a thunderous boom shook the floor and they jerked in shock as smoke billowed from one of the main cannons, fireworks and confetti littering the sky around them. Max’s mouth hung open, and he glanced down at Liz, who was equal parts shocked.

They blinked, and then both stared over Max’s shoulder to where her leg was resting against the switch that operated the cannon fire. Max began shaking with laughter, and Liz slapped him on the shoulder before joining in with helpless giggles.

From somewhere in the distance, a voice yelled, “Fire them cannons!” and they both dissolved into raucous mirth.

“Oh, Christ…the look on your face…” Max managed, snorting as he sat up and brought her into his arms. “You thought the place was being stormed, didn’t you?”

“Well, how was I supposed to know!” she demanded. “All of a sudden, everything went completely crazy.”

“Mmm…I think it was crazy well before that,” he responded huskily. “C’mere.” She obliged, rocking in his embrace as his arms wrapped around her back.

“Liz?”

“Max,” she sighed questioningly, enjoying the feel of his naked body pressed up against hers.

“Tell me one thing. Why do cannons appear…every time you’re near?”

“Oh, shut up.”

LittleHottie510 wrote:Can't wait to see what happens in the SuperBowl! I can't wait to see Max up against Tom. Oh dear. Who to root for?!?! Guide me here, Linds... who are we rooting for? Bucs or Pats? *Eck* Such a dilemma.

Haha, I'll let you know when I figure it out myself.

Three more parts to go!


Part Seventeen – And Then There Were Two


“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you choose?”

“Disney World.”

Max stifled a smile as Liz turned to him with a deadpanned expression, clearly not pleased with his clichéd answer. He reached out, stroking her arm with the tips of his fingers. “Okay, what do you really want to know?”

“I thought I just asked,” Liz returned sardonically. “Disney World? What, you’d get a job as the Mad Hatter and run around chasing the children outside of the Mad Tea Party?”

Max grinned wickedly. “I was thinking more of life guarding at Typhoon Lagoon. All the women running around in skimpy bathing suits…”

“And some men,” she answered impishly.

“Thanks, Parker,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “You’ve ruined the magic for me.”

They both fell silent, enjoying each other’s company as they cuddled together on the soft grass. Max leaned back on his elbows, watching as three children started up a rowdy game of Frisbee across the park. A faint smile crossed his features as he realized one of them was wearing a Buccaneers jersey with the number 2 emblazoned across the front. His number.

“Max…”

“Hmm?” He questioned, wrapping his arms around her as he settled her more firmly in his lap.

“I know we already did the interview,” Liz began, biting her lip as she looked up at him. “But I still have a question.”

He cocked a brow at the curiosity in her tone. “Ask away.”

She seemed to hesitate, then the inquisitive sparkle he associated with her when she was in reporter mode kicked in and she asked eagerly, “Why did you go with Tampa Bay on Draft Day instead of any of the other teams that wanted you?”

“Because I felt like it,” he replied instantly, without looking at her. He imagined he could hear her teeth grinding at his vague response, and once again had to smother a smile.

“Max, when you enter your name in the Draft, you’re pretty much giving up any leeway you have of deciding where you want to go. You go with the first club that says they want you, which is what Cleveland did.”

“Ah, but you’re forgetting one thing,” Max held a finger up. When she lifted a curious brow, he smiled and stole a quick kiss. Tilting her head upward with his hands, he murmured, “Negotiations.”

A frown creased her brow. “So, you negotiated with Cleveland to let Tampa Bay have you? But…why? The Browns are a solid team, and close to where you were living at the time.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly,” Liz parroted, frowning again. “What does that mean?”

He glanced down; enjoying the way the golden afternoon sun highlighted her dark hair and skin. She was sitting with her legs stretched out on the soft grass, wearing a pair of tiny shorts and an oversized rugby shirt. The casually sporty look made his mouth water more than any skimpy dress could have achieved.

His palm closed over her calf, stroking the soft skin distractedly as he answered. “Tampa Bay needed me more, didn’t they? The Browns were an established team then, while Tampa was in a major rebuilding stage. They had a first round pick, whereas Cleveland had traded theirs to Buffalo for a tight end. How could I, in good faith, have turned them down?”

She sat in thought, plucking at the grass idly as she digested his words. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and brooding. “I…didn’t know that,” she admitted. “That all happened before I really paid attention to anything but the games.”

“You thought I went to Tampa Bay because of the babes in bikinis, didn’t you?” Max joked. “I can’t deny that it wasn’t a major perk at the time.”

She shot him a look, then sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know what I thought. Anything that made you look worse, I guess.”

His smile faded a bit, remembering that there were still plenty of things between them left unsaid. Liz’s face was cloudy, as if she were coming to the same realization. He knew he needed to say something, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of how to begin.

Not surprisingly, seeing as how she’d never been one to back down, Liz took the opportunity away from him. “You knew I was in love with you when I was little, didn’t you?”

He went still at the frankness of her statement. He’d always known she’d had feelings for him back in Roswell, but he’d always considered them childish infatuation – overwhelming, yet fleeting.

She’d cast him as her hero ever since the day they’d met, overlooking the fact that he’d been the one who had caused her injury in the first place. Sure, they’d had a weird connection…but he’d never thought of her as anything more than a kid sister. For a while, anyway. He could still recall with perfect clarity the day things began to change for him.

He’d gone to California over the summer of his junior year, checking out West Coast colleges with his dad. It had been one of the last trips they’d actually enjoyed together before everything had begun its downhill descent. He’d come back home the week before school was to start, to find little Lizzie Parker waiting tables at her parent’s café.

The sight of her had knocked him on his ass. Suddenly, the little girl who had followed him around everywhere he went had transformed into a young woman - an attractive young woman, with a killer smile and a burgeoning body. She’d been about to start her eighth year in school, and he’d wanted her with a sweaty, teenage lust that shamed him.

She’d been so happy to see him, and he’d treated her like dirt, terrified that someone would look at him and realize his sick fascination. He’d known it was wrong to feel the way he felt, but nothing had seemed able to cure it.

He’d started dating Tess Harding, his high school’s version of The Perfect Woman, and had banged her brains out in the backseat of his dad’s Chevelle. His first time. And yet…it hadn’t been the sexy blonde cheerleader who had filled his mind, but a precocious thirteen-year old with wide, trusting eyes.

After that, he’d been downright cold to Liz. To this day he still couldn’t fathom why she’d kept coming back, time and time again, trying to befriend him when he’d said and done the things he had. And yet, if she had, he felt certain that he would have withered up and died.

She’d claimed she loved him the night of their graduation, but he’d been too disgusted by himself for giving into the want he had for her to believe it. And – he knew he couldn’t deny it any longer – the idea of sitting back and analyzing his own feelings had been horrifying to contemplate. He couldn’t afford to like her, not when he had to leave. Getting away from his father and everything he represented had been his entire focus.

“Max?”

He jerked at the sound of her quiet voice, and he glanced down to see her staring at him with questioning eyes. His mouth felt dry, but he managed to croak out, “You…you were?”

She moved slightly, her legs brushing his own as she turned to fully face him. “Surely you knew. I thought that was why…?” She trailed off, flushing slightly.

“Why what?”

She blinked, looking up at him through her lashes. “Why you…didn’t like me,” she mumbled, obviously too mortified to speak loudly. “You were awful to me, Max. I mean, I can’t quite blame you, because I know I was an annoying brat…following you everywhere and—”

“Liz, no,” he broke in with a weak laugh. “You weren’t annoying. You were just…”

Her eyes were wide and she was clearly waiting with baited breath to see what he was going to say. He tongue seemed to grow thicker and he nearly stammered. “You were too young,” he finished lamely. “You were jail bait, Parker.”

She watched him for a moment longer, then sighed. “I know. Well, I didn’t know then…I just wanted you so much. I knew you were older, and I knew I was younger, but it never seemed to matter.”

“To me either,” he heard himself saying, and watched as she jerked her gaze up in surprise. Flushing darkly, he looked away and continued, “I didn’t want to feel the way I did about you. It was wrong, and it screwed me up. But…I shouldn’t have taken out it on you while I was trying to hide it.”

“Is that what you were doing?” she wondered in amazement. “I never knew you felt anything for me. Besides irritation.”

“Well, if you’d been able to tell, then I wouldn’t have been doing a very good job of hiding it,” he pointed out. Catching her by the shoulders, he brought her close and rested his forehead against hers. “I wanted you more than you know,” he murmured, gazing into her eyes solemnly. “But…you understand why it was wrong then, don’t you? Maybe now you understand why I did what I did?”

She pressed her lips together, looking away. “That was horrible,” she whispered. “I cried for, God, I can’t even remember how long. Then I started to hate you.”

He felt pained. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You were honest with me,” she sighed, hugging her knees. At his dry expression, she amended, “Well, maybe not completely honest. But you did tell me you were leaving, and that nothing would ever happen between us.”

“How little I knew,” he said ironically.

“The point,” she continued with a quick look at him, “is that you never led me on. I had no right to go after you the way I did, like a woman scorned. All of those articles…” She trailed off with a heavy sigh, making a face. “It’s just so embarrassing now.”

“No more embarrassing then me blowing up at a press conference and telling you to fuck off,” Max teased as she cracked a small smile. “You always did know how to get to me.”

She bumped shoulders with him, sliding him a reproachful look. “I’m trying to apologize, you know.”

“Unnecessary.”

She stared at him in silence, then threw her arms around him and buried her face against his neck. “You make it too easy,” she said in a trembling voice.

He was about to question that cryptic statement, when the distinct sound of a camera snapping distracted him. He looked over her shoulder and found an entire news team standing there, bulbs flashing as they photographed him and Liz.

Around them, several people had stopped what they were doing to look over and see what the commotion was all about. As they recognized his face, their expressions grew curious and they edged closer.

Annoyance began to gather inside of him. He’d never minded being in the public eye before, but on the same token, he liked keeping his private life private. It irritated that he couldn’t enjoy a day in the park without being hounded by bloodthirsty reporters.

“Max?” Feeling his stiff body, Liz pulled back and blinked in confusion. Following his frown, she looked behind her and gasped. “Oh, wonderful.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he sighed, noting that one ambitious reporter had a determined glint in his eye as he began to stride forward. “With the interview being published tomorrow, the last thing I can handle right now is more questions.”

“I thought you were okay with the interview now,” she said as he pulled her to her feet, grabbing their shoes from the ground.

“I am, but it was you asking the questions,” he pointed out. “And it was a one-time thing.” They started across the park, and a sudden thought grabbed hold of him. Twining his fingers around hers as they walked, he asked casually, “Speaking of the interview, have you heard back from Michael about the SportsCenter job?”

He didn’t imagine the sudden rigidity that took over her body, nor the sharpness in her tone. “Why?”

Raising his brows he replied, “Just wondering. I mean, that was the whole deal, wasn’t it? You get the anchor position if you interview me? Or am I missing something?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll found out soon. Probably after it’s published. Are you hungry? I’m starved.”

The swift change in topic made him blink, but he shrugged it off. “Not really.” His watch began to beep and he glanced down with a curse. “Shit, I gotta get to the stadium. Meetings,” he explained as she frowned. “I can’t believe we leave for Detroit in a week. It’s unreal.”

“Are you nervous?” she wondered as she got into the passenger seat of his truck. “I mean, you guys are going up against the defending champs. I know Tom’s your best friend, but he’s not going to go easy on you.”

“If he did, we wouldn’t be friends,” Max replied, turning the ignition and glancing over his shoulder before pulling out of the parking spot. Shooting her a grin, he added, “And the only thing I’m worrying about is whether or not I can have a piece of you before I leave for RJS.”

The flush that crept up her cheeks delighted him. “Your time management skills have always been superb,” she managed dryly, although she couldn’t quite hide the tremor of excitement in her tone.

Sure enough, they made it to his place in record time, and were naked and writhing on the bed within minutes of entering the house. Max didn’t waste any time, driving into her with a groan as she wrapped her legs around his waist and arched into him.

“I could do this all day,” he murmured, shuddering on top of her after a particularly strong climax.

She ran her fingers up and down his spine, humming softly. “Somehow, I think your teammates might have something to say about that.”

He popped one eye open. “Are you kidding? They’d probably want to videotape it.” She let out a scandalized gasp, to which he grinned devilishly. “What’s wrong, Parker? Never made a nookie tape?”

“No, I haven’t,” she snapped, then glared at him. “Although you obviously can’t say the same.”

Grinning at her bout of jealousy, he let her stew for a moment. ““Nah, Paris Hilton makes enough for the celebrity world in general. Besides, I’d rather be doing than watching, you know?”

That placated her enough for him to be able to talk her into another quick bout before he had to jump in the shower and head to his team meeting. He left her, curled up in the bed watching TV, with a smile on his face.


<center>***</center>


“No comment,” Liz was snapping as he woke up the next afternoon, having slept in late after a night out with some of his teammates and Liz. Max raised his head sleepily, brushing the hair from his eyes as she slammed the telephone down.

“Whassamatta?” he mumbled around a yawn.

“It’s that stupid interview,” Liz said, biting her nails as she paced the room. “The phone’s been ringing since five o’clock this morning.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” he said curiously.

She shot him a frazzled glance. “That’s because you couldn’t hear anything over your own snoring.”

His brows rose at her tone. “Okay, you’re obviously pissed off. Wanna tell me why?”

“I just don’t know what I was expecting,” she snapped. “I knew as soon as we went to press with that interview that things would go completely crazy.” She spun around, piercing him with a wild look. “Did you know that Vogue wants to do a cover on the two of us for next month?”

“Since I just woke up, I’m going to say no,” he replied slowly.

“It’s ludicrous! They want to portray it like I’m some clinging, shrinking violet to your superstar macho man persona,” she continued, voice rising. “Never mind that I’m a working woman, they want to do an old-fashioned layout with me dressed up like June Cleaver and you sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the morning paper!”

Max winced as she shrieked out the last word. “Retro photography is pretty popular right now,” he said hesitantly. Then, “Look, Liz, I doubt they meant anything by it—”

“Of course not! That’s what makes it even worse,” she returned. “Do you have any idea of how hard I’ve had to work to get to where I am today? The sports world isn’t kind to women, Max, no matter how many stats you can read off in under two minutes. They don’t want a woman when they can have a man, for anything. No one takes a woman as seriously as a man when it comes to reporting on injuries and game predictions!”

“Liz—” He could feel the conversation turning into something completely different as her face began to turn red, and he struggled to bring it down a notch before it went past the point where he could control it.

“Don’t ‘Liz’ me in that tone,” she snapped, whirling on him. Her hands were fisted. “Do you know who that was just now on the phone?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer, hurrying on with, “It was Rich Eisen from NFL Total Access! He’d read the interview and wanted to know what kind of ‘goodies’ I’d promised you to get you to cooperate, since he’d tried everything short of offering to buy you a hooker to get you to come on his show!”

Max snorted, unable to help himself. Seeing her dark expression, he hurried to say, “Baby, he was kidding. Believe me, I know Eisen and he—”

“I know him, too!” she barked. “But unlike you, I don’t think turning our relationship into a gag is very funny! Nor is what the local news had to say.”

“Do I want to know?” he managed weakly.

“Let me sum it up for you,” she said. “Basically, before the interview I was just another football groupie desperate to get whatever attention I could from their precious Golden Boy. Now, I’m a reporter riding your coattails to make a name for myself.”

“You already made a name for yourself,” he pointed out calmly, hoping to distill some of her anger before she exploded. “Liz, you know better than to listen to what those fruitcakes have to say.”

“Those fruitcakes are the only thing the general public ever hear,” she retorted. “And you and I both know that the general public believes whatever is shoved down their throats by the media. Before I had a modicum of respect, but now…now I’ll be lucky to be validated at all!”

He felt his own ire rising as she continued to rant. “Then why the fuck did you want the interview so badly?” he snapped, climbing out of bed and stomping toward the closet naked. “You flew out here as soon as my injury occurred and berated me until I finally gave in just to shut you up, and now you’re complaining? Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“You know why,” she answered, then all of her anger seemed to evaporate as she stared at him with a rapidly paling face. “Oh, Max….”

He turned around in automatic concern, then caught sight of something he’d overlooked before since her rage had been so palpable. She was shaking. “What is it?” he demanded. “Liz?”

“M-Michael called,” she managed, running a trembling hand through her hair. Their eyes met and held, and Max shook his head not knowing what the problem was.

“Okay, he called. And…?”

“I got the SportsCenter job. I have to be in Connecticut by next week.”

Okay, last update for the day! Tune into tomorrow for Part 19 and the conclusion. Thanks to everyone for all of your amazing feedback!


Part Eighteen – When Life Hands You Lemons, Shut Up And Eat Your Damned Lemons



“Safeties in the backfield! Why aren’t you watching where the damn ball is going?” Coach Gruden shouted, face purpling with rage as he stormed the field. “You’re far enough back to see the play developing! Cover deep!”

The two players in question scurried back to the line of scrimmage, kneeling over and panting in the merciless heat of Tampa’s afternoon sun. Max, clad in a red mesh vest that designated him as the quarterback, called out another play and the sounds of crashing helmets and grunting filled Liz’s ears as she paused at the sideline.

She watched as Max hesitated a millisecond too long in the pocket, allowing for one of the defensive linemen to break through and ram him headfirst. He toppled over from the force of impact and the ball went sailing out of his hands and into a nearby defender’s. Liz winced.

“Break!” Coach Gruden raged, motioning for a time-out as Max struggled to come back to his feet. Gruden met the team in the center of the field, speaking in a voice that fully amplified his anger and frustration with the way the Buccaneers were performing during practice.

“All right, ladies,” he sneered as the players hung their heads in varying emotions. “Is there anyone here who doesn’t realize that we leave for the fucking Super Bowl in five days time? And right now, this team couldn’t beat St. Mary’s Catholic School for Girls!”

Liz stared at Max, who was looking over Gruden’s shoulder with a tight jaw and hooded eyes. It was obvious that he wasn’t happy, not that she’d seen him resembling anything close to happy in days. Not since she’d dropped her bombshell.

It killed her to think it might be affecting his play. She, more than anyone, knew just how important this win in Detroit was to Max. That she might be responsible for him losing his focus…it was unacceptable. Which was part of the reason why she was here.

Not much had been said between them after she’d found out that she’d gotten the job at SportsCenter and would have to promptly move to Bristol, Connecticut where the show was filmed. At first he hadn’t comprehended why, but understanding had quickly been overshadowed by the realization that she’d known all along, and had just chosen not to tell him.

It was true, but for the life of her she couldn’t think why she’d hid it from him. She guessed it was partly because it hadn’t seemed real at the time, and partly because she’d never really thought anything would happen between her and Max that could possibly have her rethinking her career choices.

She’d wanted this anchor job for longer than she could remember, but she’d wanted Max for even longer. And she couldn’t bear to part with either. If she gave up her job to stay in Tampa Bay and work the local circuit as Max had suggested, she’d never forgive herself for giving up her dreams. And eventually she wouldn’t have been able to forgive Max, either.

On the opposite token, she had the opportunity to see where this whole thing with Max could lead, and she couldn’t do that and be a thousand miles away at the same time. Or could she? That was what she was there to find out.

Jon Gruden’s words echoed in her ears. Why haven’t you told him what your getting that job at SportsCenter will mean? Sooner or later, it’s going to dawn on him, Liz. And how do you think he’s going to feel when he figures it out on his own, and not from you?

Well, Max hadn’t had to figure it out on his own – she’d told him. But how he was feeling about it was still to be determined, although if she had to place a wager based on his recent attitude toward her, she’d say things weren’t looking too good.

He hadn’t kicked her out of his house, as she’d half-expected, but he hadn’t reached out to her during the night as she’d become accustomed to, nor did he make any attempts at affection when they were alone. She’d been so plagued with guilt that she hadn’t called him out on it, but she was leaving today and there were too many things left unspoken between them.

She caught his gaze when he happened to glance over during Gruden’s diatribe, and she offered a small smile as his eyes widened. His lips quirked as if he meant to return her smile, then his eyes narrowed and he looked away quickly, feigning interest in whatever the head coach was saying.

Her stomach began to churn as the players were dismissed and Max slowly made his way over to her side, fiddling with the chinstrap on his helmet and carefully avoiding her gaze. He paused to receive a cup of Gatorade from one of the athletic trainers, before finally looking over at her.

“I thought you’d have left by now.”

Ouch. Not quite the reception she’d hoped for. Her bright expression faded abruptly, and she began to play with the hem of her shirt as he stared at her, eyes hot and direct. “Not yet,” she managed past the lump in her throat. “Most of my things have been shipped from Albuquerque, but I still need to pack some stuff from your place…” She trailed off at the expression on his face. “But that’s not why I’m here,” she finished weakly.

His brows rose, and he took another sip from the cup. Her heart began to thud as he calmly sucked his lower lip between his teeth, catching the drop of liquid that clung to them before crumpling the paper cup and tossing it easily into the trash can behind him. “What’s up, then?” he queried. One would have had to search his blasé tone of voice to find the animosity beneath.

She nibbled her lip, glancing over to the bench to find several players looking quickly away. “Maybe this isn’t the best time,” she said quickly.

“No, go ahead and say whatever you want to say,” he answered a bit more forcefully. “What, you needed a ride to the airport? Sorry, I have things to do.”

Without another word, he turned around and began striding away, muscles rigid. Liz stared after him in openmouthed shock, then rushed forward to catch him. “Max, wait!”

“What for?” he snapped between his teeth. He came to an abrupt halt just outside of the tunnel that led to the locker rooms, causing her to stumble forward before realizing he’d stopped. She could read the fire in his eyes now, his expression dark and formidable. “You lied to me. You’ve lied to me every damn day since you came here.”

“I did not!” she managed, heart pounding with a mixture of fear and arousal as he kept coming at her. She felt the cool brick of the inner tunnel hit her back and realized he’d backed her up against the wall. She licked her lips, then added quickly, “I didn’t lie to you, Max. I didn’t know, okay?”

“Bullshit.”

She flushed, glaring up at him. “Fine, I knew,” she admitted, “but not until recently. I was aware that there was a chance I’d have to relocate, but honestly…” She trailed off, looking down before finishing in a near whisper, “I wasn’t really thinking about it.”

“What?” he snapped, eyes narrowing as he stared down at her. “Speak up, Parker.”

She thrust her chin up, meeting him glare for glare. “I wasn’t thinking about the job, all right! Because of you! Everything stopped making any sense the first second I laid eyes on you again,” she cried out in frustration, feeling herself go pink at the admission. “Nothing ever makes sense when you’re around, but it’s…it’s even worse when you’re not.”

She knew he was confused, hell she was confusing herself, but she couldn’t stop once she’d started. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Max,” her voice broke on the admission. She saw his eyes widen out of the corner of her eyes, but he didn’t speak. “But my job matters to me. I’ve worked so hard that I can’t imagine giving it up, even for you. I love you, but I’m going to Connecticut.”

As soon as the words were out, she felt as if a tremendous weight was relieved from her shoulders. She also felt like she’d swallowed an entire boulder as his mouth fell open and he goggled at her as if he’d never seen her before.

“What did you just say?” he asked in a choked tone. Then before she could repeat herself, he shook his head. “No. Don’t…I don’t want to hear that shit from you! You’re trying to distract me from the real issue at hand – the fact that you lied and deceived me from the minute you set foot in Tampa Bay. You played me like a well-tuned instrument, Liz, and I fell for every fucking part of it! Christ, you must be proud of yourself.”

“Why won’t you believe me!” she demanded tearfully. “I spill my guts to you, tell you I love you, and all you can do is throw it back in my face? Is that really what you think of me, Max?”

“I think you’re out for yourself, and you don’t care who gets hurt along the way,” he answered stiffly. She was still reeling from that statement when he hit her with another one. “When did you plan to tell me that you knew Isabel was getting married? That you’ve known since before Thanksgiving? Or are you going to claim you were just too distracted by me to say anything then, too?”

She felt the blood drain from her face as he watched closely for her reaction, a disgusted expression coloring his features. He snorted softly as she remained silent. “Guess not,” he murmured, each word like a dagger.

She struggled to find the words to explain, but all that came out was a choked, “Max, please.”

His expression wavered for a moment, then hardened again. “Just…don’t, Liz,” he managed hoarsely. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

The sound of her cell phone alarm going off signaled the end of the time she had left, and she stared at her purse in dismay as Max stiffened again. She sniffed loudly, fumbling with the clasp as she tried to shut off the incessant beeping. “I h-have to go,” she stammered softly. “Can I call you when I get to Bristol?”

He was quiet for a long moment, several emotions fleeting across his features. Then he shook his head slowly. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” he whispered. “Let’s just end this now before things get too complicated.”

She felt light-headed as she stared at him. “What?”

He wouldn’t look at her now, jaw hard and unyielding. “Don’t bother calling me,” he repeated, sounding as if the words were ripped from him with force. “You were right about one thing, Liz. The two of us together…it’s too distracting. You saw how I was out there.” He gestured toward the field with a half-nod. “I can’t afford to play like that, not right now. I…I can’t have any distractions right now, and our relationship is a big distraction.”

She wondered if she might pass out right in front of him, just fall to the ground and split her head wide open on the concrete. Surely the pain of that couldn’t match what she was feeling at that particular moment. She grasped her purse strap so tightly it nearly broke in half. “Are you breaking up with me?” she choked on the words.

His gaze bounced to hers, and they were sorrowful and shining. “I’m sorry, Parker,” he managed huskily. “But I guess I am.”

They stared at each other in silence. She had no idea how long they stood there, but the chasm between them grew wide and yawning until she began to back away slowly. “I see,” she said, and the words echoed inside the narrow walls. Both of them flinched. “I-I guess there’s no reason for me to…” She turned around blindly, groping for the wall to keep her upright.

She was nearing the exit when she felt the sudden need to turn around. He was staring at her with an expression that both angered her and broke her heart. He was throwing everything away between them because he was too scared to see what might happen. She knew the feeling only too well. Yet, she couldn’t resist throwing one thing back in his face before disappearing.

“Max, what happened between us…none of it was a lie.”

His nostrils flared and he started as if to move toward her, but she was already gone.


<center>***</center>


“Well, look at you, Miss Co-Anchor!”

Liz glanced up from where she’d been staring gloomily at the calendar gracing the mahogany desk in her new office, surprise coloring her features. “Maria? What are you doing here?”

Her best friend struck a pose in the doorway. “Michael’s in town for a conference, and I had him drop me off. Wow, just look at this place!”

She began to circle the spacious room, pausing to stare out of the ceiling-to-floor window that took up one whole wall, looking out over the entirety of ESPN Headquarters. “Good God, Mikey’s office isn’t even this big, girl!”

Liz mustered up a smile for her friend’s enthusiasm, wishing she felt a bit herself. Oh, she was enjoying her job so far…it was everything she’d always dreamed of, and more. She got along tremendously with the other anchors, and her first taping had gone along smoothly. She was a natural in front of the camera, everyone said. And yet, she felt like she was simply going through the motions.

“It’s nice, huh?” she replied, pushing back from her chair. She moved forward and embraced Maria tightly. “It’s good to see you.”

“Whoa,” her friend laughed. “You’re acting like you haven’t seen me in years.”

Liz thought back to the last time she had seen her best friend, over Thanksgiving. With Max. The memory brought forth a pain in her chest, and she struggled to smile. “It feels like it.”

Not easily fooled, Maria sat back and eyed her speculatively. “Are you all right?” she wondered. “You seem a little pale.”

“No, I’m—” she started to deny anything was wrong, then caught sight of the images being played on the wide screen TV mounted on the wall opposite her desk. She watched in silent horror as clips showed Max and the other Buccaneers in Detroit, enjoying the sights and signing autographs for fans. Max was smiling as a pair of college co-eds rushed up to him, giggling as they offered him their arms for him to sign. She was surprised they didn’t whip their breasts out and ask him to write his name across those, too.

Maria’s gaze followed hers, and instantly a concerned expression covered her features. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered. “Liz, don’t let it bother you, okay sweetheart? He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Who says I’m bothered?” she demanded, offering her best friend a strained smile. “Maria, I don’t care.” To prove it, she reached a shaky hand over and grabbed the remote, turning the volume up so Max’s voice filled the room as he answered a reporter’s question.

“Yeah, we’re as prepared as we’re gonna get,” he was saying confidently, and a bit more of her heart broke as he looked directly at the camera. “I mean, New England’s no joke. They’ll be ready for us with everything they have. But we’ll be ready, too.”

“What are your thoughts on the return of Tedy Bruschi to New England’s defense?” another reporter demanded, shoving a microphone beneath Max’s nose.

“Well, obviously it’s going to make things interesting,” Max conceded. “Bruschi’s a tough player, one of the best in his position. But I have every faith in Coach Muir, our offensive coordinator, and the rest of my line. I think we can stop him and make some important plays.”

“Do you have the same faith in your defense against Tom Brady?”

“I think our boys are gonna come after him with everything they have. We’ll see if Tom manages to come out of it with his pretty face in tact,” Max joked. As everyone laughed around them, he pointed to one of the scribbling reporters and said, “Make sure you get that quote down.”

Despite herself, Liz felt her lips twitching in response.

“Max, what about your relationship with Liz Parker? We can’t help but notice that she’s not here this weekend. Can you tell us anything about that?”

Liz’s heart nearly stopped, breath suspended in her lungs as she stared at Max’s face. His expression remained impassive, although several emotions fleeted through his eyes. He gave a small smile and answered, “No comment.”

The screen switched from Max to another player, and her sadness returned. She swallowed hard, pressing the remote to turn the television off before turning to face Maria. She forced a smile and shrugged her shoulders. “See? He’s fine, I’m fine, everybody’s fine.”

Maria frowned. “Liz, you are not fine. Now put that thing down before you shatter it,” she said, nodding toward the remote that Liz was now clenching between white-knuckled fingers. Liz complied dazedly. “Sit down.”

“Did you see him?” Liz wondered softly. “He looks…great.”

“I don’t care about him right now,” Maria stated firmly, helping to guide Liz into one of the cushioned armchairs that decorated her office. She then kneeled on the floor, holding Liz’s hands as she forced her to meet her gaze. “Talk to me.”

“Maria, I’m…” Liz trailed off, meaning to say fine, but instead the choked word that came out from her lips was, “miserable. Oh, God.”

Nonplussed, Maria hugged her as her shoulders began to shake. “Liz, sweetie, you can’t let him hurt you like this. He’s not worth it.”

“How do you know?” Liz wailed, pushing away from her and moving toward the window. “He has every right not to trust me, Maria. I raked him over the coals for years—”

“He forgave you for that, didn’t he? You either forgive or you don’t.”

“—then I showed up there and lied to him at every turn,” she finished, ignoring her friend’s interruption.

“Okay, that’s it. Stop beating yourself up. You did not lie to him,” Maria answered heatedly. “Your mother told you a bit of gossip that you didn’t even ask to know, and it was none of your business in the first place. It wasn’t your responsibility to go running to Max and tell him his sister was getting married behind his back.”

“But we were—”

“Oh, just shut up for a minute,” Maria snapped. “As for all of that other crap about your columns, that’s a load of shit, Liz. Max is a big boy. If he can’t take a little heat, then he needs to stay out of the fucking kitchen. Yes, maybe you went after him a little strong, but you never lied about him. Did you?”

“No. I always made sure it was obvious that everything I wrote was my own opinion,” Liz admitted. “But sometimes I wrote things I had heard that I knew probably weren’t true.”

“That’s reporting in general,” Maria scoffed cynically. “He has no right to get his jockstrap in a twist over that.”

Liz had to smile at her friend’s unwavering loyalty, even though she didn’t agree with what Maria was saying. Still, it didn’t keep her from embracing her best friend fiercely. “Thank you, Maria. I’m really glad you’re here. I was dreading watching the game by myself tomorrow.”

Maria’s expression turned horrified. “You can’t be serious. You were going to watch it?”

“It’s my job, sweetie,” Liz answered, turning to rummage through her desk. “The higher-ups don’t care if I got dumped by some quarterback with an ego the size of China. They only care about getting the story. And the Super Bowl’s the biggest story of the year.”

“Hmph. Your higher-ups need to go take a flying leap off of a—darling!” Maria cried out, quickly amending her statement as Michael entered the room. Liz stifled a snicker.

Michael eyed both of them suspiciously, accepting Maria’s kiss before asking Liz, “Do I want to know?”

“Oh, Maria just thinks you should take a flying leap off of…what was it again, Mar?” Liz asked innocently.

“I didn’t mean Michael!” Maria snapped, flushing darkly as Michael cocked a brow at her. “I meant your other higher-ups. The ones who are insisting you cover this damn football game.”

At that, Michael’s expression turned sympathetic as he turned to face Liz. “Listen, Liz. About the Super Bowl. I know it’s a…sensitive area for you,” he hedged. “If you want, I can find someone else to cover—”

“Absolutely not!” she broke in hotly. Glaring first at Michael, then Maria, she closed her desk drawer shut with a snap and placed both palms on the surface. “No matter what happens in my personal life, it will not interfere with my professional one. The fact that you’d even suggest that I be replaced—”

“Okay, okay.” Michael held his hands up quickly. “It was just a question. She made me promise that I’d ask on the way over,” he added, pointing at Maria, who gasped in affront.

“Mikey, you swore you wouldn’t say a word!” she exclaimed as Liz shot her a dark glare. “Liz, I just think it would be better if maybe you took a break from Max—”

I did,” Liz snapped. “We broke up. I’d say that’s a pretty permanent break, wouldn’t you?”

For the first time since she’d known either one, Michael and Maria seemed at a loss for words.

Sighing slightly, Liz closed her eyes briefly. “Listen, I have to do the Top Ten in thirty minutes, and it takes nearly that long to get through makeup. Why don’t I meet you guys when I get off for drinks? You are sticking around for a few days, right?”

“Yes,” Maria said quickly. “And we’d love to, right Michael?”

“Of course.”

“Great,” Liz smiled. When neither moved, she prodded, “So…I’ll see you later?”

First to catch on, Michael started and grabbed Maria by the elbow. “I believe that’s our cue,” he said lightly. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll…buy you something.”

“But-” Maria was cut off as Michael practically dragged her from the room. Liz watched them go, wondering why she felt the urge to laugh and cry at the same time. As her gaze fell to desk again, and she caught sight of the circled date for the next day, she just felt like crying.

Happy Birthday, Cris! *smooch*

Okay, here's part Nineteen. See you all again in a few hours for the end...


Part Nineteen – If At First You Don’t Succeed, Redefine Success


Max stared out over Ford Field with grim excitement. The massive, twenty-five acre concrete stadium that was home to the Detroit Lions was filled to capacity with anxious, avid football fans. Blue and red clashed with black and crimson as the crowd of sixty-five thousand heckled each other mercilessly.

It was Super Bowl XL, and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers were minutes away from taking on the defending national champions, the New England Patriots.

Due to their better record, New England had won the right to wear their home jerseys of blue and red, while Tampa Bay was clad in their away whites. Both teams were doing their pre-game stretches on the field, sizing each other up in the process.

Although they’d been there for nearly a week, Max hadn’t quite acclimated to the cold, dry air that sustained Detroit in early February. As he glanced around at the rest of his teammates who were blowing against their hands in an effort to warm up, he couldn’t help but think that New England had another advantage – being well used to cold climates.

He ran through his quarterback drills with a kind of nervous tension that had his stomach churning in anticipation. He snuck glances every few minutes at the area where the media was strategically placed to capture still shots for the papers, half-hoping he’d see a familiar head of brown hair in their midst.

Despite his best efforts otherwise, he hadn’t been able to get Liz out of his mind for a single moment since he’d seen her last in Tampa Bay. Her final words had haunted him every night, keeping him awake and staring at the ceiling as he struggled to find slumber.

He’d watched her debut on SportsCenter like an anxious father seeing his son play his first televised game. He’d been so nervous for her, but she’d come through like a pro, smiling and personable in a way that many anchors just couldn’t pull off. And no one could fault her for her knowledge of the game, but of course he’d known that already.

He ached for her, literally hurt knowing she was just a plane ride away and yet he very seriously doubted he’d be welcome in her presence. Not after the way he’d reacted to the news that she was moving to Connecticut. Oh, and dumping her. That had been first-class.

He still couldn’t quite fathom what had been going through his mind at the time, but it was obvious that he shouldn’t be allowed to speak when he was upset. If he’d had it to do over again…well, he could only hope he’d have not been such a complete asshole.

But that was the problem, as far as he was concerned. When he wasn’t around her, he was capable of making calm, rational decisions that disappeared when he was in her vicinity. Considering his line of work, he couldn’t afford to be agitated and irrational. It was better off for both of them, in the long run, to call it a day. Even if he felt like kicking his own ass.

He looked over at the media circus again, craning his neck for a better view. Nearby, Kyle caught sight of where he was looking and said, “She’s not there, man. You can relax.”

Flushing slightly at being caught, Max immediately grabbed another ball and heaved it at the net in front of him. Working his shoulder in small circles, he grunted, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Valenti.”

The junior QB snorted in obvious disbelief, but remained silent beneath Max’s warning glare. Instead, he nodded over to where the New England cheerleaders were leading a raucous cheer to get the Patriots crowd hyped. “Check it out. It’s worth being the defending champs just to see that every Sunday, eh?”

Max slanted a glance in the women’s direction, unable to keep from lifting his brows appreciatively. “They do seem to get the cream of the crop,” he admitted. But any thoughts of pretty girls were erased from his mind a minute later when the announcer’s voice came over the loudspeakers. A ball of excitement knotted in his stomach as he listened to the lineup for the night’s performances.

Dave Matthews was slated to sing the National Anthem, and the entire stadium came to their feet, hands over their hearts as they listened to the award-winning musician from South Africa do what he does best. Max felt an unexplainable sense of pride and sentiment fill him as he stared at his surroundings, realizing with a sort of belated awe just where he was, and what he was playing for. He caught sight of several of his teammates battling back tears, and found that he couldn’t blame them. The atmosphere was both inspiring and exhilarating.

After the National Anthem had been sung, both teams returned to their sidelines in preparation for the opening kickoff. New England had won the coin toss and elected to defer to the second half. Tampa Bay was to receive the opening drive of Super Bowl Forty.

Cadillac Williams was in position in the backfield as Josh Miller lined up to kickoff. Within seconds, the ball was sailing through the air and Super Bowl XL was underway. Max watched, tension vibrating through him, as Cadillac ran down the field for a short gain before being stopped by the Patriots special teams.

The Bucs offense took over at the thirty-five, Max shouting the plays until he feared he’d grow hoarse in order to be heard over the roar of the excited crowd. The ball was snapped, and he pitched it to a tight end only seconds before the Pats defense broke through to plow him to the ground.

A collective gasp went up from the crowd, and Max stood back up amidst cheering and jeering. Shaking off the tackle, he went back to the line equipped with the knowledge that the defending champs wanted to keep their title very badly.

He called an audible, reading the defense as they went into motion in the backfield. Wiggling his fingers in the hopes of getting rid of some of the numbness, he caught the ball as it was hiked, falling back into the pocket.

Keeping an eye on defenders, he completed a pass to tight end Anthony Becht, watching with held breath as the athletic player ran for five yards. The Tampa Bay crowd erupted, while the fans from Boston mocked the Bucs with catcalls.

Two more plays yielded nothing for the Buccaneers, and Max trotted off the field to let the special teams take over for a punt. Sitting on the bench, he huddled beneath a heavy coat in the attempt to get warm as he was plied with liquids from the trainers. As he was watching the Patriots offense take their places, he saw Coach Gruden wandering closer from out of the corner of his eye.

Chewing on a piece of gum, Gruden said, “Shoulder okay?”

Grunting in response, Max took a long sip of Gatorade.

Gruden slanted him a look. “Keep me informed,” he stated brusquely. Then, “I noticed Liz hasn’t been around lately.”

Gaze jerking up, Max’s eyes narrowed. “She’s in Connecticut. She got a job with SportsCenter.”

“I know. I saw her on the other night. She’s good…enjoyable to watch.” Gruden was silent for a moment before saying, “But that’s not really what I meant.”

Affecting a confusion he didn’t feel, Max said, “I’m sorry, Coach?”

“You two not seeing each other anymore?”

The blatant reminder when everyone else had been so careful not to mention it – well, save for the damned reporters – caused Max to stiffen. “With all due respect, Coach, that’s none of your damned business.”

Instead of growing angry, Gruden just laughed. “Damn right it isn’t. Nothing worth gossiping about ever is. She didn’t look too happy when she left last week, so I’m assuming you ended it with her.”

Max didn’t speak, but he knew the truth was painted all over his face. Gruden made a considering sound, then shrugged.

“Oh well. You’re better off, really. Women are a distraction you don’t need in this game, Max. Better you learn that now rather than when you find one actually worth keeping.”

“Just what the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Max exploded, jumping up to stand nose to nose with his head coach. Several nearby players jumped, as if uncertain what was happening. Some moved to intervene, then hesitated, obviously not sure what to do when the argument was occurring between their team captain and head coach.

“I mean exactly what I said. You obviously didn’t find Liz worth keeping, since you threw her away so easily,” Gruden stated calmly, despite the fact that Max was huffing and puffing like a raging bull inches away from his face. “It’s a good thing. Next time you’ll just skip it all to begin with. Blowing off a little steam with some hot sex is one thing, Max, but a relationship? Not in our field. Well, not for a guy in your position, anyway.”

Max saw red. He barely realized he’d taken Gruden by the shirtfront, hauling him closer. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that,” he managed in a dangerous tone. “You have no fucking clue…”

“What?” Gruden prodded. “And you better back up, son.”

“Liz wasn’t just some football groupie I could use to blow off steam,” Max hissed, although he did release his shirt and move back a few inches. “She meant something to me. S-She means something to me, damn it!”

“Then why did you send her packing?”

Max opened his mouth to reply, then closed it with a snap. Suddenly he realized exactly what the coach was playing at, and he didn’t like it at all. Looking away, he mumbled, “Because I have to be able to concentrate, and I can’t knowing she’s miles away and I can’t see her…or touch her…”

“Max, I won’t tell you how stupid you sound, because I think you already have a clue,” Gruden replied. “But here’s a word of advice – good women in this field are hard to come by. Most times we’re lucky to find one who thinks of our job as our hobby, and tolerates it with fond disdain. To actually have one who appreciates what you do, and appreciates you as well…that’s a miracle that’s worth holding onto.”

Max stared so hard at the happenings on the field that his eyes began to burn. “I thought you hated Liz,” he managed in a halfway combative voice. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

Coach Gruden shrugged, answering cryptically, “She proved herself. Besides, I don’t like seeing women cry.”

A sudden shout when up from the crowd, and Max looked over to see that the Tampa Bay defense had forced a fumble, which New England couldn’t recover. He jumped to his feet with the rest of the team, shouting in excitement as the Buccaneers defender who’d come up with the ball ran down the opposite end of the field. He was stopped just inside the eight-yard line, and Max and the offense ran onto the field.

In the huddle, he shouted out the play, gripping the shoulder pads of the two players closest to him. “Okay, guys! Let’s get that ball in the end zone! Team on three…one, two, three—”

“Team!” they all shouted as one, then split up to get into formation.

Max saw Tom Brady on the New England sidelines, red-faced and kicking the bench in obvious frustration. He knew the other quarterback beat himself up anytime they made a bad play, and hoped that Tom’s frustration level would affect his future play in the game for Tampa Bay’s benefit.

Focusing on the game clock, he waited until it read close to zero, shouting out different plays in the hopes of drawing New England offsides. But the defending champs were wise to his actions and stayed immobile, forcing him to call a timeout at the last second.

As both teams trotted off the field, Max exchanged quick words with the offensive coordinator for the Buccaneers, switching out plays in his wristband. When he retook his position at the line, he didn’t waste any time in running a play action, tossing it to an open receiver for a few quick yards that put them directly in the end zone for a touchdown.

Amidst the sound of fans cheering heartily, he caught sight of the yellow flag lying on the ground, and groaned as the rest of the players on the field began pointing fingers at one another. Max held his breath, knowing that the play could easily be called back if the penalty was against the Bucs.

A referee trotted over, picking the flag up and gesturing towards the offensive side. “Holding, number 72 on the offense. Ten yards, repeat second down!”

“Fuck!” Max yelled out, yanking his helmet off and glaring toward the rookie guard from Green Bay who’d been charged for the holding call. He appeared properly chagrined as they backed up ten yards to replay the down.

This time New England couldn’t be fooled, and they held Tampa Bay to fourth down just inside the goal line. Tampa Bay called another timeout to decide whether or not they wanted to try and go for it, or kick a field goal for a probable three points.

“Let’s go for it, Coach!” Max said as he reached the sidelines. He was pumped and ready to score, thinking that if they didn’t try, it might come back later to bite them in the ass once Tom Brady and the New England offense got going.

Gruden was as grim-faced and contemplative as Max had ever seen him, snapping so fiercely on his wad of gum that Max half-expected him to strain his jaw. After a moment of silence, Gruden shook his head faintly. “Special teams, line up!” he shouted in his hoarse tone, ignoring Max’s shout of protest.

“Coach, we can make it—”

“You can’t guarantee me that, and right now the most important thing is getting points up on that board!” Gruden answered, pointing a finger toward the scoreboard. “You’ll have your chance, Evans. It’s too early to be making rash plays.”

Max replied with a few colorful phrases that simply made the head coach raise a brow, then turned and stomped over to the bench to watch as Matt Bryant moved to kick a fifteen-yarder.

No one was really surprised when the ball sailed through the uprights with ease, and Max clapped despite his earlier protestations. Tampa Bay had succeeded in drawing first blood, and were now on the board.

It went back and forth for the rest of the half, with the Bucs scoring and New England answering to keep the score as close as possible for the most important game in professional football. By halftime, Tampa Bay trailed by six points and a tension had settled over Tampa Bay as they made for the locker rooms.

“I don’t have to tell you all how important your job is,” Gruden said minutes later, as the team sat around, wiping the sweat from their faces. “Each and every one of you out there have a job to do, and it’s up to you to look and decide whether you’re doing your job the best you can.”

“Coach, I can barely breathe out there,” one of the linemen panted. “It’s so damn cold and—”

“Don’t use the weather as an excuse,” Gruden interrupted with a snap. “How many teams do you think show up in Tampa, complaining that the heat and humidity kept them from winning? We’re not going to be one of those teams, boys. If we win this game, we win it on our own merits. Same goes for losing.”

Everyone was silent, thinking over his words. Max hung his head, arms hanging lifelessly between his knees as his mind wandered to Connecticut. Was Liz watching? Of course she was…if for no other reason than her job. He couldn’t imagine her avoiding watching the Super Bowl just because they’d broken up. But he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about it.

The teams returned to the field for the final halftime performance, standing around idly and exchanging mild trash talk with one another. Max caught Tom Brady’s eye, and his friend winked and offered a jaunty salute. Max only smirked in response.

The second half opened up with the Patriots receiving, calling for a fair catch at the twenty. New England took over, driving down the field with Brady at the helm. Corey Dillon ran it in for a touchdown, upping the scoring margin by thirteen.

After that, things got rough. Max played better than ever before, completing important passes and evading possible sacks, and yet Tampa Bay just couldn’t seem to catch up to the national champs. Forced to punt after a penalty of unsportsmanlike conduct by one of the offensive linemen, New England all-star punt kicker Josh Miller pinned the Bucs down at the one-yard line, setting them up for a tough uphill battle of ninety-nine yards.

Max looked right and left, yelling the play out as New England went into motion in the backfield. The ball snapped, and Max couldn’t get it off before Tedy Bruschi rammed him into the ground for a loss of ten. Bruschi helped him back up, patting him on the helmet.

“Nice to have you back, Tedy,” he managed, though the wind had been knocked out of him. The stocky defensive back grinned, moving to take his position again.

Going with a no-huddle as the fourth quarter began, Max completed a pass to Cadillac Williams, who broke several tackles and got a much-needed first down for the Bucs, and then some. Shouting triumphantly, Max skipped to the new line of scrimmage, and repeated the same play.

They moved downfield with urgency, from the thirty to the forty. The fifty, to the forty. Deep in New England territory, Max threw for three complete passes before pitching to a tailback for a Buccaneers touchdown.

The crowd went wild, and Tampa Bay was back in the game.

The rest of the game flew by, with the clock ticking down the seconds to the sound of Max’s rapid heartbeat. They were still down by one, thanks to a missed extra point on their last scoring drive. The two-minute warning sounded, and both teams went to the sidelines.

“This is it,” Gruden was saying. “Jesus Christ on a bicycle, this is gonna be it.”

Tampa Bay got the ball back after the short timeout, and Max lobbed it for twenty yards and a first down as the offense fought to get down the field in time to make some points. With less than a minute left, the entire stadium was in an uproar as the Patriots defense broke through just as he hurled the ball, knowing him to the ground and jarring his injured shoulder.

He didn’t so much as scream, watching with suspended breath as the ball flew in a perfect spiral, straight into the hands of wide-out Michael Clayton, who took off running down the field. The Tampa Bay crowd was on their feet, screaming in joy as the receiver bounded toward the end zone.

Max’s grin rapidly faded when he caught sight of New England safety Rodney Harrison coming up behind Clayton, on his blind side. He shouted, but of course his teammate couldn’t hear him, and Max was forced to watch in horror as Harrison tackled Clayton in the backfield, the ball sailing out of the Buccaneers hands where three Patriots fell on top of it.

Coach Gruden had already thrown his red flag, which signaled for a challenge. As the entire stadium grew silent, the referees watched the play, trying to determine whether or not Clayton had been down before the ball came loose.

Sweat poured down Max’s back as he came slowly to his feet, feeling as if everything was happening in slow motion. The head referee came out to the center of the field, and Max read the truth in his eyes seconds before he made his pronouncement.

“The call on the field stands. Fumble, New England recovers. First down!”

“No!” he cried out, falling to his knees in disbelief as the Patriots jumped up and down in obvious ecstasy, knowing that they’d won their fourth consecutive Super Bowl. The Tampa Bay fans were booing so loudly that the stadium itself was shaking, but Max couldn’t feel anything.

They’d lost. Everything he’d done, overcoming injury and six years worth of rebuilding, had been for naught.

On the field, Tom Brady took two knees as time ran out and the Patriots all bounded on the field to celebrate. The Buccaneers, dejected and shocked to the core, shook hands with the winners from Boston as they made their way back to the locker room to prepare for the long ride home.

Max was last in line, and met Brady’s gaze with his own. “Good game,” he managed, forcing a smile as his best friend eyed him speculatively.

Tom was quiet for a long minute, then pulled him into a masculine embrace. Slapping him on the back, the New England quarterback said, “See you back here next year, Evans.” And with those words, he was gone to prepare for the award celebration.

Max wasn’t really sure why the simple statement made him feel better, but any and all thought was erased as he suddenly found himself surrounded by camera crews as the Chairman for Super Bowl XL came up to him, microphone in hand. The stadium grew quiet again as the chairman slung an arm around Max, who was standing there in bewildered bemusement.

“I know this is completely unprecedented in the history of the National Football League,” the chairman was saying over the loudspeaker system, “but we couldn’t see it ending any other way than this. To Max Evans, from the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, Super Bowl XL’s Most Valuable Player!”

With that, he presented Max with an enormous silver trophy which he took in astonishment. No player from a losing team had ever won the MVP, and part of him wanted to ask if he was stuck in the middle of some sort of bizarre dream, where his team had lost and yet he’d come away with a win, after all.

He could see the rest of his teammates hollering for him from near the exit tunnel, smiles on their faces as they celebrated. For him. The Patriots were giving him a standing ovation, and he caught sight of a familiar face hurtling toward him as he gaped.

“Isabel?” he wondered roughly, catching her in his arms as she threw her own around him. “What are you…how’d you…?”

“Liz,” his sister managed between tears of laughter, “she flew us out and got us field passes and everything. Oh, God, Max, you were wonderful!”

“Liz?” he croaked out, feeling near tears himself as cameras flashed all around them. Then another part of her statement drew his attention. “Us?”

“Max.”

He turned slowly at the familiar voice, staring directly into his mother and father’s eyes. Diane Evans embraced him so tightly that he struggled to breathe, and yet he didn’t try to stop her. There was a mixture of regret and pride gleaming on Phillip Evans face, and before he knew what was happening, he was saying, “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“I-I’m sorry too, son,” his father said, obviously too nervous to come any closer. “You’ve never looked better out there, Max.”

It was at that moment that he realized two things. One, he no longer felt any animosity toward his family. Misunderstandings could be overcome, as long as you were willing to try to work it out. Which is exactly what he planned to do, as soon as he could get off the field and have a chance to talk with his family. The thought made him smile.

The other thing he realized…well, it wasn’t so much of a realization as an acceptance. He loved Liz Parker, and if he let another moment go by without saying as much to her, he might as well consign himself to a life where nothing was truly important. Football, winning games, none of it meant a damned thing if he couldn’t have her. Maybe he'd had to lose at what he'd thought was the most important thing in the world, to realize what really was.

The only question left was, what was he going to do about it?

Author's Note: Yes, I know that Max winning the MVP after losing the Super Bowl would never really happen in real life. But then again, this is fiction, so please don't everybody call me out lol. Anything can happen in my little football universe...