Delayed Penalty Part 10

I ended up going to bed after that, exhausted from the long drive. I slept with the lights on. I had said I was healing, and emotionally, I thought I was doing pretty well, but I didn't like the dark. The dark was all I saw for months. I needed light.

Game 62 New York Islanders.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010.

The next morning I stepped foot into the Masens' kitchen and saw Judy standing over the stove making pancakes and Evan's sister sitting at the table, legs pulled up into the chair with her phone in hand.

Clearing my throat, I said h.e.l.lo, and Caitlin turned around.

"Hi, I'm Caitlin, Evan's little sister. It's so nice to meet you!" Caitlin jumped up from her chair and ran over to me, wrapping her arms around me. She was definitely Evan's sister. They were both huggers. "I was tired of hearing about this girl Evan couldn't pry himself from but never meeting her."

I was so excited to finally meet Caitlin I wasn't sure how to respond to her. Evan thought highly of his younger sister, and through his frequent conversations about her, I felt like I knew her already.

"Nice to meet you, too!" I managed to get out, caught off guard by Evan's dad walking into the room with a bright smile. I understood where Evan got his looks and build-from Sam, his dad.

The same brown hair covered his head and identical piercing blue eyes gave his face that same boyish look Evan's had. Though they were easily twenty years apart, you knew exactly who his father was.

Sam put his arm around my shoulders, gazing down at me with a fatherly smile I hadn't seen in a long time.

I smiled, not knowing what else to do, and he rubbed his belly. "It's good to have you here Ami. Jud-bug here makes pancakes to die for."

Caitlin, who was still beside me, loped gracefully past me to put her phone on the counter and then reached for the plates in the cupboard. "Hey, Mom, can I go to Evan's game on Wednesday?"

The thought of seeing Evan play live was thrilling to me. He had told me I could come, when I was feeling better, because he would love for me to watch him.

"No, Caitlin, you have school. You can go to the one on Friday when they play Vancouver." Judy gave a nod to the calendar on the wall of the kitchen near the sliding gla.s.s door.

Their backyard caught my attention. Well, the landscaping did. When I got here last night it was dark, and I couldn't see much else other than their white house. Now, it was clear they were very much into gardening and the appearance of their property. The thought made me smile.

My mom was a landscaper. It started with her love for flowers and making floral arrangements for around the house and that turned into friends asking her to design their backyards for them. By the time I was fifteen, she had her own business and loved it.

My dad had a local repair shop and did mostly routine maintenance on cars and race cars. Our small town was known for a race track called Willamette Speedway, where he spent a good amount of time when he wasn't with Andrew at the field. Baseball was our sport, just like hockey was the Masens' family sport.

We sat down around the kitchen table, and over bites of syrupy goodness and sips of coffee, I explained what happened to my family and how Evan had come to see me nearly every day.

"He wasn't always such a good guy," Caitlin said. "Don't let him fool you. He can be an a.s.shole."

"Caitlin..." Sam sighed, rolling his eyes at her use of words. I kind of giggled. It sounded exactly like the conversations at our table growing up.

The thought of what Evan was like before I met him had always lingered in the back of my mind since the first time I saw him. Was he himself around me?

"Well..." Caitlin tried to defend herself, "...what about the time he was stuck in Orlando and you had to go get him?"

Judy laughed. "Evan's gotten himself into his fair share of trouble, yes," she agreed and then went onto explain the reason behind Caitlin's remark. "When Evan was playing in the Major Juniors, some of the older boys on the team thought it would be funny to get Evan drunk. That was fine, but then he called me at three in the morning and said, 'Don't freak out but I may be lost.' So naturally I freaked out that my sixteen-year-old son was lost."

"Where was he?"

"Orlando."

"Oh, wow." I giggled. "So how did he end up in Orlando?"

"Well, he'd apparently had enough of the party scene and got in a cab intending on coming home."

"Home where?"

"Well, clearly not Pittsburgh. He told the cab driver he lived in Orlando." Judy shook her head remembering the night. "Two buses and four hours later, he was next to me with his head hanging in shame, asking if I thought McDonald's would be open."

I could totally picture him doing that.

"Do you guys go to his games often?" I asked, the thoughts of watching a live game surfacing again. When I was younger, and Andrew was playing baseball every other night, that was what I did. I would sit out there for hours just watching him, entranced at his talent and love for the sport. There was something about the dedication to something like that. I felt the same way about dancing. There was nothing better than putting all of yourself into a performance and then nailing it, knowing you gave it everything you had. If you put enough dedication into something, it became a part of you and engrained into every fiber of yourself.

"We go to most of the games that are on a weekend because of travel time. It's a long drive, and Caitlin is still in school. It's hard having him in Chicago, but it's better than having him on the West Coast."

Sam shook his head. The motion reminded me of Evan when he smiled. "Still can't believe the Penguins didn't grab him." I could tell just by his dejected look he was still bent about that.

"Have you watched hockey?" Judy asked. "I know your family was into baseball, right?"

"Yes, baseball. But no...I haven't watched hockey yet."

"All right then," Sam said, slapping his hand down on the table and pus.h.i.+ng away from the table. Sam led me into the living room and sat me down in front of their television while we ate. "It's time you see this boy play."

Standing near the television, he pulled out a stack of DVDs and I quickly realized he had recorded every game Evan had ever played in, much like what my parents had done for Andrew.

Caitlin snorted and walked to the door with her mom. She looked dressed for school in her skinny jeans, light colored sweater and tasteful dark colored boots over the jeans, her dark hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. I began to realize she was very fas.h.i.+onable. "Hope you don't die of boredom, Ami. See ya tonight."

Laughing, I waved to them while Sam and I took a seat on the couch. "Love you, Jud-Bug!" Sam yelled after his wife. She leaned her head back in the door and blew him a kiss.

"You don't have to work?"

"I do...later today. I'm a project manager for Westinghouse Electric out in Cranberry Towns.h.i.+p. I don't have to be in until later today." He gave me a shrug, settling beside me. The shrug made me smile and reminded me of Evan. I really liked Sam. Not only did he remind me of Evan, but he was a lot like my dad, always smiling and proud of his family.

Hadley, Evan's cousin, was apparently into making videos and made a couple of Evan this season with highlights from his Major Junior career mixed into it. Hadley was very talented, I had discovered that much, but it was Evan that shocked me.

When the opening credits came onto the video, a Nine Inch Nails song pulsed to images of Evan slamming guys into boards, circling around, stealing the puck, and then racing up ice to score a goal. Then there were some of him as a kid and these animated victory goal dances that had me in a fit of teary-eyed giggles.

Sam switched the DVD after that and started showing me some of his Major Junior highlights, along with clips from when they won their version of the Stanley Cup. It was the last year he played for them. Evan with a play-off beard, he could barely grow at the time, was the most entertaining.

"Hockey players are who they are, and Mase is a hockey player down to his soul," Sam said, motioning to the television that was frozen on an image of Evan holding his Chicago Blackhawks jersey with the number five on the back. "No one will ever change that about him."

I nearly lost it looking at that picture. It was everything I could do not to cry thinking of Andrew and how hard he worked for that chance...only to have it taken away.

Thankfully, Sam didn't notice and went on. "When Mase would start the game, it would sell out." Sam's distant stare caught mine, his voice proud. "He was always faster than everyone else, but he was on defense by that point. He could still score, swing left or right, and defend the goal and boys on the team. His energy on the ice was captivating and pulled the crowd in."

Evan was mesmerizing on the ice, and it wasn't even live. I couldn't believe how he was everywhere all at once.

"If he happened to be caught up ice, and the other team had an odd man rush, that's when you'd see his speed."

I had no idea what Sam was referring to, but I watched a younger Evan, seemingly everywhere at once, on the screen. His skating and stick handling at that age was impressive. I'd seen similar skill with Andrew when he was younger. You usually knew when a kid was going to be a star someday. You could see their talent, their s.h.i.+ne, early on.

It was definitely there with Evan.

"His speed got him the puck, and he could still snag the net, even for being on the defense."

I watched a few of his games from this season that his dad had recorded, and I was in awe. One of my favorite parts was watching the way he moved on the ice. With grace, naturally, but the way he'd s.h.i.+ft his hips when he swung at the puck and how aggressive he had been was a major turn on.

And I was next to his dad. And then I felt weird about being turned on by Evan with his dad right there. I could literally feel the burn in my cheeks and other places.

I had just turned eighteen and had been through something horrible, but I still had hormones. Thankfully, Sam talked so much about Evan that I didn't have to worry about him seeing my cheeks flus.h.i.+ng.

I knew nothing about hockey, but being in the Masen household I started to learn. While the violence of the sport was a little shocking, the pa.s.sion of the game drew me in. It reminded me of the love Andrew had for baseball.

It took a lot of dedication to do what those boys did between training, practicing, traveling, all of it, and Evan had been doing it since he was old enough to hold a stick. I understood why. My brother was the same way.

There was a lot to learn about hockey that I didn't realize. I wanted to ask, but I was scared his family would see how into him I was and then they'd tease me. They were like that. And d.a.m.n if I wasn't into him.

Sam and I spent the better part of the day on that couch watching hockey and then eventually watching Evan's game against the Islanders. Seeing him on live television was even harder on my hormones. He was just as aggressive as he had been on those videos, with boarding guys and fighting every play, but he was different. Maybe more mature, focused, patient. He was would wait, stalk his opponents almost, and then he was there stripping the puck and setting up the play for their front man, Leo Orting.

I hadn't met Leo yet, but from Evan's frequent mention, I felt like I already knew him. Apparently, they were best friends, grew up in the same Major Junior league playing for different teams.

The Blackhawks ended up losing to the Islanders by two goals. Sam seemed disappointed and blamed the loss on the refs.

Their family went various directions after the game, and I practically floated into Evan's bedroom, feeling so much closer to him now. Kicking off my shoes, removing my clothes, I changed into the comfy pair of Chicago Blackhawks sweatpants and sweats.h.i.+rt Evan had gotten me as a leaving the hospital gift. I looked over my body while I was naked. I'd lost a considerable amount of weight since the attack, and none of my clothes fit. I also noticed the scars, scars that reminded me of what I went through.

With a deep breath, I pushed the thoughts away.

When my head flopped against the pillow, the cell phone Evan gave me started ringing. When I looked at the screen, it flashed with the number, and above it said, "Mase." I smiled, remembering him telling me his friends only called him that. I loved the pride in his dad's voice every time the name left his mouth and the closeness it made me feel to his family knowing he wanted me to call him that if I wanted.

"Hey," came the throaty voice I remembered. I felt a little giddy that he not only texted me today, but also decided to call. There was something about his voice that I loved. I could have listened to him talk for hours with the East Coast accent combined with the touch of that Canadian "eh" he threw in every once in a while.

"Hey," I answered, settling into his bed.

"What are you doing?"

Looking around his room, I had to laugh. It didn't look like anything had changed since he was a kid, complete with his Transformer sheets. "Lying on your bed."

Dead silence. Not even breathing.

Eventually, he cleared his throat. "So you got my messages?"

"Yeah, I got them." My reply was meant to be evasive, but I wasn't sure he took it that way. All day long he had sent me text messages, but with his dad right there, it seemed inappropriate to be checking the phone every few minutes.

"You know, typically when someone sends you a text message, you should respond. It's good friend behavior."

"Sorry. Your dad kept me pretty busy going through your entire Major Junior career and first NHL season."

"Are you kidding me?" he asked seriously. I paused, worrying I said the wrong thing. Maybe he didn't want me to see him play. And then he laughed. "And you didn't fall asleep?"

"No. It was all very informational." s.h.i.+fting in the bed, I pulled the blankets up, listening to the rain outside and Evan's breathing. I could hear the bustle of his team in the background from his end of the line, but they were far enough in the distance I didn't think they could hear his conversation. "Now I'm lying here in your bed, looking through your stack of nudie magazines you kept under the mattress."

Again, dead silence. Not even breathing.

"I'm teasing...but you do have a nice collection of comic books." In the drawers of his nightstand were tons of comic books, at least fifty of them. It made me laugh that here was this professional athlete and he had comic books.

"Hey, those are in mint condition," he said, making me laugh again by the concerned pitch of his voice. "Don't you go messin' with the pages and putting fingerprints on them."

"I wouldn't think of it."

My favorite part about Evan so far, aside from his voice, was how honest he was and how conversation usually flowed freely, just like with everyone else in his family.

We were both quiet when his breathing slowed, and I knew what was coming. We could avoid it, but it was still there; the stirring attraction between the two of us that had started early on and since that kiss had been building. "Are you really in my bed?"

"Yep." But then I had to tease him, lightening the mood. "In the bed you probably learned to jerk off in." My hand flew to my mouth, surprised by my own cra.s.sness, and I snorted.

"See, that's where you're wrong." He let out a heavy breath, but there was laughter in his tone again. "I figured that out in the shower."

"Oh, d.a.m.n. And here I thought I was where the magic happened."

"Nope. Didn't even lose my virginity there."

"Hmmm...let me guess. Back seat of your car?" I giggled at my suggestion. Then I immediately started thinking about the lucky girl who was with him. What did she look like? Did he love her? Had he ever loved a girl?

"Close, but no. In the back seat of her car. She was older than me by a few years."

"Cougars. They'll getcha every time."

He blew out a heavy sigh and groaned a little, the sound m.u.f.fled as though he'd covered his mouth with his hand. "I can't stop thinking about you in my bed. I gotta go. The images are just too much for me to handle tonight."

"It's a shame really," I whispered. I was mastering this teasing s.e.xual tension. "If this phone had a camera, I'd gladly send you an a.s.s picture."

"Why you gotta be like that?" he demanded, laughter slipping into his words. "I just told you I was struggling and you go and say s.h.i.+t like that. I'm gonna hang up on you now."

He didn't. We ended up talking for two hours that night about his game, his parents, and his sister. I learned his middle name was Maddox, that he peed the bed until he was seven, and he hated eggs. I told him a few things about myself. My middle name was Nicole, I had a strange obsession with organizing my clothes by color, and I hated fish of any kind.

Eventually, as always, he waited for me to fall asleep after we had discussed what I was wearing. He'd asked me to take it off with him on the phone, and then finally, he had to call me back. I knew what that was about, but when he returned the call, we had a good time teasing each other a little more.

It was a good thing he got me good and sleepy because I don't think I could have slept in his bed after teasing him like that. I'd already had s.e.x with Evan in my head, even though he didn't know that, but I wasn't about to tell him either. I'd already pictured what he looked like naked, and the thoughts had been surfacing since he helped me bath that night in the hospital.

I hoped that eventually we would. The memories I did have of anything s.e.xual with Josh, my high school boyfriend, didn't come close to what I wanted Evan to do to me. It was like this hockey player had taken over my mind and jumbled it with dirty thoughts. I wasn't sure if Evan was attracted to me that way, but his body language told me another story. His kisses added the words and his touches added page numbers.

My heart gave me a kick, reminding me that I was in his bed. He obviously wanted me close to him.

Before I came to Chicago, I had one boyfriend growing up, Josh, and we never had s.e.x, but we did everything else imaginable during those three years. Then one day we had decided it was time. We were on the Oregon coast at his parents' house the day my family was killed. Josh and I, having been together for years, were going to do it that weekend. It was actually a big deal, too. We'd been planning it for a few weeks, giddy first time lovers wanting to show their love.

Then I had gotten the phone call about my family the day we were at the beach, and it just never happened. After they died Josh and I grew apart. His sister was on that plane with my brother and my family. Neither one of us handled it the way we should have. Instead of something bringing us closer together so we could be there for each other, Josh pushed me away.

In the fall, he left for college in California, and I never heard from him again. I had just graduated that spring and stayed home after they died. I tried to move, but ended up leaving that November when my parents' house was foreclosed on. After paying for the funerals for three people, and various bills that came along with that, I didn't have enough money to pay what was left on their mortgage.

I had no money and no place to live. That was when I ended up in Chicago at Ballet Chicago looking for work. I had always loved to dance, ballet mostly, so it was the perfect gig for me to not only dance but earn some money and make a life for myself.