Delayed Penalty Part 9

The boys weren't here yet, so it left me some time to just skate and play the puck. I wasn't forced into drills and repet.i.tion of different shots. I could just skate and clear my head.

That was when Ami would come into mind.

If I closed my eyes, I could see her and picture that kiss and those pretty f.u.c.king starry eyes.

f.u.c.k. Stop thinking about her.

I'd set an easy pace around the ice, building speed as I rounded the corner and then snagged a puck. I brought it to the end of my stick and balanced it there before juggling it and slapping it into the net like a baseball player would.

Then I thought of Ami again.

d.a.m.n it.

Thankfully, the guys made their way on the ice and our morning practice started.

Pus.h.i.+ng pucks around, we slapped them at the net. Fans were there this morning watching. A young girl, maybe twelve, stood next to the gla.s.s trying to take a picture of Leo so I stuck my stick in the way.

She glared and then looked toward me, a leveling glare that gave way to a smile. Flushed cheeks appeared, so I smiled in return and hit the gla.s.s with my shoulder and skated away knowing that simple interaction made that girl's day.

"Jail bait," Remy chirped when I pa.s.sed by and then made a siren sound.

"How are you and the ballerina doin'?" Dave asked, taking a shot at Leo with his stick when he came by.

"She's getting released soon," I said, circling a puck and then flipping it up onto my stick. "So I guess that's good."

"Does she remember?" he asked, watching Remy and Cage shove each other and then Leo getting in the middle of it.

"No. Nothing from that night."

"Glad she's getting better, man. We were all pulling for her." He gave me a wink and then Leo came back by, and Dave took off to send him flying into the boards.

Same s.h.i.+t, different day.

Dave had always been the guy on the team that made sure the guys were okay. If you were sick or running behind on the ice, he'd sit you down and ask what the problem was. He was always sort of the team psychologist. All of us felt comfortable going to him and talking about anything. Me included. After that night with Ami all the guys knew something was up with me. My att.i.tude had changed on and off the ice.

That game against Atlanta was intense, mostly because Leo was getting into every other play with Atlanta's center.

That was when Joel gave a low hit on Leo and knocked him down hard into the boards.

Leo immediately jumped to his feet and chased after him. Apparently, he wasn't having any of it and shoved Sadler against the board, giving him a few words. Leo was smaller than me and most defens.e.m.e.n. He was your average size for any center, but he could give it when needed. That night he gave it.

I'd never gotten along with Joel Sadler. We played in the Major Juniors together.

If you were to ask the coaches back then, and people frequently did, they'd say we were at each other's throats most of the time. I didn't know if that was true, but we did have our fair share of time in the penalty box.

Joel took another cheap shot at Leo on the face off and popped him in the mouth with his stick when the ref returned.

Chewing on my mouth guard, racking up minutes in the box, a girl tapped on the gla.s.s. I gave her a nod but not much else. My attention was on the ice and how I was going to let Joel know that even though he'd gotten away with it this time, he wasn't going to soon.

Bottom line was, if someone picked on our boys, like they were doing that night, I'd lay them out. Funny enough, I started out playing goalie and then moved to right wing. When the coaches saw how much I defended the other players, they moved me to defense. With that came the fighting.

Some thought I loved to fight. And I wouldn't necessarily disagree with them, but I wasn't doing it just to fight.

Did I like fighting?

Not really, but I was good at it, and that was how I got to be a defenseman.

A few things cause a hockey player to drop his gloves and dance: retaliation or retribution. For example, a guy checks up from behind and skates away. Then as you're making your s.h.i.+ft change, he whacks you on the back of the legs. This warrants dropping the gloves the next time you meet on the ice. Provoking some players would challenge the other team for the sole purpose of winning. It was all about gaining the mental edge in hockey. A good sc.r.a.pe swung your way could do that, and it got the whole venue on their feet.

Then there was the intimidation. It went hand and hand with fear. Most fans had no idea how much trash talking went on, and they'd be surprised how much of it was for intimidation. School yard bullies at their finest. You wanted the other guy to think you were going to kick the s.h.i.+t out of him and make him think you were serious. We did this a lot in junior hockey, and still do in the NHL, but we had way more fun with it back in the junior leagues.

It was all about sending a message, and sometimes that message was personal.

There were times when fighting was done to draw a penalty, too. It was designed to change the way of play, to break it up. If you had a guy out there scoring, it was a way to get him off the ice.

Most wondered how we fought. How did we let them know? Well, it was as simple as dropping your gloves. There were times when I resisted and told them, "Hey, pick up your f.u.c.king gloves, you p.u.s.s.y. I'm not fighting you."

Other times, no words were exchanged. You simply grabbed their shoulders, slashed their stick, pushed them from behind, a glove to the face, all effective ways of letting them know you were ready for them.

We ended up winning against Atlanta, and then we were off to Ohio, and then we'd have a few week break.

I spent my twenty-first birthday on a plane, sleeping next to Leo, on our way home from Ohio after winning the game in overtime. Feeling pretty good, on that adrenaline again, I went straight to the hospital to see Ami.

This time she was asleep. It was late, and part of me was glad. A little drunk and after a win, I wasn't sure what I'd do. Instead, I wrote her a little note next to the key chain of a ballerina I'd picked up for her at the airport. Eventually I left, but not before watching her sleep for a while.

She was so peaceful. Her cheeks were red, her blankets bunched up near her face like she was cold. Reaching for another blanket in the closet, I situated that one on her to add to the mountain of blankets she always had. She liked to be warm.

I left after that and went back home to celebrate the rest of my birthday with Leo, Dave, and Remy. Bad idea.

During our break in the schedule, from the time we played the Blue Jackets to the time we were set to play the Islanders, I got to know Ami even more. Thankfully, I kept my hands and my lips to myself, but it was nice to talk to a girl that didn't care that I was a hockey player.

Even though she struggled with a few infections, Ami was slowly coming around and making a full recovery. The doctors a.s.sured us that there wouldn't be any lasting effects on her, and that even though she had some internal injuries from the guy being so forceful with her, she would be able to resume s.e.xual activity if she chose to.

The fact that she would be okay had me hopeful. The fact that they mentioned s.e.xual activity while I was in the room, a.s.suming we were together, made me slightly uncomfortable.

Ami didn't seem one bit fazed by it.

They even had a counselor come in and talk with her about her situation, being a rape victim. They described to her, and even me, that she might go through stages, especially during intimacy, where she may feel ashamed or depressed, maybe even powerless.

Until then I never thought about the lasting effects of her being raped. Would she ever have a normal relations.h.i.+p again? Would she want to?

They were all things I wanted to ask but didn't. It made me feel almost bad for kissing her. What if that made her feel powerless?

Regardless of what I thought or feared, I went off how Ami reacted. Never did she show any hesitation with our friends.h.i.+p, or flirting, or even that kiss. For a guy like me, those were all signs that indicated she was okay with it. Knowing the side of Ami that I did, if she didn't want it, she would certainly tell me.

The day she was released, Monday, March 1st, marked nearly ten weeks spent in the hospital. She was happy to be released.

First thing she made me do was stop and get her a hamburger.

Then we drove the seven hours from Chicago to Pittsburgh because Ami didn't want to fly. That I understood, and it was a fun drive, too. We took my new Audi and the seat heaters were her best friend. She liked to be warm after all. Not only did she have her seat heater on full blast, but she also had the heat cranked all the way up. I was dying. Half the trip I had my d.a.m.n head out the window, trying not to burn alive in my own car.

When we got to my parents' house in Pittsburgh, it took everything I had to leave her there. I knew she was in good hands, but it wasn't just minutes away like she was at the hospital. Now she was a few states away.

We sat outside talking about my last game when every so often Caitlin would peek her head out the door and then throw her arms up, as if her patience was running thin. Ami had met my mom but had yet to meet my dad and sister. They were both excited to meet the girl that had captivated their hockey headed son and brother.

If you knew me before Ami, you'd understand what my life was. Hockey. I didn't date, I had s.e.x, yes, but there was no dating and no bringing a girl home to meet the parents. I wasn't a player like Leo and Remy, but I just didn't have time for that sort of thing. I was living for hockey.

I handed Ami a cell phone I had bought. "Here, I programed my number in case you need to get in touch with me."

Ami hesitated for a moment and then took the phone. "Keeping track of me, are you?"

"No, just wanted you to have a way to get a hold of me. We talked every day in the hospital. You might miss me." I expected Ami to give me a smile or a smart aleck line, but she didn't. That was when I noticed something was wrong.

"You okay?"

"Can we just sit here for a minute?" she asked, staring at the rain streaming down the windows. Her hand reached gently over the center console to my hand.

This had to be hard for her. I knew that. Here she was going to a stranger's house in another state.

"Take as long as you need," I replied, leaning back to face her, her hand in mine. I didn't want her to feel bad about being here. Most of all, I wanted her here. This would be safe. I needed this girl safe. "You'll be safe here. Promise."

"I know. It's just...I feel kind of awkward."

"Don't," I insisted softly but firmly. "It's natural to feel this way."

She nodded, but I could see the anxiety in the way she wouldn't look at the house or me. "What are you afraid of?"

"Falling in love with them and not wanting to leave." She laughed, the truth always there, all you had to do was ask.

"It's okay to fall in love with them. It's okay to want to stay here. They're nice people. Raised me," I said as conversationally as I could, not wanting to scare her. "I know it's hard after what you've been through to have people close to you again, but I honestly believe the more you love, the more you feel and the happier you can be."

"Such a big heart." Ami laughed, trying to hide the fact that my words were exactly what she needed to hear.

"I should have a big heart. I was born on Valentine's Day." My mom used to tell people that was where all my heart came from.

"You never told me that. It makes sense, though. You do have a big heart." I felt myself smile in the darkness hearing her repeat that. "Well s.h.i.+t, that means I missed your birthday." She looked down at her hands. "And to think I was going to make you cupcakes or something equally as cheesy."

"Cupcakes are not cheesy and now I'm holding you to it, eventually...when you're feeling better."

"Oh please, I'm feeling better." She rolled her eyes, the same way she always did at the doctors.

"You're not going to run away from me, are you?" I asked. She knew I was joking, but I also knew she saw the sincerely curious side of my comment.

"It's kind of hard when you know where I'm staying."

"That's true. You'll be in my bed," I teased, instantly regretting it, but Ami laughed, and the comment didn't feel as crude as it seemed.

"Very true." Her smile caught my stare again. "Good night then?"

"Yes, good night."

I was f.u.c.king screwed. I had no idea what I had just done. I pa.s.sed the puck blindly. She would be staying with my parents, and G.o.d knows what they'd convince her of.

Line change The entire forward line and/or defensive line will be replaced at once, which put players on the ice who work well together.

Death sucks. Losing your family sucks. Rape sucks. No one likes to talk about it. People are raped every day. Some remember it, and then there are the lucky ones, like me, that don't. Even though we can't remember it, we know it happened, and that really sucks because someone has taken something from you, something sacred that we can never get back. Something that's meant to be given not taken. I was reminded of it and had a few scars, but I wasn't going to let it control me. There were worse things that could have happened. I thought that all the time. I could have died. I almost did die. That would have been worse.

Your whole family dying...that was worse.

The worst part for me was after the funeral when I was left alone and forced to deal with it on my own. My aunts and uncles were gone, friends and other relatives stopped coming around, and it was just me, alone in the house. I was stuck. I couldn't move on from it, and no one seemed to understand that. Everywhere I looked I was reminded of them and that they were gone. I'd look at Andrew's baseball glove and knew that he'd never put that on again. That was truly heartbreaking for me.

When Josh, my boyfriend of three years, couldn't deal with it either, he left. Then it really was just me.

One day it hit me that was no life to have.

I left.

I did the only thing that could help me move on. New city, new life.

I was just starting to move on, had a job, had a place to stay, and then...well, like I said. It sucked.

But then came Evan Masen.

Remembering his touch, I smiled. I'd never felt sparks of electricity when a man touched me before, but I did with Evan. And then he kissed me. Sweet Jesus.

Having just left Evan outside, and disappointed he hadn't tried to kiss me again, I walked down the hall to his room where his mom had placed my bag. That was when pictures of his childhood caught my attention. They were mostly of him playing hockey and reminded me of the ones we used to have up of Andrew: a proud family supporting their pride.

Evan Masen was handsome. There was no way around that one. He had the dark messy hair, scruffy face, slightly crooked nose, and a good strong jaw. His eyes were blue like mine and spoke when he didn't. When he was in a good mood they were brighter, and when he was upset, they had more depth, entrancing almost. Then there was that body. I hadn't seen him in anything other than jeans and sweats.h.i.+rts so far, but I knew enough to know from just a few touches he was definitely noteworthy under those clothes.

"Hey, Ami, are you all right?" My eyes snapped up to his mother with a mixture of surprise and confusion. She was standing beside me holding a blanket and pillow. My eyes dropped to the blanket. "It gets kind of cold in Evan's room, so I thought you might like extra blankets. Evan said you like to keep warm."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I wasn't trying to snoop or anything," I responded, simultaneously trying to act like I wasn't just staring at Evan's school pictures on the wall.

"It's all right, sweetie." Judy pointed to a picture of Caitlin and Evan when they were kids, both with big smiles. "He's always been protective of her, but they have never really gotten along."

I gazed at the picture again. "It's strange to admit and even stranger to feel, but it's like I know him already, like he was meant to find me that day because we were meant to know each other."

The two of us walked down the hall to Evan's room. I sat down on the edge of the bed, as did she, and I arranged the blankets and my bag so I didn't have to bend over to get them. I got dizzy and nauseated anytime I bent over. Physically, I healed since the accident. There was no permanent damage to speak of, but I still had stomach pains and then of course the headaches and vertigo. Emotionally, I was fine. It wasn't any worse than what happened to my family, and it definitely wasn't something I was struggling with. I had Evan.

I didn't want to attach myself to anyone. Believe me, that was the last thing I wanted, but there was something about him that made me feel alive again.

Judy smiled, her soft spoken voice gentle as always. "Sweetie, that's Evan. It's not strange at all." She moved to sit closer. Her arm draped over my shoulders in a loving manner I hadn't felt since my own mother was taken from me. "When Evan was first placed in my arms, I knew the power he had. I was young when I had him, seventeen...his dad was eighteen and just getting out of junior hockey. Once we had Evan, there wasn't much time for our own dreams, but we had him. That's all that mattered."

I saw it back home, coming from a small town. The parents had kids young and before you knew it, the kid was being forced to live the parents' dream for them. I saw it with Joey, Andrew's best friend, but you didn't get that feeling with Evan and his family.

Judy went onto explain how Evan got started in hockey and his love for it; all things he had already explained to me in the hospital, but I loved hearing it again. It made me feel that much closer to him.

Throughout the night, Evan kept his promise and sent regular text messages asking if I was still there or if I ran away. I ignored them at first, well, aside from the obvious of practically mauling the phone to get to it every time the little f.u.c.ker dinged with a message. But then the messages got flirty, and I couldn't help myself.