Delayed Penalty by Shey Stahl

9. 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.

Ami

“I hate to drop you off and run,” Evan whispers at the door. “But I only have like an hour to get to the airport.”

Then don’t. Stay with me. “That’s okay. I understand.” I grab my bag from him as we stand at the door, the lights in the house all off and I’m terrified to walk inside his house. What am I even doing here?

“Are you scared?”

Dude, you have no idea. I nod. “Nervous I guess.”

“Don’t be. They’ll love you.” There’s shadows on his eyes from the porch light but I don’t miss when those beautiful blue eyes move to my lips. Oh God, please kiss me again. I’m eager with anticipation that he might kiss me again, but he pulls back. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Dang it. No! Kiss me.

Again, I nod as he reaches for the door. Quietly we move through the house and he points down the hall to where I assume his room is, his large protective hand on the small of my back. His touch sends warmth through me and though I feel tiny in his presence, I’ve also never felt safer. It’s as if he can be in the same room with me and all the fear and anxiety I harbor inside suddenly melts away.

Death sucks.

Losing your family sucks.

Rape sucks.

No one wants to talk about it, but it all freaking sucks balls.

I’m fully aware people are raped every day but when it happens to you, as the counselors told me, the lasting effects never make themselves known right away. Some remember it, and then there’s the lucky ones, like me, who don’t. Even though I have no memory… okay, I remember some things. I know it happened. Someone took something from me I didn’t give them. Someone replaced my no with a yes.

I have a few scars, but I’m not going to let my situation control me. Andrew would be disappointed in me if I did. He’d say, “Ami, life is a gift, never take it for granted.” There are worse things that could have happened. That’s not me making light of rape, but that’s me trying to focus on something positive.

Like being taken in by the guy who saved me and given a place to stay for a while, out of the city, away from the reminders of that night I don’t remember.

My family died a little over a year ago and that part wasn’t as bad as the days that followed, after the funeral, when I was 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 in my grief. I couldn’t move on, and no one seemed to understand that. Everywhere I looked I was reminded of my family and that they were gone. I’d look at Andrew’s baseball glove and knew he’d never put that on again. And then my boyfriend of three years, couldn’t deal with it either, so he left.

Then it really was just me.

One day it hit me. That’s no life to have.

So I left town and started a 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.

Next to me, he squeezes my shoulder. “My mom’s still up. She said she was getting blankets. Are you going to be okay alone in the room? I could probably see if Catelyn wants to sleep in the room with you.”

I turn to him, forcing a smile. I’m going to miss him. Like being without him everything feels empty and foreign and I don’t know how to survived without it. Maybe I’ve formed an unhealthy attachment too soon. “I think I’ll be okay.” I pull out the nightlight Wendy gave me before I left. “I have this.”

Evan hesitates once more, his eyes on my lips, then my eyes. “I… uh, I’ll call you later?”

Kiss me!“I’d like that.”

Too soon, I stand alone in the hallway of his childhood home, remembering his touch. I look around and I instinctively smile. I’ve never experienced sparks of electricity when a guy touched me before, but I do with Evan. And then he kissed me. Sweet Jesus.

I’m disappointed he hasn’t tried to kiss me again.

I walk down the hall to his room where his mom has placed fresh blankets out of the dryer. That’s when pictures of his childhood catch my attention. They’re of him playing hockey. They remind me of the ones we used to have up of Andrew: a proud family supporting their athlete.

I touch the edge of the white framed photographs. You know what else? Evan Masen is handsome. Dark messy hair, scruffy face, slightly crooked nose, and a good strong jaw. His eyes are blue like mine and speak volumes when he doesn’t. When he’s in a good mood, they’re brighter, and when he’s upset, they have more depth, entrancing almost. And his body, sigh. Tattoos, muscles… I haven’t seen him in anything other than jeans and sweatshirts so far, but I know enough that from just a few touches he’s definitely noteworthy under those clothes.

“Hey, Ami, are you all right? I wanted to make sure you get settled in.” My eyes snap up to his mom with a mixture of surprise and confusion. She’s standing beside me holding a blanket and pillow. My eyes drop to the blanket, hoping it smells like him. “It gets kind of cold in Evan’s room, so I thought you might like extra blankets. Evan said you like to keep warm.”

I twist toward her. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything,” I tell her, simultaneously trying to act like I wasn’t just staring at Evan’s school pictures on the wall.

“It’s all right, sweetie. Make yourself at home here. We’re excited to have you here.” Judy points to a picture of Catelyn and Evan when they were kids, both with big smiles. “That’s Evan and his sister Catelyn. She tried to stay up to meet you but she has school in the morning.”

“Sorry I got here so late. I hope it’s not a problem.”

“No problem at all. We’re all used to Evan and his schedule.”

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

Judy smiles, her voice gentle. “Sweetie, that’s Evan. It’s not strange at all.”

The two of us walk down the hall to Evan’s room and the entire way it’s like this is a dream I’m having. This isn’t real, is it? These kinds of things don’t happen to people like me. Unless you’re Cinderella and believe me, I spent a good amount of my childhood wishing I was a Disney princess. I just didn’t think it’d happen at eighteen after the worst year of my life.

Inside the room at the end of the hall on the left, I sit down on the edge of the bed, and Judy hands me a fresh pillow. “This one’s more comfortable than the one on the bed. Might be better for your headaches.”

I touch my fingers to the silk fabric. “Thank you.” Carefully I arrange the blankets and my bag so I don’t have to bend over to get them. I get dizzy and nauseated anytime I bend over. Physically, I’ve healed since the accident. There’s no permanent damage to speak of, but I still have stomach pains and then, of course, the headaches and vertigo.

“Do you need some water?”

I nod. “That would be great. Thank you.”

Judy disappears for a moment and I take in Evan’s room. It’s small, a queen-sized bed pushed against the wall opposite the window. There’s a dresser near the door with a framed picture on it and next to the door, a large poster of a hockey player making what I assume is a goal.

Emotionally, I’m fine. I have a feeling therapy is in my future, and maybe back to journaling like I did when my family died, but in some ways, this doesn’t even compare to that pain. And then I think who saved me. Evan. And now look at me, staying with his family.

This is weird, right? I shouldn’t be doing this?

Believe me, I don’t want to attach myself to anyone. That’s the last thing I want, but there’s something about Evan that makes me feel alive again.

Judy returns with the water and moves to sit next to me. She sets the water on the nightstand and wraps her arm around 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 after he was born, it’s like I knew he’d always be special. I knew he was something special. I was young when I had him, seventeen... Sam was eighteen and just getting out of junior hockey.”

“Oh wow. I didn’t realize you had him so young.” I couldn’t imagine being a mom at my age. I know I want kids but not right now.

“Once we had Evan, there wasn’t much time for our own dreams, but we had him.” Her smile widens. “He was all that mattered. And he was absolutely perfect in every way.”

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 I don’t get that feeling with Evan and his family.

“Sam wanted Evan to play hockey so bad but never pushed it until Evan showed interest. From then on, he was all in.” She laughs.

Yawning, I smile. “I bet he was always in trouble too, huh?”

“Girl, you have no idea.” Judy smiles, shaking her head and stands up. “I’m gonna let you get some sleep though. It’s late.”

I nod. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I know this might be weird. Girl you’ve never met staying at your home.”

“It’s not weird at all. We love it.”

I watch her leave the room, then plug in the nightlight and look over at the phone Evan gave me. He keeps his promise and sends me a text.

I smile that he programed his phone number as Mase.

Mase: Still there or did you climb out the window? P.S. Hope you missed the holly tree my dad planted there to deter me from jumping out.

I smile so wide my cheeks hurt but ignore the message at first, well, aside from the obvious of practically mauling the phone to get to it every time the little fucker dings with a message. But then the messages get flirty, and I can’t help myself.

Me: I didn’t leave. I’m in your bed.

I send a smiley face and then a kiss emoji, by accident. Fuck, why’d I do that?

Mase: Damn, I should have stayed a little longer.

Me:Or kissed me goodbye.

Mase: Shit. Did you want me to?

Me: I did.

Crap. Why’d I type that? Can I delete it? Too late. He’s replying. I can see the periods jumping up and down. I wait, my heart starting to pound.

Mase: I’m not far away. I could drive back.

Me: No, you have a flight to catch.

Mase: True. But now I’m going to be thinking about kissing you and I’ll play like shit tomorrow thinking about it.

Me: You sound like this is something that happens often….

Mase: Sadly, you’ve been on my mind a lot lately.

My heart swells and the smile hurts.

Me: Same. But Evan?

Mase:?

Me: You really shouldn’t be texting and driving. Did I tell you I lost my family in a plane crash? I don’t need to lose my only friend too.

Mase: Goodnight. Sweet dreams.

Me: Goodnight. Safe drive and flight!

And I sent another kiss emoji to which he sends back the drool one. At least I think it’s the drool one. Or is it spitting?

I twist the phone to the side to get a better view. Looks like drool to me.

Setting the phone on his nightstand, I lie flat on the bed, staring at his ceiling and wondering how I went from living with Blake and his wife, to this, in a house I don’t know, in Pittsburgh and falling for the guy who saved me.

I know what you must be thinking. You just went through something traumatic and now you’re falling for the guy who rescued you? This isn’t a romantic comedy, I assure you, but like I said, I feel like I know him. Before this.

The next morning, I pull on a pair of sweats, a baseball sweatshirt of my brother’s, thankful Blake gave my clothes to Evan when he asked for them. I hated living with Blake. Absolutely hated it. It was as if he was only doing it because I was young and impressionable and he thought he could take advantage of me. Which, if we’re being honest, when his wife’s back was turned, he pushed the limits for sure.

I will say the look on his face when I told him I was dating Evan—which was a lie that Evan started, not me—was priceless.

Down the hall, I step foot into the Masens’ kitchen for the first time. I spot Judy standing over the stove making pancakes and who I assume is Evan’s sister sitting at the table, legs pulled up into the chair with her phone in hand. “Can you please try not to burn them this time, Mom?”

“Yes, Catelyn, I mean to burn them,” Judy replies sarcastically, holding the spatula in her hand up like she’s going to slap her kid.

“That’s not what I meant.” Catelyn rolls her eyes dramatically.

“That’s what you’re implying.”

I think I might like this kid. Clearing my throat, I step into the room, making myself known. “Good morning,” I say, my tone soft.

His sister jumps up from her chair. “Hi, I’m Catelyn. It’s so nice to meet you!” To my complete surprise, she runs over to me, wraps her arms around me and draws me in for a hug. “I was tired of hearing about this girl Evan couldn’t pry himself from but never meeting her.”

I’m so excited to finally meet Catelyn I’m not sure how to respond to her. Evan thinks highly of his younger sister, and through his frequent conversations about her, I feel like I know her already. “Nice to meet you too,” I manage to get out, caught off guard by Evan’s dad walking into the room with a bright smile. Okay, so now I see where Evan gets his looks and build from—Sam, his dad.

The same brown hair covers his head and a pair of identical piercing blue eyes give his face that same boyish look Evan’s has.

Sam wraps his arm around my shoulders, gazing down at me with a fatherly smile I haven’t seen in a long time. I smile, not knowing what else to do, as Sam rubs his belly, keeping one arm around me. “It’s good to have you here, Ami. Jud-bug here makes pancakes to die for.”

Catelyn, who is still beside me next to her dad, lopes gracefully past me to put her phone on the counter and then reaches for the plates in the cupboard. “Hey, Mom, can I go to Evan’s game on Wednesday?”

His game?

The thought of seeing Evan play live is so freaking exciting. Ever since he told me he played hockey, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what seeing him play will be like.

“No, Catelyn, you have school. You can go to the one on Friday when they play Vancouver though.” Judy nods to the calendar on the wall of the kitchen near the sliding glass door.

Their backyard catches my attention. Well, the landscaping does, and they have a pool. When I got here last night, it was dark, and I couldn’t see much else other than their white house. Now, it’s clear they’re very much into gardening and the appearance of their property. I smile, emotion tugging at my heart.

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 worked with a friend at a local repair shop and did mostly routine maintenance on cars and race cars. Our small town was known for a racetrack 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.

“Pancakes are ready,” Judy notes, setting a steaming plate of fluffy pancakes on the table.

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

“He wasn’t always such a good guy,” Catelyn teases. “Don’t let him fool you. He can be an asshole.”

“Catelyn...” Sam sighs, rolling his eyes at her use of words. I kind of giggle. It sounds exactly like the conversations at our table growing up. “Watch your language.”

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

“Well...” Catelyn tries to defend herself, “what about the time he was stuck in Orlando and you had to go get him?”

Judy laughs. “Evan’s gotten himself into his fair share of trouble, yes,” she agrees and then goes on to explain the reason behind Catelyn’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 can totally picture him doing that. “Do you guys go to his games often?” I ask, the thought 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 watching him, entranced at his talent and love for the sport. There’s something about the dedication athletes have to a sport that is mesmerizing to watch. I feel the same way about dancing. There’s 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 becomes 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, flights are hard to get, and Catelyn is still in school. It’s hard having him in Chicago, but it’s better than having him on the West Coast.”

Sam shakes his head. Every single mannerism he has reminds me of Evan. He even holds his fork the same way when he’s eating. “Still can’t believe the Penguins didn’t grab him.” I can tell by his dejected look he’s still bent about that.

“Have you watched hockey?” Judy asks. “I know your family was into baseball, right?”

After wiping my mouth with a napkin, I set it on my empty plate and nod. “Yes, baseball. But no... I haven’t watched hockey yet.”

“All right then,” Sam says, slapping his hand down on the table and pushes away. He takes my hand and leads me into the living room and sits me down in front of their television. “It’s time you see this boy play.”

Standing near the television, he pulls out a stack of DVDs and I realize he’s recorded every game Evan has ever played in, much like what my parents did for Andrew.

Catelyn snorts and walks to the door with her mom, her backpack on her shoulders. “Hope you don’t die of boredom, Ami. See ya tonight.”

Laughing, I wave to them while Sam and I take a seat on the couch. “Love you, Jud-Bug!” Sam yells after his wife. She leans her head back in the door and blows him a kiss.

“You don’t have to work?”

“I do... later today. I’m a project manager for Westinghouse Electric out in Cranberry Township. I don’t have to be in until later.” He shrugs, settling beside me. The shrug makes me smile and reminds me of Evan.

Hadley, Evan’s cousin, is apparently into making videos and made a couple of Evan this season with highlights from his Major Junior career mixed into it. Five minutes into it and I can tell Hadley is very talented at making videos and Evan shocks me with how much talent he has.

When the opening credits come onto the video, a Nine Inch Nails song pulses to images of Evan slamming guys into boards, circling around, stealing the puck, and then racing up the ice to score a goal. Then there are some of him as a kid and these animated victory goal dances. “He was quite the ham, wasn’t he?”

“You have no idea. Always looking for attention.” Sam switches the DVD after showing me some of his Major Junior highlights, along with clips from when they won their version of the Stanley Cup.

“Hockey players are who they are, and Mase is a hockey player down to his soul,” Sam notes, motioning to the television that’s 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 lose all composure looking at that picture. It’s everything I can do not to cry thinking of Andrew and how hard he worked for that chance, only to have it taken away.

Thankfully, Sam doesn’t notice and goes on. “When Mase would start the game, it would sell out.” Sam’s distant stare catches 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 the boys on the team. His energy on the ice was captivating and pulled the crowd in back then.”

Evan’s exceptional on the ice. I can’t believe how he can be everywhere all at once and manage to stay upright on skates.

Sam points to the television again. “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 have no idea what Sam is referring to, but I watch a younger Evan on the screen. His skating and stick handling at that age are impressive. I saw similar skill with Andrew when he was younger. You usually know when a kid is going to be a star someday. You can see their talent, their shine early on.

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

I watch a few of his games from this season that his dad has recorded, and I’m in awe and can’t wait to see one in person. One of my favorite parts is watching the way he moves on the ice. With grace, naturally, but the way he shifts his hips when he swings at the puck and how aggressive he is, well, it’s a major turn-on. Something I wasn’t sure I’d feel again.

The therapist in the hospital told me the healing part is different for everyone but usually the hormones return and the victim is left confused as to what to do with them. Their brain tells them they still have that particular need, but their heart says no, wait, hold on, we feel something else too.

I hadn’t experienced that yet. All I do feel is an insane, unexplainable attachment to Evan.

Sitting next to his dad thinking of all the ways Evan might be good with his stick, is awkward. I’m so embarrassed my cheeks turn bright red and heat licks my face.

Thankfully, Sam talks so much about Evan that I don’t have to worry about him seeing my cheeks flushing.

I know nothing about hockey, but being in the Masen household, I’m starting to learn. While the violence of the sport is a little shocking, the passion of the game draws me in.

It takes a lot of dedication to do what professional athletes do between training, practicing, traveling, all of it, and Evan has been doing it since he was old enough to hold a stick.

Sam and I spend the morning on that couch watching hockey and then eventually that night, watching Evan’s game against the Islanders. Seeing him on live television is even harder on my hormones. He’s just as aggressive as on those videos, with boarding guys and fighting every play, but he’s different. Maybe more mature, focused, patient. He waits, stalks his opponents almost, and then he’s there, stripping the puck and setting up the play for their front man, who I learn is Leo Orting.

I haven’t met Leo yet, but from Evan’s frequent mention, I feel like I already know him. Apparently, they’re best friends, grew up in the same Major Junior league playing for different teams.

The Blackhawks end up losing to the Islanders by two goals. Sam looks disappointed and blames the loss on the refs. “They like to control the games, Ami.”

Their family go various directions after the game, and I practically float into Evan’s bedroom, feeling so much closer to him now and wondering if I’ll hear from him tonight.

I shower with the help of Judy, take my medications, and then I change into a pair of Chicago Blackhawks sweatpants Evan got me as a “leaving the hospital” gift. I do, however, look over my body while I’m naked. I’ve lost a considerable amount of weight since the attack, and none of my clothes fit. I also notice the scars.

With a deep breath, I push the thoughts away. Inside his closet, I find a T-shirt in there with what looks to be his junior hockey team logo on the front. I smell it, hoping it smells like his but sadly it doesn’t. As I slip it over my shoulders, I begin to wonder if this is crossing the line. Maybe?

Oh well. I’m sleeping in his bed. I guess wearing his clothes isn’t all that weird.

When my head flops against the pillow, the cell phone Evan gave me starts ringing. It flashes with the number, and above it reads Mase. I smile, remembering him telling me his friends only called him that.

“Hey” comes the throaty voice I remember.

“Hey,” I reply with a little too much eagerness.

“What are you doing?”

Looking around his room, I have to laugh. It doesn’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 clears his throat. “So you got my messages?”

“Yeah, I got them.” My reply is meant to be evasive, but I’m not sure he takes it that way. All day long he sent me text messages, but with his dad right there, it seemed inappropriate to be checking the phone every few minutes. So I left it in his room.

“You know,” Evan begins, his voice softer than before and I can hear what sounds like doors closing. “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 asks seriously. I pause, worrying I said the wrong thing. Maybe he didn’t want me to see him play. And then he laughs. “And you didn’t fall asleep?”

“No. It was all very informative.” Shifting in the bed, I pull the blankets up, listening to the rain outside and Evan’s breathing. I can hear the bustle of his team in the background from his end of the line, but they’re far enough in the distance I don’t think they can 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 are tons of comic books, at least fifty of them.

“Hey, those are in mint condition,” he warns. “Don’t you go messin’ with the pages and putting fingerprints on them.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

We’re both quiet when his breathing slows, and I know what’s coming. We can avoid it, but it’s still there; the stirring attraction between the two of us that started early on and since that kiss has been building. “Are you really in my bed?”

“Yep.” And then I say probably the most embarrassing thing to come out of my mouth yet. “In the bed you probably learned to jerk off in.” As soon as the words leave my lips, my hand flies to my mouth, surprised by my own crassness, and I snort. I sound like a baby pig.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Evan lets out a heavy breath, amusement in his words. “The only door that has a lock is the bathroom so I figured that out in the shower.”

I grin. “Oh, damn. And here I thought I was where the magic happened.”

“Nope. Didn’t even lose my virginity there.”

I grin. “Hmmm... let me guess. Back seat of your car?” I giggle. Then I immediately start thinking about the lucky girl who was with him. What does she look like? Did he love her? Has he ever loved a girl?

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

I hum and shake my head. “Cougars. They’ll getcha every time.”

He blows out a heavy sigh and groans a little. “I can’t stop thinking about you in my bed. I gotta go. The images are just too much for me to handle tonight.”

“Well,” I whisper. I’m starting mastering this teasing sexual tension. “Maybe I should send you a picture of my ass.”

“Why you gotta be like that?” He laughs. “I just told you I was struggling and you go and say shit like that. I’m gonna hang up on you now.”

He doesn’t. We ended up talking for two hours about his game, his parents, and his sister. I learn his middle name is Maddox, that he peed the bed until he was seven, and he hates eggs. I tell him a few things about myself. My middle name is Nicole, I have a strange obsession with organizing my clothes by color, and I hate fish of any kind. And olives.

“That’s all great information, but what are you wearing?” he asks after telling me he’s back in his apartment.

I snort again. “You’re kinda nosey.”

“You’re in my bed going through my nightstand and you’re calling me nosey?”

“True. I’m wearing a T-shirt I found in your closet.”

“Hmmm.” I love the way his voice rattles with the sound of the hum. “Now I need a picture.”

So I snap one and send it, not even bothering to look at it. “There. How’s that?”

“Let me look.” And then he laughs. “It’s of my headboard and your forehead.”

“Damn it. Hold on.” This time I actually position it to get my face and a little peek at my chest. “How’s that?”

There’s a slight pause and then a sigh. “Much better. Damn. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Strangely enough.”

He sighs again. “This is strange, isn’t it?”

“The attachment?” I hedge, hoping we’re on the same page.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Why am I so comfortable around you? Why is this so easy? You’d think after everything you’ve been through, this wouldn’t be.”

“I know what you mean.” I shift in his bed and roll to the side to stare out the window. It’s cracked, a cool breeze drifting into the room, and I feel bad that the heat is on and I opened the window but I love the sound of the rain. “It shouldn’t be easy but every thought I have that’s bad, I think of you and smile.”

“You’re certainly all I think about lately.”

I’d already had sex with Evan in my head, even though he doesn’t know that, but anytime I think about the scary parts of all this and the attachment, I replace the scary ones with thoughts of Evan. I wasn’t about to tell him but I’ve already pictured what he looks like naked, and the thoughts have been surfacing since he helped me bathe that night in the hospital.

Call me crazy, and I have no idea why he’s actually flirting with me, but there’s a good part of me that hopes eventually it will turn into more. The memories I do have of anything sexual with Josh—my high school boyfriend—don’t come close to what I want Evan to do to me. It’s like this hockey player has taken over my mind and jumbled it with dirty thoughts.

Before I came to Chicago, I had one boyfriend growing up, Josh, and we never had sex, 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 got the phone call about my family when we were at the beach, and it just never happened. Then the attack, and well, I have no memory of it, but I know what was taken from me.

“I should let you get some sleep,” Evan suggests, another door closing.

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, just before hanging up.

After I end the call with Evan, I lie in his bed thinking of him, wondering if all this is too soon. Am I just pushing myself into something because I feel like it’s the right thing to do?

What if I’m just a phase for him?

I can’t see that being the case. I’ve always been a pretty good judge of character and this guy, he’s all heart.

I get a text from Evan first thing the next morning before his morning skate. They’re back in Chicago and set to play the Edmonton Oilers, a team he isn’t sure how they’ll fair against. I distract him by telling him that his sheets now smell like me.

Mase: So you’re still in my bed?

I have to laugh. He can’t let it go.

Me:Nope. In your shower.

There’s no reply for a good forty-five minutes.

Eventually, I get a response but he avoids the topic of the shower and his bed. I gather it’s because he has a game tonight and he’s trying to stay focused.

He does send me a selfie of him on the ice, in full gear, and I save it to the phone so when he calls the next time it will pop up with that picture. I stare at the image for the longest time, committing to memory the details of his beautiful face. I notice he has another black eye, which is probably a daily occurrence for him.

He continues to send me texts the rest of the day. Apparently, Leo gets the phone number too and has caught on to his texting and sends me a picture of Evan scowling, his arm stretched out like he’s trying to get his phone back. The next one he sends is of Evan hunched over on the plane reading a message on his phone.

Leo: Look at him all happy. He has no idea what’s going on. Stupid fuck is clueless.

I can’t wait to meet Leo. He seems really cool and is already giving me loads of information about hockey and terms to use. The next text is:

Leo: Your boy had a nice pole drag in the third period and stuffed the puck in the net to win it for us. I love him. Seriously, I think I’m in love with him.

My boy? I have no idea what pole drag means. I assume it’s a trick or something.

Evan ends up calling me before the game when they’re in the locker room, laughter and loud catcalls ring throughout the room as the boys tease Evan about calling me. He doesn’t seem to mind at all and plays along.

“Sorry Leo got your number.”

“That’s okay.” I laugh, grabbing a sweatshirt out of my bag. We’re getting ready to watch the game and I want to be nice and warm. “He’s funny.”

“Until he’s not and offensive.”

“Honestly, Evan, it’s fine,” I assure him.

“Okay, well, if he gets to be too much, just let me know and I’ll tell him to lay off.”

“I will.”

“Are you guys watching the game?”

“Yep. Your mom got pizza and wings from some place she said you love.”

He groans and instantly desire shoots through my entire body like a bolt of electricity. Holy crap. “I’m so jealous right now. She got them from Lyndora Hotel, didn’t she?”

“I think, but I’m not sure.”

He sighs into the phone and I can hear the laughter and noise getting louder. “I gotta go. Talk to you after the game?”

“Yeah. I’ll stay up. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

And then the phone disconnects. I stare at the screen, wishing I was there with him. I want to feel that energy you get at a live sports event again.

We’re just sitting down to watch the game when Evan’s grandmother comes in. I only know it’s his grandmother because his dad tells me. “Watch out for Granny B,” he warns, giving me a soft smile. “The lady is off her fucking rocker. She had a stroke a few years back and I don’t know. She’s nuts now. Or maybe she was all along.”

I have to bite back a laugh by covering my mouth as his dad watches his mother-in-law in the rocking chair near the window, her foamy Chicago Blackhawks finger in her hand and wearing her Masen #5 jersey. Before she sits down, she looks at me as if I’m a fan in the stands. “It’s a great day for a ball game!”

Sam smiles and hands me a plate with a piece of pizza and a pile of wings like I’m going to eat all that. “See what I mean?”

Sitting around the television with his family and their friends, I feel like I’m part of this tight-knit circle already. They’re totally welcoming, make conversation, ask things like how long Evan and I’ve been dating and if I enjoy watching him.

“Oh, we’re not dating. We’re friends,” I tell the neighbor across the street who’s elbow deep into wings, the red sauce covering his fingers and lips.

He licks sauce from his fingers. “I thought I heard on the news you two were dating.”

“No, just friends.” Sadly. Geez. What am I thinking?

“He’s a great guy,” the guy notes, eyes on the television.

I wonder how many people in this town think we’re dating? Or all over the world. Evan is a well-known athlete and now everything thinks we’re dating? And weirdly enough, I’m not bummed out by it.

I’ll tell you one thing. Evan is way more aggressive this game than he was the last. Within the first two minutes on the ice, he’s in the penalty box because one of the Oilers players checked Leo into the boards pretty hard.

“Evan is powerful, both physically and emotionally. My ‘all heart and no head’ boy.” Judy laughs, sticking close by me during the game, explaining Evan’s actions as to why he’s defending Leo. “I always tell him he’s that way because I had him on Valentine’s Day.”

I smile at Judy. “My brother was born on Valentine’s Day, too. They were the same age.” I didn’t tell Evan that night he told me it was his birthday because I didn’t want to turn the conversation sad, or make it about my brother, but I love that they were born on the same day.

She gives me a tender smile of her own, as if to apologize for bringing it up. “I’m sorry, dear, but that just gave me chills.”

“It’s crazy, right?”

“You gotta make those catches!” Granny B yells at the television, tossing her foamy finger when the Oilers score.

Granny B, she’s... interesting, to say the least. I understand why she’s living with them because if not for them, someone would have had that woman committed to a mental hospital. And it’s not even from the stroke. I guess she’s always been nuts.

The Blackhawks end up losing to the Oilers, but Evan’s mood remains unfazed when he calls me an hour after the game.

“I think you spent more time in the penalty box than on the ice,” I tease, walking back to his room.

“I usually do. Hey—” He pauses and then sighs. “Do you wanna come to the Friday night game? It’s a home game. I think my parents were planning on coming.”

Panic rushes through me. I’d have to fly. “I… would love to see a game but I can’t get on a plane, Evan.” Not only can I not fly due to my head injury, I fear it. The thought of getting on a plane makes me break out in hives. Quite literally. Look at me scratching my neck like I have a rash already.

“Yeah, I didn’t think about that. I’ll come get you.”

Just like that. He’d drop everything and drive seven hours to get me? Who is this guy? “Evan, you really don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I want to.”

When he left me here a few days ago, he left his car at the airport, so that made traveling a little easier.

“Okay, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yep. Sweet dreams.” And then he hangs up, leaving me with both excitement and anticipation that I’ll see him again so soon. But then I think about him leaving again and me staying here. Without him. I love it here, but I hate being isolated away from him. I want to get to know him more and that leaves me wishing I was closer to him.

I also don’t want the Masen family to think I’m living off them. I need to be back in the city, looking for a job and moving on with my life.