Delayed Penalty by Shey Stahl

23. Delay of Game

This happens when a player deliberately causes a stoppage of play. Player is penalized with a minor penalty.

Evan

Nightmares.

I’ve been having them for months, so has Ami, regardless of what she leads me to believe.

When I close my eyes, I see white snow splashed with red, and a girl, my girl, broken. Only now, those nightmares have a face with them, and he’s my friend. He was my fucking friend, someone I trusted, someone who I never imagined could do something so horrific to another person. Then in the nightmares, Ami is there, screaming, begging, blood pouring from her, handing me her broken heart. When I take it from her, she runs away from me, leaving me holding her heart. As sick as it is, it’s a dream I have often.

With a jolt, I’m awake, gasping. That’s when the pain returns. My shoulder and hand are both screaming in agony.

Rubbing my face, I notice Ami isn’t in the bed. Immediately, I jump up and search the room, terrified she’s gone.

“Ami?” I call out, only to be met with silence.

Scrambling from the bed, I notice the bathroom door is cracked. I listen at the door and hear the shower and crying.

Rushing in there, I find her on the floor of the shower in a fetal position, her arms wrapped around her knees, crying.

I peek my head inside the shower. “Are you okay?”

She doesn’t answer me, nor does she look up.

The vision reappears, the one of her covered in blood in the snow, followed quickly by the one of her in that bed, tubes and wires connected to her, and then finally the one of Dave. My hands and body are shaking, begging to release the anger that consumes me, but there’s a bigger picture here: the girl.

Without thinking, I get into the shower with her. I’m not paying attention to the fact that I’ve soaked the splint on my hand or that I have stitches on my face I’m not supposed to get wet. I care about nothing other than her. “Baby, it’s okay.” I press my lips into her hair. She moves, crawling into my lap as I sit on the floor of the steaming shower in my underwear, rocking us back and forth. I have absolutely no idea if I’m helping her, but fuck, I’m trying.

Tonight is the first real breakdown I’ve seen from her since the attack. As horrifying as it is to watch, I’m surprised it’s taken as long as it did. Still, the anger and emotion builds inside me and brings a wave of tears I have no intention of letting her see. I turn my head, thankful for the water masking the emotions.

Ami lifts her head and stares at me, those starry blues so sad.

“When I was out of it, I remembered a voice. I remember being drawn to it. Calming, soothing, and telling me to fight, holding my hand when no one else was there to hold it. I fought for you…,” she says through tears, and I have to swallow back my own. “I knew who’d been by my side when you walked into my room that day.” She touches my face and my chin quivers. “Because of you, I fought to survive.” Sighing, she takes in my face, the bruises, the evidence I’d defended her, and blinks slowly. “I’m sorry I got you in the middle of this.”

I shake my head and pull her closer. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

She doesn’t. Not ever.

When I wake up the next morning, the fight is all over every news broadcasting station, NHL site, and all the social media websites. There’s no hiding from it. Dave was arrested an hour following the game while still in the hospital. The NHL suspends both of us for the remainder of the current series as I’m slapped with an intent to injure penalty, but pending a review, might be allowed to play in the next round given the circumstances and because Dave dropped his gloves first.

Apparently. I don’t remember any of it, honestly. I don’t remember half the shit that happened leading up to the fight either. It’s like my memory is going blank.

And as luck would have it, there’s a message on my phone the next morning from Detective Paulson. The DNA came back a match. It would more than likely be months before everything is final and he’s officially charged with anything, but the fact that we finally know is a relief.

Turns out when news breaks this morning on every major news station, three more women come forward and say they’ve been raped by him too.

Who knows if it’s true or not. Given his status, some people will say it just for the money. And then I find out about Callie, and it’s no longer a theory on money. Dave really is a piece of shit.

I meet Leo in the lobby of the hotel as Ami sleeps a little while longer.

“You look like shit,” he tells me, handing me a black coffee.

“So do you,” I note, sitting on a bench outside, the early morning California sun beating down on us.

“I saw him last night.”

“When?”

“After we came back here, I went to back the hospital before he was arrested.”

I stare at him. “Why?”

“I needed to know why he did it.”

I’ve never seen Leo worked up about much but knowing this is killing him. “And he said?”

Leo lets out an annoyed snort. “He said Callie needed to be knocked down a peg or two and Ami…” Leo’s eyes narrow. “She’d blown him off when he asked her to have a drink with him. I guess that was his revenge.”

Pain hits my chest like I’ve been stabbed. I figured it was something like that.

For the first time in my life, I can’t play hockey.

I’m pissed about being suspended and I only have myself to blame. Had I handled the situation more level-headed and maturely, I’d still be playing, but I didn’t.

One by one, the games go by. Some are easier than others, like the ones we win, but when we lose, I know I’m to blame.

Ami tries everything to get me to cheer up, but I’m hung up on it pretty bad.

And to my surprise, as the series comes to an end and we’re back in Chicago, she tries to get me to have sex with her.

“It’s a good distraction, yes?” she says, walking into my room completely naked.

I take in the beautiful sight of her bare to me. Smiling, I shake my head. “That’s not exactly the distraction I need.”

“Why not?” She comes closer and sits on the bed.

Unable to keep my hands off her, I pull her into the bed with me, holding her firmly against my chest. I press my lips to her temple. “Because. A lot has happened to you in a short amount of time. It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay for us to struggle a little,” I explain, sounding a bit exasperated. “It’s okay to need a minute to reset and just be together, without expectations. It’s just me. Just you and me, and if you don’t want that, I need to know. Don’t think you have to—”

Her kiss cuts me off. “I’m okay with taking a minute. As long as I’m with you.”

That I can’t complain about.