Delayed Penalty by Shey Stahl

27. Breakaway

When a player has possession of the puck and no defenders other than the goalie between him and the opposing goal.

Evan

“You know, when you two get married, you should do it at the United Center and then when you say I do, they could play ‘Chelsea Dagger’ and throw hats on the ice and—”

“Catelyn!” I finally cut her off. “Stop that.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles, sufficiently chastised.

My dad glares at me. “You don’t have to yell at her.”

Ami gives me a look like I shouldn’t have shouted at my sister. “She’s practically planning our wedding,” I point out. “She needs to stop.”

“Oh, she’s just talking.” Ami hands me a hot dog from the grill. “There are no plans.”

We’re outside having a family barbecue, more than likely the last one before training camp starts and here my sister is trying to plan a wedding. Not that I mind. I just don’t want my sister planning it before Ami’s ready for something like that. “There might be eventually,” I hint, adjusting my hat and then sitting down at the picnic table next to her. “And they should be our plans.” I kiss her cheek. “Not my sister’s.”

Ami grins and relaxes against me, as if the thought isn’t far from her mind. It makes me smile too, knowing she’s thinking that way. “Someday,” she repeats, scooting closer.

The thought of Ami and I getting married someday is something I’ve entertained a few times, but neither of us are ready for that. Eventually, maybe even next year, or the year after, but there’s no rush. Neither one of us is going anywhere. I love her. She loves me. That’s all that matters.

Truth be told, I’m not the same guy I was when I met Ami. And this might be a shocker for some, I don’t regret how I reacted when I found out it was Dave. I would do it again, even if it ended my career. She’s worth it. Retribution is worth it.

At the same time, that night changed me.

What Ami went through paled in comparison to anything I’ve ever done. On top of all that shit with her family, she was welcomed to Chicago in a very brutal way, and still, she moved on with the carefree soul and starry eyes I love.

And then she met me, and I saw how much of herself she gave me. She gave me every little piece of herself, unconditionally. As if to say, “I’m gonna fall for this one anyways.”

How did Ami change me? My perspective for one thing. So what if you’re stuck in traffic or you lock yourself out of the car? So what if you miss the penalty shot in a playoff game?

Didn’t happen to me, by the way. I rocked that motherfucker. But what I’m getting at is there are worse things that can happen to you. There are worse things in life to be bent over.

Ami, she changed that perspective for me

What I realized, what I live for now, is the bond.

No bond is greater than the ones you’ll bleed for.

I will bleed for this girl, and I will lay everything on the line and cross any line to protect her.

Up until I met her, hockey owned me. Good or bad, it gave me gratification in return. It gave me the adrenaline I needed, the joy, the love, and the thrill of victory.

Then I fell in love with Ami Sutton.

She showed me a side of myself I didn’t know was there.

Remy catches my attention when he wraps his arm around my sister. “Hey, kid. There grass on the field yet?”

I might not be planning a wedding anytime soon but Remy’s parents will be planning his funeral.

After the barbecue, Ami and I walk through my childhood neighborhood, hand-in-hand, laughing at all the crazy shit I did in this city as a kid.

“You were a bad child, weren’t you?”

I bump my shoulder into hers. “Nah, just wild.”

“I believe that.” She smiles. “I was the perfect child. Obedient… did my chores. I was so good.”

I grin. “That was before you met me and started going to restaurants half dressed.”

Her laughter catches against my shoulder as she curls herself into me. “I still can’t believe I did that.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining. That was hot as hell.”

Ami points up the street to where there is a group of kids playing in the street. “I bet that was you, huh?”

“Back when I was their age, yup. Every single night until my mom dragged me inside. And then I’d be pissed she made me come inside.”

Watching the kids, I’m reminded of my time spent on these streets. Fingers numb, noses running, each game back then played with a face off and we didn’t stop. Fast paced, we played to play. Nothing mattered when we were that age. Steady laughter, hacking shots, we would hide ourselves out there until we couldn’t see the light of day anymore. And then we’d play some more until our moms came calling. We were just kids, but you couldn’t tell us that. We thought we were the shit.

I laugh when I notice one wearing a Penguins jersey, and one little guy, who looks to be on defense, is wearing a Blackhawks number five jersey. Instinctively, I smile. I never thought I’d be here, seeing this, and have the girl too.

“Oh my gosh! He’s adorable,” Ami says, laughing when he scores and begins his victory dance, similar to the Stanley Cup dance I did. Minus the strip tease. I know I said I didn’t strip but to be honest, I was skating around in just compression pants before I knew it. There’s pictures to prove it.

I stop to watch them, smiling. “Shit has changed since then.” The kids push the puck around the street, all yelling out plays and screaming. Ami snuggles against my side, her arm linked in mine. “But to those kids, that street, it remains untouched, unchanged, a link to a time and place that will always remind them of the game.”

“It’s beautiful to witness,” she says, intently watching with me. “Do you miss it?”

“Yeah, I do. Sometimes.”

My arms loosen around her and she lifts her head from my shoulder, easing back far enough that I’m able to look down at her. I’m about to kiss her on the street as the sun sinks down in the sky until I hear the boys screaming.

“It’s him! It is him! Mase!” A thunder of eager footsteps follow as they run toward us. “Can we get your autograph?” They swarm around us.

I look back at Ami. She smiles, as if she’s excited to see this.

“You bet,” I tell them, kneeling down. I sign their sticks for them, all leaving with the satisfaction they got their hero’s signature. At least I hope that’s what they left with.

I never thought of myself as a hero, but when I look at Ami, to her, I am a hero in a sense. She would have died if it wasn’t for me.

I am a bit of a hero when you think about it.