Delayed Penalty by Shey Stahl

8. Blind Pass

To pass the puck without looking.

Evan

The days fly by and believe it or not, Ami is a week shy of getting released, but they say she needs to have supervision. She can’t live alone. And I’m all about her not living with Blake again.

I’m really not sure how it happens, or I am and don’t want to admit it, but somehow my mom finds out, comes to the hospital, and talks Ami into staying with her for a few weeks. Ami is so carefree and loveable she agrees right away. Or she likes me enough to stay with my family.

Leo thinks it’s weird and she might be a stalker if I’m not careful, but I don’t see it that way. I’m more concerned that Ami agreed so easily.

“What were you thinking?” I ask my mom when I see her outside Ami’s room the afternoon she convinced her of this. She flew to Chicago the second she knew she was needed. I’m not even upset about it, just confused as to how it happened so fast.

My mom smiles, shifting her purse from one shoulder to the other. Though my words are accusing, maybe appearing as if I’m upset, I’m not. My mom does shit like this all the time. When I was playing in the Major Juniors, she was constantly letting guys who were recently traded to my team stay with us. She likes helping people. You can see where I get it from, can’t you?

“Evan, that girl needs you and she needs someone to watch over her. You can’t do that all the time, and I want her to feel like if she needs a mother around, I’ll be there.”

Naturally, I can’t argue with her. Ami has been through something traumatic, and not just losing her family but the attack too.

“Now, if you excuse me, I have a flight to catch, and your dad is trying to convince me to sneak a Chicago dog onto the plane for him. I’ll see you in a week?”

“Yes.” I laugh, hug her, and say our goodbyes.

I wait outside Ami’s room before going in. What the hell do I do now? I didn’t think Ami would go for it, but it’s like my mom brainwashed her or something because ordinarily someone wouldn’t want to go home with someone they don’t know.

As soon as I go inside, Ami lays into me. “You sneaky bitch.”

“Why am I a bitch?” I laugh, unable to keep the grin from my face.

“Your mom is way too convincing.”

I sit down in the chair next to her. “Sorry about that.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Are you really?”

“No.” I grin. “But I can’t have you living with Blake and his wife again.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Is that why I don’t have any other visitors? Did you put a sign on the door that said only Evan Masen is allowed in here?” Playfully, she peeks around me toward the door.

“No, but that’s a great idea.” I wink, smiling brighter. Then I pull out a pack of Skittles I snuck in for her. “Forgive me?”

“Fine. But…” She takes the Skittles but then holds up a piece of paper. I’m pretty sure I know what’s on it. Fuck. I’m caught. “You did not have to do that,” she says, her brows pulling together in annoyance. “I didn’t ask you to pay for them.”

“I know you didn’t. I wanted to.” Part of me feels like an asshole for not asking her and assuming she’d be okay with it. The other part doesn’t care. “What’s the use in having money if you can’t take care of people in need?”

“Evan.” I hate the dejection in her voice. It sends a sharp pain to my chest. “I didn’t need you to take care of it.”

Fuck. I don’t even think when I say, “Yes, you did.” I point out, “You don’t have medical insurance and those bills were over a hundred grand. You need to focus on recovering, not how you’re going to pay for the damage someone else did to you.”

She frowns and places her palms on her face. “I feel worse now.”

I sit next to her. “I didn’t do it to make you feel bad, or want you to think that you owe me something. I did it because I wanted to help.”

Her hardened expression softens. “Fine. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I smile, barely able to keep the grin at bay. “Now, let’s talk about how you repay me.”

Her eyes widen.

I hold up my hand. “I’m kidding. You don’t have to pay me back.”

“Good, because I’m pretty sure I’m broke. I didn’t get much off the sale of my parents’ house after paying for their funerals. I used the rest of my money moving here.”

“Then it’s settled. Your payback will be being my friend.”

Another smile cracks her lips. “Since we’re friends, can you give me a bath?”

Now it’s my turn to widen my eyes. “What?” My voice fucking cracks.

“I’m serious. I need to wash myself and can’t take a shower yet.”

If you could hear my heart beating right about now, you’d be laughing that a professional athlete would react like this. “What about that nurse who’s been helping you?”

“She’s weird, Evan. I don’t want her in the bathroom with me eyeing my goods. Will you wash my back? That’s all I’m asking for.” She senses my hesitation right away. “Listen, it’s not like I’m asking you to give me a rub down. I just need help around the bandages on my back.”

Sighing, I help her stand up and lead her into the small bathroom attached to the room. I don’t know where the hell her nurse is, but fuck if I don’t want to be the guy who gives her a bath. It’s probably inappropriate to do so, but when she drops the robe, I give in. “Okay, I’ll help.”

She laughs. “Thought so.” Her arms cover her front as she hunches over the tub.

Friends do this, right?

Since I brought her in, I’ve already seen her naked for the most part. I mean, I didn’t look, but I saw things I probably shouldn’t have. Like that she definitely has a dancer’s build, long, lean muscles and a small frame, but she’s shorter than I initially thought.

No longer bruised, her skin, still milky white, is smooth and innocent and fucking tempting.

I want to run my lips along her shoulder blade and press a kiss into the back of her neck. I want to hold her to my chest and whisper that I’ll take care of her, no matter what, when I don’t know if I can keep a promise like that, let alone mean it. I’m officially a pervert. Look at me eyeing this girl.

I should have stopped there and got the nurse before actually putting my hands on her, but I don’t and I know it will fuck me later.

“Don’t be afraid to touch me,” she says, sighing as I haven’t washed her back yet. “I trust you.”

Afraid? More like terrified. The problem, I’m not so sure I trust myself.

There’s a sponge sitting on the edge of the small tub, so I reach for that. I can’t see everything, but my male hormones are filling in the blanks nicely. I imagine what the curve of her breasts look like and how her ass might feel in my hands.

It’s hard. Speaking of hard. Fuck.

Taking a deep breath, I stick the sponge under the running water, checking the temperature. I soak it and then bring it to her back. My touch is stiff at first, taken by surprise that she would want, let alone trust me, to do this for her.

After a moment, I notice her inhale and take a deep, relaxing breath. All my motions feel tight and shaky. I can barely hold the fucking sponge steady. The further I go, the stiffer I become, and I’m frustrated that I can’t get my shit together.

All she asked me to do was wash her back around the gauze. Once I’m finished, I stand quickly, wanting to get the hell out of that bathroom before I do something stupid.

“Thank you,” she says over her shoulder, keeping her arms wrapped around her chest, the robe pooling around her waist.

I give a response, probably a nod—I’m not really sure—and leave the room to wait outside.

Ami is in there another ten minutes as she finishes washing the areas she can reach on her own, and I sit in her room, thinking.

Not good thoughts either. Dirty thoughts I have no business thinking.

When she finally comes out, the stubble of blonde hair on her head is wet, her skin’s pink and she seems relaxed. “I feel better,” she says as she passes me to get back into her bed. I help her adjust the blankets and then kiss her forehead. Yeah, not cool, but I do it. “I gotta go. I’m leaving for Dallas in the morning.”

Her cheeks, warmer now, speak for her. She either liked the kiss or she is about to knock some sense into me. “Thanks... for your help. It’s nice to have someone to trust.”

“Anytime.”

“Will you be back soon?”

“Couple days.”

She lifts a hand. “Okay, see you soon.”

With a tight nod, I leave, knowing I’m fucked.

Ami’s young, only two years younger than me but she’s innocent. She doesn’t need an overly aggressive hockey player wanting her in ways hockey players want women. We want someone who can match our adrenaline.

Sadly, I’m left wondering what she really thinks of me and if she wants something more than a friendship eventually.

Game 58 – Dallas Stars

February

I can’t get Ami out of my head. Like you’re surprised by that one bit.

I lie there in a hotel bed in Dallas, thinking of her and getting pissed off that I am. All that gets me is no sleep and a lot of time in the gym. I get in better shape, sure, but I also never sleep. That isn’t good for me considering the focus I need on the ice.

The worst part is I know I shouldn’t have helped her take that bath at the hospital the other night, and now I have all these naked images of her in my brain. The perverted part wants to see more. A lot more. My first mistake and lack of judgment I blame on the sleep-deprived state I’m in after the game in Dallas.

Second mistake?

Going to the hospital after getting back into town, still high on adrenaline.

Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline, but I always find myself amped after a game and well... horny. Not sure why, but it’s always been that way for me ever since my junior hockey days when hormones started.

When I get to the hospital that night, Ami is a ball of energy and so fucking happy to see me. Within minutes of being in the room, she leans into where I’m sitting and I lean in too. Next thing I know, my lips are on hers, like it’s the natural thing to do.

She surprises me after the kiss when she leans her forehead into mine and smiles. Her eyes flutter closed the instant my mouth finds hers again and I move closer. Not sure how it happens, but I’m in the bed with her and she’s curled into my side seconds later. We’re making out but it’s not rushed. It’s exploring one another, gentle, reassuring touches.

Though it’s hard for me and I’d give just about anything to lay her flat on her back and fuck her, I push those thoughts aside because they have no room here. This is everything I didn’t know I needed from her. A reassurance that there’s something between us and it’s mutual. Wanted. Needed.

This kiss isn’t rushed. I’m able to feel her soft skin and mouth melding with mine, consuming me. Slowly, we let the kiss develop, unhurried as it deepens. I don’t push or use my hands, but I do increase the pressure, letting her know I want it.

Fuck yeah, I want it.

Eventually I pull back, wondering if she’s going to slap the shit out of me, but then she smiles instead of knocking me out. That’s cool. I can work with that.

“That’s an interesting way of saying hello.” Her smile, God, that fucking smile, makes me want to kiss her again.

“Sorry,” I say, creating a few inches of space. “I think I’ve been wanting to do that longer than I realize.”

“It’s okay.” She fidgets for a moment and smiles up at me again. “I didn’t say it was bad.”

“Good.”

She laughs, a nervousness still there. “How was the game? I don’t see any new bruises.”

“Surprisingly tame. I danced a few times, but not much.”

“Danced? What does that mean?”

“Fight.”

“Oh, that’s clever.” Her smile widens. “I bet there’s all kinds of terms I don’t know.”

I take her hand in mine. “Wanna come to a game sometime?”

“I do,” she says, way more enthusiastic than I would have thought she’d show. “I’m really excited. But, tickets are probably really expensive, huh?”

“Oh, probably.” I grin. “It’s a good thing you’re friends with a hockey player.”

“True.” There’s a new flush to her cheeks I can’t ignore when she looks at our hands intertwined.

I can’t help but wonder what this means.

Game 60 – Atlanta Thrashers

Valentine’s day - Home game

Two days later, Valentine’s Day, I find myself on home ice again. Times like this are my favorite to practice. I don’t mind the practices when fans watch, but empty ice is my favorite. It clears my head.

I set the music to whatever I want. The boys aren’t here yet, so it leaves me some time to just skate and play the puck. I’m not forced into drills and repetition of different shots. I can skate and clear my head.

That’s when Ami comes into my mind. It’s my twenty-first birthday today and all I can think about is her and wishing I was spending it with her. If I close my eyes, I can see Ami and picture that kiss and those pretty fucking starry eyes.

Fuck. Stop thinking about her.

With an easy pace on the ice, building speed as I round the corner, I then snag a puck. I bring it to the end of my stick and balance it there before juggling it and slapping it into the net like a baseball player would.

Then I think of Ami again.

Damn it.

Thankfully, the guys make their way on the ice and our morning practice starts.

Pushing pucks around, we slap them at the net. Fans are there this morning watching. A young girl, maybe twelve, stands next to the glass trying to take a picture of Leo so I stick my stick in the way.

She glares and then looks toward me, a leveling glare that gives way to a smile. Flushed cheeks appear so I smile in return and hit the glass with my shoulder and skate away, knowing that simple interaction makes that girl’s day.

“Jailbait,” Remy chirps when I pass by and then makes a siren sound.

“How are you and the ballerina doin’?” Dave asks, taking a shot at Leo with his stick when he comes by.

“She’s being released soon,” I tell him, circling a puck and then flipping it up onto my stick. “So I guess that’s good.”

“Does she remember anything?” Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Remy and Cage shoving each other and then Leo getting in the middle of it.

Dave has always been the one on the team who makes sure the guys are okay. If you’re sick or running behind on the ice, he’ll sit you down and ask what the problem is. He’s always sort of the team psychologist. All of us feel 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 attitude had changed on and off the ice. So I confided in Dave, and Leo, but that bit me in the ass, as you know.

“No. Nothing from that night.”

“Glad she’s getting better, man. We were all pulling for her. Oh, and happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“Have they heard anything on who did it?”

I look over at him and he’s still watching Remy and Cage. “No, not yet. Questioned some people but as far as I know, nothing.”

“Well, I’m pullin’ for you guys.” He gives me a wink and then Leo comes back by, and Dave takes off to send him flying into the boards.

Same shit, different day.

The game against Atlanta is intense, probably because Leo is getting into every other play with Atlanta’s center. That’s when their center gives a low hit on Leo and throws him down hard into the boards.

Leo immediately jumps to his feet and chases after him. Apparently, he isn’t having any of it and shoves the center against the boards, giving him a few words. Leo is smaller than me and most defensemen. He’s your average size for any center, but he can give it when needed. Tonight he gives it.

I’ve never gotten along with Atlanta’s center, Joel Sadler. We played in the Major Juniors together.

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

Joel takes another cheap shot at Leo on the face-off and pops him in the mouth with his stick when the ref returns.

I chew on my mouth guard, racking up minutes in the box when a girl taps on the glass. I give her a nod but not much else. She does it again and I use my water bottle to squirt water at the glass, but I don’t look at her. I guarantee you that small interaction she got from me is the highlight of her night. Not mine though. My attention is on the ice and how I’m going to let Joel know that even though he got away with it this time, that’s going to end soon.

Bottom line is, if someone picks on our boys, like they are doing tonight, I’m gonna lay their ass out. Funny enough, I started out playing goalie in hockey 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 think I love to fight. And I won’t necessarily disagree with them, but do I like fighting?

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

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

Most wonder how we fight. How do we let the guy know we want to fight? Well, it’s as simple as dropping your gloves. There are times when I resist and tell them, “Hey, pick up your fucking gloves, you pussy. I’m not fighting you.”

Other times, no words are exchanged. You simply grab their shoulders, slash their stick, push them from behind, a glove to the face, all effective ways of letting them know you’re ready for them and guaranteed to piss them off.

And that’s exactly what I do to Joel. I take him by the fucking shoulders and slam him to the ground. “How’s that for a cheap shot?”

He smiles, knowing damn well what it’s about.

Retribution.

We end up winning against Atlanta and I spent most of it in the penalty box, but then we’re off to Ohio, and then we’ll have a break for a week.

I spend my twenty-first birthday on a plane, sleeping next to Leo, on our way home. Feeling pretty good, on that adrenaline again, I go straight to the hospital to see Ami.

This time she’s asleep. It’s late, and part of me is relieved. A little drunk and after a win, I’m not sure what I would have done had she been awake. Kiss her again, probably. Instead, I write her a note next to the key chain of a ballerina I’d picked up for her at the airport. Eventually I leave, but not before watching her sleep for a while.

She’s so peaceful. Her cheeks are red, her blankets bunched up near her face like she’s cold. Reaching for another blanket in the closet, I situate that one on her to add to the mountain of blankets she always has. She likes to be warm.

I leave after that and go back home to celebrate the rest of my birthday with Leo, Dave, and Remy. Bad idea. I never can stay out of trouble with them and end the night, or shall I say morning, in the hallway outside my condo in my underwear, curled up with a bottle of gin.

Couldn’t even make it in the fucking door.

During our break in the schedule, from the time we play the Blue Jackets to the time we are set to play the Islanders, I get to know Ami even more. It’s days before her release but I love every minute spent with her. I keep my hands and my lips to myself. It’s better that way, as she doesn’t need me confusing her, but it’s nice to talk to a girl who doesn’t care that I’m a hockey player.

Even though she struggles with a few infections, Ami is slowly coming around and making a full recovery. The doctors assure us there won’t be any lasting effects on her, and even though she had some internal injuries from the guy being so forceful with her, she will be able to resume sexual activity if she chooses to.

The fact that she will be okay has me hopeful. The fact that they mention sexual activity while I’m in the room, assuming we are together, makes me slightly uncomfortable.

Ami doesn’t seem one bit fazed by it.

They even have a counselor come in and talk with her about her situation, being a rape victim. They describe 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. Will she ever have a normal relationship again? Will she want to?

These are all things I want to ask but don’t. It makes me almost feel bad for kissing her. What if that made her feel powerless?

Regardless of what I think or fear, I go off how Ami reacts. Never has she shown any hesitation with our friendship, or flirting, or even that kiss. For a guy like me, those are all signs that indicate she’s okay with it. Knowing the side of Ami that I do, if she didn’t want me to kiss her, she would certainly tell me.

The day she is released, Monday, marks nearly ten weeks spent in the hospital. She’s happy to be released. In fact, she’s so happy she calls Wendy and makes her drive in to say goodbye to her.

I stand awkwardly in the hall, wondering if everyone in this hospital thinks I’m crazy for doing this. They eventually found out she wasn’t my girlfriend, but they probably knew at that point it didn’t matter. As far as I was concerned, this girl is mine.

And I’m terrified to think that because she doesn’t need that in her life.

Wendy catches me alone while Ami is going through her discharge paperwork. “She doesn’t like to sleep alone and hates to be cold.”

I nod, burying my hands in my pockets. “Okay.”

“Are you sure about this?”

I shrug one shoulder. “Not really, but I don’t want her staying with Blake.” It’s not even that I’m nervous to have her with my family. It’s that I’m worried about what she’ll think. Is she going to be freaked out by it all?

Wendy smiles, hugs me, and then pats my shoulder. “She really likes you.”

I’m so far past the like stage it’s crazy.

I spot Ami outside her room with a huge grin. “I’m free!” she announces, holding her paperwork up in the air like she just got her diploma.

I high-five her, fighting the urge to scoop her up in my arms and carry her out bridal style. “Road trip.”

“I’m literally so excited.” And she is. She practically skips out of the hospital. Okay, she’s wheeled out in a chair but still, she’s so excited she can barely sit still.

First thing she makes me do is stop and get her a hamburger.

As we sit in the parking lot of a roadside hamburger stand, I glance back at her only bag Blake dropped off for her. “That’s all you have?”

Her lips wrap around the plastic straw of her milkshake and I have to look away. “I travel light.”

I stare out the windshield. “Did you leave most of your stuff in Oregon?”

She nods, picking at her fries. “Yeah. At my aunt’s house. I took just enough to get by. Wanted to start a new life with no reminders of my past.”

I stare out the windshield, thinking about what she said.

She’s not off to a great start, is she? Hopefully I can change that for her.

We drive seven hours from Chicago to Pittsburgh because Ami doesn’t want to fly. That I understand, and it’s a fun drive too. We take my new Audi and the seat heaters are her best friend. She likes to be warm after all. Not only does she have her seat heater on full blast, but she also has the heat cranked all the way up. I’m dying. Half the trip I have my damn head out the window, trying not to burn alive in my own car.

When we get to my parents’ house in Pittsburgh, I know it’s going to take everything I have to leave her here. I know she’s in good hands, I do, but it isn’t just minutes away like she was at the hospital. Now she’s a few states away.

We sit outside talking about my last game when every so often Catelyn will peak her head out the door and then throw her arms up, as if her patience is running thin.

“I think she wants us to come inside,” Ami notes, laughing.

“I’m gonna make her hold out a little longer,” I tease, winking at her in the darkness.

Ami’s met my mom but not my dad and sister yet. They’re both excited to meet the girl who’s captivated their hockey-headed son and brother.

If you knew me before Ami, you’d understand my life was hockey. I didn’t date. I had sex, 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.

Now that’s changed. I’ve brought a girl home in a way.

I hand Ami the cell phone I bought her. “Here, I programmed my number in case you need to get in touch with me. We can Facetime or text. Whatever you want to feel more comfortable.”

“Oh, right. I lost my phone that night.” Ami hesitates for a moment and then takes the phone. “Trying to keep track of me, are you?”

Yes. “No, just wanted you to have a way to get a hold of me. We talk every day in the hospital. You might miss me.” I expect Ami to give me a smile or a smart-aleck line, but she doesn’t. That’s when I notice something’s wrong.

“You okay?”

“Can we just sit here for a minute?” she asks, staring at the rain streaming down the windows. Her hand reaches gently over the center console to my hand. “I’m nervous.”

This has to be hard for her. She’s going to a stranger’s house in another state to live with them. I didn’t realize how weird it sounded until now. “Take as long as you need,” I reply, leaning back to face her, her hand in mine. I don’t want her to feel bad about being here. Most of all, I want her here. This will be safe. I need this girl safe. “You’ll be safe here. Promise.”

“I know. It’s just... I feel kind of awkward.”

“Don’t,” I insist softly but firmly. “It’s natural to feel this way. I’m sorry I can’t stay. I have a game tomorrow.” She nods, but I can see the anxiety in the way she won’t look at the house or me. “What are you afraid of?”

“Falling in love with them and not wanting to leave.” She laughs, the truth always there—all you have to do is ask.

“It’s okay to fall in love with them.” And me. “It’s okay to want to stay here. They’re nice people. Raised me,” I say as conversationally as I can, 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.”

There’s a tug of a smile on her lips. “Such a big heart for a hockey player.

“It makes sense I 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.”

I grin, but then she frowns. “What?”

“Well shit, that means I missed your birthday.” She looks 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 rolls her eyes. “I showered by myself the other day.”

“Damn. I missed it.”

She laughs. “You did.”

“You’re not going to run away from me, are you?” I ask. She knows I’m joking, but I also know she recognizes the sincerely curious side of my comment.

She motions to the house. “It’s kind of hard when you know where I’m staying.”

“That’s true. You’ll be in my bed,” I tease, instantly regretting it, but Ami laughs, and the comment doesn’t feel as crude as it could have done.

“Very true.” Her smile catches my stare again. “Good night then?”

“Yes, good night.”

I’m fucking screwed. I have no idea what I’ve just done. I passed the puck blindly.