Delayed Penalty Part 22

My brow furrowed at my reactions. "What's going on, Evan?" I asked, ducking down to move in front of him since he wouldn't look at me. He lifted his head just enough to catch my eyes.

For a moment he didn't take his eyes away from mine, searching for the words that wouldn't come.

Another doctor walked in and looked at Evan's forehead where he had a large piece of gauze tinged with blood taped to his head. Evan's eyes remained on mine as the doctor examined him, poking and prodding. "Mase," the team doctor said, "we need to get that st.i.tched up, but I'll give ya a minute." The doctor finally left the room, the gla.s.s door making a swis.h.i.+ng sound as it closed behind him.

"Evan, what happened?" I begged him, reaching up to softly touch the raised skin over his cheek that was turning purple, trying to return his gaze to me so I could decipher what the f.u.c.k happened and what was running through his head. His hand shook, reaching toward me, and covered mine, pressing his cheek into my palm.

He seemed to fidget a bit, swallowing deeply and darting his gaze away from mine again. I reached my other hand up to cup his face, gently stroking over the ridge of his jaw just below his ears.

I would have laughed at his expression if the circ.u.mstances were any different. He looked tired but still angry. When he looked back at the floor, I understood whatever happened tonight wasn't going to be easy for him to say.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice rough, the sound making me tremble.

"Why was Detective Paulsen in here?" I couldn't stand seeing him look so angry and sad, but there was a lot about tonight I didn't understand. I wanted to understand.

Evan's shoulders hunched a bit compared to his normal strong posture. His face, which I placed my hand on trying to get him to look at me again, was covered in his playoff scruff, which could no longer be called scruff with how thick it had grown in. My fingers sc.r.a.ped against it.

"Dave..." Evan gasped again, his head shaking with a dejected anger, and then he tried to swallow, but it looked like he was swallowing sand. "He was the guy who..." His eyes found mine, glossed over and heavy. He was holding on by a thread, rapidly blinking back tears. "Raped you."

I watched his mouth move, and I heard the words but didn't react. Everything felt like it was in slow motion.

It was like that feeling you got when someone told you something but you weren't sure if what you heard was what he or she really said. Your mind kept repeating the phrase, trying to make sense of it. Then you asked, "What?" Even though you had heard them. You knew exactly what they said, but your mind rejected the words as if they were wrong. They had to be wrong.

Evan swallowed again, and I wanted to hand the poor guy water. He was struggling.

"Dave is the guy," he repeated, his brow furrowed as he searched my eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry. I'm so f.u.c.king sorry that I didn't...I didn't know it was him."

The fight replayed in my mind. I saw it all clearly now. The way Dave looked at me when he skated by the gla.s.s. Him winking at Callie and the total disgust she had for him. The way Evan checked him at center ice and never looked back was his first warning to Dave. And then he'd dropped his gloves, defending me.

He had nothing to be sorry for. He protected me, he stood up for me when no one else did. My stomach dropped when a memory hit me: dark, intense eyes, controlling and hovering over me, hands forcefully pulling at my clothes.

I swallowed, trying to gain focus, pus.h.i.+ng the memory away. Holding my breath, I felt like my lungs were going to burst, but then again, what if I breathed now?

Would I feel the memory again? Would everything come cras.h.i.+ng back? For so long I didn't remember a lot, and I thanked my mind for that. I didn't want to remember.

I couldn't even imagine what Evan must have been feeling when he knew it was Dave. For months, Evan had been carrying around the anxiety of not knowing who it was and that people like that were all around us. It didn't sit well with him. And then to find out it was a friend of his, someone who had given him a place to stay his first season, someone he trusted, he had every right to feel what he was feeling.

He reached out, circling his arms around my waist and pulling me forward to rest against him, my head on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," Evan said in a dejected voice, his fingers rubbing circles on my back.

"Stop, don't be sorry," I said firmly, his eyes snapping back to mine. "You weren't the one that did it. This wasn't something you could have controlled. Dave did what he did because, well, he's a f.u.c.ker. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I feel so f.u.c.king helpless. I couldn't stand back. I lost it when I heard him say...what you remembered." His arms lowered, and he slumped against me, resting his head on my shoulder and clinging desperately to my waist. "And he was my f.u.c.king friend. I trusted him and then he...I just can't believe he could do something like that to you. So hateful, so brutal, so unthinkable."

"Mase," I whispered, my fingers tightening on his face to focus his attention on me and my words. "I love you."

His lips curved into a soft smile, his fingers trailing down from my wrists over my forearms to hold my elbows, bringing me closer between his legs and wrapping his arms around my waist. He bent his head forward, resting against my shoulder again.

"Ami," he whispered, his face serious again. "You're worth it." His fingers stroked along my cheek, his words shaking. "You are so f.u.c.king worth it."

I gazed up at him, and the intensity of the look in his eyes left me no room for doubt.

Leaning back just slightly, he stared deeply into my eyes, lowering his face to mine and rubbing the tip of his nose gently against my own. My breath caught in my throat at the intimate gesture. He pulled back, a content smile on his face.

"Are you okay?"

He didn't speak, barely even nodded, just gave on dip of his chin to answer me. His eyes locked on mine, and his mouth was just barely open. I leaned in, as if I was going to kiss him, and his eyes fluttered close. Then I kissed him on his swollen lip, the taste of blood present on my tongue from where his lip had been split open.

Evan broke down when he told me. I could see that now, but I was also grateful that it was him, the voice I needed, telling me the truth even though it broke him.

Barely a breath away, for a moment, he lived inside my heart and saw my soul, and I didn't have to tell him. He knew.

"Ask me," he urged in a pa.s.sionate whisper, dipping his face low so that it was level with my own. "Ask me why I did it."

"Why?"

"Because whatever it was that made me walk down that alley drew me in, and I'm never letting go." He paused, then imploring me with his eyes to trust him, believe him, and understand him. This wasn't something he could walk away from.

"Don't let go. I need you," I said, feeling like given the circ.u.mstances, he needed to know that.

He froze, his eyes wide, his mouth slack. When I smiled, he came back around.

"Say it again," he demanded, his voice low and full of emotion.

I swallowed once, needing my voice to be clear and strong. "Don't let go. I need you." Tears fell down my cheeks only to be rubbed away by his thumbs.

I would have said more, I wanted to say more, but his lips crashed to mine instead, and I lost myself in emotion. For so long I didn't want to rely on anyone anymore out of fear that they'd be taken away from me. But with Evan, I had no choice. He was there, giving his heart, begging me to love him. Something about him and that boyish grin and big heart made me fall, when I had no business falling for anyone, let alone a guy like Evan. But I did, and I didn't regret it.

Evan had to get st.i.tched up and needed a splint put on his hand so I stepped out. Suddenly, looking at Callie, I was flooded with the memory of her telling me about a hockey player she hooked up with being rough and her ending up with a black eye. Now it made sense.

"Callie..." Tears streamed down her red cheeks, knowing what I was going to ask. "Was Dave the guy who knocked you around?"

Callie nodded, unable to speak. My heart hurt for her, letting guys treat her like that and not saying anything. Callie didn't sleep around to be a s.l.u.t, though it appeared that way. She just liked hockey boys. There was nothing wrong with that. Just because she slept with a few different ones at a time, she never committed and played the ice. But to be hurt by one, physically, wasn't something she should allow. Callie was wise enough to understand that, and she stuck up for herself in some ways, but she also didn't say anything about Dave because she thought she could handle it. I know that if she knew Dave was the guy who attacked me, she would have spoken up.

"I'm sorry." My arms cradled around her, trying to ease her pain. Callie was my best friend, and I didn't want her crying over this. Dave didn't deserve her tears.

"I'm sorry that I didn't say anything," she began, trying to brush her tears aside. She straightened her posture, squaring her shoulders. "If I would have known that Dave was the same guy who...well, I would have said something a long time ago. I feel so...angry that I didn't say anything. I...I could have...I never realized, until now, how badly I could have been hurt. He almost killed you, Ami, he could have if it wasn't for Evan, and knowing that..." Callie shook her head, tears flowing more freely to the point she could barely speak. "I hate him, and I'm ashamed at myself at how careless I was, how easily I blew it off."

"You didn't know."

I never knew Callie would be so affected by what happened to me, just the same as Evan was, but anytime something happened to someone else, it wasn't always easy to look at yourself and ask, "Could this have happened to me?" The thought never usually crossed your mind until it was too late.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet. Evan didn't really talk, and I didn't force any conversation. What would I have said anyway? If I tried to speak, my voice shook and tears threatened to fall, so I stayed quiet.

Evan's hand, the one not in a splint, rested on my knee as we rode in the town car with Callie, Leo, and Remy, none of us saying a word. Remy and Leo had their own battle wounds from various fights throughout the night, as well.

Leo kept looking at Callie, who stared out the window, lost in her own thoughts.

Evan's knee bounced lightly, an indication of the nerves he had. I glanced over at him, questioning, but he simply gave me a weak smile, his hand squeezing my hand lightly.

When we pulled into the drive, Leo and Remy got out and went separate directions with Callie in tow, Leo's arm wrapped around her. Evan and I went the other way to our condo. Nothing was said by anyone. I think we were all kind of in shock over what had happened, and I didn't think they knew what to say.

Back in our room, that was when I lost it. My lip was between my teeth, my arms cradled around me, as I stared at Evan moving through the room looking for water.

It was coming-my break down. I knew it would eventually hit. As I watched him, I wanted to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling, and what this meant for us now.

Maybe he was nervous about what would really happen to Dave now. Or maybe he was upset that it happened on the ice, a place where he was comfortable was now a place that would hold a bad memory for him.

Maybe the drama of everything I brought with me was just another burden he didn't need: a girl that was too much trouble for a guy with all that responsibility.

"Stop," he demanded softly, turning to face me. He stepped forward, his thumb brus.h.i.+ng over my bottom lip when I released it.

"What?"

"I can see you thinking. This doesn't change anything. I'm not going anywhere. I never was. From the moment I found you, I was never going anywhere again without you," he explained with a pained expression on his face, his eyes bloodshot and glossy, but swollen from the fight. He was wrecked, both physically and emotionally.

I cried for hours, and I didn't even know if I was even crying over my attack. I was crying for what Evan must have seen. Now I finally realized how horrific that must have been for him.

I cried for my parents and Andrew. I cried just to cry. I cried because in hockey terms, the zone had been cleared, and I felt like I could finally move on.

We lay there with only the sound of the rain and the sound of our breathing and beating hearts. Eventually, Evan tucked me back in his arms and I fell asleep. I heard him whisper he loved me, and I had no doubt he did.

After what felt like an eternity, I felt him s.h.i.+ft beneath me, and I realized he was getting up. Unconsciously, I clung to him, protesting with a muted whimper.

"Honey, I need an ice pack for my shoulder. I'll be right back."

I didn't really have the energy to agree, but he must have understood, and moments later, just like he had promised, he returned.

He scooted closer again, folding me into his arms, fitting my head to the curve of his shoulder, a place I remembered being. I remembered the smell of him, the sound of his voice, and for once, I remembered that cab and him holding me, repeating, "Everything's gonna be okay."

I knew with time the memories of that day would come back, but I never thought the good ones would, too. The ones where my knight in s.h.i.+ning armor rescued me.

My feelings for Evan ran deeper than any word I could put with the emotion, and though nothing was said, our touches, our unspoken words, were enough to let me know that I was worth being saved.

"Do you feel...relieved?" he asked, and in a way, in a really big way, I was. The thought hadn't crossed my mind until now.

"Are you?"

He breathed against my cheek, his lips pressing gently to my temple. "Yes."

Sometimes I thought that Andrew had brought Evan to me, and in more ways than one.

He brought him to find me, protect me, love me, defend me, and most importantly, make me believe in love. He brought him to me to show me that not everything was lost.

You could have your life ripped apart with no shred of what it was before. You could think to yourself you'd never find that again. That you had your chance and it was taken from you.

That wasn't the case.

Andrew used to tell me there were angels on the moon. It sounded crazy coming from a guy like Andrew, who was fairly macho for guy standards, but he would say things like, "It's not luck that I have Ami. It's an angel on the moon."

I never understood that statement. I always just thought maybe he'd took too many line drives to the head.

When I looked at Evan, I understood what he meant. The moon had a gravitational pull, one that couldn't be ignored. The moon was a place where when the sun had dried up all the good, when you couldn't see it anymore, the moon, with its reflecting glow, gave you a light when nothing else did. It guided you through the darkest nights.

Evan was my angel on the moon.

Evan didn't leave me alone that night. He insisted, despite that pain in his hand and shoulder, on holding me all night. No matter how many times I told him I was fine, he didn't let go, and deep down, I was glad he didn't let.

The memory brought me back to when my family died and Josh had held me all night. I told him I was fine and he let go. He let go all together eventually, but this time, with this all-heart boy holding me, it didn't matter if I was fine or pretended to be fine, he wasn't letting go.

His arm draped over me, pressing his chest into my back, and his warm sleeping breath fanned the hair behind my ear and soothed every ache in my heart no matter who put the ache there to begin with. In his arms, I felt safe and content. Here, in these arms, I trusted that he would do anything to keep me here and do anything to keep any harm from happening to me ever again.

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

Nightmares. I'd been having them for months. When I closed my eyes, I saw white snow splashed with red and a girl, my girl, broken. Only now, those nightmares had a face with them, and he was my friend. He was my f.u.c.king friend, someone I trusted, someone who I never imagined could do something so horrific to another person. Then Ami was there, screaming, begging, blood pouring from her, handing me her broken heart. As sick as it was, it was a dream I had often.

With a jolt, I was awake, gasping. That was when the pain returned. My shoulder and hand were both screaming.

That was when I noticed Ami wasn't in my bed. Immediately, I jumped up and looked around the room, terrified she was gone.

"Ami?" I called out, searching the room.

That was when I heard the shower and the crying.

Rus.h.i.+ng in there, I found her on the floor of my shower in a fetal position, her arms wrapped around her knees, crying.

The vision reappeared, 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 were shaking, begging to release the anger that consumed me, but there was a bigger picture here: the girl.

"Baby, it's okay." I pressed my lips into her hair. She moved, crawling into my lap as I sat on the floor of the steaming shower in my underwear, rocking us back and forth. I had absolutely no idea if I was helping her, but f.u.c.k, I was trying.

The anger and emotion had still been building inside me and brought a wave of tears I had no intention of letting her see, so I turned my head, thankful for the water masking the sadness.

She smiled and took my doubt, resentment, and anger with her. I stroked slowly over her cheek with my right hand, moving to her lips.

"You know, there's a place I go in my head. My dreams are there, my hopes, and...you. You're there. You've always been there lately, and I could never figure it out, but then I got it. I finally understood it." Ami smiled, soft and sweet. "When I was out of it, I remembered a voice. I remember being drawn to it. It was calming, soothing, and telling me to fight, holding my hand when no one else was there to hold it. I fought for you..." she said through tears, and I had to swallow back my own. "I knew whose voice it was when you walked into the hospital that day." Her hands moved to touch my face and my chin quivered. I was annoyed as f.u.c.k I couldn't get my s.h.i.+t together. "I knew then it was you who got me through it."

The following morning, the fight was all over every news broadcasting station, NHL site, and all the social media websites. There was no hiding from it. What happened, what Dave did, was out in the open for all to see. The NHL suspended both of us for the remainder of the series, but would allow me to play in the next round. Dave, however, wouldn't be playing. He had been arrested and was about to be charged with attempted murder. The DNA came back a match. It would more than likely be months before everything was final and he was officially charged with anything, but the fact that we finally knew was a relief.

Turns out when news broke, three more women came forward and said they'd been raped by him, too. Who knew if it was true or not. Given his status, some people would say it just for the money. After I found out about Callie, it wasn't about the money. Dave really was a piece of s.h.i.+t.

Leo went to the jail and had a conversation with him, mostly fueled by him finding out Dave had roughed Callie up and how close Callie came to being hurt as bad as Ami had been.

I later asked Leo what he said to Dave, and he replied with, "I needed to know why he did it. Was it because he's just an a.s.s who goes around beating women or was there a real reason."

"And he said?"

Leo let out an annoyed snort. "He said Callie needed to be knocked down a peg or two and Ami..." Leo swallowed and looked at me, his eyes narrowing. He was about to tell me something I didn't want to hear. "She had blown him off when he asked her to have a drink with him. I guess that was his revenge."