Delayed Penalty (Crossing the Line, #1)(24)

I could feel the blood rising to my face, anger taking over, but I didn't want to scare her. Any time I thought of that night, it still pissed me off.

Her expression changed, and I could see the anger and confusion.

"God, I'm sorry, Ami. I didn't mean to bring it up."

"No big deal. Let's watch a movie." I learned quickly she was getting good at distractions.

This time I pushed play on the movie and settled in beside her. My arms crossed over my chest and Ami leaned into me.

"You're different than I thought you would be," I said, moving my arm around her again for more comfort. Bullshit. "For what's happened to you, you're different."

"I have to be. I don't want to think about it because I'll think about all the problems in the world. The big ugly problems. The ones that end careers and take families or take a girl's innocence when she's trying to move on."

"You put up a good front." I gave her a smile.

"It's not a front, Evan. It's the way I am. The fears are there, but it's not worth it to me to dwell on it. I have wants. I wanted to be a dancer. I still do. I wanted to see my brother play in the majors. I'll never see that. I wanted my mom to get that big landscaping bid she was working on when she left with Andrew. I'll never see that either. I wanted my dad to have the satisfaction of knowing Andrew and I were the way we were because of him. That I can do because he's still watching me. I have a chance now."





Slashing – A minor penalty. This occurs when a player swings his stick hard at an opponent, whether or not contact is made – if injury is caused, it becomes a major penalty and a game misconduct.



Game 50 – Ottawa Senators

Tuesday, January 19, 2010




My schedule didn't permit me to stay with Ami every day and unfortunately wouldn't for a while. We were heading into a six game road trip, and f*ck if I was irritable about that. Up until now, I loved road trips and having games every night. Now, they took me away from Ami and that sucked.

That game with the Senators wasn't for us either. Maybe it was me, but it was the whole team. We were constantly f*cking up. Nobody was focused and goddamn it if Coach wasn't livid.

We were doing stupid shit.

Leo pummeled Terry, a new kid up from the minors to fill in for Jake Sedin who was out with a shoulder injury.

"Christ Almighty, this is awful," Leo said, holding a towel to his face as we scooted down the bench, all of us with battle scars. "Just f*cking kill me now."

I laughed, scooting over more. "Looks like Tanner wants to."

It was only a two hundred by eighty space, and it was one chip shot after another and fast aggressive play by both teams. Only problem was we were taking it out our own team, too.

Shelby and Ryan both ran into Terry four f*cking times, and we were all on the same team. The thing was none of us were playing well, and Terry wasn't helping. He was constantly off-sides and didn't seem to get the concept of a shift. One of us would have to go out there and physically bring him back or he just skated around. He probably wasn't that bad, but he seemed that way to us.

Later, we turned our focus onto Liam Tanner, the rookie left wing from the Senators.

Chirping, or beaking as some called it, was generally meant to get under the opposing team's skin. You'd say just about anything to offend them from skill level to playing style or even getting personal. It was a way of spinning the game by intimidation if needed.

Hockey was a game of intimidation, and most of the time, when you saw the players' faces, that was exactly what they were doing, intimidating the other guy, only more explicit with descriptive language.

They used wives and girlfriends to their advantage, too, Remy especially. Nearly everything that came out of Leo or Remy on the ice had me laughing, but I didn't like to bring family into it. To me that was drawing the line. That was when I got pissed.

Liam tried to get personal with me. He asked about my younger sister, said he f*cked her, and I nailed him. Like I said, family was drawing the line. I sat the rest of the game in the penalty box and got slapped not only with a fighting penalty but intent to injure, roughing, slashing, and high sticking, all in the same play.



Game 54 – San Jose Sharks

Thursday, January 28, 2010



By the time we were in San Jose, Leo and I were still f*cking with Terry. His coordination wasn't improving, and I had a distinct feeling the kid would be back in the minors before we got home. It didn't stop us from f*cking with him. When you were on the road for six games straight, you got your fun where you could.

"Hey, man," I skated by, tapping my stick against his head. He turned and looked around, his wide eyes still glossy from last night when we got him drunk. "Where's your stick? You need that, bud." His stick was on the ice again, and he stumbled trying to stop it from sliding.

I took mine between my legs and stroked it once. Swinging up the left side of the rink, a few of the Sharks' fans were standing near the glass smiling at us. I gave a tip of my head to the girls when they started screaming while I stroked my stick. They may not have liked our team, but they liked that shit. To add to the fire, I moved my stick and thrust it once or twice.

I heard a chuckle from behind and Leo's heavy breathing as he caught up to us. He came by, and then skated backward, winking at Terry, and dropped to his knees as if he was taking my stick in his mouth. We were inappropriate like that.