Delayed Penalty (Crossing the Line, #1)(36)

Going back to the dance studio wasn't what I wanted either.

What was my problem?

Honestly, I kind of missed Evan and being around him. I had no idea where things were going with him, but the sparks were there, and the warmth of his friendship was something I craved. It left me very confused.





Face off – This is the method of starting play. This is the dropping of the puck by the official between the sticks of two opposing players standing one stick length apart with stick blades flat on the ice. It's used to begin each period or to resume play when it has stopped for other reasons.




Before I was coherent that morning, I was hard, thoughts of Ami and those starry blue eyes, pink skin, freckled nose, and those adorably pouty lips filling my head. Fuck.

I had no idea what time it was and didn't really care. She was in my thoughts. Turning to the side, I peeked one eye open to see that the sun was rising over the city. Closing my eyelids tighter, I thought about how I teased Ami and the little sounds she made.

My heart beat faster. My hand went to my dick while my mind spun with want and heat and memories of her.

I thought about the first time I kissed her and the little moan she let out, like she'd been waiting on that f*cking kiss her entire life, and I'm hard, so f*cking hard. Aching, I closed my eyes tighter, thinking about starry blue and soft skin. I thought about what it would be like, what she would feel like clinging to me the first time. I think about her being mine.

I groaned and gripped hard, wanting her so f*cking bad. I wanted her right here, right now, in this bed. Tightening my grip, I moved with intent…but…it was no use because once I saw those images, others flashed in my head, and I was reminded that I couldn't. I couldn't have her this way.

My stomach clenched, burned through the need to finish, but it vanished. I blinked, the memories gone.

Every morning was like that. I wanted her and those thoughts wouldn't leave, but it wasn't right.

Just thinking about why those thoughts weren't right, well, that led to me wanting to find the guy and beat the shit out of him because I couldn't have this perfect girl...because of him. I wanted to give the guy everything she went through.

The part that got me was her seeming so unfazed by it all, as though it didn't really happen. To be fair, in her mind it didn't happen. She remembered nothing.

Then I would get ahead of myself and think if she didn't remember, well then it would be okay to fall for her, right?





After practice Thursday morning, Leo and I were packing our skates and sticks. Without looking up, I turned slightly toward him. "Someone got pretty rough with Callie the other night," I told him, my voice barely above a whisper.

I hadn't told anyone, but Callie had come over to my place with a swollen right eye the other night when we got back from New York. She wanted to watch a movie. She never did say what happened, but after Ami, it didn't sit well with me.

Leo stopped for a moment, and without looking, he nodded and then we went back to what we were doing.

Though we knew Callie got around, there was an agreement between us: we looked out for her. Leo, Remy, and I, even Travis, we protected that girl and didn't appreciate someone getting rough when she didn't ask for it.

I knew Callie could take care of herself, too, but I felt Leo needed to know. He would never admit it, but Callie was the one girl he couldn't get his mind off of lately. They'd had a drunk encounter, maybe more than one, and she moved on. I think if Leo had his way, she'd still be in his bed.

I flew home to Pittsburgh that afternoon to see Ami with plans of bringing her back to Chicago.

Flying into the city, the skyline caught my eye. When I thought about Pittsburgh, I thought about my childhood, and when I thought about my childhood, street hockey, frozen hands, and red cheeks came to mind.

I thought about how I fell in love with the sport.

It was an image I had of my dad and his buddies and my best friends growing up, all great memories.

The streets of this city were a training ground. We weren't thinking we would ever make it to the NHL. We dreamed of it, yeah, but we never thought it would really happen. Now when I drove down my childhood street, I was reminded of what it meant to me that I had the opportunity to become what I had.

Only now, it meant a little more because I had a lot to be thankful for. Take Andrew for example. He had the same upbringing as me, experienced the same single-minded athlete mentality, but just as he was about to see that dream come true, he was killed.

I didn't know him, but hearing the sadness in Ami's voice when she spoke about him and her family, and being back in Pittsburgh, made it feel real.

When I walked inside my parents' home, Ami was sitting on the couch with Granny B, listening intently to one of her stories. I smiled at Ami dressed in that Blackhawks hoodie I got her. She looked good, healthier. Her blonde wavy hair was longer already, now peeking past her ears and styled with a little gel giving it a crazy appearance that suited her well.

"Where do cousins come from Mase?" Granny B asked when I sat down next to them, bumping Ami's knee with my own as a hello.

I shrugged, giving my Ami a look before turning back to Granny B.

"Aunt holes," she cackled.

Ami lost it in a fit of snorting giggles. I leaned down, my lips at her ear, brushing against the soft skin, and she trembled. "Don't encourage her. She's like a child. If you laugh at her jokes, she'll keep spinning them all f*cking day." Granny B was a f*cking case. She lived in our basement because couldn't live alone, and she'd been kicked out of every other nursing home in Pittsburgh. She did crazy shit like duck taping her door shut, inappropriate as all get out, and wrote down everything. She had journals of all kinds of shit, most of which wasn't true.