"Why did you come to Chicago?" I asked.

"Needed a new life I guess." There was an emptiness behind every word. Somehow I managed to stop staring and looked out the window. It was snowing again.

Ami looked over, too, but watched the wall as she spoke. "After my family was killed, there was nothing left. My boyfriend moved away and went to college without me, and I came here hoping for a new start. Apparently..." She shifted, adjusting her blanket and smiled, looking up with in amus.e.m.e.nt, "...I'm off to a great start."

"And a new haircut."

A giggle escaped her lips, the sound echoing throughout the room. I smiled.

"Why'd your boyfriend leave?" Oh lord. Shut up already. Honestly, I couldn't imagine anyone leaving this girl.

"His sister was my brother's girlfriend, the one who was on the plane. I guess it was too much for him."

We sat in silence. I wasn't sure I should say anything else. I wasn't exactly off to a great start. The lack of conversation after that seemed to evoke emotions both of us were trying to suppress.

That was when Ami started to cry, attempting to hide her tears by looking the other way, and despite my conscience telling me to leave her alone, I moved to console her.

I knew then, with my arms wrapped around her, there was no way I could continue to be around her with the way she was consuming my every thought. There also wasn't a G.o.dd.a.m.n thing I was willing to do about it.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into her hair.

"Why?" She brought her eyes to meet mine. "You have no reason to be sorry. You saved me."

"There are s.h.i.tty people out there, Ami," I mumbled, hoping I wasn't about to reveal too much. "There are good ones, too."

"Funny, my brother used to say things like that to me." Brushing her tears away, she took a deep breath and smiled. "Andrew was always looking for the good side, the sunny side. Which was funny because he was this hot shot baseball player, pitcher, number five." She gave me a smile as though she knew I'd laugh at the way she described him like a sports announcer.

It felt so surreal hearing her talk. For over two weeks, I talked to her, wondering if this moment would ever come, if she would actually talk to me.

Ami went on to explain that Andrew, her brother, was just starting out in his career and skipped out on college, much like me, and was just about to sign for his pro career. And then the plane crash happened. A chance at a lifetime never fulfilled.

I had a really hard time with it when I learned about what happened to Ami's older brother. He was the exact same age as me. My first thoughts when she had told me went back to when I entered the draft and how my family was with me. What if something like that had happened?

Why did I get to live my dream and Andrew didn't?

Why did s.h.i.t like this happen?

Why them?

When she told me, I was sad. She was young, he was young, and I couldn't imagine the pain she went through.

To save myself the embarra.s.sing part of getting choked up through her story, I didn't speak. It frustrated me, consumed me even, but I was finally starting to understand why I attached myself to her. I wanted to protect her.

For everyone out there each day, each year, is arguably different than the last, bringing with it different struggles, highs, lows, new friends, and fading friends. In five days, in twenty minutes, in a second, everything about that year could change.

Taking a different route to work ends in an accident. Planning a vacation for years, only to die in a plane crash. A chance of a lifetime destroyed in that one split second when that year becomes different from the last.

But then there was the second chance, the swerve to miss the car coming into your lane, and you gain control, your adrenaline taking over and you're thankful for being alive. The choppy weather and turbulence stabilizes, and the plane rights itself. You're safe and you look out the window.

A deep breath, a second chance, and everything seems different and will because it's new, it's your chance.

Those who wanted that second chance got it. Those who didn't were left trying to either prove there was nothing wrong in the first place or ignore that it was even there.

Ami was living it.

Crashing the net Players head with full steam to the front of the net into the goalie's s.p.a.ce and into the goal. It can also be known as crashing the crease.

We had Friday off before we headed to Ohio to play the Blue Jackets again. That gave me a whole night to spend with Ami. I was avoiding my team; Leo kept calling, and my parents were asking all sorts of questions. It didn't matter. I seemed to have only one focus.

She was in her room again having just got back from another scan, her spirits the same as they were a few nights ago. Every time I walked into that room, her pretty, starry eyes lit up the same way, and it gave me a stabbing sensation in my heart every f.u.c.king time. It didn't matter how long I was away, five minutes, five hours, five days, she acted as if I was the person she was waiting on to return, and when I did, everything about her lit up.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" she asked, as if she even had to ask. Earlier she had asked why I came back. I'd said to be with her. We were friends after all. She liked that and teased that I'd be trying to lie in bed with her next. Ami liked to tease, and f.u.c.k if I didn't give it right back.

"I bet you I can fit in that bed with you," I said, teasing, putting a movie into the DVD player in her room. The lighting was low so I b.u.mped my thigh into the bed when I moved around it to take a seat next to her. She laughed.

"Oh, I don't think so." Ami tried to mess with me and sprawled out in the bed, as if she could actually fill it. She was tiny. I wasn't sure how tall she was, but she looked no bigger than a little over five feet. "It's kind of small."

Challenge accepted. I stood, she smiled looking up at me, her lashes longer than ever. I thought she was going to say something, but she didn't.

I took her hands, moved one around my shoulder, and then situated her legs over mine so we could both fit in her bed. The touch was casual but intensely intimate at the same time. Our breathing told me so. I'd never felt a sensation quite like when her hand came to rest on my stomach. Her giggles filled the room, but then her hand slipped when she squirmed in my lap and went lower, just above the waistband of my jeans. Instant hard-on.

She felt it, too. There was no denying it. I tried to play it off, as did Ami, but the red in her cheeks told me she knew. "Okay, point taken." I was about to move when she grabbed my hand and forced me to stay there. "Two can fit in the bed."

Clearing my throat, my brow furrowed slightly, trying to decipher if she wanted me to move or not when she relaxed against me, her head on my shoulder. "Thank you, Evan. I really mean that, too. You're a pretty cool guy to keep coming back and checking on me. I know you've probably got s.h.i.t to do."

"You gotta stop thanking me, Ami. I did it because it's what anyone would have done given the chance. And yeah, friends check on friends."

"Clearly not everyone would do the right thing, Evan," she said, motioning to the bandage on her head, "but I wasn't referring to saving me. I was referring to this...being with me in here...making me laugh."

"No problem." My eyes shifted to the table beside her bed, looking for the remote when I saw Detective Paulsen's business card there. "Was he here today?"

Ami looked at the card and then at me. "Yeah, he was asking questions about what I remember. I wish I could remember more, but I think it's probably a good thing. Looks like I got the c.r.a.p beaten out of me." Another eye roll as if it annoyed her. "I hope I at least gave the guy a black eye or something."

"Still no memory?"

"Nope. The last thing I remember about the night was leaving the dance studio and then walking past Redfish. I don't even know where I was going. I had been staying with my dance instructor and his wife. I a.s.sumed maybe I was going to catch a cab. I don't know. I remember something he said to me."

"What?"

"He said, 'You want it, don't you? I bet you like it rough.'" Ami looked at me and took a deep breath. "I can see his eyes sometimes...they were dark, almost black."

My f.u.c.king gut was in knots as I pictured the guys standing outside Redfish that night, wondering which one of those a.s.sholes was the guy. I wanted to go back to that night and kick the s.h.i.t out of all of them for either doing it, or standing by while such a brutal attack took place.

"Did the doctors tell you what all happened?"

"Yeah." Her voice was filled with sadness. "They said I'd been raped and had a nasty head injury. Believe me, the headaches told me so."

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 p.i.s.sed me off.

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

"G.o.d, 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. Bulls.h.i.t. "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.u.c.k 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.u.c.king up. n.o.body was focused and G.o.dd.a.m.n it if Coach wasn't livid.

We were doing stupid s.h.i.t.

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.u.c.king kill me now."

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

It was only a two hundred by eighty s.p.a.ce, 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.u.c.king 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 p.i.s.sed.

Liam tried to get personal with me. He asked about my younger sister, said he f.u.c.ked 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.u.c.king 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.u.c.king 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 gla.s.s 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 s.h.i.t. 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.

"Orting, Mase! Knock that s.h.i.t off!" Coach screamed at us, the veins in his neck popping out again. "What the f.u.c.k is wrong with those two?" he asked, mostly to himself. Our trainer was laughing beside him.

Leo and I skated away from him, laughing as well. Sure enough, when we got back to Chicago, Terry was gone.

After that road trip, I was feeling it. Not only was I missing Ami, but f.u.c.k if I wasn't tired. I'd been beaten to s.h.i.t these last few games, and that night against the Sharks did a number on me.

We got home early Sunday morning, and I crashed as soon as my head hit my pillow. I didn't wake up until noon Monday morning.

First thing I did, well, besides eat? I headed to the hospital to see Ami.

When I walked in, she did a double take, and I realized what I must have looked like. I looked like h.e.l.l. My face was still swollen after Matzy and I had gone at it a week ago, and now there were ten st.i.tches right above my eye from Thursday's game against the Sharks.

Wearing a hat didn't shield it as much as I hoped it would. Ami noticed right away.

"Whoa, big guy, what happened to your face?" Ami asked, fighting the medications the nurse had just given her. I could tell my visit would be short tonight, but she did seem to perk up when she noticed I had food with me.

My hand instinctively moved to touch the purplish bruise I was sure was forming. "Oh, I got in a fight."

"Wow, how's the other guy doing?"

I laughed, taking out the Shi Zhi Chicken I got on the way over here. Ami eyed the box and gave a half smile. "You want some of this, don't you?" I teased, holding the fork out.

Ami leaned forward, scanned the door, and then took the bite.

I never wanted to be a fork more in my life than I did right then.

"Good, eh?" I gave a nod.

Her cheeks turned the cute pink color I loved so much. She smiled, chewing slowly. "You have no idea. This food in here is s.h.i.t."

She lay back against the bed; her hands folded over her lap. I watched her and then handed her the rest of the take out box. "Here, enjoy."

"What are you going to eat?"

"I got more." I held up the Szechwan Chicken I was sure had too much kick for her, and we ate in silence for a few minutes.

"Really, though, what happened to your face?" She seemed concerned and that was cool to me. She cared. "Did you really get into a fight?"

"Yeah."