Part 22 (1/2)

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.