His cheek pressed into my neck, and he buried his head in my skin with a moan as he released into me.

My legs dropped from around his waist, our limbs tangling together as he shifted, trying to get me back to a standing position without falling.

"Like I said, I only needed seconds."

I winked, righting my clothing. Just as I was about to leave, he stopped me. "I love you, Ami," he said seriously, his eyes imploring me to believe him. And I did.

"I love you, too," I said softly, then looking up into his eyes, clarified, "always have." I knew he understood what that meant because I loved him for so many reasons.

Evan, my all heart and soul knight in shining armor defenseman took me in, saved my life when I had no one left, and showed me a love I'd never in my life imagined feeling. A love that no matter what was thrown at it, it broke free.

There were times when my mind would lose just a fraction of my will to go on. Any self-pity and I would look at Evan and his ability to just be himself, and I would see why it was I needed him.

There was something insanely intimate with the way he watched me in that moment, a reminder I wasn't far from his thoughts and never would be.

Breakaway When a player has possession of the puck and no defenders other than the goalie between him and the opposing goal.

"You know, when you two get married, you should do it at the United Center and then when you say I do, they could play Chelsea Dagger and throw hats on the ice and-"

"Caitlin!" I finally cut her off. "Stop that."

"Sorry," she mumbled, sufficiently chastised. My dad glared at me.

Ami gave me a look like I shouldn't have shouted at my sister. "She's practically planning our wedding. She needs to stop."

"Oh, she's just talking." Ami handed me a hot dog from the grill. "There are no plans."

We were outside having a family barbeque, more than likely the last one before training camp started.

"There might be eventually," I hinted, adjusting my hat and then sitting down at the picnic table next to her. "And they should be our plans." I kissed her cheek. "Not my sister's."

Ami smiled and relaxed against me.

The thought of us getting married someday was something I entertained, it was comforting even, but neither of us were ready for that. Eventually, maybe even next year, or the year after, but there was no rush. Neither one of us were going anywhere. I loved her. She loved me. That was all that mattered.

I wasn't the same guy I was when I met Ami. I didn't regret how I reacted when I found out it was Dave, my so-called friend, and I would do it again, even if it ended my career. At the same time, that night changed me.

I wasn't naive, and I never have been.

What Ami went through, and her outlook on life paled in comparison to anything I'd ever done. On top of all that s.h.i.t with her family, she was welcomed to Chicago in a very brutal way, and still, she moved on with the carefree soul and starry eyes I loved.

When I met her grandmother in Oregon, I saw just how much of herself she gave me. She gave me everything when she met me, every little piece of herself that no one else saw. She gave me that unconditionally, too. As if it was her heart's way of saying, "This is the guy, give him everything and see if he can breakaway." I did.

If someone asked me how she changed me, I would tell them my perspective. All that she went through everyday didn't mean anything. There were worse things in life to be bent over. So what if you were stuck in traffic or you locked yourself out of the car? So what if you missed the penalty shot in a playoff game? Didn't happen to me, by the way, I rocked that motherf.u.c.ker, but what I was getting at was there were worse things to have happen to you. Ami was what changed that perspective, if I ever had thought that way. Maybe I didn't. But she kept me from ever swinging that way in the first place.

What I realized, what I lived for now, was the bond.

No bond is greater than the ones you'll bleed for.

I would bleed for this girl, and I would lay everything on the line and cross any line to protect her. Saving a life was worth something to me.

This girl came into my life for a reason.

I was meant to save her, and I was meant to fall in love with her, and this girl was the reason my life had gone the directions it had.

Hockey owned me. Good or bad, it knew everything about the sweat and blood I poured into it and gave me gratification in return. It gave me the adrenaline I needed, the joy, the love, and the thrill of victory.

Then I fell in love with Ami Sutton.

That was when I found out there was something else that I enjoyed just as much. Being with a girl, loving a girl, taking care of a girl, and giving myself to a girl. She showed me a side of myself that had been there all along. It was just pushed aside by my love for hockey.

Up until that night that I'd found her, I believed that nothing would come close to the way I felt about hockey. Now I know better.

After the barbeque, Ami and I walked through my childhood neighborhood, hand in hand, laughing at all the crazy s.h.i.t I did in this city as a kid.

Once again, I was reminded of my time spent on these streets. Fingers numb, noses running, each game back then played with a face off and we didn't stop. Fast paced, we played to play.

Nothing mattered when we were that age. Steady laughter, hacking shots, we would hide ourselves out there until we couldn't see the light of the day anymore. And then we'd play some more until our moms came calling. We were just kids, but you couldn't tell us that. We thought we were the s.h.i.t.

I laughed when I saw a group of kids playing hockey at the end of the street. Some were wearing Penguins jerseys, and one little guy, who looked to be on defense, was wearing a Blackhawks number five jersey.

"He's adorable," Ami said, laughing when he scored and began his victory dance, similar to the Stanley Cup dance I did.

"s.h.i.t has changed since then." We watched the kids on the street pushing the puck around. Ami snuggled against my side, her arm linked in mine. "But to those kids, that street, it remains untouched, unchanged, a link to a time and place that will always remind them of the game."

My arms loosened around her, her head lifted from my shoulder and eased back just far enough that I was able to look down at her. She understood exactly what I meant. Every memory was a link to another time and place, connecting what needed to be connected.

Five on five This is when both teams have five skaters and one goaltender on the ice and they are considered full strength.

Game 36 Nashville Predators.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010.

As the season kicked off and we got into the groove of road trips and nightly games, our lives twisted and turned, intertwining around the Chicago Blackhawks schedule. What remained the same was my relationship with Ami.

Ami was going to counseling now and attending the local college, though she was taking mostly online cla.s.ses. I had issues with her being out late at night. You could imagine why. She still danced. I still came back from road trips and found her dancing around our living room, in my Junior Hockey jersey she loved to wear. Every time it still got to me.

And for us, we were just us. The same as we always had been. You always heard about these relationships, mostly conveyed in any romance novel or movie out there, where the couple got together and something, maybe their mistakes, tore them apart. Then they broke up. Some realized their mistakes got back together, others don't.

With our relationship, it was formed in the least likely way. The worst way if you asked me, but something pushed us together. She believed it was Andrew. Even after the fight with Dave, nothing could tear us apart. I kept waiting, thinking something would, but it hadn't come yet, and I was perfectly fine with that.

It was quickly approaching the one year mark of that night, and with that brought Christmas. It took me a long time to decide what to get Ami, for the simple fact that nothing would express what she meant to me or what we'd been through-two things I wanted portrayed in any gift I gave her. I wasn't the type of guy to flash around a fancy gift for the simple gesture that I could; it was more about coming from the heart, something I was good at.

So I picked out a nice sterling silver bracelet and then added charms to it. One was, of course, two hockey sticks crossed over each other. The other was of a guy taking a slap shot-the number five for two reasons. There was a ballerina, a baseball glove, and a piston and a shovel for her mother and father.

I wasn't sure how she would feel about it, but I wanted something that came from the heart and told her just how much our lives were intertwined now and always had been in some strange sense.

After the game in Nashville I was flying home to Pittsburgh where Ami was waiting for me with my family.

Before I could get there, we had a game to win.

"Who's that?" I asked Leo during warm-ups, watching a large bull-shouldered man stretch his stick over his arms.

"Their new d-man from Australia, Beckham Lapanta. He's lookin' for you," Leo taunted, circling me.

"Mase, he'll kick your a.s.s," Remy warned me. "I wouldn't exactly send a message right now."

Well, I didn't say I was going to start anything with this guy, but his words made it seem almost like a challenge. Some of the other guys came over and told me the same thing. It was like the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds were taunting me, just trying to push a little. I hadn't spent nearly as much time in the penalty box this year as I had last year.

Unfortunately for me, anytime someone told me I couldn't do something, my brain wanted to prove them wrong, and it got my body thinking I could.

Turns out, I did get my a.s.s kicked by that Lapanta guy. But you know what? He had a nice shiner from me, too. That guy wasn't overly large, but what he lacked in size he made up for it in orneriness-orneriness I spent the entire game fighting off.

With a towel held to my face on the bench, Leo chuckled. "Want me to lay him out for you?"

"Yeah, right." I blew it off, and he seemed concerned that I didn't think he was serious.

"Listen, Mase, I would fight anyone for you." He looked up at the play in front of us when Remy slammed their center off his feet. "Well, not Remy or Travis. Or Tyler. But maybe Ryan? I'd definitely fight that son of a b.i.t.c.h for you."

"Thanks," I said, tossing the towel aside and barreling over the wall for my shift.

The Predators started out quickly, moving the puck into our zone and keeping it there for the first few minutes of the first period. Then, with commitment, we stiffened and pushed back. The game turned and moved to center zone. Play was sloppy on both parts, possession changes with every pa.s.s, but it seemed scoring changes were given up to things like off-sides and penalties. The game remained scoreless until well into the second period.

With an extra man on after the Predators were called on a hooking penalty, we found the coordination we were missing. Leo found an opening and managed to put one on the board for us.

The Predators tied the game quickly, scoring after I was called on a penalty against checking their right wing into the goalie. He tripped. I was standing my ground on that one.

Late in the third period, we scored again. That was when the game seemed to stop. As the defending Stanley Cup champions, we were in control and pushed the puck. I could sense the same feeling in the crowd. They knew their chance at victory was over when we were lining up on play after another.

Leo was an animal, lurking in the back, unnoticed until you least expected it. As the puck entered the Predators zone, he'd accelerate to the net with quick chopping strides and cracked one in the top corner.

Because of his style, because of the way he played the game, the moment we were under control was the moment he shoved that victory down their throats. We ended up scoring three more goals in the last eight minutes of play.

Leo's style, much like mine, was learned in street hockey in South Philly where he grew up with neighborhood kids. Quick shots that offered no room for second chances. That style was why he was the number one draft pick the year he entered and the captain of the team his first season. He led us.

After the win, we spread out on the plane, sitting with our respective partners we always sat with. It was always the same for us: checking phones, Facebook, Twitter, newspapers, stretching out looking like anyone else on a plane. But we weren't. We were the Chicago Blackhawks defending our Cup t.i.tle.

Leo, Remy, and Callie ended up coming with me to my parents' house. My parents, always welcoming, loved the added guests for the holidays, and Ami did, too. Last Christmas, she had no family. This Christmas, she had a lot of people who cared about her.

I watched her closely Christmas morning. She smiled a lot. Leo was teasing her. I wasn't too sure about what, but she seemed entertained by it.

"That's the thing about hockey players, Ami..." Leo gave her a friendly suggestive b.u.mp to the shoulder. "...we're nasty motherf.u.c.kers and think with our sticks."

I rolled my eyes. "Not all of us are."

"Bulls.h.i.t." Remy coughed. "You ar-"

He didn't finish before my fist was in his gut. I played rough sometimes. Not only had he been flirting with my sixteen-year-old sister, but he was making me out to be just as nasty as him and Leo. I could be, at times, but I also didn't want to admit it in front of my girl or my mother.

Conversation twisted again, and Callie and Leo were with my sister drinking beer. Yes, they'd convinced my parents to allow their sixteen-year-old daughter to drink beer with a bunch of hockey players. Pretty much the worst idea ever.

Leo was going on and on about something, exaggerated as always, and the obvious disgust in Callie's face made me laugh.

She punched Leo. "None of what you're saying is true. Get your facts together."

"I'm in a very vulnerable state right now," he expressed to Callie, his words slurring as he whined, his bottom lip jutting out. "I need comforting."

"f.u.c.k off," was Callie's reply. "You're lucky I don't kick your a.s.s right now for spilling that beer on me earlier."

With all this going on, I kept my arm around Ami, her rapt attention on them entertaining.

"Ma-an," Leo groaned, folding his arms over his chest and sticking out his bottom lip again, looking every bit the part of a pouty child.

"Well, maybe you should think before you speak with your d.i.c.k next time," Callie drawled in a disinterested voice that told me she was used to dealing with Leo's whining just as much as we were.

My mom laughed, which surprised the h.e.l.l out of me.

"Ouch," he said, clutching his hand over his heart as he stood. "That really hurts." He stepped over, closer to Callie, taking her beer from her. For a moment he looked like he was going to apologize, but then his smirk grew and he chugged her beer.

Leo, and Remy for that matter, had this quality about them where they purposely tried to p.i.s.s you off. And just when they thought they'd succeeded, they upped their game.

"You f.u.c.king jerk!"

I tried not to smile, but these two were entertaining to be around. Some of the s.h.i.t that usually came out of Callie's mouth could make Leo blush. And if you knew Leo at all, you'd know he was about as reserved as a f.u.c.king, well, hockey player.

It wasn't lost on me that Callie and Leo were kind of perfect for each other. I mentioned that to him the other day and he smiled. I had a feeling he'd eventually make a move.

Watching them, I toyed with the box for a minute and then placed it on Ami's lap. She grinned, gently taking the box in her hands and carefully removing the wrapping. She looked down at the bracelet with the charms of a stick and hockey player and then the one of a ballerina. When her hands got to the baseball glove and then the piston and shovel for her parents, she gasped. Then she started crying.

Not the reaction I was going for, but it was a reaction. I had put a lot of thought into that bracelet, and I knew she'd like it, but still, it was hard to see her crying.

Even with my family there with us, her lips suddenly found mine with an unexpected fervor....until my dad cleared his throat. "All right kids, keep it under wraps until we at least eat dinner."

Ami laughed, settling back to my side.

"So, I take it you like it?" I muttered, not bothering to move my mouth from her skin and kissing her neck.

She shivered, and then glared. "I love it, and you need to stop kissing me like that or we'll be testing out those Transformer sheets. I wouldn't mind setting my a.s.s right on Optimus Prime's power sword."

I groaned as if this was crushing news. "Optimus Prime doesn't have a power sword." My glare gave way when she started laughing at me and then followed with a smirk. "You feel that?" I groaned, grinding against her at slightly as my family and friends moved from the living room to the dining room for dinner.

She choked out a breathy laugh and tightened her grip, gnawing at my lower lip. "It's kind of hard to miss."

"Then stop teasing me," I growled, pushing into her hard, slamming her against the door to the bathroom. "You did that, so what are you going to do about it?"

"Take care of it?"

"Bet your a.s.s you are." I promised, lifting her up and taking her into my room to show her Optimus Prime did not have a power sword. I did.