Page 27

halle

I was outfitted in Tyler's jersey and a pair of ripped jeans, relaxing in the stands. I was situated between Tayler and Britt. Kris was in front of me, half turned to talk to us. As soon as the second period began, we would pay attention. For now, I could pass the time talking to the women I called my friends.

My legs were sore from skating earlier, but I didn't mention anything about it. Everyone here was more experienced with skating than I was. They'd been dating hockey players for years, and been skating for that whole time. I only had a few shaky sessions under my belt.

I pulled my legs up under myself for the time being. My eyes traveled down to the ice, where the usual intermission activities were taking place. At the moment, it was midget hockey playing a mini game. I watched the red jerseys flying around half of the rink. The other side was occupied by white jerseys to separate the team apart. As I observed, the first intermission came to a close. We were on top by two, so I wasn't particularly worried. But the physicality of the game made me nervous. Tyler had dealt an usually rough check to one of the Flames forwards. The hit resulted in some extreme targeting by the opposing team. Andrew Shaw had already gotten into a testy shoving match over it. I couldn't help but worry about Tyler.

As if my fears were coming to life, Tyler got checked hard into the boards after the second period started. He walked off from it easily, but the hit made my heart jump. A minute later, another player threw his hip into Tyler from behind. It wasn't a clean hit. Even I could see that. Tyler was angry. Tayler out a gasp next to me.

"Oh no. It was Gus." I couldn't ask who Gus was. Instead, I watched with horror as Tyler immediately shook his gloves off. His stick was thrown to the side. He glowered for a minute before something made him snap.

Tyler's bare hands grabbed onto the jersey of the player who'd checked him. Everything unfolded in slow motion. One fist came flying up, hitting Gus's jaw up. The opposing player retaliated by going after Tyler with vigor. He hit him at just the right point that the helmet went flying off. Tyler shook his head momentarily before throwing another hard and direct punch. And then another. And another. It was like the hit had pissed him off irreversibly. They traded punches for another few seconds, but it was obvious Tyler was dominating the fight. Eventually, Gus lost his footing and went down.

The refs pulled Tyler off quickly. On the Jumbotron, I could see the blood oozing from his lip and a place on his cheek. That wasn't the scary part. From under his sweat-soaked hair, his light eyes were wild with a fire I'd never seen before. He rarely showed that much emotion, especially on the ice.

Tyler scooped his helmet up before walking off the ice. He went right down the tunnel, as did the other player who had been involved. The shock on my face must've been evident. Kris let out a laugh.

"His first official NHL fight, wasn't it? Not too shabby. He held his own hella good. 'Specially against Gus. That one's been a long time coming."

"What do you mean?" I was confused.

"Connor said Gus never respected Ty last year. He didn't listen to him and didn't treat him like a teammate. I'd say Tyler's been waiting to sock Erik for months." She smiled wryly. I felt too sick to return the gesture. Tayler patted my shoulder.

"You'll get used to it girly. Once he throws himself in one, there's gonna be more. He's just gained a lot more respect all over the league, too. Man who scores that much and can fight is rare. You don't see it in many players."

I couldn't quite grasp their enthusiasm. I knew fighting was part of hockey. It was just that Tyler didn't fight. He wasn't emotionally wired like that. What had happened that had broke down his concentration and revved him up enough to fight like that? Something told me it wasn't just an ill-intended check off the puck.

Tyler came back after two minutes to sit in the box for the remainder of his fighting penalty. Gus was doing the same in the other box. It felt like forever until the clock for the penalties wore down. As the final seconds ticked off, I chewed my lip nervously.

He immediately went for a change, instead of engaging in the play. I was confused. Normally he could play this line, even with two centers. Dylan would shift and let Tyler take over. It had happened before. Instead, he went right to the bench and was replacing by Alex. I strained my eyes trying to read his face on the bench.

"He's pissed."

"Don't sound so sad about it. We've never seen him play pissed. Maybe he'll be good." Lyndsey tried to comfort me from behind Tayler. I shrugged. I doubted it. Hopefully he proved me wrong.

The next time Tyler came on the ice, he was paired with Patrick for a power play. I held my breath as Tyler slapped the face off away from the Calgary player. To my disappointment, a defenseman cleared it down the ice instantly. Tyler swept down the ice to retrieve the puck from Elvis. His movements were confident, but slightly erratic. Maybe it was the emotion that let him split the defense and fly right through. Either way, Tyler handled the puck with one hand, sliding wide to the right of the net. He slipped around the goal fast enough to neatly tuck the puck past the goalies pads and into the net. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Hey, he's got a Gordie Howe hat trick now." Britt nudged me. I was lost.

"Oh Halle you are behind! A Gordie Howe hat trick is a goal, an assist, and a fight all in one game." My eyebrows rose.

"That's a thing?"

"Oh yeah it's crazy. But now he's got one."

I let out a heavy breath. So this was my life now? Permanently worrying about games and fighting and a million different kinds of hat tricks? Would I ever be as relaxed as Britt or Chaunette? It was hard to imagine.

The rest of the game was more settled. Calgary added one goal to the board, but that was it. I left my friends to go off and get food. I wasn't in the mood. I wanted to see Tyler.

While I waited in the hallway, I scrolled through my phone. It wasn't long before the team started to filter out. Elvis did a double take when he saw me leaning against the wall. He stopped next to me, looking over his shoulder.

"He's pissed right now. I would leave if..." he stopped when Tyler came out of the room. Elvis gave me an apologetic look. I nodded. At least I'd gotten a heads up.

There were multiple things that told me just how angry Tyler was. His shoulders were stiff and filled with tension. His face was void of emotion, mouth set in a firm line. He was gripping the straps to his bag tightly. When I started to walk next to him, I barely received a flicker of a glance. I walked quietly until we got outside. My hand crept forward, trying to find its way into his. Tyler let out a sharp noise.

"Not now."

"Ok." I let him gain space. I couldn't be hurt. It was the game.

"You shouldn't have waited. Being with Tayler would be a lot more safer right now."

"What do you mean 'safer?'" Tyler waited until we were inside the car to explain.

"Because all I want to do right down is hunt down Gustafsson and set him straight again."

"Over a check?" I didn't mean to sound skeptical.

"No. He tried to chirp me about you. I don't care if he was trying to fire me up and get a fight out, you never bring up girlfriends or wives on the ice. It's like...number one rule about chirping. I wouldn't have gone after him for anything else." He slammed his head back into the headrest. I jumped slightly.

"Ty, it's ok. Whatever he said, it doesn't matter. You didn't back down. I'm proud of you for that." He looked over at me in surprise.

"Are you?"

"Somehow, yes. I was terrified at the time but now I'm extremely proud." I lifted a hand to gently trace his face. Tyler let out a heavy sigh and leaned into my touch.

"So it didn't spoil my image?" I grinned.

"Absolutely not. It showed everyone you're a badass that definitely knows how to fight. Nothing hotter than a guy who can fight and score. Although your face doesn't look too pretty right now." His smile was sheepish.

"I was really only worried what you would think. Thank you for not being mad." He reached over to take my hand. I gasped at the marks on his knuckles.

"Ty!"

"Did you think I'd come out of that unscathed?" Normal Tyler was back. He smirked at me. I shrugged.

"I only saw your face. I didn't know your knuckles would be bad too. I haven't had any experiences with guys who get into fights." I narrowed my eyes slightly at him. In response, Tyler leaned over to give me a light peck on the cheek.

"Get used to it. I'm not going anywhere and the fights are gonna start rolling in now. Maybe I'll try to beat Tie Domi's record."

"No way mister. I like you whole and un-concussed." Tyler didn't say anything in response. He started the car, ready to drive off.

"What are you doing over Thanksgiving break? How long to do you have off?"

"Uh...a week or so. I was gonna go see my parents."

"We have a game in Toronto that week." I laughed at the perfectly planned coincidence. I'd already figured out my trip to my hometown.

"I know. So if I was up there you could meet them? That'd be awesome."

"Only if you come back to Chicago after. It's a four game road trip ending with Ottawa, but I should be home for a day or two before leaving again."

"I'm down. I think I'm going to talk to my parents about transferring then." Tyler gave me a strong side-eye.

"You're completely sure that's what you want?"

"Yes. My mom wouldn't let me move in with you if I told her, but could I anyway? I'll tell her it'll be Tayler or Lyndsey's place." Tyler's grin was wide.

"Is that even a question? You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that." I smirked at his enthusiasm.

"Should've said something sooner."

"I didn't want it to be too quick. Might scare you off." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not that flakey. Although I doubt I would've considered it a few months ago. I still loved Duke then." Tyler was silent again. I turned to watch the sparkling city lights as we headed towards the apartment.

"I was actually thinking about getting my own place. A permanent apartment for the summer and the season. Ideally I want my own house, but the ones I'm looking at are too far from the rinks." I looked at him carefully.

"No roommates?"

"None besides you." I smiled into the palm of my hand.

"Where would you move? Like some players have summer homes away from where they play. Where would you go?"

"I don't know about within the next few years, but when I have kids I want to move some place where hockey is a big focus. Canada, probably."

"Oh I can imagine you as a dad. Skates on kids before they even stand. They'll be way too used to the cold." Tyler didn't smile at my lighthearted tone.

"I wouldn't mind if they didn't want to play hockey. I just know I'd be the best role model for them that I possibly can be. I want to be there for them." His fierce words sobered me. Sometimes I forgot exactly where he came from. I had no doubts that he would be true to his words. Tyler had a way of taking negative things and turning them in his favor. I'd seen it over and over again in the way he played. When the press and stats said he couldn't come back from his concussion so soon, he'd done it and then some. I knew Tyler's next sights were set on the team that had knocked them out of the playoffs last year. Something told me he'd turn that in his favor as well. His future as a father wasn't much different. He'd take his rough childhood and make sure his own children never experienced that.

With heavy thoughts swirling through my head, I returned my attention outside. There was so much to worry about. Tyler meeting my parents, figuring out school, playoffs. While I was at it, why not get freaked out about our future together? Would I be a part of that house in Canada? Was that what I wanted?

Food for thought. A multi-course carbs-heavy meal. I tried to put the suffocating worries away. Another thought crossed my mind. It was brought forward by the thoughts of the future.

"Ya know, I'm gonna be twenty soon. How will I function when I'm not a teenager anymore?" Tyler smirked.

"November ninth."

"Yeah...did I ever tell you?" I screwed my eyebrows together, confused.

"You mentioned it in passing at the beach."

"And you remembered?"

"Of course." I blushed, not sure how to respond.

"Wow...and I obviously totally forgot yours."

"No, I never told you. No need to worry." He flashed me a smile as we pulled into the apartment parking lot.

"Oh good."

I smoothed my jersey down as I got out of the low Mercedes. Tyler retrieved his bag from the back while I started for the door.

"Slow down babe. I'm sore." I blushed at the use of the nickname. Had Tyler ever said that before? I liked it.

"Already? Didn't you do that stretching cool down stuff?"

"Yeah. Still sore though. Maybe you can help me roll out." I scoffed at his suggestive tone.

"I'm not your physical trainer Ty." He pouted at me.

"But I'm sore. As my girl, you're obligated to help me loosen up."

"Keep dreaming buddy. Get Kirby to help you." That earned me a wounded glare.

"Kirby doesn't have soft hands." I narrowed my eyes.

"So you're using me for my soft hands." Tyler grinned at me, his hand catching my waist to pull me towards him. His face hovered dangerously close to mine, an impish smile lighting up his face.

"Nope. It's more your stunning eyes and your rocking body." I blushed, trying to turn away. Tyler pulled me closer. I ducked, trying to avoid his lips. I knew I would break into a laugh if he kissed me. He showed no mercy. His lips still found my cheek, peppering kisses across my skin. I giggled at the tickling sensation. My lapse in trying to stay away from his affection. Tyler captured my lips in his, sealing my laughter away. I relaxed into the kiss with ease.

I was the one to complain when he pulled away. I groaned, not wanting to let him leave.

"I'd love to stand here and kiss you all night, but it's late and I'm hungry." He leaned down to give me a peck on the tip of my nose. I was the one to pout now. He took my hand, leading me inside the lobby of the apartment complex.

I leaned against the familiar elevator wall. Ty was checking his phone. He winced sharply at something on the screen. I leaned over to see what he was looking at. It was a picture of his right hand connecting sharply with Erik Gustafsson's face, shoving the Flames player back. Tyler's face in the picture was trickling blood from the cut on his mouth. Obviously, it pained him to see the image.

"Ty, it's seriously ok. How many guys out there fight? Tons. Chara is a captain and he gets into it all the time." I pulled the only person I could think of as an example.

"Chara's a d-man. And six foot nine. Of course he throws his weight around." Tyler looked distressed. He ran a heavy hand through his hair. I leaned into his side, trying to comfort him. "And what if the press go nuts with this? What if they say I shouldn't be fighting? Or fighting more?" The conflict in his body was evident. He was tense under my touch. I ignored his taut muscles, letting my hands wrap around his torso.

"Then you do what you always do. You relax and you do Tyler Dewalt. You don't listen to them. You be yourself and play the game you know. They're always wrong about you. Because you prove them wrong every time, without even trying." Tyler relaxed slightly in my embrace. He nodded against my head.

"And I'd be in a pit of despair without you. Halle Finch, you make my head spin but you also set it straight. Thank you for grounding me." I smiled into his chest.

"I'd be anything for you, Ty."