We Found Love

Over the next few days, word spread rapidly around the NHL that Jack was gay. A lot of guys tweeted and texted him their support, and so Jack rapidly expanded from a guy who was just sort of there on the third line to one of the few guys on the team to have over 15 goals. We thought that it had a lot to do with the fact that he was finally able to concentrate on hockey alone, and not worry about if people found out that he was gay.

But then I heard screaming coming from the hallway.

"YOU MOTHER FUCKER, SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT AGAIN AND I'LL KICK YOUR ASS!" I heard Emily scream as I opened the door. I quickly realized that I had just walked into the middle of Emily flipping out on Zac Rinaldo.

"Keep talking Vance. You're nothing but a pretty face on that team. I'm going to take your gay bird out for a spin that he won't enjoy, and then I'll gladly whoop your ass," Rinaldo replied coolly, and I felt my anger flare up.

"Get back into your locker room Rinaldo," I growled.

"Sorry, but I only listen to real captains, not pansy bitches like you," he retorted, and I felt my hands clench into fists. Instead of concentrating on Rinaldo, I turned to Emily and realized that Tanger was behind her, holding her by her jersey sleeves and just barely managing to keep her from lunging at the Flyers' forward.

"Emily get back in the locker room!" I demanded.

"But he-" she started.

"NOW!" I barked, and she glared at me angrily before snapping away from Tanger and storming into the locker room. Kris followed her quickly, shaking his head as he went.

"Looks like you've got your bitch on lockdown," Rinaldo said, and I spun around. I grabbed him by the front of his jersey and slammed him into the wall.

"If you ever talk that way about Emily, Jack, or any of my other teammates again, I'll give you an ass whooping you'll never forget, got it?" I snarled, and Rinaldo stared calmly at me. I shoved him towards his locker room door before storming back into the visitor's locker room.

"Emily what the FUCK were you doing in the hallway?" I cried as I headed back to my stall. A few of the guys stared at me but decided not to get involved.

"I wanted to see Patrick. He got traded to Philly a few weeks ago," she said quietly, and I sighed quietly before nodding.

"Alright, but let's not go looking for any Flyers before games from now on, okay guys?" I said, and the locker room agreed.

"Look, Rinaldo wanted to get under your skin, and I can tell that he did, but try and let it go. Play a good, clean game, and we won't have anything to worry about," I said quietly, noticing that she was taping up her stick a little more violently than usual. She just glared at me.

"I'll play clean if they play clean," Emily said after a moment.

I don't think that even game three of the 2012 playoffs could have compared to the game that we played that day. Seventeen of us were sent to the penalty box, and ten of us that went had been sent at least once for fighting. Emily and Jack had both taken on Rinaldo, while I had paired off with Claude Giroux in what turned out to be an all in brawl; even Flower and Bryzgalov got into a fight. By the end of the game, the trainers were running out of ice and the Flyers had lost 8-7. Flower wasn't happy about letting in seven goals, but when you have a black eye it's kind of hard to play goalie.

When we landed in Pittsburgh, we were glad to be home. We were sore and tired from our little stint in Philly, and we wanted nothing more than to see friendly faces for once. When we finally landed at Pittsburgh International, I thought that the day couldn't get any longer.

I was so incredibly wrong.

We got our bags and headed towards the parking lot, where we were mobbed as usual by the media and fans. Jack got a lot of attention, since it was the first time he was willing to comment since his press conference. Emily was by his side the entire time, and I tried not to keep looking at her as I answered questions and signed autographs as usual.

But then a loud bang resonated through the crowd. I froze, and then turned to see Emily standing in the midst of a swirling, screaming crowd, her face ghostly white and speckled with crimson. Blood. I ran over and saw Jack crumpled on the ground, clutching his stomach and groaning. I slowly pulled out my phone and dialed 9-1-1.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

"My teammate just got shot,"