Courageous

In the next week that followed, HBO had brought in their equipment and men for the Rangers portion of 24/7. It was a daunting task for a rookie such as myself and being followed around by cameras was not something I was looking forward to. Luckily, they weren't going to be following me this morning like they were Callahan, Dubinsky, and Stephan on their way to MSG. I would get to enjoy a small amount of privacy riding in today with Hank in his Maserati.

After waking up later than what I had desired because of a late night FaceTime session with my parents, I was forced to scarf down my biscuits 'n' gravy that Mandy had made earlier this morning. The still hot contents burned my throat in a less than pleasant sensation as I doused the fire with ice-cold water. Seeing an empty milk jug on the counter reminded that there was milk in the gravy, milk was my #1 off ice enemy. No, I wasn't lactose intolerant. I could still enjoy small amounts of dairy as along as it wasn't a main ingredient of the food. I took a Lactaid pill to subdue any allergic reactions I would have later on today. Checking the time again, I realized that I only had time for a quick shower before Hank would be waiting outside my apartment building. After my show I put on some light make up and braided my hair, which I had cut to shoulder length out of necessity. I, no longer had time to jack with fixing mid-back length hair. The style I had chosen had layers and side swept bangs for a new edgy look.

As I was about to walk out of my apartment my phone went off, picking it up I smiled at who was calling me.

"Well if it isn't the 'Real Deal'." I teased him as I locked the door and headed towards the stairs. I opened the door for an elderly man, who was carrying some Christmas decorations in a cardboard box. Oh yes, in a matter of days the City had transformed itself from the decor of the Macy's Thanksgiving day parade to the twinkling lights and colors of the Christmas season.

"Hey, Kayla, what's up?" He chuckled after my greeting.

I waved at doorman as I walked into the main lobby. I walked out the main doors, Hank's car waiting on the curb. Hopping in I pointed at my phone as Hank raised an eyebrow at me,

"Just headed to the rink to get ready for the Leafs."

"Nice! Good luck. I'm having' some breakfast... Duper says, 'hi'." The sound of teeth crunching cereal could be heard through the speaker. Laughing at him, I shook my head,

"Tell Duper, that he needs to shoot the puck more often... You guys are playin' the Bruins tonight?"

"Yep... Should be a good match up, eh?" He confirmed, I could hear the smile in his voice. I frowned,

"Nah, I want you guys to win. I hate the Bruins... Even if I lived there I've always been a Canucks fan. Last June, I was the only one of my teammates not celebrating. In fact, I wore my Kesler jersey when we went to hang out with them. I got hassled for being 'bitter'."

Judging by the echoes of laughter, James must've placed his phone on speaker. Hank, too, was chuckling silently from the drivers seat. I elbowed Hank because he was physically present, before threatening James,

"Yeah, yeah, I think I might just hang up on you, now."

"Aw, c'mon now, ya don't have to do that." James whined. I chuckled at his childish attitude,

"Actually, I do. We just got to MSG."

"Oh," He sounded, slightly crestfallen when I told him this, "Good luck and have a good game, tonight."

"Yeah, you, too. Bye." I told him and after he bid me farewell, I ended the call. Glancing at Hank, he just shook his head at me.

"What?"

"Nothing." Hank shrugged, nonchalantly, but I could tell he was trying to avoid something.

"You're lying." My accusation must've stunned him as his vibrant blue eyes darken in thought before he got out of the car. I followed in pursuit, hoping he would tell me what was on his mind.

"Mickie, it's nothing. Forget about it." He tried to assure me after I had caught up with him; his hand shoved into is his winter jacket as he said this.

Rolling my eyes at him, I was convinced with his answer, but I wasn't going to push him before a game. I didn't want to cloud his mind with unnecessary thoughts that might hinder his performance tonight, especially since we relied on him so heavily as a team. He was our rock, if he had bad night, we all would.

The walk into the Garden hadn't lost any of its grandeur from the first time I had walked into the massive building. Sure, it was a shell and it was old, but the memories that had been made here were as valuable as time itself. On the wall hung pictures of these memories, a constant reminder of the exceedingly high expectations and standards that the team was held to. Passing by the picture of Mark Messier holding the Stanley Cup, smiling like a mad possessed because of the pure elation and thrill of capturing yet another cup. His first with New York and as a captain. I hoped that I would someday come to know that feeling and to feel the cup's cool metal in my hands as I hoisted it over my head for my family to see. But right now that was just a dream with just over half the season to still be played.

Before the game, Coach had been adamant that we dictate this game against the swift Toronto Maple Leafs from the very beginning, that we shut down their speed, and force them to play in their own zone. Only for some reason, something was off tonight in terms over our efforts of our team as a whole and like when we had played the Leafs before we struggled with their quickness. We made poor decisions with the puck and failed to capitalize on power play opportunities. A turn over in neutral would lead to the first score of the period and it would not be in our favor as Franson managed a goal on a heavily screened Lundqvist. Let's just as Coach was displeased by our first period performance.

"With Kessel, if you have a chance, finish him he's a good player but don't shit your pants on him. Don't play off of him. We've got to take time and space away from him. And more importantly it's the players away from the puck." Tortorella, then motioned to the former Boston College forward, "Brian Boyle, we've done that fuckin' cover all fuckin' year long but you've got that fuckin' mic on and you can't fuckin' think straight. COVERAGE! The D has to put the guy in the way; everyone else has to take away the lanes. It's so important against Toronto here. As you see in the first period, but we have to quicker in our thinking, have quicker on the puck, and we have to get to the body. Alright, let's go get a good start!" He concluded and we clapped and cheered to try and rouse our spirits as we prepared to go back out on the ice.

In second, the intensity was so thick that you could probably cut if with a knife, but we still failed to get that stubborn Leafs out of our zone that resulted in two more goals in their favor. Out on the ice, I felt helpless to our cause as I fought hard to get my man out of Hank's crease. I had the speed to chance them down, but I didn't have the strength to move him. I was out matched but I wasn't going to let him beat me. I had managed to get my stick on the puck and direct it to Artem Anisimov for our first goal. Two rounds of Toronto penalties later, Marion put the biscuit in the basket on our power play. Sauer took a headshot that should've been called, but wasn't despite our protests. We began to struggle again after that, before another unsettling incident unfolds as MDZ is sent into the boards, smashing his shoulder he left a groan of agony. The Leafs from scoring one last time before the final buzzer sounded. Hanging my head in defeated I got up from the bench and headed back to the dressing room.

To keep myself busy on our off day the next day, I joined several of the other guys for a 'Garden of Dreams' charity event in which we took a group of unprivileged kids on a limo ride. I helped with young girl I had been assigned to into the exotic limo that had neon lights and black lighting like at a club. We would be going to the Radio City Christmas spectacular. I laughed as one of the boys asked about we fought in hockey. The young girl I had been assigned with named, Alana, tugged on my sleeve,

"How come you're the only girl who plays hockey?" An innocent question. I almost sighed but I maintain a smile,

"That's not true. There are lots of girls who play hockey."

"There are?" Her face lit up with excitement and hope danced in her chocolate brown eyes. I nodded, grinning back at her,

"Yeah, there are. Tons of girls who play hockey. There's even a national teams who plays all over the world."

Another girl was brought into our conversation as she listened to me explain things to Alana. She was a little younger, but she was as sharp as a tack,

"If there are so many girls out there who play hockey, how come you're the only one who plays with boys at Madison Skware Gardens?"

Looking the girl dead in the eye, there had been times when I had pondered that question myself.

"Because I'm courageous enough to take on the challenge."

"I play football with my older brothers! Does that make me cour-agious, too?" The younger girl asked. Alana chimed in as well saying the same thing. Smiling down at them, I nodded,

"Let me tell you both this, being courageous is not doing something because you do it with boys. You are courageous if you stand up to the challenges stacked against you with courage and when you don't deter from them."

They both nodded, smiling, widely at me. I wasn't sure if my words had made an impact on them or if they were old enough to understand what I was saying, but it seemed not to phase them as they began to ramble on about how cool this was and that they had never done something like this before. My heart broke for them. I had come from a well off family who had always had plenty of money to spare, but to look at these girls- all these kids, whose families could barely provide for them... I just knew that there wasn't enough we could to a difference in their lives, but for us to set aside some our precious free time to spend with them would make their day and would make memories for years to come.

A tear escaped the corner of my eye as I thought of this. As I whipped it away, a hand rest itself on my shoulder, looking up I saw it was Hank's. Smiling at him, I knew that now wasn't the time to get emotional. The kids were here to have a good time and it was our job to help make that happen for them. It wouldn't do me any good to morn for their situations when I could and was doing something about it.

The next day after practice, several HBO cameramen followed me back to my apartment. Brian Boyle and MDZ had also come home with me to help set up the fake Christmas tree I had just purchased. 15 minutes into starting the project, the 3 of us were baffled by the complexity of trying to put something together that was supposed to be so simple. Mandy saved the day when she pulled the step by step directions out from the box that we had set aside when we had thought we could assemble the tree without it's guidance. One of the cameramen pulled me aside for an interview about my time with the rangers,

"It's certainly been a huge opportunity to get to come in and play for the Rangers after not being drafted. Especially after spending four years at Boston College not knowing where I would go from there. I would've never expected to have my dreams to play in the NHL come true in a city like New York... Just to have made it this far is an honor."

Moments later, I joined Mandy in a 'Just Dance' duel to LMFAO's 'Party Rock Anthem' as the boys fumbled with putting together the tree. Not that they needed my help. Eventually, they have up and joined Mandy and I for a brief moment of fun and relaxation before we hit the ice tomorrow for a game against the Tampa Bay Lightning.

Our game against Tampa Bay resulted in a tough Shoot Out loss. Those were so hard to give up. Personally, I hated shootouts because I sucked at them. I had no finesse when it came to that kind of stuff and honestly my abilities were kind of pitiful. Everyone else disagrees with me on that opinion, but it's never really up for discussion I just complain about it enough that it get's brought up.

Right now, we were on our way to Buffalo, NY for a game against the Sabers. It was going to be a kind of home coming from mon capitaine: Ryan Callahan! His family would attending the game, so we were gonna win it for him! He would be having dinner with his parents who would be driving up from Rochester to meet him. It was always cool to see how supportive other hockey parents were for their children. I'm sure my own parents would've come to every single home game if my team wasn’t so far away. I missed them, a lot, but they would be flying in for the Winter Classic to watch me play.

God, it felt like we were stalking him as a collective group of us sat a few tables away from the bonding Callahan’s. The mood was light and the beer was cold, but we would have to curb our intakes considering we had a game tomorrow as Brandon Prust reminded us,

"Gabby, what is this your sixth beer? We've got a game tomorrow!" Gaborik was quick to hide his bottle from the all-seeing cameras that we're stalking us.

"Oh, pull that stick outta your ass, Brandy." I laughed at him. I was on about my sixth glass of wine and was feeling a little tipsy. Man, I should've just ordered the bottle. Once we had received our bill, we all stuck our credit cards into a hat and in a roulette fashion; each card is pulled out until only one remained. Shaking the sock cap around to shuffle it's content after it had been handing to me; I dipped my hand in, slowly, and then shuffled it around some more. Once appeased, I picked up the card on the bottom,

"And the team member, who is safe tonight is.... Gabby!!!" I announced, dramatically as I handed the Czech his card and passed the hat on to him, who wasted no time in pulling out a card,

"Brandon Prust!" The man in question was sitting next to him exclaimed a 'yes' and took the card from his friend.

Brian Boyle, when he received the hat he inquired to us which side he should pick, "Right side?"

We all chirped in agreement with him as he pulled out the card of..."DUBBY!!" He exclaimed and giving away Brandon his card and considering that there were only two cards left their owners would be picking up the bill. The only people who hadn't received their cards back were Hank and I. Hank was extremely gracious about it but I was a little upset, I wasn't sure if I had enough money to cover it.

"Thanks for paying, losers!!" Brandon Prust thanked us clasping my shoulder in his large hand as he did so. I shoved him off of me and growled,

"You had the most expensive meal!"

Brandon winked at me before sauntering away, leaving me standing next to Hank in irritation. Sometimes, Prust had a knack for getting under my skin and he relished pissing me off with his sexual innuendos. He would've been my least favorite person on the team if Sean Avery didn't exist.

"Mickie." Hank budged my arm as he pulled my card out of his pocket, "I picked up your bill."

Part of me couldn't believe this. It wasn't like I couldn't pay for my half of everyone's meal. I was just as capable as everyone else. Don't get me wrong, I understand Hank was being a gentleman but it didn't sit well with me. In this situation, I was a teammate... one of the guys, not a girl. I didn't need any special treatment. Unable to soften my glare that I had been staring at his hand with, I took my card from him and jogged out of Buffalo Chop House in order to catch up with the guys. By the time I had caught up with them, the full effects of the half bottle of wine that I had consumed caused me to stumble and latch onto the nearest arm for support, the lucky man turned walling stick proved to be none other than Brandon Prust. Oh, sweet justice here I come!

"God, Mickie, let go of me!" The dazzling blue eyed forward demanded as I leaned against him heavily and rambled on about how much I didn't like him at the moment. He tried everything in his power in attempt to get me to detach myself from his appendage, but thing was I tend to be a clingy, loud drunk so that just made things worse for him as I held onto him tighter than a tick on a dog. The others laughed in amusement and refused to help him when he ha begged for assistance. Thus Brandon was forced to deal with my slight inebriation alone. We passed by a man wearing a sabers jersey and I was reminded of a song!

"You know, Brandy, every time I see a buffalo I think of a song!" I squeaked, excitedly, jumping around as I, unintentionally, pressed my boobs against him. "Wanna know what it is?"

"God, no-"Brandon protested but I ignored him and began to sing a rather obnoxious and off keyed fashion,

"One day the guy on a buffalo hopped off to stretch his legs, walked a field. Hey, what's this in the weeds..? IT'S A BABY!!! AWESOME! He placed it in a saddle hook, humped it up the hill and across the plain. Tried to cross a river haha not gonna happen man, you're ridin' on a buffalo, 'member. But keep the baby a float! Good job! Guy on a buffalo gotta find your friend. She's barren. Guy on a buffalo: Hey, you want this baby? It's cheaper than adoption. Guy on a buffalo, you're welcome lady, gotta move along on my buffalo-"

*GENERAL POV*

The men were perplexed and assumed by the situation before them as the woman in their misted was drunkenly singing some YouTube song about a guy who road a buffalo to the poor, unfortunate soul she had latched onto. Brandon Prust had spend most of his time looking back over his shoulder with a pleading expression, but he wasn't going to get any help that he desired because he had picked on Mickie more than anyone else on the team and it was time for him to pay for his digressions.

The HBO crew who were walking along with them was also laughing up a storm. This was certainly a treat! Few had ever seen the defenseman is this kind of form and it was quite a sight. Unfortunately, the cameras were no longer rolling to expose her behavior to the world. One thought that never crossed their minds was what the consequences might be if Tortorella found out about her current blood alcohol level. She'd be hung-over for the game tomorrow that was one thing that they were sure of. As they drew nearer to the hotel, they began trying to hush her so that she wouldn't disturb any of the hotel's other guests and by the time they walked into the main lobby they had managed to get her to stop singing, but she was still babbling loudly about some SpongeBob episode she had watched a long time ago.

"Do you know how every SpongeBob show starts?" She asked Brandon. Her face flushed and eyes bloodshot as she tugged on the sleeve of his coat, "C'mon, Brandy, you do too! Sing it with me!"

"No way! I am not gonna get in trouble with you" He hissed in warning at her which didn't even seem to phase her. Instead, she kicked off the song with a loud,

"Ooooooooohhh!!!!-" She was cut off as Brandon covered her mouth with his free hand.

"Prust, sing with her." Boyle suggested, "Now!"

"Fuck no, man! You do it!" The prisoner rejected the idea of singing some kid's show song.

"But you've got to! It's the only thing we haven't tried and you're her focus at the moment. So sing away little bird." Callahan threw in his two cents, a guilty; nervous tightened his usually relaxed features. Brandon considered his captain's words for a moment, but before he could decide a white-hot pain ripped through his hand as Mickayla's teeth sunk into the flesh of his palm. A yowl of pain was emitted by the forward as he cried out,

"She fuckin' bit me! She bit me!"

A few of the guys chuckled at the odd change of events from all of them combining their efforts in an attempt to pacify her to her trying to hush Prust because she felt bad for biting him in an attempt get her hand off her mouth. Down their hall, a door opened and from it emerged an irate head coach, who whispered, exasperatingly,

"What the fuck is going on here?"

Callahan gulped and then moved to take responsibly for the situation at hand. As team captain, he should take be the one who took the burdens of the team upon his own shoulder and set an example for the others to follow.

"I'm sorry, Coach, we tried to quiet her down enough that we could stuff a sock in her mouth long enough to get a Benadryl in her system so she'd pass out. While doing this she bit Prust, sir,"

Tortorella frowned as he peered down at the girl in question and judging by her condition, he could clearly see the signs of intoxication. He was disappointed that no one had attempted to stop her from drinking past her limit, but he knew that Callahan was not blame for this incident. He hadn't been sitting at their tables so he had no clue of what she had had to drink. Glancing at the goaltender, he would place this on him. He was the most trustworthy of the group and had taken Mickayla under his wing quicker than anyone else on the team.

"You all should ashamed of yourselves. She's your teammate. One of your own and you're supposed to look out for each other. If it were anyone else you would've started giving her water after the first or second glass. This is a real disappointment to me. You all should know better than this. Especially you, Hank, did you even think once to stop her? I bet not, so guess what? This is your mess to fix. Pull her off of Brandon and get her to bed. We'll see if she's capable of playing tomorrow in the morning."

The rest of the guys slinked back to their respective rooms as Hank had finally managed to get Mickie to relinquish her hold on Prust. Then the woman had fought against him the entire way to her solo room and snarled at him when he asked for her key. Barely able to stand on her own, she dung in her jacket pocket for her key and fumbled to unlock the door. Once the door was unlocked Hank led her the rest of the way into the room and forced her to sit on the bed while he went to look through her bag in search of her bedclothes. Upon finding a well worn Boston college t-shirt and black athletic shorts, he walked back over to his friend and team mate, who had now flopped back so that she was laying on the bed, entranced by the molding of the ceiling.

Sighing, he felt like he was taking care of a child as he reach to undo her skinny jeans, which seemed to be the easiest part as he struggled to pry them off of her well toned legs. Eventually, Mickayla sat up on her elbows and helped to kick off her jeans the rest of the way. Next he pulled her long sleeved V-neck over her head, she lifted her arms up in compliance. Once she was free of that, he helped her step into her shorts. After pulling the shirt over her, Hank found himself in an uncomfortable situation as the arms she had raised up to help in putting her shirt on where now armed around his neck, using them to anchor herself she leaned in closer, their noses brushing. He knew what was going to happen next and he couldn't do anything to stop her as lips pressed against his in a sloppy, lust filled kiss.

This was wrong. He was cheating on his wife, but he couldn't stop himself as he pushed the young woman back down onto the bed so that she was now lying against the pillows. He had to admit that he found the young woman 8 years his junior beautiful, desirable even, it had taken it's toll on him and their friendship as he felt that he should push in away in order to subdue his feelings. He groaned as her hands made quick work of undoing his tie that now draped around his neck as she worked on unbuttoning his shirt. His jacket had been discarded before when he was helping her dress for bed. Their mouths only separated long enough for him to pull her back over her head before they sealed back together, tongues engaged in a battle for dominance.

With both their shirts now gone, she turned her attention toward unbuckling his belt and dress pants. Both of which barely contained his arousal as she ground her hips against his in a tantalizing fashion and he had all but kicked off his trousers by this point. Soon there was only thin material of his boxers separating her from his protruding erection. However, Mickayla was not a blushing virgin and went to free him from his underwear. Pausing, she allowed her eyes to travel down his well-toned body with a smug grin, her sights set on his throbbing member.

She slides her hands down his body, slowly before wrapped it around his shaft. Not knowing what she doing, stumbled into the unknown territory of foreplay, but Hank wasn't in the mood for any kind of teasing as he hitched her legs around his waist and entered her tight center in one swift, fluid motion. His lips muffled the moan that welled up in her throat at the sudden pressure that was slowly building within her. As he began move inside her after he allowed her walls to adjust to his size, his tempo slowly building with each thrust. Mickayla soon delved into a realm of pleasure that she had never known. Sure, she a few forays with one of her teammates back in Boston and in Vancouver, but all of them paled in comparison to the man now moving on top of her. He took her breath away and made her see star as he continued to rev up the already fast pace he had set, all the while still caressing and touching her.

Gaining some confidence, she began to match him and became more vocal about what she wanted him to do to send her shooting towards the stars. Running her hands through silky, brown hair, she wanted to feel that high, the thrilling and pleasureful climax all those girls in that porno romance novels her mother reads. She knew was going to get it when she found herself overcome with a sudden pressure that was pulsing from her center. Before she could say anything at all, a deep groan broke off her thought process as she blacked out and saw stars for a moment or two. An answering moan from her partner signal he had found his release as well. Everything seemed prefect at that moment as he leaned down to kiss her as he pulled out of her aching body, until he began to mumbled words in a foreign tongue she barely understood.

Immediately, having sobered up some Mickayla looked guilty and sorrowful as tears steamed down her cheeks in black streaks as she realized what and who she had just done. After she pushed him off of her, he too came to his senses. How could she have ever allowed herself to take a married man to her bed? How could she have ever picked Hank as her victim? She had sworn that it was James. She wanted him to be James so badly, but sadly he wasn't.

In a flurry, she watched as Hank got up from the bed and began to get dressed. She wondered if this would ruin their friendship. It wasn't like she had meant to, it had just happened. As he sent her a guilty glance, she knew he wasn't mad at her, but she couldn't help but apologize. It was like she vomiting, she couldn't stop herself.

"Hank, I-I'm sorry.... I-I thought you w-were James... And I was too drunk to r-realize that you aren't him... Man, I fucked everything up, didn't I?"

Hank then walked back over to the bed as he brought her clothes back over to her, grasping her shoulders with his large hands. A soft tenderness now lighting his eyes as he rebuked her apology,

"Mickayla, I fucked up just as badly if not more than you. I was taking advantage of your intoxication and I was willingly cheating on my wife. I'm the one who should be sorry. I should've stopped this before it even start."

She hiccupped a little as she tried to calm herself down enough that she could breathe as he helped her dress herself. Ruffling her hair, he was tempted to lean in a kiss her forehead in reassurance but than action held potential to lead the things they had just been doing and there was no way he could forgive himself for taking her again. Even though it was tempting, he knew it would be unfair because heart belonged to another, whom he would apologize to eventually.

"Try to get some rest."

She nodded and crawled underneath the covers before folding herself into the fetal position, "Goodnight, Hank."

"Sov gott, Mickie." He replied back to her before turning off her room’s lights and locked the door before shutting it. On the way to his room that he shared with Martin Biron, he attempted to straighten his clothes out and pull himself together before he entered. Nodding to his back up he immediately headed for the bathroom. He needed a cold shower before he found any rest that night

*MICKAYLA'S POV*

Laying, curled up on the hotel bed I stared at the wall, thinking of how badly I had just fucked up. Had I remembered that Hank was helping me to bed, not James, I wouldn't be in this situation. I wouldn't have seduced him into my bed if I had the mental complicity to tell my goaltender from the man I wanted to be my lover. In all honesty, I could care less about the situation with Hank, it would only be extremely awkward for us. But what i was worried about was how James would react if I told him? What would James think of me now if I told him what had almost happened? Would he understand my situation or would he think of me as a whore like so many others did? Eventually, I drifted off before my mind couldn't destroy my own self image even more as I lulled into a dreamless sleep.