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“It’s an incredibly customizable model with a combination of treatments in the domains of cognitive, interpersonal, and behavioral. It won’t require you to delve into any tough memories or relive any past trauma, though if that ends up being something you feel you’d like to discuss, I’m more than happy to listen. This model will primarily teach you coping skills, learning to recognize your triggers and combat them in ways that will keep you safe. Does that sound like something you’d like to work with me on?”
Shrugging, he replied, “Do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice. No one is twisting your arm to be here, Hayes. But understand this: the league is continuing to pay you while you step away from hockey and work on yourself. If you choose to leave treatment before you’re cleared by one of the professionals in this program, that payment will cease, as will the payment for this treatment. Do you understand that?”
Hayes sighed, shifting in his chair again, this time uncrossing his legs, placing both feet on the floor, and leaning back. He removed his hat, raked his fingers through his hair, and pulled it back on, leaving his eyes exposed. “Got it.”
“Good. And thank you for leaving your hat up. It’s nice to see your eyes. So why don’t you let me get to know you a little bit?”
He studied her face: her eyes locked intently with his, her pen clutched in one hand and the other gripping her clipboard. She was younger, probably late 20’s or early 30’s, and though she seemed a little nervous, it appeared she knew her shit. “Fine. Whaddya wanna know about me?”
“Tell me why you’re here.”
“Because my team had an intervention and basically forced me to be here.”
“No. I mean, tell me why you’re here, Hayes.”
He’d intended to offer her a complacent smirk; instead, his face instantly became hot with tears. He swiped at them bitterly, hanging his head in his hands for a moment before looking back up at her in desperation. “I’m here because…I’m fucked up.”
“And what makes you say that?”
He looked down at his hands in his lap and picked nervously at his fingers. “Let’s see. Growin’ up, I watched my alcoholic mother get beaten and almost drink herself to death on multiple occasions. I have no idea who my fuckin’ dad even is. I was sexually abused as a teenager and convinced that it was my fault ‘cause I had a big dick. I got hooked on alcohol and oxys and have taken just about every drug I could get my hands on, gettin’ so obliterated on heroin one night that I cheated on the love of my life. I have zero recollection of how it happened, but he proceeded to break up with me anyway, takin’ all that was left of my heart with him.
“My best friend in the entire world, who just so happens to be pregnant with what I’m almost positive is my kid? We don’t even talk anymore. Um…oh, I’ve completely fucked up my career as a pro hockey player, which is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do with my life, and if we’re being’ honest? I really wish I’d have fuckin’ jumped that night.”
His eyes, still cloudy with tears, lifted to meet hers again. “That about answer your question, Dr. Rosa?”
Ty’s Chemical Romance (2)
Late November
“Ty Hayes!”
He felt an arm snake around his shoulder as he downed half of his fifth shot of something and struggled to locate Ryan’s number in his phone out of one bloodshot eyeball. “‘Sup?”
“First off, open up.” Hayes opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and swallowed whatever pills his teammate placed on his tongue, washing them down with what was left of his shot without even the slightest clue as to what he’d just ingested. “And ‘sup is that you need to get your ass to the back bedroom like, yesterday. Chick in there said she’s down to fuck us both. I’m thinking a little DP action, baby.” His teammate made an air-humping motion, then raised his hand to Hayes’s hat, yanked it off, and tossed it onto the floor of the Anaheim hotel suite in which they were currently partying. He made a grab for Hayes’s phone, but Hayes swatted his hand away.
“Fuck off, Teek. Shit.”
“Aww, what’s wrong? You gotta check in with pretty boy?” Hayes shot him a look, and he backed off instantly. “Well, when you’re done having phone sex, come join me for some real shit. Don’t worry, I’ll get her nice and warmed up for you.”
Hayes rolled his eyes when TK punched him in the arm. “What part of ‘I’m into cock’ don’t you understand?” he called as TK headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Focusing back on his phone, Hayes pulled up his text chain with Ryan, closed one eye, and clicked around a bit, finally navigating his way to the call button and pressing it.
Jesus Murphy, I am fucked up.
It rang five times.
“Hey, you’ve reached Ryan Baylor. Sorry I missed your call. Leave a message...”
Hayes waited for the beep before leaving his message. “Yo, Rook. I guess you’re too busy to talk to your boyfriend. Tried callin’ your ass like, four times. Don’t worry, this’ll be the last one.” He jabbed at the red button angrily and stuffed his phone into his back pocket before picking up his hat and heading down the hallway to find TK, not because he planned on fucking anyone, but to see if he had any coke left.
Despite all odds, mainly the demands of their pro hockey careers and their young ages, Ryan and Hayes had managed to stay together, but to say that their relationship was strained would be the understatement of the century.
The summer months following their May visit with Amara in Florida had been amazing. Not only had they alternated between getting to know each other better and fucking each other within inches of their lives, but they’d also spent a ton of time training both on and off the ice together, with Hayes now sporting a newly ripped body that included a six pack. It wasn’t as shredded as his boyfriend’s, but he was proud of it, considering the many sacrifices he’d made to get it.
“Look at that shit, Rook!” Hayes had said proudly, holding his shirt up and gawking at his well-defined midsection in the mirror. “Imma be more ripped up than you soon!”
“Keep dreaming, kid.” Ryan had said, before dropping to his knees in front of him, tracing the outlines of Hayes’s abs with his tongue and looking up at him. “It is fuckin’ sexy as shit, though. I’m not gonna lie.”
