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Ryan sat up. “No, I don’t hate you, Ty.”
He was oddly calm.
“Good.” Hayes reached for Ryan’s hand, but he pulled away. “Rook?”
“And listen, I’m gonna have to…learn how to navigate this, but I promise I won’t let this take precedence over your recovery. You’re…you clearly need help, Tyler. I’m still gonna support you while you get clean, OK? I’ll still be your point of contact and I’ll see this through with you. Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I won’t…”
“What the fuck do you mean ‘not together’?” He reached again for Ryan’s hand, and again, he pulled it away. “Rook, I love you.”
“And I love you. So much. But Hayes? You know I can’t stay with you now. You know that, right?”
“Rook? I don’t understand. What are you sayin’?” he asked, his voice quivering.
“I’m saying…I can’t be your boyfriend anymore.”
White Oaks Rehabilitation Center (19)
Christmas Eve
The White Oaks Rehabilitation Center in Tampa was where Hayes was completing his treatment. He’d gone through his seven-day detox, during which he’d prayed for death, and was working his way through the 35-day inpatient program. Once he’d completed that, it’d be determined whether or not he’d stay for the remainder of the 60-day program or if he could transfer to an outpatient program at a sober living facility.
He was hopeful it would be at sober living because then he could spend a few nights a week away. And he was really hoping he could spend them with Ryan.
White Oaks had an extremely regimented schedule.
Wake up was at 6 a.m. every day, which was followed by a community meeting, breakfast, and then an individual counseling session, where Dr. Rosa worked on the different aspects of Seeking Safety that Hayes had expressed interest in pursuing. These mainly consisted of learning to use coping mechanisms for his triggers instead of drugs and alcohol.
Between the hours of 8:30 a.m. and 4:30 p.m. he attended a variety of different group counseling sessions and workshops, some of his choice and some based upon the needs his medical providers had determined for him. Hayes had been particularly interested in the relapse prevention workshops, since he had no desire to ever be in this position again. They broke for lunch at some point and also received an hour of free time, during which he usually chose to relax or nap in his room.
Once 4:30 p.m. rolled around, residents could choose from a variety of different recreational activities and further counseling sessions, as needed. He’d been making sure to attend at least a few on suicidal ideation each week as part of his deal with Dr. Rosa.
She’d initially placed him on periodic suicide watch after learning about the bridge incident during their first session, but he assured her that the thoughts hadn’t returned since that night. And once she’d gotten to know him a little better, she agreed to pull back the monitoring if he attended sessions.
Additionally, Hayes used at least two to three hours of this time every day to work out like a fiend, as the facility had state of the art exercise equipment, weights, personal trainers, and even a boxing ring. There was something to be said for the NHL funding your recovery: only the best amenities were available.
He was still battling the rib injury, but he loaded up on Advil and sucked it up for the most part. He knew he needed to stay in prime condition because he was going back to play hockey and finish his rookie season at some point, come hell or high water.
Being in rehab blew, but he had to admit: the place wasn’t awful. Residents had their own private rooms and were offered a decent amount of free time, being able to use their personal electronic devices from 7:30 p.m. until lights out at 10:30 p.m. Hayes used this time nightly for two purposes: keeping in touch with TK at his Jacksonville facility around 9:00 p.m., since that was his facility’s allotted phone time, and plotting ways to get Ryan Baylor back. He’d begun compiling the “Tyler Misses Ryan” playlist and would send Ryan the link to a song and a part of the lyrics that resonated with him every night after they hung up.
It’d broken Hayes’s heart, having Ryan break up with him right before he entered rehab, but he couldn’t say he blamed him. He’d cheated; whether it was intentional or not, he’d cheated on Ryan, and good for Ryan for sticking to his relationship boundaries.
And it wasn’t that Ryan had done it to be heartless. He didn’t have the first clue how to process the unbelievable pain that was slowly consuming him, and understanding the need for Hayes to focus on his own recovery, it just seemed like the right thing to do. Considering this was only the second relationship he’d ever been in, he was doing the best he could.
Regardless, the man had kept his promise to Hayes. He’d been there; he’d answered the phone at night when Hayes called, he’d kept in touch with the rehab facility as Hayes’s point of contact, and he’d even taken some personal time off and cleared it with the NHLPA so he would be able to attend the family counseling sessions. The conversation they’d had in the parking lot the morning Jake and Ryan had dropped him off at the rehab facility played in Hayes’s head on a continuous loop.
“Rook, I know I fucked up. And I know this is all a mess right now. But I meant what I said, OK? I’m gonna get better.”
“I know you will, Tyler. And like I said, I’m here for you. Just because we broke up…I won’t abandon you. Ever.”
“Ryan, you’re the only thing in my life I give a shit about right now. All of this that I’m doing, all of it, is for you. I want you…I want you to be able to love me again.”
“I haven’t stopped loving you,” Ryan told him. “I just…I have boundaries now, and unfortunately, you crossed them. Breaking up with you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and that includes going through the death of my father. This isn’t…the ending I wanted for us. Trust me.”
“So, tell me what I have to do to make it right,” Hayes asked intently, reaching for Ryan’s hands. “You tell me what to do and I’ll do it. No questions asked. No hesitation. Ryan, what do you need from me?”
Ryan lifted Hayes’s hands to his face and kissed each of them gently before letting them go. “Survive. I need you to survive. Then we’ll go from there.”
“Done. I’ll survive. This isn’t the end for us, Ryan Baylor. I understand you gotta do what you need to do, but we? We’re gonna make it. You’re gonna be my husband someday. I said it before and I wasn’t kiddin’. I’m gonna fuckin’ marry you.”
