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Every time Ryan had come for therapy, he’d hit up the craft store and brought him whatever he needed: needles, yarn, little beads for eyes. The boy had crocheted a menagerie of tiny little animals, one for everyone he currently gave a shit about.
An orange whale for JT.
A green whale for Osi.
Three blue penguins: one for Mar, one for his mom, and one for Ryan’s mom.
A yellow chick for TK.
An orange octopus for Alan.
Fucking Alan. Who, as it turned out, was pretty dope.
And a beige pickle for Ryan…because it looked like a dick.
He was currently working on his magnum opus: a purple jellyfish for Dora, and he was desperate to finish it so he could get it to her before he left tomorrow. He was so close; all he had to do was stuff the head and he’d be done.
OK, so maybe he was kind of a hockey god. But crocheting made him feel like a total baller, having learned most of it on his own by watching YouTube videos, minus a few stitch-and-bitch freakout sessions with Dora.
“I’m never gonna be able to fuckin’ get the hang of this shit!” he’d yelled one day, throwing the needles and his project to the ground. “Fuck it, I quit!”
“Ay! Ni se te ocurra, Morao! You want pity? You no get it from me. You go somewhere else,” she’d scolded him, having none of his bullshit. She’d grabbed him by the face, squeezing both cheeks with her one-handed, old lady death grip. “You? Don’t give up. You are no quitter. Pick it up and try again. Venga, dale.”
And just like that, he’d picked the needles up, kept at it, and finished what he’d been crocheting.
“You’re, like, the mom I never knew I needed, Dora,” he’d told her, working his stitch and leaning his head onto her shoulder.
“Solo sabes dar la leta,” she’d muttered, shrugging him off. “You’re a real pain in the ass, Morao. You know what.”
“Yo, that’s so weird. You’re literally the first person to ever tell me that.”
“Mira que gracioso el nino.”
Everything was squared away for his transfer into sober living. The NHLPA had arranged a ride for him the following day at 7 a.m. He’d be staying about 35 minutes outside of Tampa, as it was only a 10-minute ride to the arena where he’d be practicing with TK. His teammate would be staying at a similar facility about 20 minutes from his, the Isles brass having decided that it wouldn’t be good optics if they were housed together, especially considering the rumors that had been spreading about them like wildfire.
So many rumors.
And they were ugly.
Hayes would finish out his next 25 days at Regency Recovery Home, another high-end facility, where he’d have a private bedroom, private bathroom, access to an indoor pool, sauna, and all the finest amenities that his NHL salary could buy, as would TK.
The thing was, despite all the luxuries Hayes had been afforded, he was still that broke trailer park kid at heart. He had resolved right then and there that someday, somehow, he was going to use the money he made to help lessen the burden on people who weren’t as fortunate as he’d miraculously become.
He’d even spoken to Dr. Rosa about it at their last therapy session.
“I’m serious. I’m gonna make it so kids like me have a chance, man. Maybe start like, a hockey program for underprivileged kids. I definitely wanna help LGBTQ+ kids get their shot, too. I…there’s so much I wanna do. I feel like, I don’t know, like I can help so many people, you know? Really make a fuckin’ difference.”
“Hayes, I love these goals you’ve set for yourself, and the fact that they’re goals that go beyond you and extend to others? I’m so proud of you,” she’d told him, and he swore he’d seen tears in her eyes. “You’ve come so far and I really think you’re gonna go on to do amazing things with your life.”
“Well, a big part of it is thanks to you, lady…I mean, Dr. Rosa. You…you covered for me, saved my ass. You didn’t have to do that. And you never gave up on me. I know I’m not…the easiest, you know? What I’m tryin’ to say is thank you. Seriously.” The tears had formed in his own eyes. “So, this is it for us, eh? You only work here?”
She’d nodded. “This is it for us, Hayes. But I know Dr. Ozbeck over at Regency and he’s amazing. You’re really going to like him. He’s going to pick you up where we left off with Seeking Safety. I’ve sent all your records and he’s very excited to meet you.”
Hayes had worked feverishly all morning to get that jellyfish’s head stuffed, having skipped breakfast so he could finish it and hand-write a note to Dora, in which he thanked her and left his number so they could keep in touch. Finishing just in time for his morning group session, he excitedly stuffed the note and the jellyfish into a Dora the Explorer gift bag that he’d asked Ryan to bring him and headed over to the meeting hall.
As he entered, he was startled when everyone stood and clapped for him. He scanned the room, noticing that some treats had been put out for him, along with a banner that everyone had signed that said, “Congratulations and best of luck, Hayes!” Immediately, he lost it, going around the room and tearfully hugging everyone, even though he didn’t know who 95 percent of them were.
Despite his best efforts to remain hidden, they’d seen him.
