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Soon after, a series of “Uh-oh's” and “Oh shit’s” echoed throughout the bus. Hayes was one of the last ones to get on; he’d been giving an interview after the killer game he’d just had. When he finally walked on, everyone was silent, which was completely unexpected for someone who’d just posted four assists and scored a hat trick, including the game-winning overtime shootout goal in what had been a complete and utter gongshow.
He looked around, unwrapped a lollipop. and stuck it in his mouth. “Ok, why’s everyone being so fuckin’ weird, eh?”
Ryan gestured for him to come sit next to him, moving over so Hayes could sit on the inside. “What the hell’s going on, Rook?”
“I hate this,” Ryan said quietly, showing him his phone. “I’m sorry, man.”
Hayes watched it a couple times, turned away from Ryan, and plunked his forehead against the window. He proceeded to ride the entire two hours in complete silence, minus some sniffles, with Ryan periodically rubbing his back and shoulders.
“Fuck that bitch, bro. She doesn’t deserve you.” A couple of the other guys had tried to come and talk to him, but Ryan just shook his head.
The next day, he didn’t show up for dryland training, and knowing he was nursing a broken heart, the guys covered for him. The day after that though, he’d blown off game day practice, which was a huge no-no.
Coach Hastings banged a stick against the bench. “And where in the glittering fuck is Hayes?”
Ryan skated over. “Coach, I need to talk to you for a sec.”
He had tried to explain the situation, hoping for a shred of empathy, but Coach was having none of it. “I don’t give a shit. He’s a key piece, and this is his fucking job. We’re knotted up in the standings against Charlotte, and we need him tonight, or special teams is gonna suffer. Not to mention, you don’t get promoted to the big club by sitting around crying over some whore. If he’s not dead or dying in a ditch somewhere, then his ass needs to be here. You understand me? I’m gonna scratch him for pulling this shit.”
Ryan shouted to Rizz that he was going to take a quick breather, ran to the locker room, and texted Amara.
R: We've got a bit of a situation.
She closed her laptop, took her glasses off, and headed down to his apartment, knocking on the door for about five minutes straight before he finally opened it, looking like an absolute bag of hell. He was shirtless, which was not a problem, but his hair was matted down to one side of his head and he was in dire need of some deodorant. His eyes were red and puffy, and as soon as he saw her, he immediately collapsed forward into her arms, sobbing like a child. She managed to get him inside and to the couch, where she held onto him as he let loose.
“It hurts. It hurts so bad.”
“I know it does, baby.” She ran her nails lightly up and down his back. If anyone could relate, it was Amara; knowing that, he allowed himself to be completely vulnerable with her.
“Oh my God, it’s so embarrassing. Everyone saw it. Everyone. My family, all my friends. The comments are out of control, blaming me like it’s somehow my fuckin’ fault.” He fell onto her shoulder again and wrapped his arms around her back. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I never once stepped out on her, not once. You know that, Amara.”
“Ty, I know you didn’t.”
But you would’ve.
“She told me she couldn’t do the long-distance thing anymore. Had no problem traveling to Vegas to fuck a bunch of other guys though, did she?” He burst into tears again. “Oh my God. How do I recover from this, Mar?”
Amara had figured it out. It wasn’t as much about the actual breakup for him as much as it was about the damage to his image.
Either way, she knew it sucked.
“You recover one God-awful day at a time. It’ll get better, Ty. I promise.”
She sat holding him for a good hour, as he alternated between nodding off and crying, until she really had to pee. “I’ll be right back,” she told him, but while she was gone, he’d dragged himself to his bedroom, crawled back into his bed, and tried to disappear under the covers.
“Nope. We’re not doing this.” She flung his door open, stormed over to his bed, and ripped the covers off him. He groaned in protest. “Get up.”
“I can’t.”
“Tyler, Ryan texted me. Coach is ready to sit you out tonight. She isn’t worth it.”
“I love her.”
“Well, she obviously doesn’t love you. I understand how hard it is to hear that, but you deserve better than some trifling-ass, cheating skank who puts you down and treats you like shit. Now, you’re gonna get your ass up outta this bed, get in the shower, please, for the love of God, and get your shit together for tonight’s game. Let’s go: up!”
He rolled his eyes, but he did as he was told. On the way to the bathroom, he stopped and hugged her, resting his head on her shoulder. “I don’t know where you came from, woman, but you’re one of the best things that ever happened to me.”
“Likewise, Tyler.” She ran her fingers through his hair until they got stuck in a mat. “Ugh, go condition those locks, please. Good God.” She shook her hand like she was shaking something off it.
