Ryan Baylor （3）

"Thanks, man. I really appreciate it," he said, handing the Uber driver $100. After all, the poor guy had been sitting out there for 25 minutes while he made four trips up to his sixth-floor apartment and back to get all 12 of his bags. It was the least he could do, even though the ride over from Long Island already cost him over $300. What was another $100?

As he stepped onto the elevator and hit the ‘6' button once more, he suddenly felt a pit in his stomach that damn near doubled him over. He put his bag down, slumped against the side of the elevator, and prayed that it didn't stop until his floor.

Get your shit together, Baylor, he told himself, as he grabbed his final bag, got off, and walked to his apartment door.

He should've been excited for this next part of his journey, but, in true Ryan Baylor fashion, that was impossible. All he could do was ruminateover every single mistake he'd made in training camp, wondering which one was the deciding factor in him being sent down to the minors.

The minors.

The two-word combination made him shudder. He still couldn't believe it. This was already year two of his almost two-million-dollar, entry-level NHL contract, and he'd yet to see a dime of it, minus a sizable signing bonus. Year one had been spent playing Division 1 NCAA at The University of Minnesota as a junior. After their devastating loss in the finals, he'd hoped for the opportunity to prove himself in some games in with the New York Islanders, but neither they nor Bridgeport had made the postseason, so back home he went until training camp started in September.

"Listen, sweetie. Things are about to change. Your life is about to shift drastically. You've gotta be willing and ready to change with it, and unfortunately, that means biding your time," his mom had told him, helping him to focus on his breathing as he broke down into a full-blown, 2:30 a.m. panic attack at the kitchen table.

Ryan Baylor was skilled in many things, but patience or the ability to handle things that didn't go precisely how he'd planned were not two of them. For most of his life, everything had always come somewhat easily to him, especially hockey. When it didn't, his anxiety would spike, sometimes nearly to the point of incapacitating him. He hid it well from the rest of the world for the most part, but his mother knew him probably better than anyone, and there was no hiding it from her.

"Your days of being the big fish in the little pond are done, babe. You're gonna have to fight for your spot now. You need to earn it. And you will, but it's gonna be a hell of a battle."

And she was right. Ryan was used to being the biggest fish in the small pond. Hell, he'd been captain of the Golden Gophers for his sophomore and junior years, his sophomore year being one of the best on record for the school in the past 10 years, and the best in school history for a defenseman. He'd put up 17 goals and 29 points in 35 games and had taken complete control of the penalty kill special team, earninghim the 41st pick overall in the second round of the NHL draft. That fact had taken at least some of the pressure off him for his junior year, his last year playing NCAA, where he could just focus on playing his best hockey without the added stress of worrying about what the immediate future held.

Fast forward a year, where this immediate future of playing minor league hockey was now staring him boldly in the face? He'd be lying if he said he was pleased with what he saw.

As he shut the door behind him, his phone buzzed.

N: I'm picking her up tomorrow around 1. We'll be over after.

N: She's really looking forward to meeting you.

R: Sounds good. Looking forward to meeting her, too.

He replied right away, but in reality, this was just one more thing contributing to the constant uneasiness that was slowly consuming him. Nick McDonough was the athletic trainer for Bridgeport and had been at camp. At 32, he was on the younger side, and he and Ryan spent a lot of downtime talking. He was grateful that at least he knew someone here, because he'd literally never met another soul on this team; he'd heard of a lot of the guys, knew them by name, but that's it.

The Bridgeport Islanders were a well-established team: a mixture of older guys finishing out their careers, several guys on AHL-only contracts, a handful of guys called up from the Worcester Railers, the ECHL affiliate, and a few younger prospects who hadn't been at camp, as it had been decided they'd start the season there due to coming off recent injuries. He was very lucky to be heading there though: out of the six prospects at camp, only two made the big club, and the other three were sent out to Worcester. He knew himself well enough to know that there was not a chance he'd have recovered from that.

After learning that he didn't make the final cut and dealing with the whirlwind of emotions that came with that, he began to panic about finding an affordable living option, as it didn't seem that the big money would be rolling in anytime soon. Nick had helped him locate an amazing, fully furnished apartment in a building Downtown where some of the other younger guys were living. On only his AHL salary, he wasn't sure he could swing it without a roommate, so Nick hooked him up with one of those, too.

And so, there he sat, engulfed in silence, his entire 23 years of blood, sweat, and tears reduced to a roster spot in a development league and 12 bags. Alone with his own thoughts could be a dangerous place; he knew that. Thankfully, he wouldn't be alone for too much longer. His new roommate, Nick's cousin, would be here in less than 24 hours. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little apprehensive about the upcoming living situation: a 23-year-old single guy and a much older, recently divorced woman was an odd combination for sure. But he trusted Nick, and he was used to living just about anywhere, having played juniors and been through a few different billet families. He laughed to himself, thinking about the conversation he'd had with his 27-year-old brother that morning.

"Wait, she's how old?"

"She's…41, I think."

"Bro. And she's recently divorced? Holy hell, Ryan. Jackpot! Is she hot?"

"I mean, sorta? I guess. I found her Instagram, but it's private, so there's only one pic that I can see. She's OK. Definitely not ugly, but not really my type."

"So, what you mean is she isn't blonde and completely, 100 percent fake from the top of her head down to her toenails?"

He rolled his eyes, then shrugged. His brother knew him too well. "I mean, I guess she's cute. I don't know. She's old though."

"So? When's that ever stopped you before? Juniors tournament hotel room ringing any bells?"

"Stop it. That was one time and a huge mistake. I mean, it was a really fuckin' hot mistake though."

"Exactly! And dude: over 40 and divorced? Do you even have any idea what kind of sexual awakening that woman is probably experiencing right now? You do know they go through a ‘slut phase', right? It's like a rite of passage for divorced chicks. Screw this, I'm coming to visit. I'm not even kidding. I'm literally on my way right now."

"Right," he smirked, shaking his head. He knew his brother was just trying to make him laugh, keep his spirits up. But he also knew what an unapologetic pervert Luke could be. "And I'm sure Shan will be totally cool with it."

"Need to know basis, bro. Different state, doesn't count. Yo: send me her Insta."

"Get the fuck outta here!"

"I know you. I give it a couple weeks tops before you smash her, if that. I'm calling it right now. And I guarantee you it's gonna be, hands down, the best shit you‘ve ever had in your life."

"Eww. I'm hanging up now."

"Wait. Ry?"

"What?"

"I love you, man."

"Love you too, Luke."

And there it was: homesickness hit him like a ton of bricks, as he had no clue when he'd even see Luke or his mom again. Their dad had passed away unexpectedly in a car accident when Ryan was 17 and living with one of his billet families while playing juniors. He'd taken the rest of that year off and moved back home to be with his mom. As soon as he returned the following year, Luke and his then girlfriend, now fiancée Shannon moved in. He said it was because they were saving up money for a wedding and a house, but Ryan knew it was because he was leaving again, and Luke didn't want their mom to be alone.

He stopped himself from going any further with these thoughts, deciding that this was an emotional rollercoaster he didn't have the energy to ride right now. Instead, he focused on busying himself, as there was more than enough to do. And just as he'd started going through his first bag, he swore he heard someone at the door.

Shit, maybe Luke was serious, he thought briefly, though he was utterly perplexed at who the hell could be knocking on his door right now, six floors up, in an unfamiliar city where he knew absolutely no one.

He opened the door to find two young guys standing there. Both were tall, roughly the same height as his six-foot, three-inch self, and on the slimmer side with dark hair. The slightly shorter one's longer, wavy hair poked out from under the sides of the gray beanie he was wearing. He had a lollipop stick hanging out of the side of his mouth and held a six-pack of some kind of beer, while the slightly taller one held a bouquet of pink and purple flowers.

"Don't get too excited. Is not for you," Flowers said with a heavy Russian accent.

"Osi. For real? That's how you greet the kid? How about hi?"

"Yes. This too. Hi."

"Hi?" Ryan half-asked, as Beanie shoved the six-pack his way.

"You're the rookie, right? Ryan Baylor?"

"That's me."

Beanie threw his hands up. "Surprise! Meet your teammates. This is Osi, formally Aleksey Osinov. I'm Hayes. Tyler Hayes, but my mom's literally the only person in the world who I'll allow to routinely call me Tyler."

Ryan swung the door open. "Uh, yeah. Hey. Come on in. It's kind of a mess right now. I just got in a bit ago, but uh, thanks," he said, setting the beer down on the counter and mentally adding "unexpected visitors" to the list of everything that currently had him on the brink of another panic attack. "How, uh, how did you know I was…"

"Dunny," Hayes replied. "Nick. We're down on the fourth floor. He said you're gonna be living with his cousin or some shit?"

"Yeah. She'll be here tomorrow."

"Nice. Heard she went through a wicked divorce. Yo, Osi?" Hayes nudged him.

"Yes. This for her," he said, handing Ryan the flowers.

"Right. Thanks. I guess I should, uh, put them in water," he said, heading to the kitchen to look for something to stick them in.

"I don't fuckin' know, I guess. Just make sure she knows they're from the two hotties on the fourth floor and not the dusty rook, eh?" Hayes twirled the lollipop stick as he looked around. "I thought you said it was a mess in here. Looks pretty put together to me. You should see our place. Most days we're lucky if we can find the front door."

"This is because you are pig," Osi chimed in, and Hayes flipped him both middle fingers.

Ryan smirked. "Yeah, it's fully furnished. Sheets, towels, kitchen stuff. All included."

"I mean, that's cool. Makes it easy. So, how'd you even end up living with Nick's much older female cousin? That's kinda weird, eh? What are you, 22, 23?"

"I'm 23. And it…just sort of happened."

And how'd you end up such a nosy little shit? Ryan thought, partially annoyed as Hayes grabbed a beer, twisted the cap off, and had a seat at one of the counter stools. Just as he was about to drink it, Osi grabbed it from his hand. "Nope. Can't have yet. Two more months."

Hayes swatted him and grabbed it back. "Shut it. Yes, I'm the only guy on the team who can't get into a bar yet. Meanwhile, back in Canada, I've been going to bars for almost two years. So stupid."

"Oh, you're Canadian? So, this right here is like the beginning of a bad joke," Ryan quipped awkwardly. "You know. An American, a Canadian, and a Russian walk into a bar."

"No. American and Russian walk into bar. Canadian have to wait outside!" Osi replied immediately, giggling as he said it, which made Ryan laugh as well. He liked this guy already.

"Piss off!" Hayes shot back, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth, taking a quick swig, and immediately sticking it back in. He must've noticed Ryan staring because he said, "I'm not an animal, guy. Just trying really hard to quit vaping," as he pulled it out and waved it around before sticking it back into his mouth. "And I've got a little bit of an oral fixation."

"Well, that can be a very good thing," Ryan remarked, his eyes widening immediately after he said it. He damn sure hadn't intended to flirt with his new teammate but realized that's exactly how it came out. "I mean, I bet the birds don't mind."

Hayes stared blankly at him for a few seconds, then shook his head. "Nah, I'm sure they wouldn't. But there's only one bird for me," he said, reaching into his back pocket for his phone.

"3, 2, 1…" Osi quietly counted down to the exact moment when Hayes proudly thrust his phone in front of Ryan's face.

"Not bad, eh, Rook?" Hayes bragged, showing off a picture of him and his incredibly hot, half-naked girlfriend. "That's my girl Jenna. She's…"

"Instagram model. 500 thousand followers. Is 28 years old. Together for nine months. Is love of his life," Osi finished for him, rolling his eyes. "You will hear this five more times before we leave."

"I can't help it. I miss her. No idea when I'll even see her again. She's back in Ontario, and it sucks. You got a girl, Rook? Or a guy. I mean, hey: no judgment here."

Yup. He definitely thinks you were flirting with him. Great job, Baylor.

"Ah, of course you do," Hayes decided, pointing to where Ryan's black compression t-shirt clung to his incredibly well-defined midsection. "Kid's out here lookin' like a fuckin' Greek god."

Ryan laughed uncomfortably, and ran his fingers through his hair, unsure if this was an appropriate time to tell the guys he just met that at 23, he'd never actually been in a real relationship before. It wasn't for lack of opportunity; girls tossed themselves at him on a regular basis, and he indulged just as regularly. Ryan Baylor's toxic trait was that he liked to play, and the chase was his favorite part of the game. Getting them into bed, which never took long at all, seemed to flip a switch that made him immediately lose all interest, so much so that his nickname in college was "Ghost."

There had only been two girls who'd somehow managed to garner his attention post-sex. And both, after he'd worked up the courage to spill his guts and go for it, had let Ryan know in no uncertain terms he wasn't "boyfriend material." He wasn't sure what that even meant, but with that, a fuckboy was born, with him determining that it beat having the shit repeatedly kicked out of his fragile heart.

"Nah, nothing going on in the girl department at the moment," he finally said.

"Well listen, that's probably a good thing. Because you're about to have chicks of all ages, and I do mean all ages, throwing themselves at you like it's their full-time job. You? They're gonna sweat you hard. Buckle up, Rook. It gets very tempting, for real. Some of these women are so hot," he said, closing his eyes and pretending to bite down on his hand. "I'll flirt a bit, but at the end of the day, I'm not a cheater. You enjoy that shit, though. Osi does, right, Osi?"

Osi nodded and shrugged. "Every time and again. Is nice."

"So anyway, we won't keep you. Just wanted to introduce ourselves and let you know we're here. A few of the other guys will be over tomorrow night for a little pre-season get-together. You should come. And, uh, bring Nick's cousin, too, if she's down. I wanna see how hot…I mean, I would like to meet her," Hayes said with a sideways smirk and a wink. "Catch you later, Rook."

"Was nice to meet you," Osi said, reaching out to shake Ryan's hand. "Bridgeport is like big family. We are happy you are part of it."

"Thanks, man," Ryan said, and they exchanged numbers before they left. As soon as Ryan closed the door, he immediately popped onto Instagram and unfollowed Hayes's girlfriend. He knew she'd looked familiar.

Whoops.

He was about 75 percent sure he hadn't banged her and that she was just a "spank bank" follow, but better to be safe.

He set his phone down, cracked open a beer, and got back to unpacking his bags. Some of the uneasiness he'd been struggling with started to lift, although the jury was still out on Tyler Hayes.