I Dont Hate You, Too （42）

Amara could hear Ryan carrying on from the hallway, as she hurried back towards the ER waiting room. Rounding the corner, she saw Jake with his arms around him, trying to calm him down near the main entrance.

"Sir, you're gonna have to take it easy," one of the ER nurses told him.

"Why won't you let me see him?" he yelled, as Amara approached him. Jake let him go and Ryan threw himself into her arms. "They won't let me see him, Amara!"

"I'll take care of it. Don't worry," she told him softly, running her hands up and down his back and making a face at the foul stench that was coming off him. He hadn't had a chance to shower after the game, and it'd never been more obvious. Turns out, all the rumors about how repulsive hockey equipment smelled?

All true.

He pulled away from her and she examined him: his dress shirt had several blood stains on it, which she assumed were from his face, as his one eye was completely swollen shut and there was a bloody gash along his forehead that could probably use a stitch or two.

"Ma'am, does he need to be admitted?" the nurse asked her, looking him up and down. "He's not lookin' too good."

"No, he's fine. He's just here to visit his boyfriend, and apparently, he's being told he's not allowed to."

"One visitor per patient, ma'am. Emergency contacts only if they're available, unless the patient is a minor. That's our policy."

"OK, well since I'm not back there now, can he take my spot?"

"Please?" he begged. "I gotta...I gotta see him."

The nurse rolled her eyes. "Lemme see what I can do. Get him settled down, please. He can't be in here freakin' out like this."

"OK. Thank you very much." Amara turned towards a row of unoccupied chairs near the bathroom, away from the other people waiting, who'd been attentively watching all this go down.

They sat, Amara on one side of Ryan and Jake on the other.

"Thanks for staying with him," Amara told Jake.

"Of course."

Ryan collapsed forward, leaning on his arms against his knees and shaking. Jake reached his hand around his back, grabbed his shoulder, and squeezed, then patted it a few times. "It's gonna be OK, man. Just try to relax."

He lifted his head up and leaned back against the wall, before popping up out of his chair and beginning to pace back and forth in front of them. "He was unresponsive. I heard them saying something about a possible broken neck..."

"He's awake, Ryan. I was just talking to him back there. His neck isn't broken, and he's awake and alert."

Flopping back down into his chair, he leaned over onto Amara and began sobbing. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I haven't had a chance to talk to the doctor yet, but I don't think it's terrible. He was complaining about his shoulder, though, so I'm not sure if he reinjured it."

He sat back up in his chair, unable to keep still for more than 30 seconds at a time, but she was proud of him: he should've been in the throes of a full-blown panic attack at this point, and he wasn't, which defied all logic.

"Can we talk about what happened to you for a second, Ry?"

"Let's just say I'm in deep fucking shit."

"You get tossed?"

"Oh yeah. Coach Reilly benched me, but Rizz had my back. First chance I could, I went after him. Teed off on him with my stick and beat his ass, ‘til his teammates got a hold of me and returned the favor." He motioned towards his battered face. "Both benches cleared, the goalies fought, the crowd was going insane. This is gonna be all over the news, social media. A complete shit show. It was a dirty fucking hit, Mar. Filthy. That dude charged him from the blue line, wasn't even in on the battle. Fucking stripes let him go with a double-minor for cross-checking. I wasn't having any of that shit."

"That's it? A double-minor? Charging should be at least a five, possibly with a game misconduct!" Amara exclaimed, causing both Ryan and Jake to whip their heads in her direction. She shrugged. "What? I've been doing some reading."

The nurse approached them, and both Amara and Ryan stood up. "So, we only allow one visitor, and you can't switch them out. But since you're his..." she winked at Amara, "mother?"

She nodded. "Yep. I'm Tyler's...mother."

"And since this is your other..." she winked at Ryan, "son?"

Ryan nodded. "Yeah. He's my...brother."

"Since you're both immediate family, I am going to make an exception and allow you both back." She turned to Jake. "You Dad?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I am definitely not Dad. Though she has been known to call me Daddy from time to time." The nurse pursed her lips and turned away, as Amara shot him a death glare. "Sorry. That...went over much better in my head."

"Follow me, family." They went with the nurse, with Amara turning back and running towards Jake.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to," she said, giving him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere."

She smiled at him. "Thanks...Daddy," she teased, running to catch up with Ryan and the nurse, who'd already begun making their way back to Tyler.

They got to Ty's room, and the nurse pulled back the curtain. "If he falls asleep, wake him up. They don't want him sleeping until he's been seen by the doctor."

"And is that going to happen soon?" Amara asked.

"As soon as it can, ma'am." She turned and left, and both Amara and Ryan entered the room, where the slight smell of vomit lingered, though it was somewhat of a welcome distraction from Ryan's post-game funk.

"Rook!" Ty whimpered, as Ryan hurried over to him, leaned down, and hugged all the life that remained out of him. Both boys immediately started crying, which, of course, triggered Amara's tears. Tyler's monitors began beeping wildly, and Amara pushed a chair over towards Ryan.

"Don't lean on him. You're pinching off his cords. Here, sit."

Ryan sat, grabbing Ty's hand with both of his. "Hey," he said. "You scared the fucking shit outta me, you know that?"

"Never mind me. The fuck happened to you?"

Ryan cocked his head. "What the fuck do you think happened to me?"

"So, when you say you're in deep shit, what do you mean?" Amara asked him, pulling a chair in from the hallway and sliding it over next to Ryan.

"I'm gonna have to go to hearing. I'll probably get suspended and fined. I might...what's it, March? They hit me with a 10 or 15-game, I'm done for the season."

"You sure you even got any hits in? Looks like you got your fuckin' ass handed to you like a little bitch."

"There's the Ty we all know and love," Amara teased.

"I chopped him with my stick, right in the kidneys. Dropped him."

"Yep, you're done for the season. Dude that hit me at least get tossed?"

"Nope. Double-minor. Cross-checking."

Ty shook his head. "Un-fuckin'-real. It's ‘cause it's me. If it was anyone else, dude woulda been kicked outta the league and sent to a Russian gulag."

"So, FYI: if anyone asks? I'm your mother and Ry's your brother. That's the only way they'd let him back here."

"Wow. OK. Little West Virginia action goin' on, eh?"

"This is one fucked-up family right here," Ryan added.

Amara reached over, resting her hand on top of both of theirs. "It sure is." She noticed Ty was beginning to dip out, so she nudged Ryan. "Wake him up."

Ryan shook his arm gently.

"Fuck, Rook," Ty bitched. "I'm so tired."

"No sleeping until you see the doctor," Ryan added, leaning toward his face and kissing him lightly. "Need me to keep you awake?"

"Not until you shower, you fuckin' animal. I could smell you from the hallway."

Ryan laughed. "Well, you kinda taste like barf, so let's call it even. Also, um, I don't know if this is the best time to tell you this, but I smacked a median with your truck. Pretty sure I bent the rim."

"Of course you did. You finally learned to skate, now it's time to learn how to fuckin' drive!"

"You love me," he said softly, leaning in for another kiss just as the doctor came in. Amara cleared her throat loudly as Ryan pulled away.

"Hello, Hayes family. I'm Dr. Ramara..."

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" Ty yelled, laughing. "Ramara?"

Ryan shrugged. "I guess Ramara is happening after all."

"I'm sorry?" he asked, confused.

"Forget it, "Ty said. "So, am I fuckin' dyin' or what?"

"No, you're not dying. I understand you were hit during your hockey game. I've spoken to your athletic trainer, but do you remember anything?"

"Not a fuckin' thing. Was playin' hockey one minute and woke up in an ambulance the next."

"So, we're going to run a series of tests on you. In a moment, I'm going to ask your family to leave so I can perform a neurological examination and a series of cognitive tests, at which point we're going to send you for a CT scan, just to assess the brain, make sure there's no swelling or bleeding. You're not really exhibiting signs of a severe injury, but since you're an athlete and you vomited, we're going to err on the side of caution. More than likely, we're gonna keep you overnight for observation, and if there are no complications, you'll be released tomorrow."

"I've always heard vomiting is a bad sign after a concussion," Amara chimed in.

"Repeat vomiting is. It's possible this was caused by stress from an adrenaline dump. Since it was only once, I'm not too concerned about it."

"Why does he have an IV? You can't give him any pain medication yet, right?"

"For fluids. With concussions, especially when loss of consciousness is involved, there's always the risk of vomiting, so we usually don't allow patients to eat or drink. Any other pain, Tyler?"

"My shoulder. I had surgery for an AC separation about a year ago, and it's...I think I reinjured it."

"We'll get you an X-ray for that, as well. Mom, brother? I'm gonna ask you guys to step out so I can perform some tests now. You can wait in the hallway."

Ryan kissed his hand. "You got this," he said, getting up and walking towards the door. "Oh, by the way," he stopped in front of Dr. Ramara. "If you're looking for cognitive function?" Ryan shook his head. "He doesn't have that on a normal day."

"Fuck off, Rookie."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said with a smile. "Son, you should probably get some ice on that eye. Mom, stop by the nurse station, let them know you need an ice pack."

"Will do. Come on, son." She grabbed Ryan by the hand, and they left the room. Amara checked her phone, and there were a few messages from Jake.

J: There is a legitimate entourage of people here for Ty. Nick already notified his real mom, FYI. She's on her way.

The next message was a picture of the waiting room, where Nick, Hastings, Reilly, Osi, Kasic, Dalesy, and Rizz all sat waiting for Ty. She smiled, showing it to Ryan. "You guys really are like one big family."

"Yep. One big, fucked-up family," Ryan said, checking his own messages and typing a quick update to Luke.

He looked over at her.

"So."

"So."

"You've been OK?" he asked.

She nodded. "You?"

He nodded, and they both moved to hug each other at the same time. She inhaled deeply out of habit, expecting to breathe in his signature cologne and deodorant combo, but quickly remembered the olfactory details of the current situation and pulled away.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"For what?" she asked, confused.

"For moving out. I never got the chance to thank you. It had to happen. I fought it for a long time, but I know it...it needed to happen."

"I know. And you're welcome."

"So where are you living? Dani won't talk, and Ty swears you haven't told him."

"I haven't. But I can tell you where I will be living in about a week."

"And where's that?"

She hesitated, then finally said, "Florida."

"Florida?"

"Yep. Jake's company is relocating, and he asked me to go with him. I'm gonna...I'm gonna go."

Ryan sighed, sitting down on a nearby chair, as they'd both been standing. "Amara?" He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled loudly, then opened them. "I think that's a really good idea, and I'm happy for you."

"Yeah?" she asked, surprised. "You like him?"

"Very much."

"He likes you, too."

"I know," he said. "We talk."

"Oh, do you, now?"

"Yup. We're practically besties at this point."

"Right. Listen, Ryan, there's so much I have to say to you, I don't know..."

He shook his head and brought a finger to his lips.

"But I treated you like shit, Ryan..."

"You did the best you could with what you had in your arsenal at the time, Amara. I don't hold anything against you. Nothing. No hard feelings, no ill will. You pulled so much out of me that I wasn't ready to deal with, refused to deal with, and you forced me to face some truths about myself. Sometimes, the universe has a fucked-up way of getting you to do what it needs you to do." He shrugged.

"So, you don't hate me?"

"No, I don't hate you, Amara McDonough. Quite the opposite."

"Well, I don't hate you, too, Ryan Baylor."