For the Love of the Game （8）

"Baylor, what the actual fuck was that? Are you even watching what's going on?"

He skated back towards the bench, where the defensive coach was screaming at him. "Sorry, Coach Reilly. I guess I hesitated."

"Yeah, you're damn right you did. Did you even see the two guys who blew right past you? Where's your head at, kid? That was a game, that'd be another minus. That what you want? You wanna be the d-man who racks up minuses?"

"No, Coach."

"Well, that's what you are right now. You need to move your fucking feet and get after it! Now get back out there and run that shit again. Hayes, Segorsky, Dales: go again with Rislan and Baylor."

Ryan skated back out towards center ice, banging his stick in frustration. The season-opening away game was tomorrow night, and he'd been completely sucking ass for the past two weeks. This certainly wasn't who he normally was on the ice. He'd been tried with just about every other defenseman on the team, but for some reason, there just wasn't that chemistry he was used to. He did not want to end up a rotating defenseman, but it wasn't looking too promising at the moment. Rislan was who he'd mostly been paired with, and he'd been great about giving him pointers.

"You've got the size, man. You gotta throw that body around, make ‘em hurt," Rizz had told him. "They need to be terrified to come across that blue line when they see your big ass."

The two biggest criticisms from his coaches were that he didn't play physically enough for his size and that he was too slow, nothing he hadn't heard before. At the end of all three preseason games, he was at minus five. He could tell his teammates were getting frustrated with him, though they were nice about it, with him being the newbie.

Most of them were nice, anyway.

"Yo, Rook: you do know that on D, your job is to stop the other team from scoring, right? I can't do my fuckin' job plus yours. Get your shit together. This ain't the NCAA. And for Christ's sake, learn to fuckin' skate, eh? I'll fuckin' pay for some lessons!"

Hayes had been absolutely brutal. He was Bridgeport's star player, and he and everyone else knew it. He'd come right from the OHL and was on year two of his two-way, three-year entry-level contract with the New York Islanders, but had landed in Bridgeport having just barely missed the roster out of camp last summer.

He'd had an unbelievable rookie season in the AHL; he'd made the All-Star team and led the Isles in goals and points, until the end of March. During a game against Wilkes-Barre/Scranton, he was cross-checked into the boards shoulder-first, a dirty hit that landed the other guy a three-game suspension. He ended up with a grade four AC separation that resulted in him needing surgery, which had pretty much laid him up for most of the summer. He'd started skating again just three weeks ago, and it had been decided that he'd start the year with Bridgeport, even though everyone fully expected him to join the big club at some point sooner than later.

When practice was over, Nick grabbed Ryan as he came off the ice. "Baylor, I wanna check out that knee again, ice it a bit before you head out. Meet me in a few."

Ryan had gotten into a collision in the last game and twisted his left knee pretty good. It was still bothering him a bit, but he taped it up and pushed through. He kept telling Nick he was fine, but considering it was literally Nick's job to assess and treat injuries, he insisted.

"It's definitely looking better, and you were skating much better, too. Let's ice it for about 20 minutes, and I want you on wall squats and hamstring curls before tomorrow's practice and before the game tomorrow night, work on that mobility." He wrapped the ice pack around Ryan's leg on the table and set a timer. "So, how's my cousin? You kill her yet?"

Ryan smiled. "Not yet. Nah, she's good. Nick, thank you. I literally couldn't have asked for a better roommate."

"What'd I tell you? I knew you two would hit it off. How's her new bartending job? I gotta call her."

"She seems to like it, I guess. She's been working a lot of nights lately, just finished training. We haven't…" he paused. "We haven't seen each other much. She's been busy with her writing, too. I think we're supposed to hang out tonight."

Ryan would choose death by wood-chipper before he admitted it to another soul, but he knew a big part of his problem on the ice was because of Amara. They'd been living together for almost a month now, and it couldn't have been going any better.

Like Rizz had said that first night, their energies were completely in sync. They just naturally gravitated towards each other and had developed their own little routines: certain shows they'd watch, who would cook dinner when, and he always looked forward to when she'd read to him some of the freelance writing she was working on to get his opinion on it. His opinion was always that, though the subject matter was usually boring as shit and he didn't understand a word of it, he was in awe of her writing ability.

"It amazes me how smart you are," he told her, smiling at the way she'd blush when he said that.

To any outsider, this seemed like it was perfect, and it was. But the part that was fucking with Ryan's head was that he wasn't interested in being her roommate or her friend anymore. Despite all odds, mainly the 18-year-wide canyon that separated them, he'd managed to fall so fucking hard for her that it was all but making him physically ill.

Besides hockey, the only thoughts he had from the minute he woke up to the minute he fell asleep were of Amara: the way she would rest her legs across his lap when they watched TV, the way she snorted when she laughed really hard, the way she'd always cover him with a blanket when he dipped out on the couch, the smell of her body when she'd return from a workout. His existence was completely consumed by her.

He just couldn't tell her that.

He wanted to, more than anything, but there were too many variables in this complicated equation.

One, he knew she didn't want a serious relationship. She'd made that very clear. He didn't know if she'd been sleeping around like she'd initially told him she wanted to, but he damn sure wasn't about to ask. It was also a very real possibility that she just saw him as a friend.

Two, there was the fact that Ryan Baylor couldn't keep his dick in his pants if someone held a gun to his head. He was still banging random girls several times a week, though it'd recently gotten to the point where he couldn't even cum anymore unless he thought about her. Not to mention, though it was highly unlikely: what if, once they had sex, he lost interest? Then what?

Three, she was old enough to be his mother. The age difference didn't really bother him, but he was aware that it would always be front and center and that people would judge. Having kids would be out of the question; he wouldn't be ready any time soon. And how would he explain to his mom that he was dating a woman only seven years younger than her? He knew his mom, and she would flip shit for sure.

Last, but certainly not least, there was Tyler fucking Hayes.

Ever since the party, Hayes had latched onto Amara like a leech. Much to Ryan's disappointment, they'd grown close as well. He'd backed off the hyper-sexualized flirting after she sat him down and told him that it wasn't fair to his girlfriend, and he agreed to chill.

But they spent a lot of time together. He'd show up randomly at their apartment for dinner or to hang out, they'd go grocery shopping, and go for runs or work out together. It didn't sit right with Ryan; it was a weird dynamic that he didn't completely understand. He'd mentioned something to her about it once, and she'd gotten defensive.

"What, so I'm not allowed to be friends with anyone but you?"

"That's not what I said. But seriously, what can you two possibly have in common? Kid's 20 years old."

"My bad, Grandpa Time. You're so much more venerable and wiser at the ripe old age of 23."

"He just wants to fuck you. You know that, right? If his girlfriend died right now, he'd be at our door in five minutes with his cock out."

"And? He knows where I stand with that. It's not gonna happen. Tyler and I are just good friends. For some odd reason, we…just seem to get each other."

"Right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. It's just…you know I don't like him."

"Well, maybe you should start. He's your teammate. Have you ever tried talking to him? Do you even know anything about him, where he's from, some of the shit he's been through?"

"I kinda don't really care. I know enough about him to know I don't like him. And maybe I just don't get why you do."

"There's nothing for you to get. Do me a favor and back the fuck up about it. I can handle my own shit, and I suggest you do the same."

The timer beeped, and Nick came back over to remove the ice pack, with Hayes following behind him.

"Good, ice that bitch. Maybe you'll actually move at a decent pace now, you fuckin' hoser." Hayes winked at him, sitting down as Ryan got up.

"It'd be such a shame if you reinjured that shoulder and had to spend the rest of the season in the press box," he spat back.

"Oh, you're a fuckin' tough guy, eh?" Hayes started to stand up, with Nick stepping in between them and pushing him back down. "Learn how to fuckin' play D, then maybe you get to run your mouth."

"Yo, boys. Baylor? Outta here. Hayes? Shut the hell up, for once in your goddamn life, please!"

"Piece of shit," Ryan muttered, walking into the locker room to grab his things from his stall. He started to feel a wave of anxiety coming over him, and he sat down for a moment, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

After a few minutes, a voice snapped him back to reality. "Baylor, can we talk for a sec? I know you're on your way out."

He leaned forward and opened his eyes. "What's up, Cap?" Although, he already knew what was coming.

"One, just breathe through it, brother." It was literally impossible to hide anything from Rizz, who sat down next to him and patted him on the leg. "Two, I need you to make more of an effort with Hayes, guy. Coach is kinda pissed and asked me to talk to you. I can't have you two chirpin' at each other constantly. It's gettin' old."

"He started it."

"And he always will start it. That's what Hayes does. But he's earned his spot, proven himself. You're the newbie, OK? And as much as I like you, this negative energy isn't helping the team right now. This is our job, Baylor. Whatever shit's going on outside of here, you gotta leave it outside of here. You know exactly what and who I'm talking about."

Ryan sighed. "I know."

"Seriously, you need to check your personal shit at the door. This is a team, and I need you to act like you wanna be a part of it. I love you to death, kid, but don't fuck this up." Rizz got up and reached out to shake his hand. "Bus leaves at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. Go home and get your head right."

Get my head right? Ok, Ryan thought, fully aware that there was nothing even remotely right about his head.