We Lost Track of Time （2）

"Shit!" Tyson said, panic filling his eyes.

But JT, completely unfazed, waved him off. "Don't worry about him," he calmly replied, leisurely walking over to the door, unlocking it, and pulling it open. "Oh, good. You found us. Your turn to hide now."

"Real funny," Hayes muttered, pushing past JT and pointing at Tyson. "You wanna tell me why I'm payin' you to coach and I've got a bunch of angry 8u parents out there wonderin' why the fuck their practice hasn't started yet?"

"I'm sorry, Hayes. JT said we had…"

"Chill," JT said, stepping in between Hayes and Tyson. " We lost track of time. Hey, get out there. I'll be out in a sec."

"Sorry, Hayes," Tyson apologized again, quickly exiting the storage closet.

Hayes let his eyes fall upon the mess the two boys had left on the floor, then lifted them back up to meet JT's. "Right. This is supposed to be community service, JT. Instead, you're in here gettin' high and jerkin' off my employees."

"Whoa, what…"

"Save it," Hayes quickly interrupted, pointing to the camera in the top corner of the room. "Also, thanks. Now I need to bleach my fuckin' eyeballs."

"I mean, Tyson is a member of our community. And I did, in fact, service him, so, I don't know." JT shrugged. "I'm thinking it counts."

Hayes didn't even slightly crack a smile.

"Alright, whatever," JT sighed, rubbing his forehead. "So, I jerked him off. But listen…"

"Don't ‘but listen' me!" Hayes yelled. "Do you ever wanna be anything besides a screwup? Huh?"

JT looked Hayes dead in his eyes. "I learned from the best."

Shut up , Hayes thought. Let it go. You know how he is.

Just shut up.

Shut. Up.

No luck.

"Your mother would be so proud right now, eh?"

And he instantly regretted it as soon as the words left his lips.

JT stepped toward Hayes and drove a finger into his chest. "Do not talk about my mother." Though he was a few inches shorter than Hayes at six feet, JT had about 30 pounds of pure muscle on him.

Either way, Hayes wasn't shook. "What? You gonna fight me, kid? ‘Cause I promise you," Hayes said quietly, grabbing JT's hand and shoving it away from his chest, "it'll be the last goddamn thing you ever do. Now get your ass out on that ice."

Narrowing his eyes as his pulse began to quicken, JT felt his anger starting to rise within him. He tried to hearken back to his therapy sessions, tried to remember some of the skills he'd been taught to get it under control.

It'd never been an issue for him until his father died unexpectedly at age 12. Ever since the moment he came home from school and found his mother screaming on the living room floor, it'd moved in, set up shop, and refused to leave, no matter how wildly he fought it.

Deep breath in.

4-7-8.

4-7…

He pushed past Hayes, bumping him with his shoulder as he headed toward the door, but not before slamming both his fists repeatedly into one of the shelves on the way out, causing about 30 rolls of brown, commercial grade paper towels to come crashing to the floor.

"You're cleanin' this shit up when you're done!" Hayes called after him.

"Fuck off!" he yelled back just as Ryan hurried through the door of the storage closet and stared at the mess of towels, confused.

"What…the hell was that all about? What happened?"

Hayes raked his fingers through his hair, most of it silver at this point due to age and the stress of having raised basically a younger, angrier version of himself for the past five years. "JT. He's supposed to be out there coachin' with Tyson, and instead they were in here gettin' high and…" He stopped, pointing to the mess the two had left on the floor and shuddering. "This fuckin' kid, man. Just when I think he can't possibly be more of a disappointment, he's like, ‘Hold my beer, asshole!' He's…he's…"

Hayes stopped talking when Ryan stepped in front of him, placed both his hands on his face, and pulled their foreheads together. "He's you, baby . And he's been through hell. Hey," Ryan said softly against Hayes's lips, pressing his own against them for the sweetest and quickest of kisses. "You remember some of the shit we used to get up to when we were around his age? How many times we had each other's dicks in our mouths when we were supposed to be doing something else?"

Hayes nodded. "I slightly recall some things of that nature."

"Then cut him some slack. I'll talk to him, OK?" Ryan let go and pulled away. "Also, I'll make sure he cleans this up."

And he would.

JT's relationship with Ryan Baylor was far less turbulent than his relationship with Tyler Hayes, as Ryan had a much longer fuse with the kid than his husband did. The first year following Amara's death wasn't pretty. Not only were Hayes and Ryan dealing with their own extreme grief from losing her, which had caused Hayes to temporarily relapse on alcohol again, but they'd both had to try to reel JT back in after he had almost completely gone off the deep end.

She'd held on for about two months after her conversation with Hayes about her cancer diagnosis at Ryler, and JT had taken a break from hockey to spend every waking moment by the side of the woman he loved more than anything in the world. He'd fed her, bathed her, carried her when she could no longer walk, and cried for her when her body was just too weak to produce any more of its own tears.

And when he sat holding her hand as she took her final breath, having been on in-home hospice surrounded by all her boys, a part of him took its final breath with her.

JT and Amara, though they had their issues like any parent and child did, had been each other's rocks since Jake died; she was the only one who could calm his raging temper when it flared. Just her hand on his shoulder would put him at ease and diffuse any situation. He carried a lot of guilt for the way he would take his anger out on her, but he'd always eventually apologize. And Amara had never once held it against him.

Her death had destroyed him, had devastated him to the point where his already broken 15-year-old soul just couldn't handle it.

In the weeks following, and though it broke them mentally, Ryan and Hayes had no choice but to enter JT into an inpatient therapy program after a fit of rage that caused over $2,000 in damage to their home, followed by a suicide attempt.

He remained in inpatient treatment for two weeks and ultimately returned to live with them. When speaking with JT's therapist, in addition to several anger management strategies, the advice they were given was to "keep this kid as busy as possible."

The solution that made the most sense to Ryan and Hayes was to keep him as busy as possible with hockey. As someone who had a natural talent for the sport, JT was being actively scouted at the time by the Tri-City Storm of the USHL, the top junior ice hockey league in the US.

The team really wanted him, but there were several concerns, mainly his reckless behavior and infamous temper, which almost prevented it from happening. As usual, Hayes stepped in and assured the organization that things would work themselves out, that JT was dealing with way more than any 15-year-old child should ever have to, and to please give him the chance to prove himself.

And they did.

The only person JT had to thank for making it to juniors at all was Tyler Hayes. That man, though continuously frustrated by his behavior and treatment of him, would do anything he had to for Jacob Tyler DiMara.

And JT hated that.

His issue with Ty wasn't personal; it mostly boiled down to the fact that they were almost the same exact person. Ty had never a day in his life put up with JT's bullshit, and JT didn't mince words when it came to how he felt. The phrase "You're not my fucking father, asshole!" may as well have played repeatedly on a loop in the Hayes-Baylor home.

When the dust had settled from JT's inpatient stay and he'd gotten back to playing, Hayes and Ryan had been approached by the scout for the Storm following a 16u tournament at Ryler. They'd figured the change of scenery and increased responsibility might be a positive thing for him.

After a brief conversation, JT was invited to attend the USHL combine, during which he absolutely killed it. He was drafted during Phase I a few weeks later and ultimately made the final roster, which meant he'd be moving in with a billet family and relocating to Kearney, Nebraska.

Both Hayes and Ryan had sat him down and talked to him extensively about all of the fine print involved with being away from home at such a young age and playing junior hockey: he'd still be required to attend his high school classes via distance learning, he'd need to keep his grades up, and, perhaps most importantly, he'd need to keep his dick in his pants.

"A lot of girls, a lot of women, JT, they're gonna…I mean, they're not…shit. Hayes, help me out here." Ryan stumbled over his words as they sat on JT's bed while he packed his things.

"They're gonna wanna fuck your brains out, " Hayes blurted out, causing Ryan to smack his husband in the chest. "What? They are. They're gonna see you as a sex object, nothing more. You gotta fight that shit with everything you got, you understand me?"

"Wow. Um, OK," he'd said with a smirk, cramming his t-shirts into his suitcase without even so much as attempting to fold them. "I'm just a 16-year-old kid, man…"

"It doesn't matter to them. I'm tellin' you," Hayes had asserted. "It…really doesn't matter to some of them."

JT snickered, closing the lid to his suitcase and zipping it shut. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it sounds like you're speaking from experience."

Hayes and Ryan had looked at each other, with Ryan nodding, giving him the OK. The two men had always had a knack for being able to communicate with just their body language, and 20 years of marriage had only enhanced that talent; they knew each other inside and out.

They'd always been very careful not to divulge any details about the nature of their relationship with Amara so as not to upset JT. As far as he knew, they were just good friends who'd ended up becoming family.

But this one was a story JT needed to hear.

"I am, JT. I was…taken advantage of when I was about your age by my coach's wife. And it fucked me up for a very long time. Just…be careful around the older women, OK? And for the love of God, JT. Stay away from your billet mom. Please."

"Did you know," JT had begun, as he grabbed another bag and dumped the contents of his nightstand drawer into it, "that the term ‘billet' referred to where a soldier was assigned to sleep and the private residence that had to take him in? It's, uh, like I'm goin' off to war, huh?"

Hayes rolled his eyes, watching as about 20 condoms, two bottles of lube, and a butt plug were among the items JT had transferred into the bag. "You kind of are, kid. And…I'm serious, JT. Leave the mom alone."

He'd stopped what he was doing, dramatically folded his arms, cocked his head to the side, and said with a straight face, "So, I mean, can I fuck with the dad, or…?"

Hayes shook his head as Ryan damn-near choked on his own saliva. "This fuckin' kid, Rook. What are we gonna do with him?"

And within two weeks of JT moving, they had their answer as to what they were gonna do with him: retain a lawyer, hop on a plane to the Cornhusker State, and bail him out of jail when he was placed in temporary custody for trespassing and possession of alcohol.

JT and two of his teammates had been busted in a park for underage drinking after practice one night. Since it was their first offense and because they were members of the beloved Storm, the judge had taken it easy on them. The two older guys had gotten away with suspended driver's licenses for 30 days and all three were required to attend an alcohol education class.

Additionally, the lawyer had gotten the court to agree to seal his record, which was similar to expungement. JT's previous run-in with the law for possession of marijuana wasn't on his permanent record either, so he'd lucked out yet again.

The Storm organization, however, was not too happy. The three boys received a five-game suspension. Hayes had stepped in and done some serious schmoozing with the brass, part of which included a detailed history of JT's rough go as well as a very generous donation. Following the meeting, JT was informed that if he so much as sneezed the wrong way, he'd be released from the team.

And to everyone's surprise, he'd been able to semi-hold it together for the next three years, having been scouted by Penn State University and committing to them in his second season of juniors.

During his final year, though, following a rough breakup with a girl he'd been seeing, things began to fall apart again for JT. It started with him getting busted for public indecency. He'd been sentenced to 100 hours of community service, which was the least possible sentence, again thanks to Tyler Hayes.

Not only was he dealing with another misdemeanor, but he hadn't been able to meet the NCAA academic eligibility requirements, which was a massive problem. He'd always struggled in his classes, but especially with English. He just wasn't a good reader or writer; he couldn't concentrate and the words always got jumbled up in his brain every time he tried to make sense of them.

So, at some point, he'd stopped trying altogether.

His entire life, because of his status as a hockey god, most teachers looked the other way and let him slide. However, his English 3 teacher, with whom he'd butted heads on several occasions, would not. Unfortunately, Hayes hadn't been able to fix this one. And since that was a required core course, JT found himself falling just shy of his core course GPA.

Hence, the current mess he was in.