You’re Out of Options Here, Kid （3）

H ayes sighed, checking the time again and pacing the kitchen as Ryan finished getting dinner ready. "He's almost a half hour late and he's not answerin' his phone. I'm…Rook, I'm gonna kill him."

"No, you're not," Ryan said calmly, draining the pasta into the sink. "You talk a big game, but I see right through you. We both know you'd take a bullet for that kid. Relax. He'll be here."

Hayes exhaled, frustrated, knowing his husband was right, as usual. "I really don't get how you're able to keep your cool with him all the time."

"Because I understand him, Hayes. I know what it's like to lose a parent, the anger that comes with that. JT lost them both. And Mar was…" Ryan paused, fighting back the tears that welled up in his eyes at the very mention of her, the same way they always had even when she was alive. "Mar was his whole world. You know that."

Hayes came up behind Ryan, wrapped his arms around him, and rested his chin atop his shoulder. "I fuckin' miss her, man."

Ryan nodded, lifting a hand to quickly wipe some lingering tears before moving back to the stove and adding the penne to the alfredo sauce he'd whipped up. "Me too. We've had to say goodbye to too many people, haven't we?"

"You can fuckin' say that again." Hayes reached into the wine fridge, removed a bottle of prosecco, and grabbed a towel so he could loosen the cork. Ryan started to protest, insisting that he would do it instead, but Hayes waved him off. "Rook, I got it. It's fine."

"I just…" Ryan began, but noticing the determined look in Hayes's eyes, he stopped. "OK."

It wasn't that he didn't trust his husband around alcohol; Hayes had only relapsed twice in twenty years, both following the death of good friends, and he'd never even so much as looked at another pill or line of coke. It was that Ryan would do anything he could to make things as painless as possible for this man.

Hayes brought the bottle out to the formal dining room, where Mike Nowicki, the family advisor they'd hired for JT, was sitting at the table taking a phone call. He poured a glass for both Mike and Ryan, before setting it down and having a seat, checking his phone to see if JT had responded yet.

He had, about 10 minutes before.

J: Heading home now.

Ryan brought the plates out and set them down on the table, Mike nodding in appreciation as he finished up his call and hung up. "Thanks. It looks delicious. So, JT is coming, or…"

No sooner than Mike had asked, they heard the front door open, and right after, JT rounded the corner into the dining room, dropping his backpack onto the floor and heading toward the table. "Hey. Sorry I'm late. I had, um, a thing that I…needed…"

Hayes approached him slowly and examined the kid's eyes, which were bloodshot. "A thing?"

JT stepped closer to him. "You heard me."

"Sit down. It's time for dinner," Hayes ordered, shaking his head, turning back toward the table, and having a seat next to Ryan, who nodded at JT when he looked over at him.

"So, JT. I wanted to go over what I believe our best plan is with Penn State. I'm assuming you're still interested in attending?" Mike asked, taking a bite of garlic bread and talking between chews.

"I am. I mean, like, if it's still, like…a thing."

"Jesus, JT," Hayes bitched, dropping his fork. "How fuckin' high are you right now?"

"Chill. I smoked a little after 8u practice with Tyson, OK?"

"No, JT. It's not OK. Did you leave another mess in the storage closet, too?"

"Baby, calm down," Ryan said gently, reaching over and placing a hand on Hayes's thigh, noticing his husband becoming increasingly flustered.

Cool as a cucumber, JT shook his head slowly, then said with a smirk, "Nah. Swallowed his load this time. All good."

"Should I come back at another time, or…" Mike began uncomfortably.

"No, it's fine," Ryan interrupted, turning toward Amara's son. "Jacob. Come on. This is serious."

"Fine," he sighed, picking up his fork and pushing some noodles around on his plate with it. "Yes, I am still interested in attending Penn State. But I don't have the grades. Because I'm a dumbass. Remember?"

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. There's not much we can do about that. You didn't make your core course GPA. And unfortunately, the teacher isn't willing to budge. So, here's what I'm proposing. You enter into the hockey program as an academic redshirt…"

"A what?" JT asked immediately.

"Essentially, you will still be eligible to receive your full ride. Food, room and board, tuition…all paid for."

"What's the catch?" Hayes asked.

"The catch," Mike said slowly, " is that you will still be able to practice with the team, but you won't be allowed to compete or travel with them."

JT scoffed. "Then what's the actual point?"

"The point is that you get to practice while still getting an education, and you get to do it for free. There's no added pressure of games or travel, so you'll be able to work on getting your grades back up, learning the ropes so you can pass all your courses."

"Alright, so let's say I pass my courses. When can I play?"

" If you pass all of your semester hours, then you will be eligible to practice again in the next term. You won't, however, be able to officially play until the following year."

"Oh, that's bullshit!" JT yelled, pushing his chair back from the table and standing up. "One fucking class I couldn't pass. Seriously? Bullshit!"

He turned to walk away, but Hayes was having none of it. "Sit down!" he yelled, watching as JT squeezed his fists together tightly and his right eye began to twitch, a sign that he was about to lose it. "You're out of options here, kid."

"JT," Ryan said calmly. "Please sit, OK? Let's go over the details with Mike so you at least have a shot ."

"It's bull, Ry…"

"JT." Ryan's tone had become sterner. "Sit down and let's hear the plan."

"Fine," he growled through clenched teeth, plopping back down in his chair. "What's the plan, Mike?"

"Well, first, you're gonna need to get a tutor for English. Your first semester, you'll need to take two English classes: rhetoric and composition, and introduction to American literature. And there's no option to fail. You have to pass. Ryan, Hayes, this isn't covered by the scholarship, so you'll need to seek one out on your own. I can point you to some connections I have."

"We can do that," Hayes said, looking at JT, who stared down at his plate. Money wasn't ever going to be an issue for the kid. Between Ryan and Hayes being well off from their careers and the business, and the money that'd been left to him following his parents' death, he was pretty much set, so long as he didn't do anything stupid.

"Second," Mike continued, "you're gonna have to pass a piss test, kid. How much weed do you smoke?"

"Like, I don't know…maybe, like…" he stumbled over his words.

"JT is high as a fuckin' kite 24/7," Hayes cut in.

"Yeah? And I've never once brought it into your home, ever. Have I?"

"No, you haven't. Brought it into my fuckin' arena though, haven't you?" Hayes reminded him. "Regardless, you're still high all the goddamn time."

"Bro, weed's been legal in most places for as long as I've been alive."

"Not in the eyes of the NCAA. Still a class 1, kid. Although…do you have a med card?" JT shook his head. "Go get one immediately. They'll honor it when you test positive for THC. Just so you know, you still can't smoke it on campus, even with the med card, so you'll need to stop. Is there anything else I should know about that might prevent you from passing?"

JT shook his head, glancing over at Hayes and raising an eyebrow. "Nah. I don't mess with drugs. Shit's whack."

The table went silent for a few minutes before JT spoke. "This is it? Seriously? This is my only option?"

Mike nodded slowly. "Unfortunately, it is. There's…no one is scouting you right now, JT. You're a bit of a liability. Which brings me to my last point. You've gotta keep your image clean, and you've gotta stay out of trouble. No fights, no drama, no arrests, and no scandals. Keep your head down, do your work, attend your practices and home games, and before you know it, this year will be over and you'll be able to compete starting next year."

"Yay," JT deadpanned.

???

After having agreed to call Penn State University the next day to set up JT's admission for mid-August, which was three months away, Mike left. Hayes and JT cleaned up in the kitchen while Ryan went to shower.

Able to sense his disappointment, Hayes attempted to talk to JT. "Look, I know it kinda sucks, but this really is the best option, kid." He placed a hand on JT's shoulder as he loaded the dishwasher, which caused him to flinch and pull away. "Shit. Sorry." Hayes quickly removed his hand, remembering that that'd been JT and Amara's "thing" whenever he'd lose his temper. "You know I didn't mean…I'm sorry, JT," Hayes repeated when he heard him sniffing and saw him wipe his eyes.

"No, it's…not that. It's…it's…" JT tried to keep it together, as the last person he wanted to fall apart in front of was Tyler Hayes.

But it was no use.

His sobs overtook him like a racehorse tearing down the final stretch and he sank to the floor, knees bent, arms folded over them, head resting against them.

Hayes immediately took a seat on the floor next to him, placing a hand on his back and gently rubbing it while he listened to the boy cry, his own tears not far behind.

JT was a pain in the ass, but he was his pain in the ass, and there was nothing in the world he wouldn't do for him. "You can talk to me, OK? I'm not…your father, and I'd never try to be. Ever. But I…JT, I love you. We have our shit, but you know that, right? That I love you and I'm here for you?"

JT nodded, not lifting his head. The two sat there for what seemed like forever, when Ryan wandered into the kitchen wearing just a pair of basketball shorts. "Where is every…" he began, but stopped when he noticed the two on the floor. He mouthed to Hayes, "He OK?"

Hayes nodded, taking a moment to appreciate his husband's gorgeous body. At 45 years old, the man was still shredded and was aging like the very finest of wines.

Ryan had a seat on the floor on the opposite side of JT. The kid lifted his head for a moment before letting it fall onto Ryan's shoulder. "It's gonna be OK, JT. I promise you."

He'd stopped crying, and the three hugged briefly before pulling away from each other. "You know, I bet she wouldn't even be proud of me," he finally said. "She would think I'm a fuck up."

"Hey! Don't talk like that," Hayes told him sternly. "Your mom? All she ever wanted was you. You were her world. And there is nothing you could do, absolutely nothing, that would've made her think that you're a fuck up. Would she have been disappointed in some of your choices? Yeah. But she was never disappointed in you , and she never would've been."

"JT, your mom was," Ryan stopped, took a deep breath, then continued, "one of a kind. She had this ability to see people at their absolute worst and take it as a personal challenge to love them even harder. The things she put up with from me, from Hayes, when we were younger? Anyone else would've run screaming. Not your mom. She stuck it out. If you were one of her people, you had her unconditional love and support, whether you wanted it or not. And you? You weren't just one of her people , JT. You were her person . So, don't think like that, OK? Don't do that to yourself."

"I don't know how to stop missing her," he said softly, almost inaudibly, showing a completely different, vulnerable side of himself to his caregivers, which almost never happened unless he was hammered. "And my dad, too. I just…it's been eight years for him, five years for her now. When does the pain go away? When does it stop… hurting so bad?"

Hayes looked at Ryan, letting him take the lead on this one. "Never. JT, it never stops hurting. But, as more time goes by, it hurts less. The pain never really goes away. It just…changes."

JT wiped his eyes and stood up, Hayes and Ryan following. "So, I mean…I just kinda wanted to say, like, I'm sorry. You know?" He raked his fingers through his reddish-brown, messy hair. "I'm a dick sometimes, and you guys don't deserve that. I'm…angry. A lot. And I'm working on it with my therapist. I don't wanna be this, like, monster anymore."

"You're not a monster, JT," Ryan assured him. "You've been through way more than anyone your age ever should. And you're doing the best you can."

He nodded. "Thanks. I'm nervous about going to Penn State. I can't…I'm stupid. I'm not gonna be able to make it."

"So, you're not book smart, man. So fuckin' what?" Hayes shrugged. "Look at me. I don't know shit . And I run a business now. Pretty damn well, I might add. And this one," he said, pointing at Ryan. "Dumber than a bucket of shrimp. Hot as fuck, but not much goin' on upstairs."

"OK, that's…seriously?" Ryan asked, smirking. Both of them looked at JT, who was almost doubled over with laughter, so they kept going.

"You gonna stand there and act like you're not a complete himbo?"

"It's true. I'm not a smart man," Ryan said, as he approached Hayes and wrapped his arms around him. "But I know what love is. "

"OK, Forrest," Hayes joked, hugging him back, taking an extra moment to slide his fingers down the front of his body before pulling away. "But seriously, JT. That's why we're gonna get you a tutor. You're gonna buckle down, pass your classes, keep your shit together, and before you know it, it'll be next year and you'll be able to play. Everything's gonna work out, kid. I promise. Alright?"

JT nodded, wanting nothing more than to believe it was true.

This was a fresh start for him, and there was something that should've been exciting about that.

New school.

New state.

New people.

He just had to be very careful not to get too close to any of them, since everyone he loved tended to end up either hurt or dead.

"Everything's gonna work out, kid. I promise."

He would finish out his community service this summer at Ryler Arena, continue his on and off-ice training, and perhaps most importantly, make sure he built up his new walls high enough so no one would be able to breach them.