The Trade （10）

The Day Before Thanksgiving

"Please have a seat, Ryan."

His stomach twisting wildly, Ryan Baylor sat down across from Coach Hastings in his office at Total Mortgage Arena, Coach Reilly seated next to him. The team didn't have a scheduled practice today, so the fact that he'd been called in could only mean one thing.

Fuck.

"I'm gonna assume you know why you're here," Hastings said quietly.

Do not fucking cry.

Ryan nodded. "Where?"

"Tampa Bay."

Ryan leaned his head back and exhaled loudly, rubbing the sides of his face.

He went silent for a bit, his coaches allowing him to process the information with which he'd just been presented. He finally said, "Alright, so that's the Crunch, right? I'm going to Syracuse?" He pulled out his phone, opened Google Maps and got directions from Syracuse to Long Island.

Four hours, fifty minutes.

It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't the end of the world either. They could make it work, meet up halfway. They hardly saw each other as it was now, anyway.

This…this could still work.

"No, Ryan. You're going to Tampa Bay to play for the Lightning. I pushed and I pushed hard for you. Soon as I heard you were involved, I told Sellars that we're not letting you go just to sit and rot in this league anymore, kid. You deserve better. It's your time, Baylor. This is your shot."

Everything started to go fuzzy on him and he closed his eyes briefly before opening them back up. "I…I'm sorry. I'm going…I'm going to play for Tampa? Like, in the NHL? That Tampa?"

"Yes. And it took a lot of finagling, but you ended up with a nice one-way contract. Can't promise exactly how much ice time you'll actually see there, but you're not going back to the minors, kid. They can't take that kind of cap hit right now and quite frankly, their D is a mess. So, as much as I'm going to miss you, Baylor? It's your turn. Time to go make a name for yourself."

There it was.

Ryan wiped his eyes, unable to stop a few tears from escaping and making their way down his cheeks. Coach Reilly leaned over and patted him on the shoulder, squeezed it a few times, then patted it again. "You've earned it. You worked your ass off all summer, you came back here and dominated, and you earned it. I'm just sorry it couldn't be within this organization, Baylor. The D is packed here, unfortunately."

"You OK?" Hastings asked, as Ryan leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking every few seconds from his sobs. He nodded, sitting up, as Hastings reached across the desk and handed him a box of tissues.

"Yeah," he laughed, pulling one out and wiping his face. "I just…wow. A lot of emotion right now. It's overwhelming, that's all. Wow."

"You're expected to report to practice on Friday morning. Get there at least an hour before it starts to finalize all the paperwork." Hastings stood up, came around the desk and pulled Ryan up out of his chair. He threw his arms around him, with Ryan doing the same. "God, I'm gonna miss you. But this? It's a good thing. A real good thing. You understand that, right?"

Ryan pulled away from the hug and nodded. "Thanks, Coach. Hey, they at least get something good for me?"

"Second round pick."

"Eh, could've been worse, I guess. Listen, thanks for fighting for me. Guess I, uh, should go get packed." He made his way toward the door, stopping to hug Coach Reilly on the way out.

"The team will pay for all your stuff to be shipped. So just set it up and keep all the receipts. Oh, and I have a list of some of the players whose families are willing to take you in for a bit ‘til you get settled, if you don't wanna stay in a hotel. Did you want me to text it to you?" Hastings offered, but Ryan shook his head.

"Thanks, but I'm pretty sure I've got a place to go already."

As he exited the arena to wait for his Uber, still on a ridiculous high to the point where his legs felt slightly numb, he opened up his text chain with Amara.

R: So, funny story…

A: ???

R: You got room for one more for dinner tomorrow? Oh, and possibly for a few weeks?

A: What the hell are you saying right now, Baylor?

R: I've been traded to the Lightning. I'm finally getting my shot, Mar. I have to report on Friday.

A: Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

A: I mean…congratulations. No…you're serious, tho?

R: Deadass. Just left Hastings's office.

A: OMG. Of course! Just let me know when your flight gets in and we'll come for you.

R: Will do. Thanks.

He shoved his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants, stretched his arms over his head, and waited for his ride.

Then suddenly it hit him: how the hell would his boyfriend take the news that he was moving almost 1,200 miles away from him?

And tomorrow.

???

"You OK?"

Hayes could hardly move. His hands clutched the steering wheel of the Raptor and he'd almost forgotten to put it in park as they arrived at MacArthur Airport so Ryan could catch his redeye flight to Tampa International Airport. They'd pulled into the parking garage, Hayes having been adamant about the fact that he didn't want to just drop Ryan and run, that he wanted to wait with him until the very last second when he boarded the flight.

But now, as he sat here, the harsh reality of the situation staring him boldly in the face, he wasn't so sure that was a viable option anymore.

He turned to face Ryan, who was looking back at him, both of their eyes puffy and red, their faces slick with the tears they'd been shedding nonstop for the past three hours.

"I never thought this would actually happen," Hayes finally offered, in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

Ryan nodded. "I know."

They'd left the apartment about an hour ago for the airport, after an impromptu sendoff which included all of the usual suspects arriving to say their goodbyes: Kasic, Dalesy, Jonesy, Rizz, Seggy, Nick and Mark, and of course, Osi.

Poor Osi.

The six-foot-three Russian goaltender had been in hysterics, having sobbed from the time Ryan returned from the meeting with his coaches to the time he walked out the front door for the last time.

"It's not goodbye, Os. I'll be back to visit, I promise," Ryan assured him, as he cried onto his shoulder and squeezed him, refusing to let go while rambling wildly.

"This is not OK. Is not…OK for me. First I say goodbye to Hayes, now I say goodbye to you. All my best friends? Just gone. I know this is the league, this is how it goes, but…my heart is hurting so much. Is like I'm losing my brother. You are like brother to me, Baylor. I love you."

Ryan squeezed him. "I love you, too, man. You? Have been the best friend and roommate I could've ever asked for. As soon as I get set up in Tampa, I'll have you down for a visit, OK? You and Nat are welcome any time you want."

Ryan had tearfully made his way through each of the guys, as they offered their encouragement and well wishes.

"You're gonna kill it down there, brother. The work you've put in? It paid off, kid. I'm fuckin' gonna miss you, but I'm so excited for your future," Rizz offered. "It's bright, Baylor. So bright."

Then there was Nick. "Mar texted me like, the second you told her you were coming down," he told him. "She misses you a lot, and she's super excited to have you stay with them for a bit. A word of advice though, if I may?"

"And what's that?" Ryan asked, though he was pretty sure he knew where Nick was going with this.

"Whatever you two did last time you lived together? Do the exact opposite of that. ‘Cuz, uh, we all know how that went."

Ryan laughed, nudging Hayes, who'd been standing by him and refused to leave his side. He'd hoped for a smile or at least a smirk from his boyfriend, but he remained unaffected.

Tyler Hayes had completely shut down.

"Yeah, things are…a lot different now. For both of us. I don't think that'll be a problem."

Ryan had been honored that, last-minute on the day before a holiday, so many of his teammates and friends had shown up to see him off.

It was no secret: The Bridgeport Islanders were the dictionary definition of a hot ass mess, but that's what Ryan loved about them the most. Not one of them had even so much as bat an eye when he and Hayes came out and revealed they were dating. He'd come to gel with these men on such a level, both professionally and personally, that one of his biggest trepidations about leaving was having to forge those connections all over again with a completely new group of guys.

Would they be as accepting of him?

All of him?

"Hey," Ryan said, pulling Hayes's right hand from the wheel, kissing it, then holding it with both of his. "Look at me. We'll compare our schedules and we'll make it work. OK? There's no way we can't make this work. You make money, I'm gonna be making money. We'll see each other as much as we can. We can do this, Hayes." He paused. "Right?"

Hayes nodded, averting his gaze from Ryan's.

"And I wanna make something very clear before I leave, OK?" Ryan continued.

"What's that, Rook?"

Ryan reached a hand to Hayes's chin, gripping it firmly and forcing their eyes to meet, tears steadily streaming down both of their faces. "I need you to stay alive. If something happens to you, there's not a fucking chance in hell I survive it. You understand me? I need you to…I need you to start fighting like you've never fucking fought before in your life, OK? Can you do that for me, baby? Can you fight for me?"

"I'll try," Hayes whimpered.

Ryan gripped him up harder. "No. Fuck that. I need you to fight, Hayes. I cannot lose you." He brought his other hand up to his boyfriend's face, cradling it, as he leaned over and pressed their foreheads together. "I won't lose you to this. Tell me you'll fight. Promise me. Promise me you'll fight this for me. For us."

"I'll…fight this," he sobbed. "But I might…lose, Rook. What if…I lose?"

Ryan shook his head. "Nope. Don't say that. You don't lose, Hayes. You don't lose."

"I feel like…I already have. Like…look at me, man. I'm already too…gone."

Ryan's sobs synced with his boyfriend's, as the truck bounced slightly in time with them. "You haven't…lost. And you're not…going to. You can't. I need you."

They stayed just like that for a while, their foreheads pressed against each other's, their hands on each other's faces, and their eyes physically unable to stop shedding tears.

Finally, Hayes pulled away. This was all starting to become too much, as the oxy had worn off and he was beginning to come down. Ryan had made him promise not to take any more pills until he got home so he'd be OK to drive back from the airport, even though, truth be told, he'd probably drive better while high. "Rook, you gotta go. You're gonna miss your flight."

Ryan looked at the clock on the dash. "Shit. Alright, let's do this." He gripped the door handle, opening it and beginning to get out, but paused when he saw Hayes hadn't moved. "You're coming in, right?"

"I'm sorry. I…can't."

"Hayes…"

"I can't, Rook. I can't. You…you have to go. Just…you have to just go."

Knowing there was no point in arguing, Ryan leaned in for a quick kiss. "I love you. I'll call you the minute I land," he choked out before exiting the truck, grabbing his bags from the bed, and slamming the tailgate shut.

Hayes watched his boyfriend quickly make his way toward the elevator without looking back. Ryan was about 30 feet away from him when Hayes opened his door, got out of the truck, and screamed across the parking garage. "I swear to God, I'm gonna fuckin' marry you someday, Ryan Baylor!"

Ryan stopped, slowly turning around to face him. He nodded several times before he shouted back, "You fucking better!" before continuing to the elevator and eventually disappearing from Hayes's line of sight.

Hayes immediately collapsed against the driver's side door, sobbing onto the tinted window, unable to focus on anything but the combination of pains battling for dominance in his stomach right now.

There was the pain of his body demanding more oxy.

There was the pain of him trying unsuccessfully to tell it to fuck off.

And there was the pain of what he imagined was his entire soul having just been ripped from his body.

He told Ryan he would fight this. For them.

And he would.

He would fight this.

He would.

"Hayes, what's up? You good?"

He wasn't even sure when he'd gotten back inside the truck or called TK, but the sound of his teammate's voice coming through the speakers of the Raptor startled him momentarily.

"Nah," he squeaked out. "I need…I need…somethin'."

"I got you, baby. Whatever you need. What do you need?"

Hayes squeezed his eyes shut.

"Promise me you'll fight this for me. For us."

He would fight this.

Someday.

"I'm sorry, Rook," Hayes whimpered aloud.

"Huh?" TK replied, confused. "What'd you say?"

"Nothin'. Yo, I need… somethin' strong enough to take away every last…goddamn bit of feeling I have in my entire body. I wanna feel absolutely nothin'. I…need to feel nothin'."

"You home?"

"‘Bout a half hour away."

"I'll meet you there, baby. You know I got you."