Trouble in Paradise （3）

Hayes locked the door behind him, pulled his shirt off, and plopped backward onto the king size bed, folding his arms behind his head. He sighed loudly, his head spinning as he thought about Ryan and what an absolute shitshow their relationship had morphed into recently.

Hayes had, as expected, made the opening night roster with New York and had remained there, having moved into an apartment with Neil Halloway on Long Island. It wasn't ideal, but Hayes had never really had an issue with Halloway. The two hashed it out pretty hard over what had gone down at the Gilgo Beach house with Ryan and Amara, with Halloway having gone to counseling because of it. They'd agreed to be roommates since Neil had gotten divorced and they both needed a place to live.

Hayes had one stipulation: Halloway was to send Amara flowers every single week for at least a year, or longer if he'd ultimately decided so.

And every week, he held him to it.

"Yo, bitch. You send ‘em yet?" he'd said, smacking him in the back of the head at the exact moment he took a sip of his coffee at the kitchen countertop one morning, causing him to clank his teeth against the cup's rim and spill some on his shirt.

"Dammit, kid," he grumbled, fumbling for a nearby napkin and blotting his shirt. "Not yet. Was gonna do it in a few minutes."

"You better. And not those shitty ass roses this time either. She said they all died after two days. Calla lilies. Those are her favorite."

Their posh, 2000-square-foot apartment was a little different from what Hayes was used to on the fourth floor in Bridgeport now that they were playing with NHL paychecks. And though he did miss it, he was able to visit from time to time, as Ryan was now living there with Osi. Though everyone fully expected Sellars to unload him over the summer after all the bullshit that had gone down last season, Ryan had remained with Bridgeport. He'd even been named an alternate captain, much to his own shock.

The confidence boost must've been exactly what he needed because Ryan Baylor was absolutely killing it in Bridgeport this year. He'd received the highest praise from Coach Hastings and Coach Reilly, both of whom had expressed how pleased they were with his progress.

"You're like a different fucking guy out there, Baylor," Hastings had told him after a recent game. "It's unbelievable. You've got that vision now. Head's constantly up, scanning the play. And your awareness? It's there, kid. That sixth sense they always talk about with elite d-men? You're working up to it. You've consistently been two steps ahead of every play. Baylor, it's been fucking incredible to see."

Couple those vast improvements with the fact that he'd continued to work on his speed and that he currently led the entire team in points. He was really coming into his own and getting back to the caliber of play for which he'd been known in juniors and college.

And there were plenty of NHL scouts taking notice of it, too.

Now, Tyler Hayes?

That was a different story altogether.

The NHL wasn't the AHL, and Hayes had been walloped with that reality check very quickly. He'd had a great camp, enough to get him on the roster, but aside from a few good games here or there, he'd been riding the struggle bus hard.

He hadn't scored his first goal yet, he was at minus 7, and his excessive penalty minutes, mostly unsportsmanlikes for running his mouth, earned him several healthy scratches. His backchecking was absolute garbage, so much so that he landed on the fourth line. And as if all of that wasn't bad enough, his shoulder had been acting up again, and he'd begun numbing the pain with a cocktail of opioids and alcohol just so he could continue to play.

Oh, and then there was Travis Kadin.

TK.

The gorgeous, dark-haired, ripped up, 21-year-old forward who'd come to New York from Nashville in the first few weeks of the regular season. That in itself was weird, but "extenuating circumstances" were cited for the unconventional trade.

He and Hayes immediately gravitated toward each other and after only a few weeks, the reputation the two had begun to develop as a pair left much to be desired.

TK liked to party.

Fuck, did he like to party.

And hard.

It was one of the reasons he'd been dumped by Nashville, though rumor had it that it was because he'd slept with one of his veteran teammate's pregnant wives and it was more of an "either he goes, or I go" situation. With both boys struggling to forge relationships with the other Islanders players and having more money than they could even fathom what to do with, Hayes and TK became nearly inseparable, bonding mostly over their love for painkillers.

And alcohol.

And cocaine.

And whatever the fuck else they could get their hands on.

Hockey had taken a backseat to their codependent partying, which really hit the fan every time they were on the road and in a new city.

They were called into the conference room after an away gameday practice, where they'd been so fucked up from the night before they could barely tie their skates, and presented with a set of rules: there would be no rooming together or hanging out with each other off the ice while on the road.

The two then proceeded to violate those rules so many times, the team had actually hired security to sit outside their hotel rooms, ensuring they didn't show up to practice wearing the same clothes from the night before and reeking of alcohol.

As much as Hayes hated to admit it, he knew that part of his downfall, part of the reason he'd so easily clicked with TK, was because of his deteriorating relationship with Ryan.

Following the nearly perfect summer they'd spent together, things started to fall apart when their seasons began. They hardly saw each other due to their hectic travel schedules and when they did, it was pretty much to fuck.

Hayes certainly didn't mind that part. Shoving his cock in Ryan's ass was euphoric; there was no one on Earth who could make him cum harder than Ryan could. It was as if his ass was made for Hayes's cock. But afterward, he always felt empty. Ryan was so wrapped up in his own success with Bridgeport that he didn't even seem to notice how much his boyfriend was struggling mentally.

Or if he did, it sure didn't seem to Hayes that he cared all that much.

Further complicating things was the fact that Ryan Baylor wanted to murderTravis fucking Kadin.

The first time they'd fought about TK was one night in October. Both boys lay panting in a crumpled heap of limbs on Hayes's bed, having just fucked the absolute life out of each other. When Hayes had headed to the bathroom, his phone started blowing up, so much so that Ryan felt compelled to check it and make sure something terrible hadn't happened. He saw on the lock screen that the messages were from TK and, against his better judgment, put in the code to unlock his boyfriend's phone. It was, adorably, the date of the first time they'd had sex.

TK: The fuck you attttt?

TK: Hayes? Where are you???

TK: I scored some fish scale. Let's get fucked up.

TK: Seriously, it's the best coke ever.

TK: Hayessssssss? Come get fucked up with me!

TK: I wanna clean this shit off your pretty little abs with my face, baby.

When Hayes had returned, Ryan had already put his clothes back on and was frustratedly stuffing his feet into his shoes.

"Hey. You're not stayin'?"

Ryan didn't answer.

"Rook? What's the matter?"

He grabbed his sweatshirt from the chair and headed toward the door, Hayes throwing out an arm to stop him and Ryan quickly shoving it away.

"What the fuck?" Hayes yelled. "What's your fuckin' problem?"

Ryan turned, headed back toward the nightstand, snatched Hayes's phone, and threw it at him. Hayes caught it awkwardly, unlocked it, and rolled his eyes as he read through his teammate's texts. "Fuck," he mumbled. "Rook, I swear to God, it's not…"

"You're fucking him."

Hayes laughed uncomfortably. "No. What? Yo…it's not…he's not even gay, man."

"Yeah? Neither were we about a year ago."

"I wasn't. We all know your gay ass has always been gay."

Ryan shot him a death glare. "You know, Hayes. We really don't have to do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"This." He motioned in between them with his hands. "This. Us. We tried, OK? And clearly, it's not working out. So maybe it'd be better if we just…didn't."

Hayes narrowed his eyes at Ryan. "Why the fuck would you even say that to me?"

Ryan pointed to Hayes's phone. "Then what is all that shit, huh?"

"It's…TK. He's just fucked up, Rook. Probably has no idea what he's even sayin' right now. Hey." Hayes moved in toward Ryan, reaching his hands to either of his hips, but Ryan quickly pulled away. "Seriously? That's how it's gonna be?"

"I don't trust you around him, Tyler."

Hayes knew he was in deep shit when Ryan busted out the T-word.

"Ryan, listen to me. Nothing. Happened. I swear to God."

Ryan got in his face, pointing a finger at him. "You better be goddamn careful or someday you're not gonna be able to look me in the eye and say that."

"You know what?" Hayes rolled his eyes and stomped over to his nightstand. "Fuck this," he muttered, yanking open the drawer and pulling out a bottle of pills. He opened it, shook three into his hand, capped it, and washed them down with the bottle of whisky he kept in there as Ryan looked on in horror. "What? You know my shoulder's been…"

"Fuck your shoulder!" Ryan yelled, then shook his head. "Shoulder my ass! So, you wash your painkillers down with alcohol now? Jesus, Hayes. He's turning you into a fucking junkie. No wonder you're riding the bench over here. You're probably too fucked up to play half the time."

"Real fuckin' nice, Rook. Way to be supportive, you fuckin' dick." Hayes had walked to the edge of his bed, sat down, and hung his head in his hands, with Ryan immediately following and sitting next to him.

"Hayes," he whispered, sliding an arm around his back and pulling them closer together. "I'm sorry. I'm just…I'm worried about you with him. You guys are getting a little too close."

"I'm not a cheater, Rook." He wiped his eyes and shrugged. "Maybe you're right though. Maybe this shit with us has run its course. You know, I love you so much, more than I've ever loved anything. Way more than I love myself, that's for damn sure. And I don't feel like you're…in this shit with me anymore. Because me? I'm fuckin' in it, Rook. I am all the way in it. But I don't think you are."

Ryan reached both his hands to either side of Hayes's face, forcing him to look at him. "Hey. Of course I'm in it. Hayes: I'm in it. OK? Come on. We'll get through this. I know I need to be more supportive of you, and I'll try, alright? I really will. But you? Have to promise me something."

"Anything."

"You have got to lay off the drugs, Hayes. It's getting bad. They're…some of the shit they're saying about you? You gotta stop or you're gonna lose everything you worked your ass off for, or…worse. And there's no way I'd ever come back from it." Ryan kissed his forehead. "Can you promise me that?"

Hayes nodded, both knowing damn well it was a lie, but both wanting nothing more than to believe it.

???

The sound of persistent knocking woke Hayes, and he shot up off the bed, unsure where he was for a moment. He scanned his surroundings and realized he was still in the hotel suite bedroom, with no clue how long he'd even been passed out.

He got up unsteadily and stumbled over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open.

"The fuck? Thought you were dead in here, baby. Been knockin' for like, five minutes." A shirtless TK examined him on the way inside and Hayes examined him and his pierced nipples right back, pushing the door shut and locking it again. "Wow. You're feelin' good, huh?"

"I dunno…the fuck you gave me, but I need a bump, man. Level me. You got?" Hayes mumbled, looking desperately at his teammate.

"Welp, that depends," he said, grabbing Hayes's hand and dragging him over to the bed. He sat down on the edge and looked up at Hayes, who stood between his legs. "What are you willing to do for it?" TK stared at him intently for a moment before bursting out laughing, causing Hayes to palm his forehead and push him onto his back.

"Fuckin' dick," he muttered, climbing onto the bed next to TK.

"You were thinking about it, huh? Suck me off for a bump, would you? Maybe a handy?"

"You're fuckin' crazy," Hayes replied, watching his teammate's every move as he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a baggie.

"Not that I'd turn it down, baby. Anyway, you know I got." He propped himself up on one elbow and dumped some of the powder onto his own stomach, right above the waistband of his pants. He formed most of it into a line with his forefinger and thumb before taking a big pinch, bringing his fingers to his own nose, and inhaling deeply. "Oh fuck…oh yeah." He shook his head and nodded toward Hayes, then nodded toward his midsection. "Clean it."

All Hayes could think about was coming back to reality, hoping this would even him out. The two had become somewhat of a pair of amateur pharmacists, having spent countless hours getting completely obliterated and then trying to decipher what concoction of narcotics would get them back to normal. Most of the time, when alcohol and other pills were involved, a line or two of coke would at least get Hayes back to semi-functional.

And since he wanted to be semi-functional at the moment, he apologized to Ryan in his head, placed each of his hands on either side of TK's hips, leaned his face down toward his crotch, and ripped the line right off his smokin' hot teammate's rock-hard abs. "Holy fuck…oh shit." He sat up quickly and shook his head, as he started to feel himself return somewhat to normal.

Was this normal now?

Was normal even a thing anymore?

"Better not tell pretty boy," TK teased, as Hayes flopped onto his back next to him, both twitching slightly. "You two still fight over me?"

"We don't fight over you," Hayes argued. "He just thinks I'm in love with you because you're insanely hot and he's a fuckin' drama queen."

"Wait: so, you're not in love with me?"

"Last I checked, no."

"Thought you said you were into cock?"

"I didn't say I was into your cock. Dumbass."

"Bummer."

"So how much trouble we gonna be in for breakin' their little rules again? And where was security tonight?" Hayes asked, wondering how the hell they were even able to get out of their rooms and into an Uber to join a few of their other teammates for this party.

"I paid ‘em off," TK admitted. "Five hundred bucks and an 8-ball."

"Damn, man."

TK shrugged. "Fuck it. It's just money. Besides, I miss partying with you, baby."

"I miss partyin' with you, too, Teek."

They both lay there in silence for a bit when out of nowhere, TK gurgled, flew up off the bed, and made a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before violently heaving the contents of his stomach.

Hayes quickly followed, standing at the doorway and watching until he was done. "Yo, you good, man?"

"Ugh, omigod," he moaned, flushing and slumping over onto the seat. "I don't know. Ty, I don't…fuckin' feel right."

Hayes grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom vanity, wet it, and sat down next to his teammate on the floor. "Hey, lift your head up a sec," he said, wiping his mouth and some of the vomit that had splattered onto his chest. "What'd we take tonight?"

"Dunno. Oxy. Vicodin, maybe? Shit." He slumped over onto Hayes, who leaned against the wall next to the toilet. TK turned so his bare back was pressed against Hayes's bare chest, reached for one of Hayes's arms, and moved it across the front of his body.

"You wanna lay down? Come on, let's go get in bed…"

TK shook his head. "Uh uh. I'm comfy. Plus, I don't think I can move. Shit just fuckin' hit me outta nowhere, man."

Hayes felt his teammate's body start to tremble, so he grabbed a nearby towel and threw it around him. "Just rest then. I'll stay awake, keep an eye…"

TK was snoring before Hayes even finished his sentence.

Hayes closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting it hit the wall as he thought about what Ryan would say if he could see him right now: shirtless, trashed, and sitting on a hotel bathroom floor with his arms wrapped around his shirtless, trashed teammate.

His smokin' hot, shirtless, trashed teammate.

And while he was certain Ryan would hate it?

Hayes kinda didn't.