Fifteen mgs of oxy at 7 a.m.
Line at 9 a.m.
Fifteen more mg’s at 12 p.m.
Two lines at 2 p.m., etc.
And it was at that point, when he sat back and looked at everything, that Hayes realized just how fucked he was.
The amount of drugs he needed to feel normal was costing him upwards of $300 a day, sometimes way more if he had to buy it off the street while waiting for a new prescription refill. And it was nightmare: having to keep track of which pills were which strength because if he accidentally popped three 15’s instead of 5’s, he’d have a real problem. TK helped him organize everything and keep track of his dosages, and there was no doubt in his mind he would’ve already OD’d if it hadn’t been for his friend.
This shit? Was not only exhausting; it was a full-time job.
But: he could play hockey.
He could function.
And most importantly, like everything else currently in his life, he could effectively hide it from Ryan Baylor.
It’d been about two weeks since the trade and since Hayes had last seen his boyfriend. They’d spoken as much as they could, but Ryan was busy trying to learn the ropes of his new team and adjusting to the much faster paced NHL style of hockey. It’d been a struggle for him, but he’d been making some strides, finally getting his start at home against the Penguins after being named a healthy scratch for the first three games.
He’d sent Hayes a video of his rookie lap, which he watched proudly, but also with an aching in his gut that he wasn’t there to witness it live. He remembered his own rookie lap last year and how Ryan had been right there and he lamented the fact that he couldn’t return the favor.
“You know I’d have been there for it if I could’ve, baby,” he told him when they talked after the game, putting his phone on mute while TK ripped a couple lines off the Raptor’s center console.
“I know you would’ve. It’s just…I’m struggling so much here, baby.”
Hayes heard the pain in Ryan’s voice as it cracked on the last syllable of the word “baby,” and it damn near broke him.
“It’s not the same as the AHL. Shit, you know that. It’s so much faster, so much more intense. The other guys? They’re all so much better than me. I don’t…know if I’m gonna make it, and that scares the shit outta me.”
“Trust me, Rook. I get it. But you’re ready, baby. When I first got here…dude, you’re fuckin’ bleedin’ all over yourself. Hang on, Rook. Here.” Hayes leaned over, reached inside the glovebox, grabbed some napkins, and tossed them to his teammate to clean himself up. “Anyway, when I first got here…”
“Know what? I can see you’re busy. I’ll let you go.”
“Rook, no. Wait…”
But Ryan had already ended the call.
“Fuckin’ ay, Teek!” Hayes yelled, smacking him in the chest. “You couldn’t wait two fuckin’ minutes ‘til I was done talkin’ to him?” Then, hearing the alarm on his phone, he bent down to clean the two lines that TK had racked for him, already privy to what Hayes needed before even he was.
TK was good like that.
He understood Hayes in a way that no one else did.
Whether or not that was a good thing, Hayes had yet to determine.
Hayes and Ryan had spoken that morning and Ryan had apologized for hanging up on him, assuring him that he was just stressed out after only getting 11 minutes of ice time and ending the night at a minus 3.
He’d also commented on how much more present and more alert Hayes had seemed the past few times they talked. “Are you, you know, taking care of yourself? Have you…stopped?”
Hayes hesitated. “I haven’t stopped. Rook, I can’t. But I’m…takin’ care of myself, OK? I promise. Everything is completely under control. I’m…I’ve got this.”
Ryan, knowing that was bullshit and not having the first clue what to say, just replied quietly with, “OK.”
He still hadn’t told Ryan about what happened with TK, but he was starting to lean toward the idea that maybe it was better to just not say anything. Maybe it was just one little fuck up; was it really something for which he was willing to throw away their entire relationship?
Tomorrow, he’d finally get to see Ryan again. Their schedules had worked out; the Islanders were playing at home and Tampa Bay was playing in New Jersey, which was only a little over two hours from Long Island. The Lightning had to be in Columbus the following day, but at least they’d be able to spend one quick night together, a night that just happened to be Hayes’s 22nd birthday.