Page 12 of Breaking Ryan Baylor

“Ryan?” she asked cautiously, standing over him. “You OK?”

“Debatable,” he replied, his eyes closed.

“What’s going on?”

“Just a…panic attack. Probably should’ve warned you about these. I tried to make it to…my room, but this is as…far as I got.”

“OK. Can I help you?”

“Nope. Just gotta ride it out, focus...on my breathing. It’s kinda...fucked at the moment.”

She lay down on the floor next to him, bending her legs in the exact same way and putting her feet up on the wall next to his. She reached over, grabbed his right hand, and held it with both of hers. “Hey, tell me five things you can see right now.”

“You. The wall. My shoes. The floor. The ceiling.”

“Good. Now tell me four sounds you can hear...”

She walked him through the rest of the steps, counting down to one, and his breathing began to return to normal. He rolled his head sideways to face hers, which was already turned towards him. “You too?” he asked quietly.

“My ex. He used to get them pretty bad.”

“I’ve been anxious for as long as I can remember, but this bullshit started when I was 17, right after my dad died. He swung his legs over and sat up. “And as quickly as they hit, they disappear. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she said, sitting up next to him. “I’m glad I could help you. Any idea what set it off?”

He closed his eyes and leaned his head onto his arms, which rested on his bent knees. He sat quietly for a bit, then lifted his head to look at her. “You know, Nick was right. You’re really easy to talk to.”

“I feel the same way.”

“Hey, we need to get to know each other, right? So, let’s play a game. We agree to share some random shit about ourselves every day. Even if it’s embarrassing and completely ridiculous. OK?”

“OK,” she said, unsure about where this was headed.

“Cool. I’ll start. Nice to meet you, Amara. I’m 23 fucking years old and I’ve never even been in a real relationship. I want one, but instead of actually trying, I screw just about everything with a pulse. I immediately lose interest after, and then I hate myself. There have been two girls that I’ve liked even after slamming them, and both told me to fuck off. I have never been in love. Not even close, and I don’t even know if it’s something I’m capable of, honestly.”

Amara blinked a few times. “Um, wow. You’ve been waiting to get that off your chest, huh? That’s some heavy lifting, Baylor. OK, we’re doing this, huh?” She clasped her hands and nodded. “My turn. Nice to meet you, Ryan. I’m 41, and I’m pretty sure real relationships are complete, overrated bullshit. My last ‘real’ relationship literally almost killed me. I probably won’t ever trust anyone enough to be in another one ever again. I haven’t even seen a dick since before my divorce, and I would love nothing more than to screw just about everything with a pulse, preferably as soon as possible.”

They looked at each other, Ryan smiling. “What’s that you said about heavy lifting?”

Amara shrugged. “Guess we got some shit to help each other work through, don’t we?” She stood up. “Anyway, what time are we heading down tonight?”

“So, you’ll come?” Ryan asked, his voice laced with mild excitement.

“Why not? Besides, maybe I’ll meet something with a pulse.” She winked at him.

“Yeah. Maybe,” he said blankly, getting up off the ground. “Give it a few hours. I’m gonna go lay down for a bit. Shit takes a lot out of me.”

She watched him walk away to his bedroom, unable to pull her eyes away from him for even a second. Everything about Ryan Baylor was beyond beautiful, and as she’d suspected would be the case, she found herself insanely attracted to him. But, having caught a glimpse of just how broken he was, she decided that, for right now at least, this one was off-limits.

Mr. Laundry Room, Tyler Hayes, however, was a completely different story.

Game on with that one.

The Teammates (7)

“Should we have brought a bottle of wine or something?” Amara asked as they got off the elevator on the fourth floor.

Ryan smirked. “You haven’t spent much time around hockey players, have you?”

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