Page 77 of Breaking Ryan Baylor

It took her a second to realize that he’d hit her. As he was fastening his belt, she took the opportunity to hop off the vanity and try to make her way towards the door, but he clutched her upper arm and pulled her back to him. “Look, I’m sorry. I got caught up. Let’s just forget this happened, OK?”

She nodded, and he let her go. She stumbled toward the door, still dazed from how hard he’d hit her, tore it open, and practically ran out and down the hallway. Before she turned the corner, she tried to compose herself, but the tears had already begun. She wiped them bitterly and found the spiral staircase, heading back down to the second floor.

Pulling out her phone to text Ryan, she looked up and saw him standing and laughing with a bunch of guys near where she’d been sitting with Neil before. They made eye contact, and within seconds, he was at her side.

“Amara, hey. What happened? What’s wrong?”

She just shook her head and closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He lifted a hand to the right side of her face, and she winced in pain. His posture stiffened. “You better fucking tell me what happened right now before I lose my shit.”

“Halloway…hit me,” she choked out.

The look that washed over his face was one she’d never seen before on a human being. The intense rage that ignited his eyes terrified her, and she grabbed onto his arm as they both spotted Neil coming down the staircase.

“Ryan, please don’t!” she begged, but it was too late. Like a scene from a movie, it seemed to happen in slow motion. She watched as he marched over to him and, with deft precision, cocked his right hand back and blasted him in the jaw, knocking him backward before he’d even had a chance to react.

He proceeded to punch him two more times, taking one to his own face in the middle of it all that he didn’t even seem to feel. Wrestling him to the ground, he straddled Neil’s hips and continued to wallop him four more times, alternating hands, as his right knuckles were completely torn open, though he wasn’t sure if the blood was his own or Neil’s. Amara just watched in horror, frozen, as two other guys pulled Ryan off him and shoved him back.

As he stood over Neil, he spit onto his bloodied face. “You put your hands on my girl again and I swear to God, I will not stop until you’re in a fucking body bag.”

“Enough, Baylor. Get the fuck outta here!” one of the guys shouted, as he tended to Neil, who lay writhing in pain on the floor. A crowd had gathered around them, and he put his arm around Amara’s shoulder, blood spatter on his hands and shirt.

“Uh, we need to leave. Now,” he said, urgency in his voice, as they pushed through bodies and made their way downstairs and out the front door.

No Good Deed (27)

Everyone was silent when Ryan walked into the arena that following Tuesday for practice, including him. He entered the locker room, made a beeline toward his stall, and began unloading his personal belongings. The eyes of the other players were fixed on him; he could feel it, but no one said a word to him. He grabbed a roll of tape and started to wrap his right hand when Nick approached him.

“Can I give you a hand with that?” he asked gently.

“Nah.”

“Let me see.” Nick lifted a hand to his face, and Ryan turned his head to give a better look at his swollen black eye, which hurt like a son of a bitch. “Vision’s alright?”

“Yep.”

“Hey. What you did for her…”

“Don’t mention it,” he interrupted coldly.

“They’re, uh, they’re gonna call a meeting with you in a few. Just wanted to give you a heads-up. Hastings is beyond pissed.”

“I figured.”

“I just want you to know, you did the right thing, man. Halloway’s a legit piece of shit. Always has been.”

“Thanks, man,” Ryan said quietly.

“Anyway, I’d wait to dress. I don’t know…you might not be staying, is all.” Nick patted him on the shoulder. “Whatever happens, just know you did the right thing.”

Ryan had a seat at his stall, crossed his arms, and awaited his punishment, thinking back to that night and everything that had transpired.

He and Amara had practically run from Husghesy’s house, fearing that someone may have called the cops. Having Ubered to a nearby hotel, she cleaned him up in the shower and washed the blood out of his shirt in the bathtub, hanging it to dry on the shower curtain rod. Afterward, they both lay in silence, each of them on a different double bed, with Ryan finally breaking it.

“What the fuck were you thinking going into a bathroom with him?”

“There it is! I was wondering how long it would take for you to blame me.”

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