Ryan gets to the rink early the next morning, well before Dante. He knows his boyfriend told him eight but he’s interested in seeing the hockey team’s morning skate—he caught the scores on the late news last night and God, they’re doing just awful. An away game, four nothing, four—when he played, he never let anyone in their end zone that many times. Lying in his bed with the lights out, he stared up at the darkened ceiling and imagined himself whole again in another month’s time, back on the ice and back in the game, and he’d bring the team up out of this losing streak, he’d single-handedly take them on to the playoffs. He’d be the Talon again, swooping in on the crease like a hawk, hitting hard and hitting fast without letting anything stand in his way.
In these dreams Dante was in the
