The first test of the new agreement arrived without warning.
I had skated early, the way I said I would. Damian had been there, the way he said he would be. We shared the ice in near silence, the door between us open but neither of us fully stepping through. Practice followed in its usual violent rhythm. Hits. Drills. The sharp bark of Coach’s voice. I stayed visible. He stayed exact. When our eyes met across the neutral zone neither of us looked away first. That small refusal still felt like a revolution.
After the final whistle I expected the pattern to hold—another careful conversation near center ice, another exchange of truths that left the air thinner than before. Instead, when I stepped into the corridor outside the locker rooms, Damian was waiting with his coat already on and his
