I rubbed my eyes with the tips of my fingers, just in case this was a medication-induced mirage. Mads looked up, our eyes met, and that loving smile tugged on his lips. Hell, this was no dream.

“Tennant,” he said, giving the receptionist at the desk a nod before walking to me. A chaste kiss was all I got, which was fine. The old gal behind the desk didn’t need to see two people swapping spit there in the lobby.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I whispered after I burrowed into his arms. “Miss you… a lot.”

He pressed his lips to my hair. “I miss you too. Come on, let’s find a place to talk.”

Excitement coursed through me. “I know… wait, I know… there’s a good place.”

“Then lead the way.” He released me.

I slid my hand into his. I tried to fill him in on my progress as we walked, but the words kept tangling up. Which made me frustrated, which made it harder to concentrate, which made me even madder. By the time we arrived at the solarium, I was pissed and totally tongue-tied, my thoughts ramming into each other like bumper cars. “Hey, look up here at me.”

He took my chin in his hand. “We have plenty of time. There’s no rush. Slow down.” He put his mouth on mine, his lips soft and warm.

My eyes fluttered downward, and I let his strength and calm seep into me. I wanted the kiss to deepen but knew it couldn’t. I wanted to take him to my room and have him wipe the past horrors from my mind, but that couldn’t happen either.

“Okay, yeah, I’m uhm… smooth now,” I whispered as I stared into his blue eyes.

He nodded, the very model of a man who had his shit totally together. If only I could have had one-tenth of his self-possession. Ever since the accident, I was borderline madman, prone to snapping at people for no good reason.

“Let’s look at the city.” He draped his arm around me and led me to a wall of windows. “Tell me about Tucson. Have you seen much of it yet?”

“No, not much.” I let my screwy head rest on his shoulder. The smell of him and the familiar solidity of his body next to mine eased my tension. “We—me and Declan and uhm… his name is Heath something, played back when you were playing. Therapist took us to some park, walked around with us as if we were kindergarten students. Then, we came back and made macaroni art. I shit you… not. Really, arts and crafts.”

I snickered, and so did he. “I love macaroni art. Ryker made me hundreds. I might still have them packed away somewhere.”

“Ten grand a day and we’re gluing… ziti to cardboard.”

“I’m sure they’re doing more than arts and crafts for you. Is that the Raptors Arena?”

I followed the direction he was pointing. “Yeah, Raptors home ice.”

“You look angry.”

“Well, yeah, he’s there, sitting in a box watching the game. F… fucker.”

“Hey, no anger. Relax,” he cooed, pulling me tighter to his side.

I did a little relaxation-type breathing. Julie, my therapist, had mentioned that adrenalin and I seemed to be at odds with each other. The angrier or more excited I got, the less focus I could apply to speaking well. And I could see that now that she’d pointed it out.

“People say I should press charges. Brady, Jamie, my folks… say it. Should I?” I looked up at him. Standing there, with the overhead lights, he was super tense and tired. The fine lines around his eyes and mouth were deeper. “You okay?”

He kissed my nose. “The last thing you need to be worrying about is me. I’m fine. Some jet lag is all. As to the question of pressing charges, I can’t make that decision. What I would like you to concentrate on now is getting healthy. Legal matters can wait if you decide to proceed in that manner. Focus and courage.”

“Courage… an indefinable quality that makes a man put out that extra something when it seems… there is nothing else to give.”

“They teaching you Herb Brooks quotes in here?” he asked as the desert city lay sprawled out in front of us, its lights little pinpricks.

“Nah, Brady had that as a poster on his wall. You saying be courageous, that reminded me of it.”

“Mm, it’s a fine quote from an amazing man. Also, you’re smooth now.”

I took a second and thought, then nodded. “Calm helps. Nothing calms me more than being in your arms.”

He inhaled and exhaled, his big chest expanding. “Same here.”

I tipped my head up for a kiss, and Mads, well, he never could resist my needy smooch face. His lashes fell to his cheeks, and his lips moved over mine. Small kisses, tender things that would have led us to something smoldering if we were home. Sadly, we weren’t home. We were in Arizona, at the brain place, and he would be leaving soon.

“Ten, you still up for checkers or—Oh damn! Sorry, man.”

Jared and I both started. Pulling back and turning, I saw Declan in the doorway, the box of checkers under his arm.

“No, hey, it’s all good.” I wiggled free, smiling, and took Jared’s big mitt in mine. “Mads, this is Declan Fidler, cornerback for the Temple Owls football team. Dec, this is my boyfriend, Jared Madsen.”

The two big men shook hands. Jared looked a little puzzled, but I chalked that up to fucking life in general right now. I mean, I was puzzled all the damn time, too.

“Nice to meet you, Coach Madsen. I didn’t know you had company, T. We’ve kind of been hanging out on our downtime,” Declan explained, shifting the checkers box from one arm to the other. “Place is packed full of old jocks.”

“Right? Like, at least I can mention… Arctic Monkeys to you and not have you think I’m talking about Mickey Dolenz in Siberia.”

Declan chuckled, and we did this funky little fist rap thing that we’d come up with. “I’ll leave you to have some time. Nice to meet you, Coach Madsen. T, drop by when you can, and we’ll set up the board. I got some new SZA for us.”

“Cool, I’m…” The wheels slipped a bit. “Down. Down with that.” Another fist rap routine and Dec was off. “He’s cool. Plays Pokémon Go with me. Great laugh. Totally same musical tastes. Sucks at checkers, though.”

“He seems like a nice kid,” Mads replied, his expression hard to read. “Let’s sit. I need to plant my saggy old ass somewhere.”

I patted his ass as we made our way to a taupe sofa. “Not so saggy yet.”

“Feels like it’s dragging on the ground behind me,” he replied, then sighed deeply when he dropped to the couch.

I sat beside him. The AC was blowing down on the back of my neck. I’d have to move soon or risk a sinus headache. I was trying my best to avoid any kind of headache trigger, which meant no sun without shades, no tiny detailed reading, healthy diet, lots of water, letting my PT crew know when I felt the creeping poke of pain inside my head blossom. Things had been pretty good the past few days, and I was assured that I would, indeed, continue to improve as long as I followed the regimen.

“Did you nod off?”

I jerked back to Mads. “Oh, no, I just… drifted. I’m so tired. Like… mentally you know, exhausted. They put me into this seat today that spins you in all different directions. Totally NASA astronaut training kind of crap, right? Then… they measured brain waves and pupil dilation, and I do not know what the hell else.”

“Good, I’m glad they’re doing all they can for you. It’s a world-class staff.” He slipped his fingers into my hair, his expression wistful. “You’re the single most important thing in this world to me right after Ryker. I just… well, if you hadn’t been okay, I just…” His fingers drifted down from my hair to trace the bandage on my neck.

“Hey, dude, my man, you’re not being a… cheery visitor here.”

“Christ, yes, I’m sorry. I’m in that mentally exhausted boat with you.” He stroked my face, his gaze searching mine. “I just wanted you to know how much I love you, Tennant. You’re the reason I wake up with a smile, the reason I go to bed fulfilled, the reason that I am the man I am now.”

“I love you wicked mad,” I whispered, putting my lips to his just one time, then nestling into him to watch the winking, blinking city be a backdrop for the winking, blinking lights on a freaking cactus in a pot the size of a dorm fridge. “Is there snow in Harrisburg?”

“A little,” he replied, his words warm puffs on my scalp.

“Good.” Sure, I was a Southern boy and froze all winter long, but my life was now in the North, where there were fir trees in the corner, not cacti. There was just something majorly wrong with stuffed Santas hanging off a cactus.

“I’m looking forward to you being home for the two weeks.”

“Mm, yeah, me too. I don’t have any presents for—”

“Stop. Focus on the happy and good and the healing. You’ll be home. That’s all that matters. Trust me, your family does not care if they don’t get a Far Side calendar from you this year. Just having you with us will be all the gift any of us need.”

He always knew just what to say to make me feel whole and loved.

Two days later, Dec and I were in line for the Raptors game. I had my black Jigglypuff cap pulled down low over my brow so that the folks in the Raptors jerseys didn’t recognize me. I was one of the crowd, nowhere near the team, but part of me needed to see the team again, get a feel for how much pain I still had inside me. Even if Aarni was still working out his suspension.

“T, are you sure this is a good idea?” Dec asked as we shuffled in through the front doors to wait for our turn to be wanded by security. “Place is going to be loud and bright, bud.”

“Yeah, it’s cool. I have shades and earplugs. I just… I need to be here.”

“Okay, but first sign of distress, we’re leaving.”

I gave him a thumbs-up, then moved along in line. We aced security and then made our way to the lower bowl. Seats here were cheap. I mean, like dirt cheap. Maybe sand cheap would have been more fitting. To say the Raptors were a team in disarray would have been putting it mildly. They were struggling to hold on to fourth place in their division. The vibe was not good in the press, lots of talk about major renovations over the summer. I prayed that the first thing that went was Aarni Lankinin. He wasn’t really human enough to be considered a person, so I categorized him as a thing, an it, a nasty sludge bucket who had humiliated and hurt Bryan Delaney in ways that a bruised brain and a couple of months of rehab could never compare to.

We paused at the top of the cement steps that led down into the lower bowl. I grabbed the cold metal rail, and I drew the smell of the rink into my lungs.

“Oh, God above, do you smell that?” I asked Dec.

“Yeah, smells like dinner.”

“Dude, no, not the onions and peppers, the ice. The crisp molecules of frozen water that float in the air and get drawn into your lungs. The tang of sweat and men and crowds.”

“Um, you want me to leave you and hockey alone for a while?”

That made me laugh. “Nah, I’m good. Only a semi-chub.”

“Ass. Hey, go find our seats. I’ll get us some food.”

I turned my head to look up at him. “Get something greasy. And a beer.”

“Nope, no beer. Meds.”

“Fuck my life,” I moaned. “Fine, soda then.”

We rapped knuckles, and I went down the stairs, taking it slow in case the brain checked out and I fell on my face. I’d done that the first day of CRT and wanted to die of embarrassment. My eyes had just tangled up as I was working on the stepper, and crack! down on my face I had gone. The docs had assured me such things were normal and would, over time, stop happening. Over time. Over time. I should maybe get that tattooed on my neck instead of the Rowe family lion.

We had choice seats, right by the glass behind the away net. The Raptors were playing Vegas tonight, and I loved the Vegas goalie. I snapped some shots of him warming up and sent them to Stan, who had a serious case of fangirl all over the team chat. Within ten minutes, everyone on the freaking team was on the chat, all talking at me at once. I promised them all that I was totally allowed to be here. I wasn’t in prison. I was free to come and go as I wished. Then I snapped some pics of Declan, and Adler just about creamed his shorts when he saw the famous collegiate football player.

Dec and I stuffed ourselves on Italian subs, onion rings, and giant cups full of foamy root beer. The music and lights gave me some issues, but not enough that I wanted to leave. I slid my shades on and protected my ears with tiny pink foam earplugs, and sat back and lost myself in the game. Dec didn’t know the game well, but he cheered every time Vegas scored, which was often because I’d filled him in on the Raptors and shitbag Aarni.

Ryker popped up in a separate chat, him and his new guy, Jacob, who was adorable, and then my man sent me a message. It included a photo of the Christmas tree that he’d hauled in. It was big and fat and green as shit, and according to Mads, it poked like a porcupine. Something about seeing him and that naked tree hit me in the gut. I should’ve been there with him, setting it up.

I’m not decorating it until you come home, Mads texted. We’ll do that together.

I was kind of emotional, so I took a fast selfie, personalized it with hearts and flying pink pigs and the tagline This is my love you face which got me a long pause before a reply came back.

Where are you?

Raptors game w D

Big, drawn-out silence between my text and the next incoming one.

Why are you there?

Hockey. Bored. Root Beer. Hockey.

Another long pause.

Don’t set yourself back, Tennant.

I won’t. I needed to be here, see the ice, smell the stink of it all. You know.

Yes, I do. Just… be careful.

I hit him back quickly. See you in two days. <3 U – T

Love you as well. I’ll dig out the ornaments. – J

The Vegas goalie made this outrageous save, and the crowd went wild. I winced at the noise, even with the plugs in my ears. I turned off my phone, feeling strange and out of sorts, and let the game take me to that place it always did. Out of myself and into oneness with the ice and the puck.