Page 163 of The Long Game
When they got inside, Anya stood in front of Ilya’s legs and barked menacingly at Coach Wiebe. Ilya bent and petted her head. “Is okay, Anya. He is a friend.”
Ilya glanced up and locked eyes with his coach, silently asking,Right?
Wiebe crouched too and offered Anya his hand to sniff. “Nice to meet you, Anya. I’m just here to talk to your dad.” He smiled at Ilya. “She’s cute.”
“She is the best.”
Wiebe stood. “Can we sit, maybe?”
Ilya stood as well. “I can make coffee.”
“Now we’re talking.”
They went to the kitchen, and Ilya used his espresso machine to make them each an Americano. It was faster than brewing a pot. Wiebe waited until they were both sitting at the kitchen table before he got down to business.
“So,” he said, with a hint of amusement in his eyes, “I’m guessing your, um, appearance in Pike’s video was unintentional.”
“Yes.”
“Sorry.” Wiebe looked genuinely sympathetic. “That’s terrible.”
Ilya sipped his coffee, not saying anything.
“Is it serious?” Wiebe asked. “You and Hollander?”
“You mean, was it a joke?”
Wiebe shook his head. “No way a kiss likethatwas a joke. No, I mean, are you two an item?”
The ice shelf that Ilya had built up in his chest began to crumble and slide away. “I love him,” he said quietly.
There was a long silence. Ilya stared at his coffee and waited.
“And I’d say the feeling is mutual,” his coach finally said. “Based on that video, anyway.”
Ilya’s lips curved up. “It is very much mutual.” His tentative smile only lasted a moment. “How bad will this be?”
Wiebe exhaled slowly. “I don’t know,” he said. “Crowell has ordered that you both be benched for a bit. He wants itdealt with, whatever that means.”
Jesus. Shane was going to lose his mind.
“I’m sorry,” Ilya said, not really meaning it. He wasn’t sorry he’d fallen in love with Shane. Wasn’t even sorry he’d made the mistake of kissing him when he’d thought no one could see. But he was a bit sorry that Coach Wiebe needed to deal with this. He was a good guy.
“I’m not going to pretend this isn’t complicated as hell,” Coach said, “but you don’t need to apologize to me.”
“No?”
“No.” Wiebe smiled. His smiles were always warm, with a hint of mischief. “I mean, the timing isn’t great. I’m a rookie coach, Roz! Come on!”
“Sorry,” Ilya said again.
“The thing is, because I’m a rookie coach—and not particularly popular with Crowell—I don’t know how much help I can be. But know that you have my support, whatever happens.”
That was...more than Ilya had expected from his coach. “Thank you,” he said, sincerely.
Wiebe studied him for a long moment, took a sip of coffee, then seemed to reach a decision. “I’m going to share something with you that I’ve only ever told my wife.”
Oh god. “Okay,” Ilya said.
