Page 46 of The Long Game
“She’s also one of my best friends. And a totally normal, real person.”
“I’ll be cool, I promise!”
Shane shook his head. “She’s taking me shopping. I don’t need a witness to that. I’m weird enough about clothes without you being there.”
“Fine.” Hayden turned his attention back to the TV. After a minute of watching, he chuckled. “That guy’s back tattoo. Sheesh.”
Shane squinted at the shirtless white guy who was being yelled at by another shirtless white guy. “What’s it say?”
“‘No Worries.’”
Shane huffed. “Must be nice.”
There were two kids—Willa and Andrew—who lived in the house down the street from Ilya. Almost every home game day, the kids would stand in their driveway and wave at Ilya as he drove by on his way to the arena. Sometimes they wore the jerseys he’d given them. Sometimes they held homemade signs.
Ilya slowed down as he approached their house and rolled down his window. Willa was wearing her jersey, and Andrew had an Ottawa Centaurs foam finger.
“How many goals should I score tonight?” Ilya asked.
“Three!” said Willa.
“Eight!” said Andrew.
Ilya chuckled. “No problem. Will you be there?”
Andrew—the younger one—started jumping up and down. “Yeah! And I’m going to get popcorn!”
“Aw. Lucky,” Ilya said. “I never get popcorn at the games.”
“Because if you ate popcorn while playing hockey, you would get a cramp,” Willa said wisely.
“This is true,” Ilya agreed. He noticed the kids’ mother sitting on the front steps. “Hello, Kate.”
Kate waved. “Good luck tonight, Ilya.”
Ilya nodded and gave a final wave, then drove away smiling. There were a lot of things that he found difficult about living and playing in Ottawa, but he absolutely loved this pregame ritual with his neighbors. He loved having neighbors. His penthouse in Boston had been sexy and private, but being on the ground in a house surrounded by other houses was nice.
To be fair, it was abighouse. With a gate and trees and an enormous semicircular driveway. He still neededsomeprivacy.
The drive from Ilya’s house to the arena was only about fifteen minutes, and he passed a Starbucks drive-thru on the way, so it was basically a perfect commute. It was a sunny day, so Ilya had decided to take his orange Porsche 718 Cayman, which was the coolest of the cars he had left. These days he mostly drove his Mercedes SUV with all-wheel drive. Sometimes on nice days he rode his Ducati, but both Shane and Yuna strongly disapproved of his decision to buy a motorcycle, so Ilya didn’t take it out often.
Shane was so sure Ilya was going to die in a crash. It was annoying.
Ilya drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the Bad Bunny song that he’d recently added to his pregame playlist. He needed to get his fill of good music now because it was Evan Dykstra’s turn to be in charge of the locker room music, and that meant country. Ilya tried to be open-minded about music, and maybe not all country was bad, but the particular songs Dykstra was into were definitely bad.
He pulled into the Starbucks drive-thru, ordered a coffee with cream and sugar for himself and a black coffee for Luca Haas because he’d found that he liked the way Luca got flustered when Ilya gave him any attention at all. Ilya had always beenagainst hazing or making rookies feel uncomfortable or bullied, but he got a kick out of being nice to the starstruck ones.
The first person Ilya spotted in the parking garage at the arena was Wyatt Hayes, who was just getting out of his army-green Jeep Wrangler. It had a Green Lantern logo on the tire cover on the back because Hazy was a fucking nerd.
“Hey, Roz,” Wyatt said with a small wave.
Ilya nodded back because he was carrying two coffee cups. “Hazy.”
Wyatt fell into stride with Ilya as they walked through the garage. He was about Ilya’s height—maybe an inch shorter—with curly blond hair and a wide mouth that almost never frowned. “What kind of crowd do you think we’ll get tonight?”
“Is a beautiful evening, so basically no one.”
Wyatt laughed. “Yeah. Our numbers will go up when it gets cold.”
