Page 11 of The Last Inch Of Ice
I fucking hate him.
“You don’t need to know someone to dislike them. But usually,synku, when you dislike someone that much, it’s because they remind you of something.” She taps her temple. “Think about it.”
Nazar doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about Callahan at all.
But of course, the universe hates him, because his grandmother truly loves seeing Callahan on television.
What she doesn’t know—what he can’t tell her—is that his older brother, Derek, once played for Doyle Callahan’s team, the Toronto Wardens. She has no idea who the owner is… because if she did, there’s no way she’d like Kaisyn as much as she does. Derek’s career ended abruptly, the opportunities drying up like they’d never existed, debts piling up faster than he could pay them. He was forced to work as an ice resurfacer at DoyleCallahan’s stadium, driving the Zamboni at the same rink where he used to play.
And then he drank himself to death.
Nazar’s goal has always been to get on the Toronto Wardens. To play for Doyle Callahan’s team and rub his nose in it. To prove that his brother mattered. That the Rykov name means something.
But he can’t tell his grandmother any of this. She doesn’t know the details, and he won’t upset her with them.
“You’re quiet,” Halina says, pulling him from his thoughts. “More quiet than usual, which is saying something.”
“Just tired,ba.”
“Tired.” She snorts. “You’re twenty-three. You don’t know what tired is.” She stands, refilling his tea without asking. “Speaking of which, I have a nice Ukrainian girl for you to meet. Oksana. Very sweet. Very pretty.”
“Ba—”
“Don’t ‘ba’ me.” She sits back down, fixing him with a stern look. “You’re not getting any younger. And you’re certainly not getting any more charming with that scowl.”
“I’m focused on hockey.”
“Hockey, hockey, hockey.” She waves a hand. “Hockey won’t keep you warm at night. Hockey won’t give me great-grandchildren.”
“I’m twenty-three.”
“Your father was married at twenty-two. Your mother was pregnant with Derek by twenty-three.”
Nazar doesn’t point out that his father left when he was six and his mother struggled alone for years. Halina knows. She just chooses to remember the good parts.
“You’ll meet her,” she says firmly. “Next week. I already told her about you. Showed her pictures. She thinks you’re very handsome.”
“Ba—”
“Nazar Oleksandrovych Rykov.” She uses his full name, which means the conversation is over. “You will meet this girl. You will be polite. You will smile, even if it kills you. Understood?”
Nazar sighs. “Fine.”
He’ll go on the date. He always does. And he’ll never continue the relationship past the first meeting. But his grandmother doesn’t need to know that.
“Now eat more.” She pats his hand, her expression softening. " You look like a strong wind could knock you over.” She turns back to the television, where they’re showing another highlight of Callahan. “Look at that. Beautiful skating. Like a dancer.”
Nazar nods and eats his grandmother’s food, letting her talk about Kaisyn Callahan and how graceful he is, even as the anger simmers low and constant in his chest.
3
Chapter 3 Nazar
The season picks up speed fast. Three games in five days, then a flight to Ottawa.
Nazar stares out the bus window as they pull up to the hotel. There’s a crowd outside. Signs. Chanting. It takes him a second to process what they’re saying.
“Callahan Out!”
