Page 79 of The Last Inch Of Ice
And he wants him with a desperation that is messy and consuming, like drowning in dark water.
He hates Kai for changing the course of his life. For forcing him down this strange, confusing path simply by existing. Before Kai, Nazar’s life made sense. He had a plan: become the best player he could be, get to Toronto, make Doyle Callahan pay for what he did to Derek. Simple. Linear. Achievable.
Now everything is complicated. Now there’s this other thing—this want, this need, this connection he doesn’t have words for—that’s hijacked his entire operating system.
And Callahan, that fucking coward, just runs from him. Switches teams. Cuts off all contact. Throws insults from the safety of press conferences and social media where Nazar can’t reach him, can’t touch him, can’t make him stay in one place long enough to finish a conversation.
It fills Nazar with a dark rage that he recognizes as unhealthy but can’t seem to stop feeling.
He will have him.
That’s the thought that loops in his head during games, during practice, during the empty hours late at night when he should be sleeping.
He will bring back that moment—the awards ceremony, the bathroom, Kai on his knees and desperate and offering everything Nazar was too scared to take.
He will recreate it somehow. And this time, he won’t say no. This time, he will take what was offered. Will give Kai what he was begging for.
What happens after that, Nazar doesn’t know. Can’t think that far ahead. Doesn’t particularly care.
The inability to act—to take what he wants, to close the distance between wanting and having—is a special kind oftorture for a man like him, someone whose entire identity is built on decisive action.
* * *
He needs a reset. Needs something real and solid to anchor him in the swirling chaos of his own head.
The drive to his grandmother’s house in the south suburbs takes forty minutes in light traffic. Nazar makes it in thirty-five, his mind on autopilot, his hands tight on the steering wheel.
Her house is exactly as it’s always been. The front lawn needs mowing. The paint could use a refresh.
But the lights are on in the windows, warm and yellow against the gray afternoon, and the sight of it makes something in Nazar’s chest loosen slightly.
He can smell borscht before he even gets out of the car.
He’s halfway up the front path, already planning what he’ll say to convince her to let him pay for someone to fix the loose railing on the porch, when the front door opens.
And Kai Callahan steps out.
Nazar’s brain short-circuits. Completely flatlines for approximately three full seconds.
Kai is laughing—not his usual sardonic chuckle or sarcastic snort, but a genuine, easy laugh. His head is thrown back, his face open and unguarded in a way Nazar has only seen a handful of times.
He’s wearing dark jeans and one of those absolutely ridiculous sweaters.God, Nazar fucking hates those soft sweaters.And Kai looks so fundamentally at ease that it creates cognitive dissonance with every assumption Nazar has ever made about him.
“You make sure to come back soon, you hear?” Halina says, her accent thick with emotion. She’s patting his arm with the kind of familiar, grandmotherly affection she usually reserves for Nazar. “And bring that sweet cat next time. We’ll make him proper holubtsi, see if he likes Ukrainian food.”
Kai smiles down at her. “I will, Halina Mykolaivna. I promise.”
The use of the formal address, the respectful tone—it twists something sharp and painful in Nazar’s gut.
Kai turns then, still smiling, and the expression vanishes the instant he sees Nazar.
His face goes completely blank. Not angry. Not mocking. Just… empty. His posture stiffens, his shoulders coming up slightly in that defensive way Nazar recognizes from across locker rooms and press conferences.
For a moment, neither of them moves. The world seems to tilt on its axis, gravity pulling in the wrong direction.
Kaisyn Callahan. In his grandmother’s house. Laughing with her. Making promises to come back. Knowing about Bonifazio. Using the proper Ukrainian form of address.
The image is so deeply unsettling, that Nazar’s mind can’t process it. It feels like an invasion. Like Kai has deliberately sought out the one pure, untouched corner of Nazar’s life — the one place that has nothing to do with hockey or their complicated mess — and tainted it.
