Page 81 of The Last Inch Of Ice
“Two months,” she repeats, not looking at him. “Every two weeks, like clockwork. He brings groceries. Helps fix things around the house. Sits and talks to me. He asks about Ukraine. About my recipes. About your mother.”
“How did he—” Nazar’s voice cracks. “How did he even find you?”
“Said he wanted to check in on me since you’re so busy with hockey right now. Said he remembered me from when you were in the team together.”
Nazar sits down heavily in one of the kitchen chairs.
“He never mentioned you,” she continues, finally turning to look at him. “Not once. Never asked about you, never brought you up. I thought maybe you’d had some falling out and he was being polite by not bringing it up. But now…”
She shakes her head.
“Now I see you hurt that boy. Badly. And I raised you better than that.”
“Ba, you don’t understand—”
“I understand,” she interrupts, her voice firm, “enough. I don’t need to know the details. But I also understand that whatever it is, you don’t treat people like that. You don’t accuse someone of trying to steal your family when they’ve been showing that family nothing but kindness.”
Nazar has no response to that.
“He’s a good boy,” Halina says quietly. “Lonely, I think. Trying very hard to be something he’s not. Reminds me of you, actually.”
“He’s nothing like me,” Nazar says automatically.
His grandmother gives him a look that suggests she sees right through that lie.
They sit in silence for a long time, the only sound the bubbling of borscht on the stove.
Eventually, she packs him food he doesn’t want, kisses his forehead, and sends him home with instructions to “fix whatever this is.”
In his car, in the fading afternoon light, Nazar pulls out his phone. He has Kai’s new number. Has had it for eighteen months.
His thumb hovers over the contact.
He types:I’m sorry.
Then deletes it.
Types:Can we talk?
Deletes that too.
Types:I fucking didn’t mean it.
His thumb hovers over send for a full minute.
Then he deletes the message and throws his phone onto the passenger seat.
He drives home in the dark, replaying the look on Kai’s face.
25
Chapter 25 Kai
The Super Bowl parties are a different breed of hell, but at least it’s a change of scenery.
Here, in the glitzy, sun-drenched landscape of Los Angeles, Kai is not a hockey pariah.
He’s merely a niche curiosity—a strange Canadian guy who occasionally appears on ESPN highlights. The distinction is refreshing. Nobody here cares about the Wardens’ losing streak.
