“Parenting is never easy.”
“Yeah but, like, obtaining a baby sometimes is. For some people.”
Hayden laughed. “It’s never been an issue for Jackie and me, that’s for sure. Although, she’s fixed now, so.”
Shane wrinkled his nose. “Fixed?”
“Like, had her tubes tied or whatever they call it. When we had Amber she had it done when she had the C-section. Two-in-one surgeries.”
“Efficient.” Shane realized it was maybe weird that he hadn’t known any of this. He often teased Hayden about his brood of children, but he never really talked to him about his and Jackie’s experience with having babies and raising kids. “Was that a mutual decision? Not having any more kids?”
“Definitely. I mean, even if only Jackie had wanted to stop, that would have been the decision made. I would never have pushed for more if she wasn’t into it. That would be fucked. But four kids is plenty for both of us.” He sighed. “The kids want a dog now.”
Shane smiled. “So does Ilya.”
“Does he want kids?”
“I think so.” Shane’s cheeks heated. “We haven’t talked about it too seriously. There’s not much point right now.”
On the television, a very drunk young man started making out with a very drunk young woman. Shane let his eyes unfocus even more than they already were without his glasses, and quietly began to stress out about the logistics of adopting children with Ilya. There were so many things that had to happen first, and they were all terrifying.
“He’d be a good dad, I guess,” Hayden said, breaking through Shane’s anxiety spiral.
“Who?” Shane asked, in case Hayden meant the drunk gentleman on the TV.
“Rozanov. He’s good with kids. Ruby and Jade love him.”
“He basically is a kid, that’s why,” Shane said, though inside his heart was glowing. “Do you think I’d be a good dad?”
“Sure. You’d be the responsible one who makes sure they, like, eat vegetables and brush their teeth and stuff. Ilya would be the fun one who buys them Jet Skis for their tenth birthdays.”
“Oh god. He would do that.”
“And you’d return them and buy the kids sensible shoes or something instead,” Hayden teased.
“Eat shit. I’d be a cool dad.”
Hayden wrapped a hand around Shane’s forearm. “Shane. Buddy. You’ve never been cool about anything ever. And parenting is the most high-stress thing you can do. You’ll be an absolute mess.”
“Thanks.”
“You should still do it, though. Kids are the best.”
“Okay.”
“Hey, maybe Ruby and Jade will be old enough to babysit your kids! Man, that’s wild to think about.”
It was wild to think about. Every aspect of it was wild. “Yeah.”
“You got plans for tomorrow?” Hayden asked.
“I’m hanging out with Rose.”
“Oh, sweet! Can I come?”
“No. Last time you babbled the entire time like a drooling fanboy.”
“Yeah, because she’s a giant movie star!”
“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 a big house. With a gate and trees and an enormous semicircular driveway. He still needed some privacy.
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 been against 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?”