“It is completely fine and understandable to not share everything that we talk about here with him, but hiding your feelings from Shane—letting him believe you’re happy when you’re not—that will only build a wall between you. He’s on one side with his friends and family, while you’re on the other side, alone.”
Ilya swallowed thickly. “It wouldn’t be like that.” Though now that she’d said it, he could see it was already starting to happen.
“I think you should talk to him. Does he know you’ve been seeing me?”
“No.”
“That might be a good place to start.”
Of course Ilya knew he should tell Shane that he was seeing a therapist. Shane would probably be relieved—he’d suggested it, after all. But would Shane ask questions? Would he want to know what they talked about? Ilya couldn’t drag all this stuff to the surface again. Once was excruciating enough.
“I’ll try,” Ilya said. It was all he could promise.
It was too cold to walk around Ottawa after his appointment, so instead Ilya went to the arena to work out. He thought it might be good to see some other people.
As it turned out, the only other member of the team there was Luca Haas, doing kettle bell swings in one corner. Haas’s eyes went wide when he spotted Ilya, and he nearly dropped the kettle bell.
Ilya nodded at him, then hopped onto an exercise bike to warm up. He stared hard at himself in the mirror in front of him, trying to get what Galina had said about Shane out of his head.
He’s on one side with his friends and family, while you’re on the other side, alone.
It wasn’t true. Shane’s parents were right there with Ilya. He probably saw them more than Shane did. Ilya was a part of their family now, he knew that, and he loved them.
And he had friends. He had…
…a Swiss weirdo staring at him. Ilya could see him in the mirror.
Ilya stopped peddling and dismounted. He turned toward Luca, who looked terrified.
“Hello?” Ilya said.
“Sorry,” Luca said in his crisp Swiss-German accent. Unlike when Ilya had been a rookie, Luca’s English was nearly perfect. “Was I staring?”
Ilya smiled. “I look good on a bike. I understand.”
Luca’s pale, baby-smooth face turned pink. “No! I wasn’t—”
“Was a joke.” Ilya walked toward him. “You are here alone?”
“Yes. I like the quiet, sometimes.”
Ilya sat on weight bench beside him. “I understand that.”
“If you want to be alone I can—”
“No, no. Is not what I meant.” Ilya smiled at him. “You seem a bit scared of me.”
“I still can’t believe we are on the same team.”
Ilya chuckled. “How long until you believe it?”
“Years, maybe?”
Ilya held out his hand. “Ilya Rozanov. Normal guy. Nice to meet you.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Luca shook his hand. “Luca Haas. Embarrassing fanboy.”
Ilya gestured to the weight bench a few feet away, and Luca sat facing him.
“How do you like Ottawa?” Ilya asked.
“In some ways it reminds me of Zurich, but in others it is very different.”
Ilya nodded. He’d been to Zurich once, another capital, and remembered the river that wound through the city, the low buildings, and the museums. He could see the similarities.
“Was it hard for you?” Luca asked. “When you left home?”
Ilya answered honestly. “No. I couldn’t wait.”
“Oh.” Luca frowned at his folded hands.
“But,” Ilya amended, “there was…adjustments. It was not so easy, with the language and the culture. I had no Russian teammates, and, like you, there was many expectations for me to be great right away.”
Luca nodded. “Yes. It’s a lot of pressure.”
“I was great right away. Made it easier,” Ilya joked.
Luca laughed. “That would help.”
Ilya stretched out a foot and nudged Luca’s sneaker. “You are also doing great. The fans love you. You see how much Harris posts about you. Can’t get enough. I see Haas jerseys all over town.” That was a bit of an exaggeration. He’d seen two.
“Thank you.”
A silence fell between them that was interrupted by Ilya’s favorite sound: a dog barking.
He stood and looked toward the door of the gym. “It that Chiron?” he called out.
A second later, the team puppy came charging into the room, followed by Harris. “It sure is,” Harris said, smiling as usual. “I heard you were in here and I thought—”
“Yes!” Ilya exclaimed, crouching to greet Chiron. He’d never needed a puppy in his arms so badly. He let Chiron sniff and lick his fingers, then scooped him up and cuddled him against his chest. “He is already so big!”
“Yup,” Harris agreed. “He’s a beast.”
Luca approached cautiously. “Can I pet him?”
“Yeah, man,” Harris said. “Get in there.”
Luca scratched the top of Chiron’s head with one finger.
“Okay. Hold on,” Harris said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “This is way too cute.” He snapped some photos that Ilya knew would kill later on Instagram.
“Hey, guys,” called out a cheerful voice from the doorway. Coach Wiebe sauntered in wearing workout clothes. Ilya couldn’t help but notice that he looked good in them.
“Coach,” Ilya and Luca said at the same time.
“I am ninety percent sure dogs aren’t allowed in here,” Wiebe said. “But ninety isn’t a hundred, right?” He took over head-scritching from Luca, except he used his whole hand.
“You like dogs?” Ilya asked.
“Love them. We’ve got a big ol’ golden retriever at home. Lollipop. The kids named her, so don’t look at me. We call her Lolly, mostly.”
“I need to meet Lolly,” Ilya said seriously. “Bring her to work someday.”
“She’s anxious around new people,” Coach said. “She was a rescue from a bad situation, so she mostly sticks to home and her regular walk route. Sweetest thing, though.”
Ilya almost laughed. His coach was seriously the nicest guy on earth.
“Are you boys going to the hospital visit this week?” Coach asked. The team visited the local children’s hospital every December. Ilya wouldn’t miss it for the world.
“Of course,” Ilya said. “I have been training for my Mario Kart rematch.”
Coach laughed. “And how about our star rookie?”
“Yes,” Luca said. “I will be there.”
“I hope Barrett’s going,” Coach said. “I know it’ll be a rough week for him, with the game in Toronto after, but I think it would be good for him.”
Ilya agreed, and he’d make sure Troy would be there.
They all played around with Chiron for about twenty minutes, then Harris announced that Chiron’s trainer was there to pick him up. Ilya watched miserably as Harris left with the puppy.
“Do you think the other dogs are nice to him at his school?” Ilya asked no one in particular.