Ilya answered the phone in Russian the next morning. It kind of threw
Dany off, because he'd never answered in Russian before. So he had to
struggle for something appropriate to say and ended up with, "I'm sorry I
stole your car."
Dany could hear Ilya's expulsion of breath. It was almost a laugh.
"It's...it's ok. I understand."
"I don't think you do."
"No, Dan, I should not have..."
"I'm coming to pick you up," Dany interrupted. "I want to talk. Be right
there."
With a sigh, Ilya hung up the phone and got his stuff together for practice,
wondering what they possibly had to talk about. He was ready when his own
vehicle pulled up, Dany vacating the driver's seat for him, looking
sheepish. "I should have taken a cab or something."
"It's really ok Dany."
"Ok."
"So, um, what did you want to talk about then?"
"What do you think?" Dany asked, glancing at him sidelong. "Last night."
"I'm...sorry. I know you are with Simon I shouldn't have..."
"I was there too," Dany replied, worriedly, biting his lip.
Ilya was quiet, pondering. He loved Dany, he would do anything for him, and
that included making sure his life was as simple as possible. If he had to
put aside a few stray feelings for that, then so be it. "It was just
mistake, Dany. Do not worry about it, hm?"
He could feel those blue eyes on him, but he continued watching the road, gaze
firmly locked straight ahead. "Ok..." Dany said slowly. "You're sure...I
mean..."
He wanted more reassurance. So Ilya smiled. "Yes, I am sure."
So Dany changed the subject. "Are you ok about last night? The hockey, I mean."
"No...it was just not a good game for me. I just...I want to play. I can't do
anything without the ice time. And I want my sticks back."
"Curt's not going to give them to you."
"I know. He's dumb."
Dany laughed. "Better not say that again."
And Ilya was quiet the rest of the trip. Practice went well, and the Russian
was genuinely grateful for the relieved smiles Dany shot his way the whole
time. He stayed in the weight room for an hour after he left the ice,
intent on thinking only about hockey and nothing else. It worked for a
bit, and he was comfortably exhausted when he slipped behind the wheel of
his car. The radio was sounding the opening chords of Crash Into Me, and
he reached to change the station, as he would normally do. But today his
hand strayed to the volume control, and he cranked it up, letting Dave
Matthews carry him onto I-85.
Continued in part 5