Once he was back in the hallway, he followed Ilya to the linen closet, even though he knew where it was. “She – she’s really great,” he said, his voice hoarse. He tried not to notice how Ilya’s hand froze while pulling out a set of towels. “Da, she is. Zach, I’m trusting you with her.” Ilya didn’t say anything else. But he let the words hang there. Zach felt their weight and nodded. If he hadn’t been paying such close attention to every minute twitch of Ilya’s arms, Zach might have missed the pile of clothes thrown at him. As it was, he just barely managed a haphazard grip around them before they smacked him in the face. Trying to drape them over his arms while not losing his hold on the towels, Zach shook out the soft pair of black sweatpants and the maroon hoodie before noticing that they both had the Mustangs’ logo, from about four years ago. He smiled, but arched an eyebrow up at Ilya. “Is penance,” he said, shrugging. “Everything you need should be here. Wash up, wash hair. Do what you need, even if you use all hot water.” “Really?” Ilya nodded. “You smell. Fix it,” he said before his eyes widened, his breath catching. Zach didn’t miss it either. “I will,” he said softly, promising himself that those words applied to more that his hygiene. Ilya didn’t say anything else, but he did gently push Zach into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Zach nearly collapsed against the counter, his legs jelly. Now that he wasn’t facing Ilya anymore, the last twenty-four hours caught up with him all at once. Ilya was okay, he wasn’t hurt – at least not as badly as that stupid article had made out. The article that made him run out on the Stanley Cup. Fuck. He had run out on the damn Cup. He had run out on his team. They were probably gonna be pissed as hell… even after he tried to explain. Explain what? That he had seen some clickbait article and pulled a fucking Hallmark stunt? He had meant it earlier, he didn’t care what the fine was. He could afford it anyway. And whatever it was, Ilya was at least willing to give him another shot, which really was the whole fucking point, right? His knee hurt. Almost like rising from a fog, he realized that his legs were shaking. His knee kept banging into the knob on the cupboard under the sink. Zack forced himself to lean forward, putting as much of his weight on the counter as he could. The shaking stopped, but his muscles still felt like one good poke would make them liquefy again. He needed to get in the shower. Just because Ilya was humoring his daughter – seriously, who could say no to those big eyes – didn’t mean his patience was endless. And he’d already put up with enough from him today. Zach stripped, tossing his clothes into a pile as he waited for the water to get hot, then stepped in and almost collapsed again from the sensation of the hot water hitting his skin. The standard tub certainly wasn’t his extra large shower suite in Portland, complete with rainfall showerhead. And the products in the silver suction basket weren’t all custom mixes from Lush. But they were Ilya’s. He would smell like Ilya. Oatmeal and brown sugar. Like cookies, he thought. Zach wasn’t sure whether to laugh or sob, and honestly he wasn’t sure that he wasn’t crying. The water in the shower made it hard to tell. A closer look at the bottle revealed that it was a product meant for toddlers, hence the soft smell. That made sense. Ilya lived with a three-year-old. Of course he smelled like this. Like warmth. He didn’t stay under the water anywhere near as long as he would have in his own bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, the faucets squeaked off and Zach stepped out, using the brush of terrycloth on his skin to keep him grounded. He couldn’t afford to spiral now. The damn sweatpants needed to be rolled four times at his waist to fit him, but they were clean. Something Zach’s post-game shorts were definitely not. He chuckled softly as he pulled the hoodie on over his damp hair. It absolutely drowned him. But it was soft, well worn, and clearly, well-loved. Ilya was good at that… at loving. Things. People. He did it almost without thinking, and certainly without trying to work out what it might cost him. And despite the cost, Ilya had let Zach back in. Tentatively, Zach pushed the bathroom door open, but he couldn’t hear anything. No one calling his name, no one wondering where he was. He didn’t want to burst in on Ilya and Anya… what if Ilya was telling her who he really was? Besides, Zach knew he’d promised to respect boundaries. The sofa had to be okay. Instead of turning right toward Anya’s room, Zach turned left and found himself in a large den. Two sofas. And a huge maroon armchair. The paneled walls and rich colors of the furniture made the whole place feel warm. Cozy. Should he sit on the sofa? Wait for Ilya to come back out? Ilya had waited for him long enough. But his legs were still shaking, and the thought of interrupting something, and Ilya breaking again, and telling him to leave was all too much, and Zach sunk to the floor. He was about two feet shy of the sofa, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand again. There was a large green pillow behind him, and he leaned back, realizing a second too late that it was covered in dog hair. A minute later, as though it knew its territory was being invaded, a huge dog trotted in from down the hall. Sitting down as he was, the dog was actually taller than him, and Zach’s chest tightened. He tried to move, but in a few quick bounds the dog was right in front of him. Zach didn’t move. A wet nose pushed against his face for a few moments before the dog gave a soft whuff of air and licked a stripe right up his face. “Oh jeez,” Zach said, before catching sight of a pair of deep brown eyes. Warm and happy, just like Ilya’s. “You know, I was looking for a kiss today from a hairy brunette,” he said, absently stratching behind the dog’s ears. “Guess I should have specified.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Thanks. Glad your sense of humor is still in one piece.” The dog – and if he’s honest, Zach was pretty sure the thing was part bear – leaned into the touch and lolled out his tongue. Zach smiled. Ilya rounded the corner into the den, catching sight of them. “Hmm.” Zach started. “Oh… uh, hey.” “If you’re trying to make up for this by making friends with my dog –” “I still say he’s a bear, but he’s sweet.” Ilya reached down for a scratch. “Traitor,” he said, but his voice held no malice. “What’s his name?” Ilya was quiet for a moment, then replied, “Krolik. Means, ‘bunny’. He is bouncing so much when he is a puppy… seems right.” Zach couldn’t help the laugh. “He’s big enough to replace a horse at the county fair, and his name is Bunny?” “He isn’t so big when I get him. Have him almost as long as I’m in America.” Zach had a hard time imagining the giant floof next to him as anything other than the two hundred pounds he was now, but the thought of him as a puppy was just too damn cute. “I hope you have pics, because I wanna see proof that he was ever small.” “Maybe later,” Ilya said gently. Zach took the hint. “I’ll uh… call for a ride.” “Where you go?” Ilya asked. When Zach fumbled for an answer, he shook his head. “I’m already tell Elly you’re here, which mean Derby knows too. You text them, maybe figure out what’s next. But you’re not leave yet. You’re shower for tea party… you’re go to tea party.” Zach grinned. “Always do what Anya says, right?” “Right. Text Derby, then come back in, okay?” “Sure thing… go on, be there in just a sec.” As Zach curled his fingers into Krolik’s thick fur, it hit him that he could have been having this – enjoying this - for a year by now. He would make it up to Ilya, no matter how long it took. And Anya, that sweet girl. He wouldn’t be another person who walked out of her life. He could work on being better, for them. He could.
