Page 48
“Which buttons to push,” Nikolai says. He places some turkey onto the plate in front of me, then does the same to the one in front of him.
I smirk at him, even though watching him do this makes something in my chest feel happy and warm. Kind of like how I feel back in Green Bay. “I can fix my own plate, you know?”
“You think this is for you?” He drops a massive spoonful of mashed potatoes onto my plate. “This is my backup plate.”
“Liar,” I say, smiling at him.
Under the dim light of the restaurant, I can still see the way his cheeks lift as he smiles back at me before he looks away and places an equal portion of glazed carrots onto each plate.
“So, your brothers,” I say, as I watch him stack the now empty serving plates to make more room on the table. He does it like it’s automatic, tidying up the area before beginning to dole out the rest of the food. Our plates are getting full and my mouth is watering. I’m starving. “Do they also play hockey?”
He remains focused on the food, not looking up at me. “Two play in KHL. The other two are too young. Maybe in a few more years.”
“You come from a big hockey family then?”
“I guess.” He shrugs slightly. “Our father, big hockey fan. We all played to make him happy.”
My smile slips and my stomach drops slightly. “But you like it, right?”
“Yes. I love hockey, especially with Mules.”
“But not back home?”
He looks up at me and there’s a tight smile on his face. “I like it better here.”
“How come?”
“I found place I fit in.”
“Will any of your brothers ever play here?”
“I do not think so.”
I nudge his knees under the table. “Not as good as you, huh?”
“Hard to compare. I am only goalie.” He’s finished piling food onto our plates and gestures for me to dig in.
I do, starting with the turkey. It’s delicious, moist and rich in flavor. “So you’re like me.” I take a sip of my wine to wash down my first bite of food. “Brandon’s been taking shots at me since he was old enough to hold a stick.”
His smile returns to his lips as he chews. “Mine did the same.”
“Do they ever come to see you play?” I’m dying to know if they’re like him. I bet they are. A whole line of Ivanovs. Stoic and perfectly put together. The opposite of Brandon and me.
“No.” He shakes his head.
My heart sinks. I can’t imagine Brandon never coming to see me play. Just like I’ve always tried as hard as I can to watch him. It’s harder now that we both play in the league, but I still try to catch all his games on TV.
“When was the last time you went home?” I ask, thinking about how he spent this past summer living in Danton Foley’s basement when he could have just gone home to see family like the rest of us do.
“Years,” he says. “I do not go back.”
“Ever?” I ask, feeling sad as I cannot imagine never going home to my roots.
He shakes his head again and takes another bite of his food. After he swallows, he sips his wine, then wipes his mouth with his napkin. His face is a mask I can’t read. Is he sad about this? I know I would be if I never returned home to see my family. Hell, I hate it when I go too long without seeing them during the season. I like knowing my parents are in the stadium when they can travel to catch a game.
“Don’t you miss them?”
Nikolai
