“No,” Comeau said, looking at Shane like he was a little bit dumb. “He isn’t in Nashville.”
“He didn’t get hurt last night,” J.J. said. “Not that anyone noticed, right?”
“I don’t think so,” Shane said, quickly replaying the last few minutes of the game. Ilya had seemed fine. He hadn’t left the ice in pain at any point during the game.
“Maybe he’s sick,” Comeau said. “I’m sure we’ll find out. Right now ESPN is just saying that he didn’t go to Nashville.”
“Right,” Shane said quietly.
He ran through a number of alarming scenarios in his head before he finally stood up and grabbed his phone off the shelf above his head.
Are you ok?he texted.
He didn’t get a reply. There was still no reply by the time the team left the dressing room to go warm up. When he returned to the dressing room afterward, he quickly checked his phone. Still nothing.
Forget about it, he ordered himself.It’s game time.
He’d probably learn what had happened after the game. He was sure it would be mentioned during the broadcast of the Boston vs. Nashville game.
Shane did not play the best game of his life. Probably one of the worst games of the season for him, but his team managed to win anyway. Shane couldn’t remember ever being so eager for a game to be over. When they got back to the dressing room, he shucked his gloves off and immediately checked his phone.
Nothing.
Shane sat down hard on the bench, staring at his phone. He opened his web browser and searched “Ilya Rozanov Nashville” to see if any more information had been released. He found fans speculating on social media, and he saw an official ESPN story that just said “undisclosed reasons” and that there was no word whether Rozanov would be joining his team in Tampa Bay for their game in two days’ time.
This whole thing was very strange. Shane couldn’tsneezein public without the hockey sites reporting that he was deathly ill and how that should affect your sports betting. Ilya Rozanov, one of the biggest stars in the league, just disappeared with no explanation and no reporters seemed to be digging very hard. Or offering possible reasons.
Which meant...they mustknowthe reason. And they were respecting Boston’s likely request for discretion.
Which meant...absolutely nothing good that Shane could think of.
Shane got showered and changed faster than he ever had in his life. He found a private corner of the hallway outside the dressing room and did something he’d never done before: he called Ilya Rozanov.
He wasn’t expecting him to answer, but he wanted the missed call to at least be recorded on Ilya’s phone. He wanted Ilya to know he was concerned.
But Ilya did answer.
“Hollander?”
“Yeah. Hi.”
There was a long silence.
“Are you okay?” Shane asked finally.
He heard Ilya huff out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know.”
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“In Boston? Are you sick?”
“No. Home. In Moscow.”
Shane wasn’t expectingthat.
“Moscow?Did something happen? Oh, shit. Your father?”
