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Summary
They roast marshmallows after dinner and Ilya makes Shane's into s'mores so he doesn't have to risk getting his fingers sticky. Ilya is warm and solid in a way that Shane knows he hasn't been since last summer. There are still pieces of blankness in him that Shane will catch in the corner of his eye—Ilya staring off at a fixed point over breakfast, a missed laugh, a sudden silence here and there—but they are rapidly decreasing in frequency. I don't think I want to play hockey anymore.
Okay, Shane finally tells this truth. Okay, I hear you. It's killing you. I get it.
Series
- Part 17 of See you next season, Stupid