The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(100)

“Yeah, well. Not in my experience.”

Ilya passed the puck back to him. “How has it been? Being out?”

Troy smiled. “Amazing.”

There was a twist of jealousy in Ilya’s chest, but he ignored it. “Good.”

“And also, Harris was wondering if you...” His voice dipped to a nearly inaudible mumble.

“What?”

Troy sighed and straightened his shoulders. “Harris wants you to come to dinner at his family’s farm this Sunday. As a thank-you.”

This was completely unnecessary, and possibly more than Ilya could deal with right now, emotionally. He was ready to politely decline, but something occurred to him. “Will Chiron be there?”

Troy’s lips curved up a bit. “Yeah. And a bunch of other dogs.”

Well. Ilya could probably make time for a bit of dinner.

“Aah! Harris, who is this good boy? He is even bigger than Chiron!” Ilya was crouching in the driveway in front of the Drover family farmhouse with an enormous brown dog’s paws on his shoulders.

“That’s Mac,” Harris said. “He’s trouble.”

Ilya rubbed Mac’s face with both hands. “He is not trouble. He is very good.”

Ilya had been to Harris’s family’s apple farm once before, but not to the house. He’d gone to the grand opening of Harris’s sisters’ cidery, which was also on the property. That had been nice, but the farmhouse looked fucking adorable.

And there were so many dogs.

“Why do I have a house?” Ilya joked as a second, smaller dog bumped its nose on his thigh, looking for attention. “I could live in a tent here and be so happy.”

“You should come inside,” Troy called from the front porch. “It’s freezing out here.”

“I have not met everyone yet,” Ilya argued as he twisted around to greet a third dog. “Who is this one?”

“Not sure yet,” Harris said. “She just got here.”

The unnamed dog was medium-sized with long hair that was a mix of brown and white and gray. She had floppy ears, big brown eyes, and the sweetest face Ilya had ever seen.

“You are new!” Ilya said to her as he scratched her soft ears. “You will love this farm.”

“She was found by one of our neighbors,” Harris said. “People tend to bring strays here because my parents are good with them. Mom took her down the road to see Linda to get her checked out.”

“Linda is a vet,” Troy supplied.

The dog licked Ilya’s fingers, making him laugh. “Not shy at all, are you?”

“She’s in good shape,” Harris said, “considering she was alone outside in the cold. Linda thinks she was found pretty quickly, thank god. She’s super friendly—the dog, I mean. Shannon’s been taking good care of her.”

“Shannon’s that dog,” Troy said, pointing to the smallest dog there.

“No one owns her?” Ilya asked as he stood up. The unnamed dog squeezed between his legs.

“Not that we’ve been able to find. We know everyone around for miles.” Harris’s face turned angrier than Ilya had ever seen it. “Sometimes people drive dogs they don’t want out to the country, though.”

“And leave them?” Ilya asked, horrified. He’d grown up in Moscow and had seen plenty of stray dogs, but the idea of someone abandoning a dog that loved them—a part of their family and their home—was monstrous.

Harris nodded. “Yeah. It’s gross.”

“It’s fucking horrible,” Troy said.

Ilya headed toward the front door with five dogs all around him. Chiron walked in front, but kept turning to make sure Ilya was following. The new dog stayed close to Ilya’s ankles.

The house smelled amazing, and it was just as charming as Ilya had imagined. Packed with family history and people laughing and, yes, dogs.

“I think most people are in the living room,” Harris said, leading the way.

“Buckle up,” Troy muttered, “it gets loud in here.”

There were five people sitting in the living room. Harris went around the room, reintroducing Ilya to his two sisters and their husbands. When he got to his mom, Ilya interrupted him.

“How could I forget?” he asked silkily. “The best dance partner I have ever had.”

“Oh, stop it,” Mrs. Drover said. She was a short woman with gray hair that was cut into a stylish bob. He’d enjoyed a dance with her at a team charity event last year, which had thrilled Harris. Like her son, she was funny and easy to talk to.

“Is true,” Ilya insisted. “No one else has come close. Are you still with your husband?”

“I’m afraid so,” said a booming male voice behind Ilya. He turned and saw Harris’s dad grinning in the doorway.

Ilya sighed theatrically. “Too bad.”

Harris’s sister, Margot, stood to offer Ilya her armchair, but Ilya waved her off and sat cross-legged on the floor. “Are you sure?” Margot asked.

Ilya already had three dogs trying to climb into his lap. “Yes,” he said. “All of my friends are down here.”

Eventually they all moved to the dining room, where they crowded around a table and ate an incredible meal that included baked ham, scalloped potatoes, and, to Ilya’s delight, fresh-baked rolls.