Summary:

Ilya Rozanov. One of the star players of the NHL, nearly a decade into his career. Center for the Boston Bears, a brutal, fast player known for womanizers tendencies and his bragging habits.

Kip had learned a lot about hockey in the last three years, unable to swipe past anything to do with Scott’s career. Ilya Rozanov was a difficult player to mistake and it was his distinctive build that stood beside him now, glaring down at the buildings as if they’d personally offended him.

“...Hi.” Kip had to give himself credit. Even with the hesitation, the greeting was clear and strong, pushed past the tightness of his shirt on his shoulders, his collar resting against his throat.

“Hello,” said Rozanov, shifting to cross his arms and lean them against the railing. His suit was near to the navy blue Kip was wearing– a popular color, and he was doubly glad Scott had insisted on it. “Is nice out here. Cold.”

 

Three times that Ilya supported Scott's relationship and one time he defended his own.