Summary:

He’s not alone—hardly ever is, in Boston. But maybe, just maybe, he’s lonely. It sneaks up on him in stupid moments: standing in line at the bank, catching a ride with Connors after practice, because he doesn’t have a car yet. Lying awake at night with the low hum of traffic outside and the wrong kind of silence pressing in around him. In his rookie year, Ilya makes an anonymous online friend. Unfortunately, it's a terrible idea.