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Shane loved Ilya so much it physically hurt to contain it some days.
Ilya blinked and turned his gaze away from his boyfriend to look way down at Hayden Pike. “Are you here for any reason at all?”
“I am bisexual,” Ilya said, nodding. “Shane is super gay.” “I’m regular gay,” Shane argued. “And, no, we aren’t the only queer NHL players. But our situation is complicated.”
Kiss me, Ilya wanted to say. Kiss me and hold me in front of all these people. Pull me onstage and do it. I don’t care anymore. Please. I’m dying.
Ilya passed his neighbors’ house—the one where Willa and Andrew lived—and stopped dead in his tracks. There was a large hand-drawn sign attached to the tree near the end of their driveway: We love you, Ilya! Underneath the sign was a little shelf that held two Funko Pop figures: one of Ilya, and one of Shane.
Bood smiled. “You stealing the fucking spotlight. Barrett comes out, announces his relationship with Harris, and then Roz says ‘hold my beer.’”
“Well, first of all, I’m sorry you guys got outed that way. That’s awful.” “It wasn’t great,” Shane agreed. “Ruined our plan to kiss on television,” Ilya said dryly. Scott narrowed his eyes at him, then directed his next words to Shane.
David smiled up at him. “I know.” He finished the first cuff, then took Ilya’s right hand and got to work on that cuff link. “What I’m trying to say, and Yuna’s always been the better speaker, is I’ve always felt so lucky to have a son as wonderful as Shane that I never expected to be blessed with a second one.”

