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“Why would she?” “We are together at your cottage. You are gay. I am hot.”
“Would be easier to cheat death,” Ilya said, “than to meet Montreal’s hockey expectations.”
“We are very good at pretending to not be in love. Maybe we are bad at showing it when we are allowed.”
The point was that Shane had a perfectly good secret boyfriend, so obviously it was rude of J.J. to try to set Shane up with other men.
“You’d like him. You are both very bad at being gay.”
“Thank you,” Ilya said, gazing at the ceiling of the plane. “I won’t waste it.”
What if Ilya had died? What if he had fucking died? Shane would have died too. Alone, and secretly, and for the rest of his life.
“Call me tomorrow. Or later tonight if you want. I’ll just be, y’know, freaking out in my hotel room.” “Don’t. Jerk off or something instead. Send me pictures.”
“Is good, probably,” Ilya sighed. “I am too soft with her.” Shane rested a hand on Ilya’s cheek. “You’re soft with everyone you love.”
Shane smiled so wide his eyes crinkled. “Blowjobs aren’t a cure for depression, Ilya.” “Are you a doctor now?”
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.”
