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“Can I tell you a secret?” Ilya asked. Shane tensed, his stomach flipping in anticipation. “Yes.” Ilya slid his finger inside. “You are a better hockey player than me.” Shane gasped, both from the intrusion and the admission. “I’m just—just on a better team.” “No,” Ilya said calmly. “You have always been better. Always.”
“I love you so much,” Shane whispered. Ilya could only nod, his teeth biting hard into his bottom lip to keep himself quiet.
“Chiron got some bad news last week,” he said. “I mean, maybe he’s not too sad about it.” A million horrible possibilities flashed through Ilya’s brain. “What news? What is wrong?”
“Turns out he’s not therapy dog material. At least according to the trainers.” “Impossible,” Ilya said, because clearly Chiron was the best dog in the world and the trainers were fucking idiots if they couldn’t see that.
“It’s okay,” he said to Chiron in Russian. “My day is coming.”
“His name,” Ilya said calmly, “is Shane.”
“I liked it better when you couldn’t talk.” “Then make me forget how to.”
“Maybe we could combine our names. Hollanov. Rozander.” “Roger Rozander. Terrible name.” “We’re not naming our kid Roger, you sack of shit!”
“I think she’s asleep,” Shane whispered. The only response from Ilya was a sigh that sounded a bit like a snore. Shane raised his head, and smiled at his sleeping boyfriend, who looked happier and more at peace than Shane had seen him in months.
“Anya stays at a hotel for dogs when Ilya’s away,” Shane said. “Like a kennel?” “No,” Ilya said irritably. “Is a hotel.”
“There we are,” Ilya said. He was quiet a moment and then said, “Oh yes. This would be hard to deny.” He huffed. “We are really going for it.” “This is a fucking nightmare,” Shane said faintly.
“I’m sorry,” Ilya said, not really meaning it. He wasn’t sorry he’d fallen in love with Shane.
Ilya’s lips curved up. “This team is very gay.” Wiebe laughed. “Technically, I’m bisexual. To be clear, I love my wife. I’m not hiding anything.” Ilya’s smile grew. “Bisexual! Great. Yes, me too.”
“Keep winning,” Ilya instructed. Wiebe stepped back, smiling wide. “With this team? Easy.”
“But that weirdness goes away, and then you’re going to have to live with how shitty you were to Shane when he needed his fucking boys the most. So think about that.”
It was after ten o’clock at night when Ilya’s phone finally lit up with a text from Shane: I ate a Snickers bar.
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.
“I thought you need a reminder, before our meeting tomorrow.” “Reminder of what?” Shane said faintly as he tipped his head to the side and closed his eyes. Ilya kissed just under his jaw, then in front of his ear. “Of who the fuck you are.”
“Do you know how powerful this feels, fucking a king in his throne room?”
Then Shane stood and said, “I choose him. Come on, Ilya.”
Once the elevator doors closed behind them, Shane said, “Sorry if I steamrolled that—” Ilya didn’t let him finish his sentence. He crowded Shane against the mirrored wall and kissed him ferociously.
“Ready?” he asked. Shane blew out a breath. “Yeah. Let’s do it.” They posted it.
Bood smiled. “You stealing the fucking spotlight. Barrett comes out, announces his relationship with Harris, and then Roz says ‘hold my beer.’” “Yeah, Ilya,” Troy said with a grin. “What the fuck?”
“You are perceptive,” Ilya said, trying out a word he’d recently learned.
As they bent for the face-off at the beginning of the third, Ilya noticed a glint of gold, on Shane’s neck. “You have a chain now?” Ilya asked quietly. “Yeah,” Shane said. “And a ring.” Ilya smiled, and totally lost the face-off.
All three Hollanders had been in the audience for that one, which had been exciting for Ilya. He’d never had so many people he loved at one of his games before.
3 people im sick
Scott blew out a breath. “Jesus. This is really weird. Sorry.” “Why?” Ilya asked. “Because we are both men?” “What?” Scott sputtered. “No! Because...you know what? Fuck you, Rozanov.”
“Shane,” Ilya said seriously. “Do we have to drive back to your trophy room in Montreal?” Shane blushed. “No.”
Shane was standing in front of him in an Ottawa Centaurs jersey and ball cap.
“God, I can’t wait to play with you! I know we’re both centers, but I’ll bet we’ll be on the power play together. This is going to be so awesome!”
THIS IS THE CUTEST THING IVE EVERRRRRR READ IN MY LIFE SHANE THE LOML
Ilya held out his left wrist and David held it carefully in one hand. A surge of jumbled emotions rose in Ilya as he watched him carefully thread the cuff link through the crisp white material of Ilya’s dress shirt.
THATS HIS DAD!!! THE DAD HE DESERVES!!!!!
“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.” David’s hands, and Ilya’s shirt cuff, turned blurry. Ilya blinked rapidly, refusing to cry before the wedding even started. David glanced up from his work, and Ilya could see the tears in his eyes too.
“My family is here,” he said simply, and with surprising steadiness.
They walked downstairs together, then through the living room that was, as of a few weeks ago, full of framed photos of Ilya and Shane together.
Ilya turned, and their gazes met. Ilya gave him one of his easy, sexy smiles, and Shane felt like his body was turning to stone. We’re getting married.
Shane looked dazed after the kiss, but Ilya held their joined hands in the air and said, “We are married!”
“This was not the real wedding,” Ilya assured Ruby as they both enjoyed some cake. “The real one was the one you did. This was just for show.” Ruby smiled at him, then nudged her sister Jade. “I told you.”
Ilya laughed. “I love you so much it sucks.” Shane beamed at him. “That’s too bad, because this is as good as it’s going to get.” “No,” Ilya said fondly. “I don’t think it is.”
