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“I choose you, Ilya. I promise I will always, always choose you.” Shane’s eyes began to shimmer. He took a deep breath and said, “Ilya Grigoryevich Rozanov, will you marry me?”
“Is this because I almost died?” Ilya teased. “No. It’s because I almost died.”
“I fucking want you,” Shane said. It sounded whiny.
“I can’t believe you fucking chatted with him while you were fingering me,” Shane hissed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” “Wrong with me? I am not the one who fucking loved it.” “I did not.”
Shane watched Ilya’s face as he pushed inside. His eyes were wide like the sensation still surprised him, after all these years. Like he hadn’t been expecting Shane to welcome him inside so easily. Like he somehow didn’t know he belonged there.
“I know. But I hate when you are so close but not in my arms.”
“Yes,” Ilya agreed. “Next year we will be the first married NHL All-Stars.”
“Were you at the game today?” “Yes. You couldn’t hear me booing you?”
She grinned wickedly at him. “Did you fuck every woman in Canada and had to move on to men?”
“You’re blushing,” Svetlana said, delighted. “Ilya Rozanov, are you in love?”
Svetlana huffed. “I don’t understand. Unless you’re in love with Shane Hollander, I can’t think of any—” She stopped, and then she lunged forward, practically resting her whole torso on the table. “Is it Shane Hollander?” she hissed. “I’m afraid so. Yes.”
“Can I bring you another drink?” asked the server, who’d suddenly reappeared. Svetlana seemed to realize she was basically lying on the table, and slid back into her chair with as much grace as possible. “We’ll need several bottles of wine, I think.” Ilya grinned. “Let’s start with one.”
“I’m not,” she agreed. “But men are so boring. Why are you all so boring?” “I thought I was exciting.” “You were. Now you’re going to marry a Canadian. Boring.”
His knees were already starting to hurt, but he could endure it. Maybe he should keep a yoga kneepad in the bathroom...
Shane hummed around him, because yes. He was made for this. For anything Ilya needed from him.
“I can do it. Your limbs are all noodly.” Ilya folded his hands behind his head. “My favorite show.”
“Maybe we could combine our names. Hollanov.
“We’re not naming our kid Roger, you sack of shit!” They both laughed, and then kissed until exhaustion made their mouths sloppy and slow. Ilya fell asleep first, and Shane listened to his steady breathing as his own body fizzed with happiness.
The room was quiet, and so full of love it was almost suffocating. And if someone had told Shane that morning he’d rather pet a dog until she fell asleep than have sex with his boyfriend, he never would have believed them. But life was full of surprises.
“Anya stays at a hotel for dogs when Ilya’s away,” Shane said. “Like a kennel?” “No,” Ilya said irritably. “Is a hotel.” “He takes her to a spa,” Shane said. Hayden laughed. “Jesus, I’m jealous of this dog.” Ilya folded his arms. “So is Shane, I think.”
“At least they know we are great at kissing.” “It was a pretty top-tier kiss,” Hayden agreed.
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.
“Are your parents still here?” Ilya asked as soon as he’d finished kissing Shane hello. “No, I told them they could go home. I loved having them here, but I, um...” “Want to be railed by your boyfriend?” Shane’s eyes darkened. “Fuck yes.”
“Would be easier to do this if you were soft. But you never are, so.” “I am sometimes,” Shane argued. “Not when I am around.”
“Come on,” Shane complained. Ilya chuckled and carefully began to move. “Such a slut for it,”
Ilya wrapped an arm around Shane’s chest and hauled him up, as easily as if Shane were a doll and not a two-hundred-pound man.
“You are Shane fucking Hollander,” Ilya growled. “If you ever forget that, I will drag you back in here and fuck you until you remember.”
Then Shane stood and said, “I choose him. Come on, Ilya.”
Because there was choosing Ilya over hockey, and then there was looking Crowell dead in the eye and basically telling him to go fuck himself. He never would have asked that of Shane, but Shane had done it anyway. Hadn’t even hesitated.
“One more,” Ilya said, and stretched his hand holding the phone out above them. “No way,” Shane said, squirming away. Ilya pulled him closer with an arm around Shane’s shoulders. “In case people still don’t believe we are together.” “No!” Shane squawked. “For me, then,” Ilya said, and kissed the top of Shane’s head. Shane relaxed against him. “Fine.”
Shane grinned up at him, all flushed skin and freckles and bright eyes. Ilya wanted to, like, crawl inside him somehow.
“Because...” Shane didn’t even know where to start. Finally he just said, “He makes me happy. I know it doesn’t make sense, but he’s it for me. We’re getting married.”
There was a long, weird silence, and the Bood broke it by saying, “Figures.” Ilya raised his eyebrows at him and waited. 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?”
“Is that what the ring’s about, then?” He pointed at Ilya’s chest. “You noticed?” “I’m a goalie.” Wyatt pointed to his own eyes. “I notice everything.” “You are perceptive,” Ilya said, trying out a word he’d recently learned. “It’s my superpower. I didn’t want to ask, but now it seems kind of obvious that it’s from Hollander.” “It is. We are engaged.” Ilya was still getting used to saying those words aloud. To believing them. “Then Shane Hollander is a lucky man.” Ilya was in danger of crying, so he wrapped Wyatt in a hug to hide his face. “Thank you,” he said. “No problem.” Wyatt patted him
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Because, despite everything else between them, they were two NHL stars who both wanted to win the Stanley Cup, and neither was about to let their fiancé stand in the way.
Ilya wasn’t sure it was a sound strategy. After a week of being apart from Shane, he wanted to tear his own skin off.
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.
“Do not forget,” Ilya said seriously, “what that team owes you.”
“Ruined our plan to kiss on television,” Ilya said dryly.
“Well,” Shane said. “There’s something I never thought I’d see.” Scott laughed and stepped out of the embrace. “Funny. I said the exact same thing when I saw you guys kissing in that video.”
“I am...maybe like my mother. Depressed. Sometimes. And it is not fixed. It might not be something to fix.” Shane looked surprised, but he covered it quickly. “Okay.” “You cannot blame yourself, if it...gets bad.” Shane propped himself up on an elbow. “Ilya. Are you saying you think about, like—” “No. Not really. I don’t know. I feel like I could think about it. Okay?” Shane blinked a few times. “Okay,” he whispered.
“I hate that you feel like that sometimes, Ilya,” Shane said softly. “I hate that you have to fight yourself. But you’re never going to scare me off, okay? And I’m never giving up on you, or on us. So whatever you need, I’m right here.” “What if there is nothing you can do?” Ilya asked in a small, scared voice. “What if you can’t help?” Shane’s features shifted into his Hockey Captain face—determined and fearless. “Then I’ll be standing by until I can.” He kissed Ilya’s forehead. “I’m marrying you, Ilya. I want to have kids with you. I want to be your date when we’re inducted into the Hall of
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They kissed, and Shane said, “What do you need right now?” “Sleep,” Ilya answered honestly. “In the morning, probably coffee.” He grinned impishly. “And maybe five or six blowjobs.” Shane smiled so wide his eyes crinkled. “Blowjobs aren’t a cure for depression, Ilya.” “Are you a doctor now?” Shane laughed and kissed him again. “Go to sleep, idiot.”
Shane still felt a twist of terror at the idea of angering the commissioner, but he quickly squashed it. They weren’t going to hide anymore. Not from anyone, and not for anyone.
“The owners actually booked us a table at some fancy restaurant downtown tonight.” “With them?” “No. Just the two of us. They said it was a welcome-to-the-team thing, but also...” Shane’s cheeks flushed. “They said it was an early wedding present. Can you believe it?”
“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.”
That was all Ilya let him get out before he engulfed David in a tight hug. “My family is here,”
“Good. And thank you. For helping me with my shirt. And for...” Ilya couldn’t possibly put into words how grateful he was for Yuna and David’s support, and the easy love they had for their son, and seemingly also for him. For raising Shane to be the man that he was, and for believing Ilya was good enough for him. He finished by saying, “Everything.”
David nodded. “Thank you for making Shane so happy. You’re good for each other.” Ilya smiled. “Yes. It is time for the world to see how good.”
Mom peeked out the window again. “Oh! Ilya’s out there.” Shane tried to go to the window, but Yuna stopped him. “You’ll see him at the ceremony! It’s bad luck to see him before then.” “Mom. I saw him this morning. We woke up together, had breakfast.” He left out the third thing they’d done. “Just indulge me. My only child is getting married! I’m allowed to be nuts.”
