The Long Game (Game Changers, #6)

by Rachel Reid

“Are you actually going to do some coaching, or are you just here to shoot heart eyes at Shane?” 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?”

There was no good reason for Ilya to skate down the ice with one of the pucks and fire it at the glass behind Shane’s head, but he did it anyway. He could hear Shane scream, and Ilya laughed when he whipped around, eyes flashing with fury. “Asshole!” Shane yelled. Ilya gestured with his stick toward the children on the ice and shook his head. “Language, Hollander.”

“Do you think I’d be a good dad?” “Sure. You’d be the responsible one who makes sure they, like, eat vegetables and brush their teeth and stuff. Ilya would be the fun one who buys them Jet Skis for their tenth birthdays.” “Oh god. He would do that.” “And you’d return them and buy the kids sensible shoes or something instead,” Hayden teased. “Eat shit. I’d be a cool dad.”

“I know we’re careful, but...” “Someone might notice my heart eyes.” “Your what?” “Heart eyes. Hayden said I look at you with heart eyes.” Shane squirmed against his bedsheets. “When did he say that?” “At camp. I was staring at you and he said—” “Oh god.” Shane palmed his face. “He did not say that.” “Yes. Was probably true. I look at you and I am just...” Ilya opened and closed his fist several times in front of his chest. “My heart goes crazy, you know?”

“My good friend Shane Hollander, you mean?” “There’s no way he likes you that much.” “He loves me,” Ilya said plainly. Honestly. Bood, of course, thought he was kidding. “Now you’re really dreaming.”

“Maybe he wants to give you a special award,” Ilya said. “Second-best hockey player.”

Shane glanced back at the mirror. It was less intense, with the lights dimmed. “Why do you have sexy mood lighting in your gym?” “You have it in yours.” “Yeah. For yoga and meditation. Two things you don’t do.” “But you do them. So I have lights that dim. For you.” Shane’s heart wobbled. “Oh.”

“I meant to tell you,” Shane said, once Kent was out of earshot, “I was impressed with what Troy was doing.” “Did you forget to tell me, or did you not tell me because you still hate him?” “I don’t hate him.” “Hm.” “I’m glad you’re friends, or whatever,” Shane grumbled. “I will tell him you said that,” Ilya said, “next time we are showering together.” Shane elbowed him in the arm. “Shut up. I’m trying to watch this.” “They are setting up pylons. Is that what you want to watch?” Shane ducked his head, which meant his cheeks were turning pink. Wyatt suddenly appeared in front of them and leaned one elbow on the boards. “How’s it going, fellas?” “Shhh. Shane is watching the men set up pylons.” “Would you fuck off?” Shane snarled.

“It was a tie, basically,” Ilya said. “That’s not what the clock said,” Shane argued. “If we did it again right now, I would probably win.” “Well, you should have won the first time, dickhead.” Wyatt furrowed his brow at them. “You know, you two don’t have to sit together.”

Scott sat in an armchair, perched on the edge of the cushion. “I know it’s awkward because we’re in the middle of a playoff series, but I wanted to talk to you guys about...you know.” He waved a hand between Ilya and Shane. “Uh-oh,” Ilya said. “Are we getting a lecture from Dad?” Scott looked at Shane. “Is it possible for him to not be an asshole for five seconds?” “No,” Shane said.