The Long Game (Game Changers, #6)

by Rachel Reid

He was terrified that one day Shane would realize he could be with someone who wasn’t a dark secret. That it could be easy to love someone.

He closed his eyes and focused on how good it felt to be with Shane, alone in the dark, and tried not to wish it could be the same in the light.

“And I’m really looking forward to meeting your boyfriend,” Shane said. “I didn’t get the chance to last year.” Ryan finally smiled at that. “He’s nothing like me. No one can believe we’re together.” “I know the feeling.”

Ilya was wearing a teal tank top with a faded floral print that showed off his muscular arms, as well as the loon tattoo near his left shoulder that Shane still couldn’t believe Ilya had gotten.

“Why is it a secret? You wouldn’t be the only gay hockey players. Or queer. Sorry, I shouldn’t assume.” “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.”

“We are very good at pretending to not be in love. Maybe we are bad at showing it when we are allowed.”

Sometimes Ilya was so starved for touch he felt like screaming. He felt it most when Shane was close, like he was now, but off-limits.

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. “Nothing,” Ilya said, and stepped away. “Nothing.”

“Backup plan,” Ilya repeated. “What would that be?” “No idea. I figure we either stick to the plan we have, or our secret gets blown and we’re fucked, right?” Ilya frowned. “Maybe. Yes.” “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.”

“When you watch it, this is what you will see. Me saying nothing. I wanted to say you are fucking everything to me. Everything. Okay?”

“Okay. So you had a queer NHL player meeting.” “You feel left out?” “I mean, yeah. Kind of. What were you guys doing there?” “Just talking. Drinking beer. Having a fun time. You would have hated it.”

“No. Because of the crush on Harris thing. And also he was checking me out a few times.” Shane exhaled slowly. “I don’t think I like Troy.” “Why? You have a lot in common. You both are short, gay, and both think I am hot.”

“You are both very pretty. Nice dark hair. Troy also does not have chest hair.” “Let’s stop talking about Troy Barrett.”

Quietly, in a voice that couldn’t disguise his pain, he said, “I already chose you, Hollander.”

You are the best thing in my life. His eyes were blurry, making it hard to type. He quickly swiped at his eyes and kept writing. I love you. Always. Maybe from the first time I saw you.

am thinking only about you right now. A million memories. Thank you for those. Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart. I believe it.

“You’re not allowed to die, Ilya. Not before I do.” “Do you have to win everything?” “I have to not lose you.” His voice cracked on the last word.

He knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to reach the other side. He wanted that life together. Not in ten years, but now. Because ten years suddenly seemed like an impossible wait.

“What is this?” Ilya asked. The drapes were drawn across the large windows that normally looked out to the river, and the room was dark. Except for the glow of about a million candles. They were everywhere: on the tables, on the floor, on the mantel, even on the arms of the furniture. It was beautiful and...weird. “Are you trying to burn my house down?” was what Ilya finally said. Shane’s lips curved up. “They’re electric. Fucking relax, Rozanov.”

He’d once told Shane, years ago, that one day he would cover the dock at his cottage in candles. That he’d bring Shane down there, then ask him to marry him. It had been a joke, sort of. But now he was really standing in a room full of candles and— Shane sank to one knee in front of him.

“I don’t have a plan for anything beyond this,” Shane confessed, “but I know what I want. There’s nothing in my life that matters to me more than you, Ilya.”

“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?”

“Yes,” Ilya interrupted. “Sorry. I’m babbling. You know how Russian names work.” “No,” Ilya clarified. “Yes.” Shane stared at him with obvious confusion. Ilya nodded to the ring. “Yes,” Ilya said again. “I am saying yes, Hollander.”

“I love you so much,” Shane said softly. Ilya swallowed. “I will be very proud to be your husband.” He leaned down and captured Shane’s mouth in another slow, luxurious kiss.

“I was thinking summer,” Shane said. “Summer for what?” Shane lifted his head and met Ilya’s gaze. “For everything. Coming out. Going public. Getting married.”

“Yeah. I know it’s going to be a shitshow, but I’m tired of being scared of being found out. I want to tell people, on our own terms. I think I can handle anything that happens, as long as going public is a choice we made ourselves. Together.” “That is what I want,” Ilya agreed. “We tell people ourselves. Together.”

“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.” “We—we’ll share a trophy room someday,” Shane stammered. Ilya smiled. “Yes. A fucking empire.”

Shane came up with some first. “Fuck this. Here’s a plan: we do whatever we want this summer and then we come back and have all-star seasons again next year. We’re not a couple of naïve rookies you can intimidate. You think we don’t know what we’re worth to this league?”

Then Shane stood and said, “I choose him. Come on, Ilya.”

It seemed impossible that anything in Ilya’s life was real; that he was about to marry Shane Hollander. In front of people. That they would be teammates next season. That Ilya was about to officially become a part of Shane’s family, and that he and Shane might start their own someday.