The Long Game (Game Changers, #6)

by Rachel Reid

“The view was not bad. From behind. Almost worth staying there.” Shane didn’t know how his boyfriend was able to speak in full sentences. “Shut up.” “I like those little shorts.”

“She probably knows already.”

The panic alarm that lived inside Shane started blaring. “Why would she?” “We are together at your cottage. You are gay. I am hot.”

“So,” Shane said slowly, “you know that I’m gay.” “Of course. You told me.” “Yeah. So here’s the thing...” “I am bisexual,” Ilya blurted out. Farah’s lips curved up. “I think I can see where this is going,” she said calmly.

“Not to ask a stupid question, but it’s serious?” “Very,” Ilya said. Shane’s heart flipped the way it always did when Ilya made it clear how much Shane meant to him.

“I’m looking forward to seeing the documentary,” Farah said. “Their Scott Hunter doc was fantastic.” “Did not see it,” Ilya said flatly.

Shane loved Ilya so much it physically hurt to contain it some days. He didn’t want to be a gay icon, or deal with any of the attention they would get from the hockey world—both good and bad—if they ever disclosed their relationship, but he wished he could love Ilya openly without dealing with any of that.

“No kissing,” he said sternly. “Not even behind closed doors, okay? Not until we get home.” “Yes, no problem. I barely even like you.” Ilya’s words were undermined by the way he was pressing his cheek into Shane’s palm.

“Hayden’s my best friend that I don’t kiss,” Shane clarified. “Too bad for Hayden.”

“I’m serious about the no kissing today. And don’t, like, be sexy.” “Impossible.”

Max had been in the media spotlight quite a bit over the past couple of years after coming out as a trans man. He’d played with his wife for Team Canada for years, including in two Olympics but, since coming out, had been without a team. He was a vocal advocate for trans rights in sports, and Shane was glad both he and Leah were part of their staff.

“And also Hayden Pike,” Ilya said quickly. “Okay! Let’s get started.”

Ilya felt a lot of things at once, both from the way Shane’s track pants pulled tight against his thigh muscles, and from the warmth that bloomed in Ilya’s chest whenever he watched Shane interact with children.

Ilya hadn’t realized how much fun it would be to confuse Hayden with compliments. He would have to do it more often.

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.

“I have spent the whole day trying not to—” His eyes darted to the door, which was ajar, likely realizing how loudly he was talking. He dropped his voice to a near whisper. “Trying not to be obvious about how fucking in love with you I am.”

He remembered slightly too late. “Oh god,” said a voice from the doorway. “Not again.” Ryan Price was filling the doorway with his massive body, looking mortified.

“J.J. isn’t my mom.” “No,” Yuna said. “Your mom is the one making dinner at the end of a long day while you sit on your butt and mope. Come help.” “I’m helping,” Ilya couldn’t resist pointing out. “I know you are.” Yuna patted his cheek. “That’s why you’re my favorite son.”

He’d never expected to be part of a family, and have parents again. He would do absolutely everything to protect this, and he was constantly terrified that, when it came to it, he wouldn’t be able to. Because the day would come.

Ilya’s friend Harris, back in Ottawa, swore there was a ghost living in his parents’ house. A great-uncle or something. Ilya didn’t think he believed in ghosts, but he clung to the idea that his mother’s spirit was with him, somehow. He needed her to be.

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.

Shane realized that he’d basically trapped Ryan in a small space and unloaded a bunch of weirdness on him, which probably wasn’t an ideal situation for someone with clinical anxiety. “Yes. Sorry. Shit, Ryan. I’m being super fucking weird.

“I’m sort of glad you walked in on us last year.” Ryan’s face told him that he was not glad that he’d walked in on them.

The tattoo meant something, to both of them. It represented their time together in the summers, at their home on the lake. Ilya was also wearing loose-fitting gray shorts and black slip-on sneakers, and looked so relaxed and summery that Shane was tempted to drive them both directly to the cottage and make love to him on the grassy shore.

“I am Ilya. This is my... Shane.”

“It’s just a bar. Club. Whatever,” Fabian said with a wave of his elegant hand. Then he leaned in and, with a mischievous grin, said, “But it will be gay by the time I’m done playing.”

“I am bisexual,” Ilya said, nodding. “Shane is super gay.” “I’m regular gay,” Shane argued.

How long have you been together?” Shane and Ilya looked at each other, which made Shane blush for some reason. “Not an easy question,” Ilya said. “Over ten years, though,” Shane clarified, “depending on your definition of ‘together.’”

“Not all superstars,” Ilya said. “Hayden is there.” Shane flicked Ilya’s thigh.

“I’ll bet their sex life is wild.” Ilya grinned. “Pervert.” “As if you’ve never thought about it.”

Leah dropped into the seat next to her husband. “Are we talking about how much we love Ryan?”

Ryan crumpled his empty lunch bag in one giant hand. “You guys are weird.” He stood to leave, but paused and said, with a small smile, “But yeah. My boyfriend is super hot.”

This isn’t Camp Ben and Jordan.” “Not yet,” Ilya said, nudging Shane. “But maybe they will be the new us, one day.” “Then I’d better warn Jordan not to fall for Ben.” “Oh, are you Jordan?” “Obviously. He made the A team.”

“I’m glad you’re such a show-off,” Shane said. Ilya patted his back. “I am glad you get hard so easily.”

“Just wear a jock,” Ilya suggested. “And sunglasses.”

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.

Most of all, though, he missed the comfort he got from human touch. Right now, in this club in Montreal, he wanted that comfort from the man he was in love with.

“What?” he asked. 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.”

He’d needed to pull over while driving home that night because he hadn’t been able to see the road through his tears. He’d been so confused and scared and devastated. He should have been going home with Rose, his gorgeous movie star girlfriend, not crying on the side of the road, alone in his car, over an obnoxious Russian hockey player. He’d been in love with him, though he’d refused to even consider it at the time.

Maybe ending a week of celibacy with a concert by Ryan’s sex sorcerer boyfriend hadn’t been the best idea.

“I’ll get us home safe and then you can touch all the dicks you want.”

“How many dicks will be there? Did you invite some people?” “You wish.” “I think you would like it,” Ilya said. “Having an audience.”

“Would you show me off?” Shane asked quietly. He could feel the heat of Ilya’s gaze even without looking. “I would never stop showing you off,” Ilya said. “If I could.”

“Fucking love you,” Shane murmured against his lips. “Want you in me.” Ilya growled and slapped Shane’s ass hard, once, the sharp sound reverberating in the empty hallway. “Come to bed, then.”

“My beloved,” Ilya murmured, in Russian. “So beautiful.”

Shane let his eyes close for a moment, letting Ilya know he understood. Ilya couldn’t hide behind his native tongue anymore when he wanted to be sweet and soft. It was something Shane had worked for; while Shane’s teammates were playing poker or games on their phones on the plane, Shane was studying Russian.

“Love your dick,” Shane panted. He had one hand planted on Ilya’s chest, the other gripping the back of Ilya’s left thigh. “Love taking you like this.” “You just love,” Ilya gritted out, “exercise.” Shane let out a shaky laugh, adjusted his angle, and rode him harder.

“You were smoking,” he complained sleepily. “No.” “I can smell it.” Ilya kissed his shoulder. “Maybe your house is on fire.” Shane huffed and fell back asleep.

“He was the first.” Ilya bit the inside of his cheek, then added, “Possibly the best too.” “You’re such a giant dick.” “You know who had a giant dick?” Ilya asked wistfully.

“None of them matter. Not anymore.” Shane sighed. “I know.” “Then why ask?”