The Long Game (Game Changers, #6)

by Rachel Reid

“Fuck...fuck me.” “With what?” Ilya kneaded Shane’s ass with one hand as he slid his fingers in as far as he could, then pulled them out completely. This seemed to make Shane lose what was left of his patience. “Your stupid dick.”

“Do you want to know a secret?” He bent over Shane so he could speak directly in his ear. “I feel like I am fucking a king right now.” “Ilya—” He grabbed a handful of Shane’s hair and tugged his head back. “Do you know how powerful this feels, fucking a king in his throne room?”

“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 tilted his head back against Ilya’s shoulder. “A dynasty,” he breathed. “Oh, fuck, Ilya. I love you.”

“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?” “What you were worth,” Crowell said. “You’re destroying your own brands with this shit.” “No,” Ilya said. “We are making them stronger.”

If you post your own statement and start flaunting your...relationship...then you will obliterate your legacies. You’ll be jokes. Choose carefully.” For a long, tense moment, there was only the sound of three men breathing angrily. Then Shane stood and said, “I choose him. Come on, Ilya.”

Ilya didn’t let him finish his sentence. He crowded Shane against the mirrored wall and kissed him ferociously. He sank his fingers into Shane’s stupid hair and just devoured him, putting everything he felt into it. 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.

They walked one block toward where they’d parked, then Shane stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “What?” Ilya asked. “You know what? There’s a place nearby that makes the best chicken parmesan. I’ve always wanted to take you.”

“I felt sorry for you! I thought you were carrying a broken heart around but the whole time you’ve been fucking Ilya Rozanov!” Anger shot through Shane. He stepped toward J.J., which meant he had to tip his head back to see his face. “Ilya is my boyfriend. I love him, and I have for years. Don’t make it sound like...less.”

“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.”

“I’m the same friend you’ve always had. And I’ll still be the same when I’m Ilya’s husband. I swear I’m normal.” A long, tense silence fell between them. Then J.J. sighed and said, “No one who’s never heard of Cardi B is normal.” Shane barked out a surprised laugh. “Fuck off. I’d heard the name, I just didn’t know any of his songs.” “Her, you fucking dipshit.”

“You read the post, probably, about me and Shane.” He glanced around the room, and saw a few nods. “So. Yes. We are together.” 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?”

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 on the back. “Just try not to make your wedding day the same as Harris and Troy’s, okay? I don’t want to have to do a lot of running around that day.” Ilya laughed, and then sniffed. “Okay, Hazy.”

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.

“Hunter. You are at my house.” Scott looked a little bewildered, as if he hadn’t realized this would be Ilya’s house or something. His perfect fucking face glanced around like he’d been dropped there by aliens. “Yeah, I um. I got the address from Wyatt. He had to make sure my intentions were noble first.”

“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.

“I thought when I came out that would make a difference for other queer hockey players.” “I think it did,” Shane said. He glanced at Ilya. “It did for us, anyway.” Oh god. That was embarrassing. But it was true; Ilya probably wouldn’t have taken a chance on trying to be with Shane if Scott hadn’t kissed his boyfriend on television after winning the Stanley Cup. “Yeah?” Scott asked, sounding surprised and maybe a bit touched. “That’s nice to hear.

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.” Ilya laughed, then stood and extended his hand to Scott. “You are a good guy, Hunter.”

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 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 Fame. I love you so much.”

At the end of the summer, they were taking a honeymoon to Spain, because neither of them had been there and because, when Shane had worked up the nerve to ask him for vacation suggestions, Scott Hunter had enthusiastically rattled off a bunch of places there that were “gay as hell.” It would be another giant step outside of Shane’s comfort zone, but he was ready for it. And he knew Ilya would be effortlessly spectacular in Ibiza.

“Hello! I am Ilya, and this is my boyfriend, Shane. Say hello, Shane.” “Um. Hi.” “Shane, when are we getting married?” “July.” Ilya made an exaggerated surprised face. “July!”

“Shane,” Ilya said seriously. “Do we have to drive back to your trophy room in Montreal?” Shane blushed. “No.” “Or maybe you watch a YouTube video of your best goals while I blow you?” Heat flooded Shane’s stomach. “I mean. It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

Ilya couldn’t think. He didn’t have a thought in his head because he was full to bursting with happiness. It was a week before their wedding, and Shane was standing in front of him in an Ottawa Centaurs jersey and ball cap. He knew that Shane had gone to the team offices to sign the contract today, but seeing him now, wearing the uniform, in Ilya’s house, was overwhelming. “You make that stupid logo look so good,” Ilya said.

“Can I take you to bed now, then? And you wear only that jersey?” Shane leaned in and kissed him. “Is this a hazing thing?” “Yes. I do it to everyone.” “Shut up.” “Troy was incredible.”

“We could only have one child,” David said quietly. “We thought about adopting, but we decided in the end to just focus on making Shane the best person we could. I think we did an okay job of it.”

“We couldn’t be prouder of the man he’s become,” David continued. “I don’t have any Stanley Cup rings, but I have Shane.” Ilya swallowed. “I’ll take care of him.” David smiled up at him. “I know.”

“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.”

“My family is here,” he said simply, and with surprising steadiness.

“You look like Kit Harington,” Mom assured him. “If Kit couldn’t grow a beard.” Shane huffed. “Thanks, Mom.

“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.

Except the freckles were the same. The dark, intelligent eyes and long black lashes. The adorable little nose, and the soft, enticing lips. Those were all the same. The way Ilya’s heart went fucking bananas when he looked at him was the same.

“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.”

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.”