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“I have ruined you,” Rozanov said when they broke apart. “No one else will do.” “Fuck off.” “Such a mouth on you.” “Don’t say it.” “I preferred it when it was on me.” “Dammit, Rozanov.”
“Was it me tonight?” “Was what you?” “Distracting you. On the ice tonight.” It took Shane a moment to realize what he was suggesting. “Fuck. You.” Rozanov’s smile spread. “Couldn’t play at all, thinking about my dick, right?” “Good night, Rozanov.” Rozanov blew him a kiss on his way out the door, leaving Shane furious and strangely relieved. It was good to be reminded of the fact that they didn’t actually like each other.
“Look,” Shane said to the floor, “that was...we can just pretend that never happened, okay?” “Is that what you want?” Shane’s answer should have been a lot faster. “Yeah. I mean...yeah. Of course.” Rozanov stood and crossed the floor until he stood right in front of Shane. “You are a bad liar.”
“Have you been...thinking about this?” Rozanov gave a crooked grin and shrugged. “I like trouble.” Shane laughed. “Well, I think we’ve found it.”
“What’s wrong with you, Shane? You aren’t usually this nervous.” “Nothing! I just want to win tonight. That’s all.” It seemed to be the right thing to say, because she smiled. “You will. Screw Ilya Rozanov, right? That can be your mantra tonight.” Or not. Shane forced a smile. “Sure. Screw him.”
“Is there a ghost out there?” Ilya asked, amused. “No. Fuck you. This is fucking dangerous and you know it.” “Is it? We are not doing anything.” Hollander looked at him hard. His dark eyes were a mixture of anger and lust. Ilya decided to drop the act. “You came anyway,” he said. “Yeah,” Hollander said, his voice tight and full of forced courage. “I guess I did.”
UMM OKAY
Yes, yes he did.
“You were smoking,” Hollander complained now, as he broke away from their kiss. “Only one.” “You aren’t supposed to be smoking.” “You aren’t supposed to be talking.”
“I hate you.” “Yes. I know. Show me.”
Shane kind of couldn’t believe that Rozanov had made them both dinner. He found it, he realized with some horror, adorable.
I CANNOT WAIT FOR THIS PART IN THE SHOW OMFG
“Should you really be alone right now?” Shane asked. “I am not alone,” Ilya said. “You are here now, yes?” Shane’s hand flew to his chest to make sure his heart was still beating; he could have sworn it had just melted into a gooey puddle.
“Da. I want to become American. Or Canadian. But I am in America, so...” In that moment, Shane wished like hell that Ilya played for a Canadian team. “You should,” Shane said. “Have you looked into—?” “We should get married,” Ilya said. “What?” Shane flushed right down to his toes. “Not to each other,” Ilya said. Then he started laughing and couldn’t stop. “I knew you didn’t mean to each other,” Shane lied.
Oh god. That was what Shane wanted, wasn’t it? He didn’t just want to be Ilya’s dirty secret. He didn’t want their relationship to be nothing but sex. He wanted to comfort Ilya when he was sad, and talk to him on the phone, and snuggle together on the couch and watch movies. He would take the short phone call they had just shared over any of their sexual encounters. Well, almost any of their sexual encounters. Shane groaned and fell back on his bed, covering his face with his hands. He was super fucked.
“You are very beautiful,” Ilya said. Shane smiled without opening his eyes. “Come on.” “Is the truth. Your freckles.” Ilya grazed a fingertip over his own cheek. “I am nuts about them.” “I have no idea why. I hate them.” “Noooo...” Ilya moaned. “Hollander. They are stunning.” “Stunning?” “Yes. Am I not using that word right? Very beautiful. Um...take my breath?” “Wow. All right.” The skin under Shane’s freckles turned very, very pink.
“You’re very attractive, Ilya,” Shane said, in an exaggerated, placating tone. “Not good enough. I want details.” Shane opened his eyes, and rolled them. But he said, “That crooked fucking smile of yours. I can’t even tell you...that smile haunts me.” “Haunts you? Like a ghost? That doesn’t sound like a good thing.” “It is. And your eyes. I love your eyes.” “So romantic, Hollander.”
“Tell me about this man in Mexico.” “There’s not much to tell. He was big. He looked like he was, y’know, what I was looking for.” “A big, strong top?” Shane looked so embarrassed, Ilya took pity. “Was he? What you needed?” “No. I mean, sort of. But...” “Did he hurt you?” “No. He just wasn’t...” Ilya needed to hear it. “Wasn’t what?” Shane clenched his eyes shut and said, “You. He wasn’t you.”
Ilya flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m fucked,” he murmured in Russian. “I am so fucking in love and it’s horrible.”
Shane was so completely in love with him. He would hit his head all over again just to be alone in that quiet hospital room with those careful fingers and those concerned eyes. He was in love with him and he could never, ever tell him that.
Having an NHL player come out as gay for the first time was exciting, but a player on every team in the league could come out and it still wouldn’t help Shane’s situation. Being gay—or whatever—was not really the thing that would create a scandal. Fucking your biggest rival over the course of your entire NHL career was something that no one would understand. Not one person. Shane felt that even Scott Hunter, the NHL’s new poster boy for acceptance and tolerance, would be alarmed if he knew what he’d been up to with Ilya.
“I have an idea,” Shane said. He was brushing his thumb over Ilya’s bottom lip as he said it. “What?” Ilya asked, with more bravery than he felt. “Let’s be honest with each other. For these two weeks, let’s just...say what we’re actually thinking. Maybe...say how we really feel.” I can’t, Ilya wanted to say. I can’t because if I do you’ll think I’m pathetic, or, worse, you’ll say it back and then what the fuck are we supposed to do? “I will try,” he said instead.
“I didn’t tell you,” Ilya said, “about after the NHL Awards.” “After?” “Yes. I went out. With Scott Hunter.” Shane missed the next pass. “What do you mean?” “There was a club having a Scott Hunter night, whatever the fuck that means.” “A club? Like...” “A gay club. Yes. So I thought I would go.” “I’m sorry. You went to a gay club in Las Vegas with Scott Hunter?” “And his boyfriend. Yes. Nice guy.”
“This is your room,” Ilya said, more to himself maybe than to Shane. “Yeah. Probably even more so than my room back in Montreal. This place is...home.” “This is your parents,” Ilya said, pointing to a framed photo sitting on the dresser. “Yep.” With a playful little grin, Ilya flipped the photo so it lay facedown. “Do not want to shock them,” he said. Shane laughed.
“Mine.” Ilya’s breath tickled Shane’s skin when he spoke the single word. “Yours,” Shane said dreamily. “All of this. For two weeks. Is mine.” Forever, Shane wanted to say. Forever if you ask.
“I have this problem,” he mumbled. Shane waited. “I like women. I always was thinking that to get married would be nice. Kids. All of that. Someday. But...this problem will not go away.” Shane bit his lip. “Tell me about this problem.” “Is so annoying.” Ilya sighed, and Shane could see him fighting a grin. “Always I am with beautiful women. Wonderful women. Everywhere.” “Sounds rough.” “Yes. Listen. These women, they are so sexy and fun, but is no matter. I cannot stop thinking about this short fucking hockey player with these stupid freckles and a weak backhand.” “A weak backhand?” Shane
...more
“And maybe...someday. When we both retire. We can...be together. For real.” Ilya looked stunned by that part. “You really think that far ahead, Hollander?” “I do about this.” “You want that? To be together?” “I do. So much it terrifies me.”
“I love you.” Shane froze. And then Ilya froze. “Holy shit,” Shane whispered. It wasn’t how he had meant to respond. “I...” Ilya’s eyes were so wide and so scared. “I love you too,” Shane said. Ilya gave a shaky smile and exhaled. “Thank Christ.” “Does it...does it feel like agony for you too?” Ilya started to nod, then stopped. He shook his head slowly instead. “Not anymore.”
STOP THIS IS SO PRECIOUS
“How could we let this happen?” Ilya asked, and his voice was shakier than he would have liked. “I don’t know. We are very stupid and irresponsible.” “Very dumb, yes. Oh god, Hollander.” And then he did kiss him. How could he not?
Shane put on a T-shirt from a charity hockey camp he helped coach last summer, just to remind his parents that he was a good and normal person. Ilya was wearing a Boston Bears T-shirt. Shane made a face. “That’s not going to help.” “Oh, do they not know I play for Boston?” Shane rolled his eyes. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
“Well, I... I’m gay. Which I was going to tell you. Soon. I just...sorry. I wish I’d told you.” His parents didn’t say anything. They were both looking at Ilya like he was a mountain lion that was about to attack. “Um, and this is... Ilya. Rozanov. You probably know that.” “Hi,” Ilya said. “And he’s been...visiting. He’s...we’re, um...” What were they, exactly? It occurred to Shane that he and Ilya hadn’t even figured out what label they were comfortable with. “Lovers,” Ilya offered. Fuck, way to choose the grossest possible word, Ilya. Well, there was no going back from that word.
“I just don’t understand,” his mother said. “How could this have even happened between you? Weren’t there any nice men in Montreal, Shane?” “Probably,” Shane muttered. “Do your teammates know about...this?” Dad asked. “No! No, no one does. No one. This is top secret, all right?” His father stood up. “Would anyone like a beer? I could use a beer.” “Yes,” said Ilya. “Definitely,” said Shane. “Is that the strongest thing we have?” asked his mom.
“I have been with lots of women. That was not...fake. But...” He looked at Shane, and Shane held his breath. “I have only been in love with one person.” And suddenly Ilya looked very blurry through Shane’s eyes. Shane swallowed down the urge to cry, and said, “Me too. Just one.”
I AM MELTING STOPPPP THIS IS SO CUTE
“First of all,” Yuna said, “have you talked to Scott Hunter?” She said the name like it physically pained her to speak of the evil man who had stolen Olympic gold from her beloved son. “I have,” Ilya said. “But not about...us.” “I emailed him,” Shane added. “I just, y’know, said I appreciated his bravery, or whatever. I didn’t tell him about me. Or about Ilya.” Yuna was tapping her lip again. “He probably couldn’t help. Not with this situation.” “He would probably be very confused about us,” Ilya said. “Confused is a word for it,” Dad said.
“I’m just...freaking out. Don’t worry about me.” Ilya took his hands and rubbed his thumbs soothingly over the backs of them. “We are good here, yes?” he said. “Your family is here. And your boyfriend. And we are okay here.” Shane raised his head slightly. “Boyfriend?” Such a ridiculous word. Such a ridiculous, wonderful word. Ilya shrugged and grinned. “I think, yes?” “Yes.”
“Since their rookie season,” Shane heard his mother say. “I can’t believe it.” “Looking at them now, I kind of can,” his father said.
No more meaningless—but undeniably hot—one-night stands. No more booty calls while he was on the road. He was going to give it all up for this chance at something lasting. For the chance to hold the heart of the beautiful man who was exhaling Ilya’s name like it was the most important word in the world. Ilya had no problem giving it all up. He would give up so much more, if he needed to.
“And when I retire,” Ilya said, “after I have won twelve Stanley Cups and thirteen MVP awards—” “The hell you will.” “And you have been retired for, like, eight years already because you got very bad at hockey...” Shane laughed. “Okay.” “Then I will bring you to that dock out there. I will have hundreds of candles all over it...” “That sounds like a fire hazard.” “Is on the water, Hollander. Fucking relax. Will be beautiful, you will love it. The candles. The lake. The full moon.” “Oh, is it a clear night?” “Yes. Of course. And I will get on one knee—” “Ilya—” “And I will say, ‘Shane
...more
“Does this mean I get to see your apartment in Montreal? Your real one?” “You can even keep a toothbrush there. I’m going to sell that other place. I was being paranoid when I bought it. I’m sorry.” Ilya grinned. “Buying an entire building because you are nervous is very you.”
“I want to tell him. I want him to know you like I do.” “Really?” Ilya made the word as suggestive as possible. “Do you think he’d like to join us? A night away from the kids, maybe?” Shane buried his face against Ilya’s shoulder, probably to hide his blush. “Stop it.” “Or maybe if Rose Landry wants a sexual experience with you that isn’t a disaster...” “No threesomes!” Shane said. “That’s my hard rule.” “You’ve never tried it,” Ilya scoffed. “You might love it.” “When have I ever loved something I thought I’d hate?”
“He tripped me! Hey, what the fuck, ref! That was tripping!” Shane glared up at the ref, and then at Ilya, who was looming over him in his Ottawa jersey. “You fell,” Ilya said. “I didn’t fall. It was tripping.” “Yes. Was you tripping over your own skates.” “Get fucked, Rozanov.” Ilya’s lips quirked up. “Was planning on it.”
“I love you,” Ilya said. “I love you too.” Ilya nodded. “Remember that when I am being a dick to you out there.” Shane grinned and kissed him again. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”
“Are you sure you need to go back to Ottawa today?” “Yes. And you are flying to Chicago tonight.” “I know,” Shane sighed. “This is why I want my pilot license. Would be faster.” Shane groaned. “Please don’t get your pilot license. I will be very mad if you fly into a mountain and die.” “Aw. Sweet.”
Ilya hadn’t been kidding about wanting to marry him. And not for citizenship, of course. He wanted to be Shane’s husband, and to live together, and maybe even raise children together. Not as many children as Hayden had, but, like, a reasonable number.
“We should cook together some time, Hayden.” “I suck at cooking.” “You suck at hockey,” Ilya pointed out. “But you still play it.” Hayden looked pleadingly at Shane. “Seriously? This guy? I’ve got no problem with you being gay—” “What a hero,” Ilya said flatly. Hayden turned to Ilya. “Shane can date all the men he wants! But you are a relentless douchebag and I’ve never liked you.” “Jesus, Hayden,” Jackie mumbled. Ilya raised an eyebrow. “You should save some of that for our wedding.”
“What are you doing with him?” Hayden asked abruptly. “What’s your game here?” “Game?” Hayden stood up, and loomed over Ilya in what was probably supposed to be a threatening manner. “Is this a joke to you? Or do you just get off on fucking with him?” “I do get off on fucking him. Yes.”
“I thought you hated him,” Hayden said. “We talked about how much we hated him all the time. For years! And then I find out not only that you don’t hate him, but you... I mean, you must love him so fucking much, right? Like, you’d have to, to go through all of this.” The unwavering way Shane met Hayden’s eyes when he replied, simply, “Yes, I do,” took Ilya’s breath away.
“It’s not fair! Hayden and Jackie get to just, y’know, exist. The night they first got together, I watched them make out on a dance floor.” “Pervert,” Ilya teased. “I mean I saw them. I wasn’t watchi—shut up. The point is, they’d just met that night, and they were making out in front of the whole world without having to worry for one fucking second about anyone seeing them.” “Or their weird friend watching them.”
“Why are you like this?” Shane moaned into Ilya’s shirt. “Can’t you let me be annoyed with you? Do you have to ruin it by saying romantic shit like that?” “Romantic? I thought it was more pathetic.”
“What if no one will sign us? What if you get deported?” “Then I will fake my own death. We will move to a cabin in the mountains.” Shane shook his head. “I’m being serious.” “I am serious. If we hide forever, or tell the world right now, I am with you. I will quit hockey, or fight to stay. Whatever you want.” “It shouldn’t be only my decision.” Ilya sighed. “I mean... I am yours, yes? To protect that, I will do anything.” Shane’s eyes went gooey. “You’re mine. Yes.”
