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“You don’t love her, then?” “No,” Ilya said quietly. He sounded like he was falling asleep. “Not her. No.”
Oh this is inSANE
He would take the short phone call they had just shared over any of their sexual encounters.
Still here btw
“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?”
ILYA IS SO FREAKING CUTE I CANT EVEN I WANT TO PUNCH A WALL
“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 damn near lost it. Shane was going to ruin him, saying things like that.
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 kissed the tips of two fingers and reached out and touched them to the screen. And Ilya’s heart fucking stopped. “Good night, Ilya.”
INSTANT FOLD.
“Good night, Shane,” he said, keeping his voice as steady as possible. As soon as he closed the window, he covered his face in his hands and released all of his anguish and frustration and fear into the lonely apartment.
Ilya had the puck for all of three seconds before Shane forced him into the boards and stole it back. Then he took off again, with a challenging (and somewhat flirty) glance back at Ilya. Ilya grinned and launched himself after him, but this time Shane was flying and Ilya was struggling to close the gap and then...
I love them playing together so much it’s unreal
He thought of Ilya. He wished he could text him. He wished he could tell him he wiggled his toes.
I stg rn if he’s permanently injured— FUCK
Ilya reached for the remote, and was about to turn off the television when... Holy shit. Holy. Shit. Scott fucking Hunter was kissing a man.
But there Hunter was, smiling at this mystery man like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. And holding his face as he leaned in to kiss him again. Ilya felt like he was watching all the worst things about his life getting sucked up by a tornado.
Ilya stabbed the call button. There was only one ring before, “Holy shit, Ilya! Can you belie—” “I’m coming to the cottage.”
YAHOOOOOOOOO🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳
“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.”
Ilya cheated and murmured, “I would stay here forever if I could” in Russian.
Shane laughed. “You wanna kiss me on television?” “Yes. After I win the Stanley Cup.” Shane spread his arms out. “Oh, so in this romantic scenario, you’ve just defeated me?” “Yes. Sorry.”
I hate them so much LMAO
“I’m not going to be in the mood to kiss you if I’ve just lost the Stanley Cup, Rozanov.” “But you would be so proud of me!”
THIS MF LMFAOOOO
“I want to sleep in your bed, Shane Hollander,” Ilya murmured.
The kiss felt weird, and Shane realized it was because neither of them could stop smiling. “You’re here,” he murmured.
“Don’t tease me,” Ilya said. “I have waited too long for this.” “Mm.” Shane opened the front of Ilya’s shorts and playfully nipped at his chest. “Months.” “Years,” Ilya sighed.
“I like you, Hollander.” It wasn’t an earth-shattering confession, but the words still moved Shane enormously. “I like you too, Rozanov.”
lives were changed (mine) honestly we need more “i like you”s in books bc this freaking hit me like a FREIGHT TRAIN
The truth was that Shane thought about Ilya meeting his parents a lot.
and they would have no idea—no idea—how much of a relief it would be for Shane to have witnessed just that simple contact. To know that the two people he loved the most had touched the skin of Ilya Rozanov, and had looked into his eyes, even for a second, and that Shane now had concrete proof that all three of them existed in the same world.
im emo
The morning light was making everything beautiful, and Shane was in love, so he had leaned in and lightly kissed Ilya’s wrist. When Ilya’s eyes had fluttered open, Shane’s face had been inches away from them. He had seen the initial confusion in Ilya’s expression before it softened into a shy smile.
“Fuck you and your loon!” Ilya said. “Stupid Canadian wolf bird.”
Ilya wanted to grab embers from the fire and smash them into his own eyes because he could not bear to look at this adorable, crinkled, happy face.
god he’s so in love im sick
“How old were you?” Shane asked. “Twelve.” And then, somehow, words scraped their way out of Ilya’s throat that he had never shared with anyone before. “I found her.”
“You want that? To be together?” “I do. So much it terrifies me.”
I wasn’t ready. 82% into the book and I wasn’t fucking ready.
But Ilya turned back and quickly rolled on top of Shane and was kissing him and kissing him and kept murmuring the same thing in Russian over and over again until he pulled back and translated: “I love you.”
Tears streaming down my face
“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.”
And then he did kiss him. How could he not?
He loved Shane. God, he loved Shane.
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?”
LMFAOOOOOO BE SO FOR REAL RN
“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.
LOSERS
“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.”
“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.
“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.
“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.
And I will get on one knee—” “Ilya—” “And I will say, ‘Shane Hollander, will you please marry me so I can become Canadian citizen faster?’” Shane burst out laughing, and shoved him. “You’re such an asshole.” “And you will say yes, because you are a nice, helpful guy.”
BE SERIOUS FOR ONE SECOND ILYA GODDAMN HAHAHAH I LOVE THESE FOOLS
With the combined earnings, they’d started the Irina Foundation.
The garage currently held two sports cars and a very sensible Mercedes SUV. (“Is good in snow,” Ilya had explained sheepishly when he’d first shown it to Shane. “For driving between Ottawa and Montreal.”)
Ilya was only about sixty percent sure he wouldn’t kiss Shane against the boards if he scored a goal off of a pass from him.
1126, he texted, and waited for Shane’s reply. Shane: Seriously?! Best news ever. See you soon.
