Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

Plus, Ilya hated this guy. He hated his pretty boy face and his perfect goddamned English and his perfect goddamned French and his loving parents and his polite little manners and his million-dollar smile. He hated how serious he was. How earnest. He was everything the league wanted from their stars. Ilya kissed his dumb mouth and swallowed his stupid little sighs and felt his annoying fingers in his hair. He pulled back so he could look at his horrible face with its ridiculous freckles. Fuck.

Ilya watched the footage of Hollander taking a quick pass and scoring with the impossible accuracy that he was known for. Ilya watched him hug his teammates, and the way his face lit up with a wide, jubilant smile. Ilya found himself smiling a bit too, on his bench in Philadelphia. Well, now he was going to have to score two goals tonight.

They held each other, both breathing heavily as they waited for their hearts to stop racing. But Shane didn’t think his heart would ever stop racing. Shane. He called me Shane.

Without warning, Ilya moved his hand until it was right next to Shane’s, and then he hooked their thumbs together. Shane’s first instinct was to pull away, but he resisted. Instead he closed his eyes, and tried not to hope for impossible things.

Shane was suddenly struck by a ridiculous idea. Or maybe it was a brilliant idea. He decided to share it before his brain had a chance to figure out which. “Tell me everything you want to say,” he said. “In Russian. I won’t understand but...maybe it will help?”

While he waited for it, he tried not to imagine scenarios where Shane would somehow translate every word that Ilya had just said. Mostly he had just been ranting about his family, but he had included an admission that he wished things could have been different with his father. That he had stupidly always hoped that his father might tell him that he was proud of him. That admission would have been embarrassing enough, but Ilya had also slipped in an “and on top of everything, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do about it.”

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.”

“We’re going to move you onto the spinal board, Shane. Keep your head still, please.” Spinal board? “Ilya, please stand back,” the authoritative voice said. And the dark blur that had been looming over Shane disappeared. “We’re not alone,” Shane slurred. “Ilya. They can see us.”

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.

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. Then the cameras cut away, and Ilya looked at his phone. Jane: What is happening??!!! Did he really just do that???!!! Ilya stabbed the call button. There was only one ring before, “Holy shit, Ilya! Can you belie—” “I’m coming to the cottage.”

“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. “Years I have wanted to have you in your real bed.” Shane froze. “Years?”

“Fuck you and your loon!” Ilya said. “Stupid Canadian wolf bird.”

Shane looked up at him, still laughing. His whole face was crinkled up: eyes, nose, freckles. 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.

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.” 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.

“Does it...does it feel like agony for you too?” Ilya started to nod, then stopped. He shook his head slowly instead. “Not anymore.”

“This is real, yes?” Ilya asked. He just had to make sure. “It’s real,” Shane said. His voice was low and adorably scratchy. “I feel like... I am dreaming?” “You’re not. I love you.”

“I’m okay,” Shane said weakly. “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.”

“I wanted to climb into your lap out there. I’m so fucking proud of you, Ilya. I’m...proud to be with you. I want you to know that, even if we keep it a secret, I’m proud to be with you.”