Reading Time: 106 Minutes

Title: One Hope Then Another
Author: CorgiQueen14
Fandom: Heated Rivalry
Genre: Contemporary, Episode Related, Pre-Relationship, Romance
Relationship(s): Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov
Content Rating: R
Warnings: Hate Speech, There’s one section that has some BDSM elements. and regarding the hate speech warning: no slurs are used but there are some scenes that have homophobic elements and I wanted to warn for that
Author Note: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy the fic!
Beta: Grammarly
Word Count: 55,600
Summary: Shane Hollander knew that this thing he had with Ilya Rozanov couldn’t last. There were a thousand reasons why he should walk away and never look back. But maybe hope was enough of a reason to stay. And maybe he wasn’t the only one hoping they could be something more than what they were.
Artist: penumbria

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Chapter 1:

Shane slumped against the wall of the elevator, shivers racking his body.

This had been a mistake.

He never should have gone up to Ilya’s room that night.

He never should have let him into his room that day in 2010. Hell, he never should have shaken his hand in 2009.

He should have known it was always going to end this way.

~~

Shane knew that Ilya Rozanov was trouble from the moment he first saw him at the World Juniors. Everyone knew of him; the Russian prodigy whose tongue was sharper than the blade of his skates. And yet, Shane had still gone over and introduced himself.

He remembered the guarded look in the other boy’s eyes, the ghost of a smirk on his face when he taunted Shane on the ice. He remembered those ice-blue eyes staring at him from his perch at the top of the arena as Team Canada practiced. But more than that, what he remembered was the sting of defeat when Russia had beaten Canada in the finals. Everything that he had worked for, all the hours spent practicing, and he lost.

He’d thought that had been the end of it, and yet something kept pulling them towards each other. The year they were both drafted to the MLB, Ilya was a first-round pick, and Shane was a second-round pick. Part of him wondered if he was doomed to spend the rest of his career chasing after Ilya. Always two seconds too slow or two inches behind.

In the gym the night of the draft, he’d felt a spark as their fingers brushed, Shane handing back Ilya’s water bottle, but he tried to ignore it. Shane had never been interested in a man before. He’d only dated women, and that was the way it was going to stay. Besides, Ilya had just been drafted to Boston, Montreal’s biggest rival. Nothing good would come from them being friendly, let alone more.

And then the CCM shoot happened. When Shane heard Ilya admit that he had been the one to set it up, something in his gut clenched. And when their eyes met in the showers that evening? Shane couldn’t have pretended that nothing had happened even if he had wanted to. And he did want to. Ilya Rozanov was everything that he had never thought himself capable of having. And he still couldn’t have him. There was not a single MLH player who was out of the closet. Shane was already one of the only Asian hockey players in the league. He couldn’t be the first gay player, too.

He thought that it would be a one-time thing. That Ilya just wanted to mess around with him. But then they met again at the All-Star game, with Scott Hunter in the next room. They’d exchanged numbers, hiding behind fake names so no one would grow suspicious. And then Shane followed Ilya out onto the roof in Vegas the night he won his Rookie of the Year award.

Shane had wanted nothing more than to kiss him on that roof, but he knew he couldn’t. Scott Hunter was looking for Ilya. They had to be careful. It was bad enough that they had nearly been caught at the All-Star Game. They couldn’t do this now, with the entire league a hundred feet away. It would have been a mistake.

But Shane was sure of one thing. If they had done it, it would have been the best mistake he ever made.

It took years for them to plan their next meetup. Every time they planned to be together, something happened to derail their plans. After the third cancellation, shame expected Ilya to tell him to delay his number. Rozanov was all over the internet with models and beautiful women. Shane could not be the only person that Rozanov was able to sleep with, after all.

But he never did.

And then, on the night they were finally going to have sex, Ilya did something Shane never expected him to do. He sexted him right before the fucking game.

Shane was livid, shoving him into the wall of his building’s stairwell. But as he saw the glimmer of amusement in Rozanov’s eyes, he realized that that was exactly what the other man had wanted him to do.

The two of them chased each other up the stairs, shoving at each other as they ran.

Shane had never invited anyone over to his place before, apart from Hayden and JJ coming over to watch a game. Part of him wondered if Rozanov would like his place. Another part of him wondered why he cared.

Rozanov had been his usual self, poking fun at the number of pillows on his bed. And then he looked at Shane, and everything had changed in an instant.

The two of them were naked on the bed, Rozanov pulling back from a kiss to look Shane in the eyes with an intensity that left him breathless.

“You still want?” He asked softly, Shane managing to nod in response.

“I still want.” He said, glancing down at Rozanov’s cock.

“Don’t worry. It will fit.” Rozanov told him, smirking as he kissed Shane again. Shane leaned into the kiss, pulling away after a long moment to grab the lube and condoms out of his bedside drawer.

Rozanov snatched the condoms from his hands, holding up the long strip of packets with a false look of concern. “You think this will be enough?”

“Fuck off.” Shane shoved at him lightly, the other man laughing in response as he leaned back in. Rozanov trailed kissed from Shane’s lips down to his chest, his teeth lightly grazing one of Shane’s nipples. Shane’s breath hitched, and he could feel the other man smirking against his skin as he repeated the action on the other side.

Shane moaned as Rozanov paid attention to his cock, reaching for his hand where he was still caressing Shane’s chest.

Before too long, Rozanov began to prep him, pushing Shane’s legs towards his chest. Shane held them there, moaning with every press of Rozanov’s fingers opening him up.

Before long, Ilya was lining himself up, entering Shane with a pace that bordered on glacial. Shane was grateful for it: He knew that Rozanov was big, but he underestimated how it would feel when he pressed in.

Shane focused on catching his breath, Rozanov’s concerned eyes boring into him. “Is okay?” Shane managed a nod. “Hmm?”

“I’m okay,” Shane reassured him, the other man relaxing as he started to move. He started slow, the pace increasing until Shane thought he would break apart from the force of the momentum. Shane’s hands gripped Rosanov’s arms, moving to his shoulders as the pace increased. He could feel his nails digging into the other man’s skin, and he tried to release his grip.

“Do not worry. I like it.”

“Holy shit, Rozy.” He groaned, the other man capturing his lips in a desperate, bruising kiss.

“You still ok?” Rozanov asked, Shane, nodding again.

“I’m okay.” Shane could feel himself getting close, the sensation building in his gut. Rozanov must have been able to read something in his face because the next thing Shane knew, the other man brought a hand down to tug at his cock. It only took a few strokes before Shane felt himself release, nearly sagging in Rozanov’s grip.

“You didn’t—” Shane started, only for Rozanov to cut him off.

“Do not worry, Hollander. I am not done with you yet.” Rozanov pulled out, Shane immediately feeling empty. He moved backward on the bed, motioning for Shane to flip over.

Shane did as he asked, his heart racing. He felt the other man’s hands settle onto his hips, the other man entering Shane again. Shane felt his breath catch in his throat as his hands scrabbled to grab the sheets in front of him. Shane moaned as Rozanov started to move again. He could feel the other man bending over him, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades as his cross necklace brushed against his skin. Every touch felt like it was setting all of Shane’s nerves on fire at once, and Shane wasn’t sure if he would survive the blaze. He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t supposed to.

“It’s still okay?” Rozanov asked, and Shane nodded as he gasped.

“More than okay. Jesus Christ.”

“You can just call me Rozanov.”

Shane reached back to swat at him, only for the other man to pin his wrist to the small of his back. Shane’s heart raced as he reached back with his other hand, only for Rozanov to hold that one too.

“Be nice, Hollander.” Shane felt himself get hard as Rozanov tightened his grip. “Are you going to be good for me?”

Shane nodded, his mind too flooded with sensation to respond properly. Rozanov let go of his wrists, Shane gripping the sheets beneath him like they were about to be ripped away from him. He moaned into the pillow, knowing he was close to coming again.

“Are you…” Rozanov started to say before he moaned. “Oh God, Hollander!”

Rozanov increased his speed, Shane finding his release for a second time that night. He’d never been able to do that without touching his cock before.

Rozanov found his release shortly after, their heavy breathing filling the quiet apartment. Rozanov pulled out as Shane collapsed boneless onto the bed. She felt the other man brush a kiss across his shoulder and his neck, a hand brushing the sweat-soaked hair off of his brow.

Rozanov moved Shane onto his back, maneuvering him with sure, gentle hands. He collapsed next to him, laying his head on Shane’s chest. The two of them lay there for a long moment, Shane finally speaking as Rozanov pressed a kiss into the kin over his heart.

“Now the bed’s all dirty.”

“What?” Ilya looked up at him before rolling his eyes. “Shut up.”

Shane let out a laugh as Rozanov pulled him into another kiss.

“I will shower now, ok?” He asked when they pulled apart, Shane nodding.

He probably should shower, but part of him couldn’t be bothered to move.

He lay there, floating on a sea of quiet satisfaction as he heard the water running. He’d had sex with women before, but it had never felt like this. He had never felt like this before.

Rozanov came back before Shane knew it, flopping back onto the bed and curling against Shane’s body.

“You killed me, Hollander.” He said with a sigh. “I am dead.”

Shane grinned at him. “That was so fucking hot.”

Rozanov moved so that he was looking up at Shane. “Worth the wait?”

Shane pulled him into a kiss in response, their lips moving slowly, sweetly. When he pulled away, he brushed a kiss across Rozanov’s forehead, the other man giving him a look that he didn’t know how to read.

“I should go.” The other man said after a long moment.

Shane almost asked him to stay longer, but he knew he wouldn’t. It was better if he left now, before anyone wondered what was taking him so long.

Shane got dressed and walked down the stairs with Rozanov. He held his jacket in his arms, sitting on the steps as Rozanov checked outside for his cab.

“So, obviously we won’t see each other during the Olympics, right?” Shane asked, the other man giving a brusque nod.

“Right.”

“Your family must be happy they’re in Russia.”

“Mmm. Yes.”

“My parents are pretty psyched for me,” Shane told him. “They’re pissed they can’t come, but my mom’s threatening to wake up at 4:00 a.m. to watch every game.” He paused for a second. “I bet your parents will be there, right?”

Rozanov shrugged. “My father, yes. Maybe my brother, but who knows?”

Shane wondered about Rozanov’s mother, but figured there must have been a reason why he didn’t mention her.

“Anyways, I’m psyched.” Shane knew he was probably talking too much, but he couldn’t make himself stop. “I’ve been dreaming about it my whole life.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Dreaming of what? Bronze medal?”

Shane scoffed. “You fucking wish, dude.”

Rozanov rolled his eyes, moving closer to Shane. “Hey, uh, remember when I made you come hands-free?”

Shane felt his face heat up. “Go fuck yourself, Rozanov.” He meant it to come out harsh, but instead it sounded soft.

Rozanov reached his step and leaned in, his face inches from Shane’s.

“Such a good trick.” He purred, his voice low.

“Your cab is definitely here.” Shane reminded him. Rozanov gave him a slight smirk before leaning in and kissing him. It was a soft, almost sweet kiss as he pulled away before brushing his lips against Shane’s one more time.

“Bye.” He whispered against Shane’s lips, pulling his jacket out of Shane’s arms as he went to the door.

Shane watched him leave and ended up staying in the stairwell for almost an hour after Rozanov had left. Part of him hoped that the other man would come back and finish what he started, even though he knew he couldn’t.

Another part of him wished that he had been brave enough to ask him to stay the night. It would have been a mistake, Shane knew that. But it would have been the best mistake he could have ever made

~~

Shane had been flying high for weeks off that one night with Rozanov. Something had just clicked for him in a way that he had never had before. Something felt different.

And then Russia happened.

Shane knew that Rozanov must have been taking the loss hard. Losing so early in the Olympics, on his home soil, to fucking Latvia? Shane would have been furious.

He agonized for an hour over whether to text him. He knew the risks; he knew that they shouldn’t be in contact, especially in Russia. But he would have appreciated it if Rozanov had been the one to reach out, so perhaps it was okay.

And then Ilya hadn’t responded. Shane knew that he probably wouldn’t respond, but a part of it stung. So, when he saw Ilya watching the figure skating from an empty box at the top of the stadium where no one was looking, Shane couldn’t resist going up to check on him.

He’d slipped into the box Ilya was in, the other man not even turning around as he approached.

“Hey.” He said softly. Ilya’s frame stiffened ever so slightly. “I saw you up here. I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Fine.” Rozanov’s voice was colder than he had ever heard it before. “Go sit down.”

Shane looked ow at his feet. “I know that it must have been hard for you.

“You do not know anything.”

Shane scoffed at that. “Come on, Rozanov, we—”

Rozanov turned around, his eyes blazing with a fire Shane had never seen before.

“We are not anything.” He spat, Shane almost flinching at the intensity. “Go away, Hollander.”

Shane frowned. Something was wrong; he could feel it. “Are you okay?”

“Please, go.”

“You didn’t answer my text.”

Rozanov scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No, I did not answer your boring text. Now will you go?”

Shane reared back as if stung. “Fine.”

He left and went back to his seat, his cheeks burning.

Carter didn’t seem to notice that he’d left, but Scott gave him a knowing look as he sat back down. Scott knew more than he was willing to divulge; that was for sure. Though that didn’t stop him from chirping at Shane about Rozanov at a game the season before.

Shane tried to focus on the figure skating, ready to support his friend Joe. But part of him kept stealing glances at the top of the arena, where a familiar figure loomed like a dark omen.

He tried to put what had happened with Rozanov out of his mind, focusing on what he was here to do.

Winning his medal at the Olympics was supposed to be the best moment of his life. And in many ways, it was. But part of him was still in that room at the top of the arena, Rozanov’s angry eyes boring into him.

~~

Things didn’t get better after leaving Sochi.

Shane messaged Ilya for six months without a response. Little things at first, desperately trying to get back on track. They played against each other a few weeks later, and Ilya didn’t even look twice at him.

And then the Boston Raiders won the Stanley Cup.

Shane watched as Ilya held the cup over his head, shouting something that was lost in the roar of the crowd.

Shane felt his lip quiver for a moment. If he couldn’t win the cup, part of him, however small a part it was, was glad that Rozanov could.

Even if the man was being a monumental asshole at the moment.

And then they were presenting together at the awards in Vegas. Shabe barely remembered getting ready for the awards, only how nervous he felt backstage waiting for Rozanov. And how furious he’d been when Rozanov showed up late.

Shane knew that he shouldn’t have cared. He knew that whatever Rozanov did or didn’t do with other people was none of his business. But his jealousy was nearly choking him as he made his way off the stage and into a nearby bathroom. And then Rozanov followed him into the bathroom.

When Shane went to his room late that night, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting the other man to do. He hadn’t expected to be sitting on the bed with Rozanov in a nearby chair, watching as Shane touched himself. Things between them remained as hot as ever, but when he walked out the door of Rozanov’s room that night? He felt empty, like something was missing.

The two of them had been sitting next to each other on the bed, and yet Shane had never felt so far away from the other man. The vodka he was given stung as it slid down his throat, Rozanov barely looking at him.

Shane barely remembered to press the button for his floor, the elevator moving as he dug his phone out of his pocket.

He started a new text to Rozanov, the phone shaking ever so slightly in his grip.

Shane: Have a good summer.

He shook his head, deleting the text as his head started to droop.

Shane: We didn’t even kiss.

Fuck.

Shane barely remembered getting back to his room, his hands shaking so badly that it took three tries to get the card into the reader. He stripped off his clothes, stumbled into the shower, and turned the water up as hot as it would go. He needed to do something, anything, to chase the cold from his bones.

He wished that he could say he was surprised at how things had turned out. Ilya hadn’t messaged him in months. What had Shane been thinking about confronting him tonight?

He didn’t expect Rozanov to be like that, though. He had always been so… different before. Gentle. Caring, even.

Shane huffed out a laugh, clumsy fingers knocking over the shampoo bottle. Caring was not a word many would use to describe Ilya Rozanov. And they’d be right not to.

But part of him couldn’t forget how Ilya had checked in on him when they first had sex. How he went slow, waiting until Shane was comfortable. How he kissed him in the stairwell after teasing him about Shane coming hands-free. He had no reason to do it: the hookup had long been over at that point, and the meter was definitely running on the cab. And yet he kissed him in the stairwell as if they had all the time in the world, like Shane was something precious.

That was what hurt the most about that night. They didn’t kiss at all when they were having sex. It was wild, passionate, but detached. It was as though Shane could have been anyone in the room that night.

Maybe it was just another night for Rozanov. Shane knew that he was nothing special in the long run.

He burrowed under the blankets, his hands still shaking. What was wrong with him? Why was he letting this one asshole have this effect on him?

But as Shane went to bed that night, he knew the truth. It wasn’t just anyone who could have that effect on him. It was only Ilya Rozanov.

~~

He’d been back at his cottage for a week, finally feeling back to normal after that night in Vegas, before he got a text from Rozanov.

Shane would have liked to claim that he was calm and collected about the whole thing, but in truth he pounced on his phone the second it rang.

Lily: Have a boring summer.

Shane scoffed, wanting to throw his phone away, but something made him stop.

In all the years they’d been doing whatever they were doing, Ilya had never texted him over the summer.

Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe, just maybe, Rozanov was thinking about him too after what happened in Las Vegas.

Shane thought for a second before tapping out a slightly snarky response.

Shane: Enjoy friendly Russia!

He put down his phone and went back to his yoga, determined to put Ilya Rozanov out of his mind for the rest of the day.

Even if a part of him was hoping that Rozanov was thinking about him as much as Shane was.

Chapter 2:

Ilya knew from the start that Shane Hollander would be his undoing.

From the moment that he saw him out of that rink in Regina on the day of the prospect cup, a lighter in his hands that refused to spark until he heard a voice behind him, he knew that he would be trouble.

It was not the first time that a young man had caught Ilya’s eye. There had been several over the years, starting with his coach’s son back in Moscow. But something about this earnest Canadian with dark eyes and a constellation of freckles upon both cheeks captivated him from the moment their hands touched

Ilya felt those dark eyes upon him everywhere he went for the rest of the World Juniors. He’d look up from the rink during practice and see Hollander in the stands, studying him like a cat observing a mouse.

Not that it did him any good. Ilya won, relishing in the indignant look on the young boy’s face.

Ilya had tried to put it out of his mind as best he could, but then he and Hollander had been called up one after the other in the MLH draft and drafted to rival teams. He remembered looking over the balcony at the draft party, seeing Hollander with his parents. His mother had said something with a bright smile on her face, his father holding her hand as though it were the most precious thing in the world.

Ilya had felt the stirrings of envy deep inside him. He wanted a family like that. Instead, he had his father tell his new coach that Ilya was lazy and unmotivated on the night of the fucking draft. Even when Ilya accomplished everything that he had dreamed about, his father could not wait to be the one to tear him down.

Hollander had looked up at him for a moment, and Ilya had looked away. He did not need the pity of the number two draft pick. He could handle things on his own.

And then their paths crossed again in the gym that night, Hollander rising from the exercise bikes though he was chasing someone who owed him money. He couldn’t resist teasing him in the gym that night, something in his gut clenching at the challenge in those dark eyes and the way Shane bristled like an angry kitten while taking his instruction to drink more water. Then there was the way his eyes lingered when Ilya stood up.

Had it all been in his head? There was only one way to know for sure.

When CCM contacted him about a commercial, it was all too easy to suggest that Hollander join him. The MLH had been marketing their rivalry since before the draft, ever since Ilya’s first victory in the prospect cup. All he had to do was dangle the possibility of that rivalry in front of them, and they jumped at the chance to have them both in the commercial.

And then the two of them went into the shower after the commercial, and he noticed Shane’s eyes upon him.

He knew that he shouldn’t do it. There were a million reasons not to. But Ilya had never shied away from a bit of trouble, and Shane seemed like the kind of mistake he’d regret not making.

So, he asked for Shane’s room number after the shower, the other man giving it to him without hesitation.

Ilya hadn’t been that nervous about a hookup in years. It wasn’t helped by the fact that he ran into Hollander’s mother in the elevator on the way to his room. He regretted closing the elevator door in her face, but he was pretty sure he would regret it more if she had figured out where he was going and what he was planning to do when he got there.

And then he was there in Shane’s room, backing him against the wall and holding his chin as he kissed him. The other man was obviously inexperienced, Ilya could tell that from the first moment he kissed him. But something about him made Ilya want to spend more time with him. To teach him the way he wished someone had taught him.

The next time he came across Hollander, the smug Canadian had shattered the record he had just set at the All-Star game. And then that night, when Ilya thought he’d finally be able to get him out of his system, he was once again delayed by Scott Fucking Hunter in the next room.

Ilya was fairly certain that the last time a dinosaur had cockblocked this well was in Jurassic Park.

He should have stopped it all then. He was young, attractive, and popular. He could have had anyone else he wanted, anyone else in the world.

And yet instead, he gave Hollander his number. And their identities as “Lily” and “Jane” were born.

It took years before he was able to have Hollander the way he wanted him. Missed connections, canceled games, and more delays than he could count. There were dozens of women he could spend his time with. He didn’t have to wait for a boring Canadian hockey player with a weak backhand. And yet, he persisted. He kept messaging him, teasing him. Part of him enjoyed seeing Shane bristle like a kitten spritzed with water, the way he’d gotten in Ilya’s face after Ilya sexted him before a game.

Part of him also liked how Hollander understood him. The two of them were two sides of the same coin, stuck in their paths.

Being with Shane was exactly like he had pictured it. Shane was so responsive under him, and Ilya was entranced by every noise that had fallen from his lips as he made Shane come without even using his hands.

And then Shane had pressed a kiss to his forehead. The last person who had kissed him like that, with pure affection and tenderness, had been his mother before she passed away.

Ilya made an excuse to leave soon after, Hollander insisting on walking him down the stairs as they had just finished a date.

In the stairwell before he left Shane’s apartment that night, he knew he was being foolish. Kissing Hollander like that, sweetly, romantically? It was a step too far. But, for a single moment, Ilya couldn’t understand why it was that he was not allowed to have this. To have him.

~~

Sochi clarified things for him. Russia knocked out of the Olympics by fucking Latvia, the hopes and dreams of his motherland crushed beneath his skates. The prime minister had been disappointed. His father and brother…furious was too kind a word for how they felt.

He only had to make it through a few more days, and then he could get back to his life in Boston. He could forget about his brother demanding money, or the sinking feeling that something was wrong with his father. He could forget about all that Russia had cost him in blood, sweat, and bones in the earth.

And then Hollander found him watching the figure skating event, and Ilya knew one thing for certain.

He could not allow himself to have Shane Hollander. Hollander was kind, earnest, and good. He was everything that Ilya could not allow himself to be. And Ilya would break him. Being with Ilya would destroy everything that made Hollander special. He would hold onto Hollander so tight that he would shatter him with the force of his grip. Hollander didn’t deserve that. He deserved better than Ilya.

So he pushed him away, telling him that they were not anything. He saw the way Hollander flinched back as if stung, but he forced himself not to react. He kept his gaze on the skaters until he heard him walk away, every step echoing. He ignored his texts. He played the game he knew as best as he could, following Svetlana’s careful plan to lead him to victory a year before she had thought possible.

They crushed Montreal in the playoffs. Svetlana’s prediction about their injured goalie was correct. He didn’t give Shane a single glance as he skated off the ice. And then they faced San Francisco.

And then he’d done it. He won the cup. He held it aloft, screaming with the rest of his team, thinking that everything was finally the way it should be. And yet, one thought continued to plague him.

He hoped that Shane Hollander was watching. He hoped that he was seeing what Ilya was truly capable of.

~~

The MLH awards in Vegas came before long, and he and Hollander were both nominated for MVP. What was more, they were both co-presenters of the sportsmanship award.

Ilya tried not to think about how this would be the first time he saw Hollander in months off the ice. Instead, he played it cool, walking up to Hollander right before they were meant to go out on stage. Hollander had been so angry when Ilya had shown up late, though Ilya had tried not to care.

Ilya had sworn that the night in Montreal had been the last time, but he had not been able to get Hollander out of his mind for months. Perhaps what he needed was a true last time, one where he could decide what happened. Where he could decide how far he went and how much of himself he would let Hollander see.

So they went to his room after he’d won the award.

Ilya had thought that Hollander would have shied away from putting on the display that Ilya had asked of him, from having to touch himself while Ilya watched like a king on a throne. But he had risen to the challenge in a way that Ilya had not expected.

Ilya couldn’t resist teasing him about the cup, knowing that it would anger his beautiful boy. Not that Hollander was his. He could never be his, after all.

Things were different afterward. When they had sex in Montreal, they had joked and laughed together in bed. Hollander had leaned over and kissed Ilya on the forehead, the move so tender that it stirred emotions in his heart. Bit in Vegas, after the ward? They sat two feet apart, barely looking at each other. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Shane took a sip of the vodka, wincing at the taste.

And then Hollander asked about Russia and whether he had to go back. And Ilya knew that if he did not stop him, he would tell Hollander all of it. How his father was starting to forget himself. How his brother cared only about how many dollars Ilya could deposit into his account that week. How Ilya had found his mother dead on the floor of her bedroom when he was twelve years old, the stench of vomit filling the air.

How, on his darkest days, Ilya wondered if he would end up just like her. If it was a self-fulfilling prophecy that he follow in her footsteps, the way Alexei had so closely followed in their father’s shadow.

But Ilya could not tell him. So instead, he made up a lie about having to catch an early flight, kicking out Hollander before he gave in to the urge to bare his soul.

The day after the MLH award, Ilya knew that he had made a mistake. He had Hollander in his bed, all to himself, and instead, he kicked him out. He did not even kiss the other man. It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did. He had had many encounters with beautiful women before that did not involve kissing them. But something about the way Shane had looked at him, startled and then sad? It haunted him.

What if Shane never wanted to meet up with him again? What fi that was truly the last time?

That had been what Ilya had wanted after all. One last time, to get Hollander out of his system so he could go back to being what he was meant to be. Russia’s perfect son, who would one day settle down and marry a good Russian girl and carry on his family legacy.

As he boarded his flight to Moscow three days later, one thought kept rattling around in his brain: if what happened with Shane was what he had wanted to happen…why did he feel empty?

~~

Even in the heat of summer, Moscow was cold. His father’s home, so full of life when his mother was alive, felt more and more like a prison with every passing year. Or perhaps it was a tomb. Perhaps Ilya would enter this home one day and never emerge.

After a week of silence from Hollander, Ilya decided to make the first move. It was what he deserved. He had made Hollander chase him for months, after all.

He briefly considered typing out that he missed him, but he shook that thought away as soon as it crossed his mind.

Lily: Have a boring summer.

Satisfied, he sent the text and tried not to think about it.

And then his phone vibrated, and Ilya barely resisted the urge to pounce on it.

He picked it up, flipping it over to see that Shane had texted back.

Jane: Enjoy friendly Russia!

Ilya snorted, putting the phone back down. Maybe things would turn out okay between them.

~~

His summer in Moscow passed slowly, and yet not slow enough. Before he knew it, it was back in Boston, training for the first preseason game. Against Montreal.

The first game after what happened in Vegas was…difficult to say the least. Ilya knew that it would be. He had tried so hard to create some sort of distance between the two of them the night of the awards, some kind of disconnect to fool himself into thinking that what the two of them had was nothing more than physical. But as soon as the door had closed behind Shane, Ilya wanted to run into the hallway and beg him to come back. But he couldn’t. He knew that they couldn’t be anything more than what they already were, and even that was too risky. Hollander had been so perfect for him that entire night, and Ilya hadn’t even been able to bring himself to kiss him. He’d convinced himself that it was better. He did not need to kiss Hollander if Hollander was just a meaningless hookup, after all.

But even knowing that he should stop, that things would go badly for him if he did not stop, he couldn’t keep himself from looking forward to the next time they played against Montreal. So much so that he couldn’t resist teasing Hollander when they met up for the faceoff in the third period.

“Having a good night?” He asked, grinning as Hollander tried to ignore him. “That’s nice. I think there’s still time for a hat trick. Should I do now or wait till last second? ‘Cause I don’t know. Last second is more fun, but…”

Shane stayed focused on the puck, but Ilya still managed to win the face-off.

The Raiders won the game overall, though Hollander and the Metros put up quite a fight. He would expect nothing less from Hollander. When he made his way to Hollander’s apartment after the game, he could feel the anticipation buzzing under his skin. As much as he liked to pretend that what happened between them was nothing special, Ilya knew he would not want to stop whatever they were doing.

Shane opened the door, rolling his eyes at Ilya’s smug grin.

“Don’t gloat.” Shane let him into the apartment. “It’s not attractive.”

Ilya scoffed. “Lies and slander, Hollander. Everything I do is attractive.”

Ilya leaned in to kiss Shane, the other man making as if to dodge the action. Ilya was persistent, though, and moved Shane back until his back hit the wall. He lightly grabbed Shane’s chin with his hand, holding him still as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Shane’s lips. He felt the other man freeze under his touch for a moment, Ilya wondering what that was about, before suddenly responding to the kiss. Shane’s hands reached for Ilya’s shirt, scrabbing underneath it to touch his skin.

“Slow down, Hollander.” Ilya laughed into the kiss, his lips moving to where Shane’s neck met his shoulder, his teeth scraping against the skin. “I do not have to be at hotel for hours, we can take our time.”

“I just- I need you,” Shane murmured, his breath hitching as Ilya’s teeth grazed his neck.

“I know.” Ilya pulled away, holding Shane’s chin as the other man breathed heavily. “Do not worry: I will take care of you.”

Something in Shane’s expression relaxed at that, and the other man pushed Ilya towards the stairs.

Ilya couldn’t resist the urge to smirk as Hollander led him upstairs. He was in a spirited mood tonight, which would only make this more fun for him.

And that night, when he fucked him into the mattress and made him come hands free? Ilya made sure to kiss him every chance he got.

~~

Things changed after that night. Shane wasn’t sure how to explain it. Rozanov had made it clear in Vegas: this was just sex, nothing else.

Shane had adhered to that as best as he could, even attempting to avoid kissing him during their next hookup.

But then Rozanov had kissed him instead, his hand holding Shane’s face as though he were something precious.

Maybe it was crazy. Maybe it was all in his head.

But then after that? Rozanov started texting him more. Usually, their texts revolved around when they would next meet, or Rozanov would sext him when he least expected it. Shane had gotten used to that. He expected it.

This was something different.

After a game where Drapeau had flung himself on top of the puck to keep it from going in the goal? Rozanov sent a picture of the moment with the message “your goalie is sleeping on job. Will make winning the cup easier this year.”

After Shane had scored a hat trick and the fans had thrown hats onto the ice? “Is good that none of the hats hit your head. Would hate to damage your pretty face.”

Shane didn’t know what to make of any of it. He also didn’t know what to do with the idea that Rozanov was watching his games.

And through it all, Shane kept meeting up with him every time they were in the same city. And every time they met, Rozanov would kiss him the way Shane wished he had in Las Vegas.

~~

Shane had never felt more awkward than he did the day that he did the Calvin Klein ad campaign. He couldn’t believe that he had let his mother talk him into it.

And then he saw the massive ad in downtown Montreal.

His team gave him a hard time about it at first, but after a week, Shane had all but forgotten about it. And then he got a text from Rozanov the next time that Boston played in Montreal.

Lily: So Montreal needs psychological warfare to win now?

Shane: ? What are you talking about?

Lily sent back a picture of Shane’s ad in downtown Montreal, Shane rolling his eyes at the fifty-foot version of him stretched out on the side of a building.

Lily: This is the view from my hotel window.

Shane smirked, tapping out a reply.

“Shane: At least it’s a good view. Gives you something to look forward to after the game.

Lily: So now you are good at sexting and mind games? Tonight should be interesting.

Shane grinned. It was nice to know that he was the one driving Rozanov crazy, for once.

~~

One day. Shane received a text as soon as he arrived home from practice.

Lily: So, you are cheater now?

Shane frowned in confusion, tapping out a response.

Shane: What do you mean?

Rozanov sent Shane a picture in response, Shane groaning when he realized what it was. His mother had arranged for him to be the face of a new energy drink company, the commercial having been filmed over the summer.

He’d hated that day. They insisted on spraying him with water, leaving his shirt see-through, expecting him to be happy about being soaked to the skin. And yet, somehow that was easier than actually drinking the overly sweet energy drink.

Shane: How does my doing a commercial make me a cheater?

Lily: You are cheating on ginger ale!

Shane laughed a little before his brow furrowed.

Shane: How do you even know I like ginger ale?

There was silence for a long moment before Rozanov replied.

Lily: Even people who do not know anything about you know that you like ginger ale. Is open secret.

Shane frowned. That wasn’t the case at all. His own team barely knew that he liked ginger ale.

His phone buzzed with another text.

Lily: Does not matter. You can have ginger ale as consolation when I beat you next week.

Shane rolled his eyes as he tapped out a response.

Shane: In your dreams.

~~

Shane knew he was going to hear from Rozanov as soon as the new campaign dropped. Rolex had wanted him to do a new advertisement after his second Stanley Cup win.

Sure enough, mere hours after the ad started to play, he got a text.

Lily: So you are model now?

Shane rolled his eyes before tapping out a response.

Shane: fuck off, it’s not like I asked to do it.

Lily: No, its good. Maybe is sign you should give up hockey and go into modeling full-time. Might make you less boring.

Shane huffed out a breath of annoyance before smirking.

Shane: Sounds like you just don’t want any competition.

Lily: like you are competition for me? You are second-best player in MLH.

Shane grinned to himself as he typed out a response.

Shane: Why don’t you get back to me after you’ve won back-to-back Cups?

There was silence for a long moment, and Shane worried that he had gone too far. And then he got a response.

Lily: Wow, someone has improved their chirping. Perhaps I can get demonstration next time you are in town?

Shane laughed, rolling his eyes and putting down his phone.

~~

“She’s what?” Shane asked, sure that he had heard that wrong.

He was out with Hayden and his kids when his best friend dropped a bomb on him.

“Pregnant,” Hayden repeated. “Jackie’s pregnant.”

“Again?” Shane said without thinking, Hayden laughing in response.

“Jesus Christ, man, you have got to work on your lying. Say something like ‘Hayden, what great news!’ or ‘Hayden, I’m so happy for you!’”

“No, I mean, a fourth kid, that’s awesome, man. Really.” Shane ran a hand through his hair. “Holy shit, dude.”

“You can’t find me!” one of Hayden’s girls shouted, and Hayden sighed.

“Ruby! Emma! Slow down!” he called out, one of his girls nearly running into another aquarium goer. “Ruby!”

“How do you know it’s Ruby?” Shane asked.

“Because she’s a beast,” Hayden told him before giving Shane a look. “So?”

Shane gave him a confused look in return. “So what?”

“So, when are you going to join me in this nightmare?” Hayden waved his hand around at his kids.

Shane froze for a second before flashing Hayden a grin. “You want to get me pregnant, too?” he let out a dramatic sigh. “I don’t think I’m ready. I think I still have some

good hockey left in me.”

“How does no one else realize how much of an asshole you are?”

“I have a very good agent.”

Hayden rolled his eyes. “You ever talk to that ex of yours? What was it, Jennifer?”

“Uh, Jessica.” Shane corrected.

“You ever hit that?”

Shane made a disgusted face. “Don’t say ‘hit that.’”

“Sorry, Virgin Mary.” Hayden scoffed before handing Shane the baby. “Here, tag! You are it.” He watched as Shane adjusted Arthur in his arms, a soft look crossing his face. “Look, I’m just saying, man, if you ever do, you could bring her around, you know? We’d do couple stuff. It’d be fun.”

Shane shook his head. “I don’t see her anymore. I think she’s

engaged or something.”

“Fair enough. So, um…Jackie has this friend, right?”

Shane fucking knew this was coming. “Hayd…come on.”

“Dude, she’s fucking hot,” Hayden told him. “She teaches, like, mommy yoga or something.” He paused, thinking. Maybe it’s just stretching, but she’s fucking hot. And she’s funny.”

“Swear jar, two times.” Shane pointed out.

“Oh, fuck.”

“That’s three.”

“ok, come on, man. Why not?”

Shane wished he had a good answer for him. It wasn’t like he could say “Because I’ve been fucking Ilya Rozanov since my rookie season and he’s kind of ruined me for anyone else.” Hayden would think he was insane if he said that, and maybe he was.

“Can I just show you her Insta?” Hayden asked, Shane knowing that Hayden wouldn’t let it go unless he said yes.

“Fine.” Shane sighed. He could at least look at the woman Hayden was talking about, even if he knew deep down that she would fall short of what he had with Rozanov.

“Yes!” Hayden pumped the air. “ok, good. Jackie will be happy.”

Shane raised an eyebrow. “We both have to make your wife happy now?”

“Yeah, damn right we do if you want her to make your gross food and keep my house stocked with ginger ale.”

“Ginger ale is a great soda.”

“And you are literally the only person who drinks it.”

Before Shane could retort, the girls started chasing each other and shouting, Hayden suddenly on high alert.

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” He started off after his kids. “Ruby, you’re going to kill her.”

Shane sighed, looking down at the baby in his arms as small fussing noises reached his ears.

“Tell your dad to leave me alone.” He said softly. “I’m fine.”

Arthur gurgled in his arms, not believing him either.

Chapter 3:

“But this is Shane Hollander’s fortress of solitude,” the female voice-over said, panning to shots of a lake and a glass-walled mansion.

Ilya was sitting on the couch, watching this program on Shane Hollander and trying to act as though he wasn’t absorbing every small detail about Shane’s summer home.

It wasn’t the first time that he had sat on this couch and watched Hollander on his screen. This was where he had been sitting each time that Hollander had won the cup, tapping out a congratulatory message as he watched him skate around the rink in victory.

He wondered if that was how Hollander had felt when he had watched Ilya win. At least he had responded to Ilya’s messages. He hadn’t given him that same courtesy when he had won the Cup. he would have to do better next time. Hollander deserved better than that.

“Here in Eastern Quebec is the house he had built on a private lake.” The voice-over continued as it switched to a shot of Shane doing yoga by the lakeside. Ilya tried to ignore his cock hardening at the sight of Shane’s flexibility. It made him wonder if he’d be able to fold Hollander in half when he fucked him. Perhaps they should give that a try next time.

“It’s my favorite place on Earth.” The camera panned to Shane sitting on the edge of the lake. “My parents’ cottage, where I spent summers growing up, is 10 minutes away.”

“I’m ready.” Svetlana came into the living room, adjusting her earrings. She raised an eyebrow at what Ilya was watching, Ilya resisting the urge to jump and change the channel like he’d been caught watching porn. He supposed that in a way, he had. Everything that Shane Hollander did was arousing to him.

“Unless you’ve decided we should stay in and watch…” she snorted. “…whatever this is.”

“Sorry.” Ilya feigned blinking back to awareness. “It’s so fucking boring I almost fell into a coma.”

“Mmm.” Svetlana leaned in, the camera panning to yet another shot of Shane doing yoga. “He’s fucking hot, though.”

Ilya hummed, trying not to react. Shane was hot; he knew that, but he couldn’t admit it. Not even to his oldest friend.

Ilya grabbed his coat, turned off the TV and followed Svetlana out of his house.

“Are you seeing anyone these days?” Svetlana asked, glancing over at him as they rode to their destination.

“Are you jealous?” he raised an eyebrow, and she scoffed, giving him a look.

“No. I think you know me better than that.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I make you crazy with jealousy.”

“You wish,” she said, picking up her phone. “So there’s no one serious?

“Nope.”

“Not even Jane?” she asked, her tone all too casual as Ilya resisted the urge to stiffen.

“What?” he asked, trying to stay casual.

From the look she shot him, he had utterly failed.

“You’ve been texting Jane for years,” she pointed out. “I thought maybe it was serious,” she paused for a moment, wrinkling her nose. “Or something.”

“It’s not serious,” Ilya told her. “Or anything.”

“Okay.” She didn’t sound as though she believed him, but she let it go. “Sasha says hi. He wants to know if you’d like him to visit.”

Ilya looked back at the TV screen, where Shane was sitting on a rock overlooking the lake at sunset. He wished he could step through the TV screen and be there with him. That he could have Hollander in the daylight instead of skulking in the shadows.

“No.” Ilya finally said, not taking his eyes off the screen. “I do not think that is a good idea.”

~~

Later that night, as Svetlana slept beside him, Ilya had a thought. A way for him to have Shane in the daylight for a moment, even if that was all he could have.

The next day, he texted Hollander after practice.

Lily: Come over to my house the day before the game in Boston. You get in early that day. Come by once you check in.

“Roz, you still seeing that Montreal girl?” Cliff asked as they changed after practice.

“Yes, when we are in same city.” Ilya responded, eyes on his phone. He’d long given up hiding the existence of Jane from Marley. He was not stupid, despite what the rest of the league thought, and he was Ilya’s best friend on the team.

“Damn, must be getting serious,” Marley said, Ilya finally seeing Hollander respond.

Jane: Okay.

Ilya grinned, fidgeting with his mother’s cross.

“What’s with the grin?” Marley asked, Ilya looking up at him.

“Jane is going to come to my house next time she is in Boston.” Ilya finally admitted. “This is first time we have ever done this.”

Marley clapped him on the back, grinning. “All right! Good job, Roz.”

“It’s nothing, just–”

“Ilya.” Marley gave him a look. “I’m not going to pry. I’m just happy for you. If you need anything, let me know, okay?” he grabbed his bag and started to leave. “You deserve to be happy. I hope she can help with that.”

He left, and Ilya was left alone in the locker room.

“Yeah,” Ilya said out loud, his voice echoing in the empty room. “I hope so too.”

Ilya grabbed his bag, typing with one hand as he made a list of everything he needed to do to make Hollander feel comfortable in his home.

If this was going to be his one chance, if this was all he was ever going to be able to have with Shane…he had to do it right.

~~

Shane could barely keep the anticipation from bubbling up through check-in. This was the first time he and Rozanov had met up before a game. And it was the first time that Shane was going to his house instead of a hotel room.

Part of him worried that something might be wrong. They never met before a game, only after. What if this was Ilya telling him that they were through, and he had found someone else?

No, that couldn’t be it. Ilya would have just ghosted him again if he didn’t want to see him, after all. Shane had nothing to worry about.

He made it to the room he was sharing with Hayden, Ilya texting him his address. He managed to wait a few minutes before getting to his feet and grabbing his jacket.

“I’m, uh, heading out for a bit.” He mentioned as he headed to the door.

“Cool.”

“I’m just going to meet a friend.” He tried to sound casual. “I’ll be back later.”

Based on the look Hayden gave him, he failed at being casual. “I won’t wait up.”

“It’s not like that.” Shane argued, knowing that it was, in fact, exactly like that. “It’s just a… a friend. We’re just going to hang out. Like friends do.”

Hayden raised an eyebrow. “So Lily’s just a buddy?”

The blood in Shane’s veins turned to ice. “What?”

“Chill.” Hayden rolled his eyes. “I know you text a Lily. You’ve been doing it for years, and you are not subtle.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hayden snorted. “Okay, go get laid, weirdo.” He paused. “Or don’t. I don’t care.”

“Good.”

“I hope you do get laid, though. You always play better after seeing her.”

Shane bristled. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Oh, I plan to.” Hayden waggled his eyebrows. “Probably more than once. Gotta love having private time in a hotel room.”

“Gross.” Shane made a face and ran for the door before Hayden could give him any more details. “Bye!”

He could hear Hayden cackling as the door shut behind him and Shane closed his eyes tight. Maybe if he concentrated he could forget the last few moments had ever happened.

He knew that Hayden had sex, because there was no other way to explain the sheer number of kids that the other man had, but that didn’t mean he ever needed to hear anything about it.

Shane shuddered as he went to the elevator, taking out his phone to call an Uber.

~~

Shane walked through the streets of Rozanov’s neighborhood, head down with his hood up. He’d asked the Uber driver to drop him off a few blocks away, just in case someone saw him being dropped off at Rozanov’s house.

As he reached the address Rozanov had sent him, Shane was surprised to see a house that looked a bit like his cottage. Shane wasn’t sure what he was expecting Rozanov’s house to look like, but somehow it still surprised him,

Shane knocked on the door, and Rozanov opened it after what felt like an eternity. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants that hung almost tantalizingly low on his hips.

“Are you going to stand out here all day, or are you going to come in?” Rozanov asked with a raised eyebrow. Shane flushed as he realized that he’d been staring at Ilya’s bare chest for longer than he should have.

“Sorry.” He shouldered past him, the other man letting out an amused chuckle.

“Do not apologize. Is good that you want to look. Is a good sight, no?”

Shane rolled his eyes, pausing just inside the door.

“Do I take my shoes off?” Shane asked, already ready to toe them off and place them just inside the door

“No, you’re good.” Rozanov told him as Shane got a good look at the house.

“Wow.” he took a step inside, taking off his jacket and hanging it on a hook. His house was modern, with large glass windows and clean edges. It reminded Shane a bit of his cottage, if he were being honest, but he knew that was just a coincidence.

“Wow!” he said again, entering the open plan kitchen. “This place is great. “Did you get this built, or do you know who did?”

Rozanov, who had trailed behind him, gave a light snort. “Mr. Real Estate.”

Shane rolled his eyes at him. “That’s not what I meant. I just…” Rozanov moved towards him, Shane swallowing hard. “You think we need to talk?”

“No, after.”

“Okay.”

Rozanov moved towards Shane, claiming his mouth in a kiss that left them both breathless. Shane was dimly aware of them moving backward, his hip letting the edge of the kitchen island. Before he could move away, Ilya had lifted him onto the island in one fell swoop, Shane laughing into his mouth. He’d only ever been with women before: he’d never had a partner who could manhandle him and lift him like he weighed nothing. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy it.

~~

Ilya glanced over at Shane after they’d finished, not believing that they were there together. Shane had never come to his house before. They’d never been to each other’s houses before at all: Ilya was not stupid, he knew that the condo they met at in Montreal was not where Shane lived.

But now Shane was here, in his bed, stretched out in his dark blue sheets like he had been there a million times before. Like he belonged there.

“I should go,” Shane admitted, starting to pull away.

“Or you could stay,” Ilya suggested, trying to keep his voice calm. His feet shifted underneath the blanket as he waited for Shane to respond.

“Stay?” Shane asked, something in his eyes that Ilya feared reading into. “Here? With you?”

“Well, I am not going to leave Hollander. It’s my house.”

Shane flushed a deep red, his freckles standing out more. “Right. I just meant–”

“Hollander, stay here tonight.” Ilya pressed a kiss to Shane’s shoulder, feeling the other man relax into his touch. “I am not done with you,” he pulled away, forcing his tone to be more nonchalant. “And we have afternoon game tomorrow, so no morning practice.”

Shane’s eyes darkened for a moment before he pulled away. “I told Hayden I’d be back tonight.”

“Is Hayden your mother?” Ilya asked, eyebrow raised.

“No.”

“No, he’s not?”

“Fuck off.” Shan made a face at him

“Who cares what you told Hayden?” Ilya knew that he was close to overplaying his hand, but he did not care. He wanted more time with Hollander. He wanted everything he could get with him.

“Stay.” He said one final time, hoping that it would be enough.

Shane was quiet for a long moment, and then he finally nodded. “Okay.”

Ilya couldn’t believe it. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Shane paused. “I just have to be back in time–”

“Yes, Hollander. I will get you back in plenty of time for you to lose to me on the ice. Just stay with me for now.”

“Fuck you.” Shane shoved him. “But yes, I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Ilya pulled Shane close, moving them so they were lying down. “And now we sleep.”

“And people say I’m bossy.”

Ilya nipped at Shane’s ear, the other man letting out a yelp.

“Come now, Hollander. You need all the rest you can get before tomorrow’s game if I am to feel good about beating you.”

“In that case, maybe I should leave.” Shane made no effort to move from Ilya’s arms, but Ilya let out an annoyed huff anyway.

“No, I think you are stuck with me now.”

Shane yawned, his eyes already drifting closed. “Okay.”

Ilya watched him for a moment longer, not able to believe that Shane had actually stayed. And then his eyelids began to grow heavy, and he joined Shane in his rest.

~~

Ilya woke first, his arms wrapped around Shane. He blinked awake, taking in the sight before him. Earlier, he’d thought that there wasn’t a more beautiful sight than Shane on top of him, riding his cock like he had been born to do so.

But this moment, with Shane curled up in his bed, in Ilya’s arms? That was the most beautiful thing he could have ever imagined.

He couldn’t see Shane’s face from his current position. He wondered what it looked like when Shane was asleep, with none of the pressures of his day-to-day life weighing upon him.

Ilya wanted to see that. He wanted to see Shane at peace with himself, as if nothing else mattered. He wanted Shane to wake up in his bed, in his arms, for the rest of his life.

But he couldn’t have that. He knew it was impossible. If the league found out, if his family got word of what he was doing with his supposed rival? He would never be able to go home again. He would not be able to say goodbye to his father before he passed, or see his mother’s grave one last time.

And yet, some part of him thought that having Shane might be worth all of that.

But he knew better. Instead, he would focus on this one day. He would let himself have Shane Hollander the way that he wanted to for a single day.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

He felt Shane start to stir, and Ilya closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. He felt Shane twist around in his arms, and he remained still until he felt Shane brush a kiss across his brow.

It was different than the first time Shane had kissed him like that in Montreal. That time felt almost absentminded, as if Shane was operating on instinct.

This…this felt like a choice that Shane made.

“Mmm.” Shane leaned into Ilya’s arm, curling against him like a sleepy cat.

Ilya yawned. “I’m hungry.”

“For what?” He could hear the smile in Shan’s voice, and Ilya squeezed his chest playfully.

“For food, pervert.” Ilya untangled himself from Shane, grabbed clothes for the two of them, and got dressed. Shane followed suit, and soon he was sitting at Ilya’s kitchen island as Ilya slid a can of ginger ale over to him.

He hoped he wouldn’t ask why Ilya just happened to have ginger ale in his apartment. Maybe he could pass it off as something a teammate enjoyed.

“You like tuna melt?” He asked, looking at Shane from across the island. He tried not to think about how good Shane looked in his clothes. How right all of this felt.

A strange expression crossed Shane’s face. “You want to make me a tuna melt?”

Ilya shrugged, trying to act like it was nothing and that he hadn’t bought the ingredients for a tuna melt because Shane mentioned liking them in an interview after his first Cup win. “I was going to make one for me. I can make two.”

Shane nodded, that strange expression still on his face. “Yeah. that-that would be nice.”

Ilya turned to get the ingredients from the fridge, jumping for joy on the inside.

“You head to Florida after this, right?” he asked as he grabbed the ingredients.

“Yeah, right after the game,” Shane said as Ilya placed the ingredients on the island. “We go to Tampa, then Sunrise, then Dallas, and St. Louis.”

“Ah, all the hot spots,” he quipped, Shane snorting in response.

Ilya quickly assembled the tuna melts, putting them in the panini press to cook. “Ginger ale cold enough?”

“Yeah, it’s great.” Shane took another sip.

“Good.” Ilya let himself give Shane a small smile. “Food will be ready soon.”

Shane let out a breath, shifting in his seat. “What do you want to do until it’s ready? I think the Buffalo game is on.”

Ilya let out a small laugh. “Even when relaxing, you are thinking about hockey, huh?”

Shane looked down, a light flush obscuring his freckles. “I guess I’m a little obsessed.”

Ilya shook his head. “Do not misunderstand, I like it. You would have been a Russian hockey coach’s dream player: all about the game, all the time.”

Shane looked up, his expression a little lighter. “So does that mean you want to watch the game?”

Ilya let out a sigh, pretending to give in. He couldn’t let Hollander know that he would do anything he asked. “Fine. Maybe watching a terrible team lose will prepare you for Montreal losing tomorrow.”

“Fuck you, Rozanov, we’re going to wipe the floor with you.”

“If you say so, Hollander.”

The two of them moved to the living room where Shane immediately took a seat on the couch. Ilya stayed standing, switching on the game just in time for them to see Ryan Price lay out a defenseman with one punch.

“Jesus Christ!” Ilya swore, looking at the TV. Even for hockey, that was a brutal hit.

“You know this guy, Ryan Price?” Ilya asked, pointing at the TV.

“Yeah, from playing against him and not wanting to fight him,” Shane snorted. “You did a season with him, right?”

“Mmm.” Ilya nodded, looking at Shane as he took a seat on the couch. He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back, as if trying to stop himself from reaching out and pulling Shane close. “He is not what you would think.”

“How so?”

Ilya frowned to himself, trying to figure out the best way to phrase it. Sometimes he hated that English was his second language. Things were so much easier in Russian. “Like, he’s quiet.” He finally said. Doesn’t talk. Keeps to himself. Not bad guy. But doesn’t make friends.”

“Well, he gets traded every season.” Shane pointed out, and Ilya nodded. “Tough to make friends that way.”

“Probably he wants to get traded again,” Ilya suggested. “Buffalo is terrible.”

“Yeah, and their team sucks too.” Shane quipped, Ilya snorting in surprise. Shane made jokes so rarely that it took Ilya by surprise every time.

“And people say you’re not funny.” Ilya chuckled, Shane giving him an offended look.

“They do?”

“Yeah. They say you’re boring, too.” Ilya told him, chuckling at the offended kitten look on Shane’s face.

“Who says that?”

“Me.” Ilya let out a wink, and Shane laughed.

“What’s your favorite city to play in?” Shane asked, Ilya blinking at the change in subject.

“On the road?”

Shane nodded and Ilya thought for a moment. No one had asked him that in a while, if they had ever asked him that at all. That was what made Shane so different: he asked questions and genuinely wanted to know the answers. Ilya had never met someone like him before.

“I like New York, ’cause it’s New York,” he snorted. “They fucking hate me there.”

“They hate you everywhere.”

“No, not Florida.” Ilya corrected him. “It’s full of Boston people,” Shane nodded at that, and Ilya turned to him. “And you?”

“Uh, I like Ottawa, ’cause it’s my hometown,” Shane told him, Ilya unsurprised “Toronto, Winnipeg…I’m happy they have a team again.”

Ilyas couldn’t help but laugh as Shane listed the most boring cities in North America to play hockey in.

“What, are those boring answers?” Shane frowned at him, and Ilya let out a laugh.

“Yes!”

“Well, I like the hot places too,” Shane defended Ilya raising an eyebrow at him. “Hot, like weather hot.”

“Ah, okay.” Ilya did not believe him for a second, but that was okay. He could be exciting enough for both of them.

“LA is hot,” he offered after a long moment, wanting to test a theory he had about Shane Hollander. “Hot women.”

He saw Shane tense out of the corner of his eye, the moment over in an instant. “Yeah, sure. I mean, there are hot women everywhere.”

Ilya hummed, trying to think of what else he could say.

“There is a girl I like here very much, Svetlana.”

“Oh?” Shane’s voice was almost too casual, and Ilya couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. He seemed fixated on the TV in front of him.

“She’s old friend, from Russia.” Ilya explained, seeing Shane’s jaw twitch ever so slightly. “Her father was famous goaltender of Soviet team. She knows everything about hockey.” Ilya could hear himself bragging a little, but he could not help it. Svetlana was his best friend in addition to being his lover. He would sing her praises from the rooftop if he could.

“Cool.” Shane took another bite of his sandwich

“And she likes you very much,” Ilya told him, seeing Shane freeze.

“Oh.” He said, Ilya watching as he took a long drink, the muscles in his throat working. “That’s nice.”

Ilya knew he should stop pushing, but part of him wanted to see Shane’s reaction. “Maybe I give her your number, if you ever decide you want an actual Boston girl.”

He watched as Shane’s eyes went wide, the other man giving him a strange look. “Why are you offering me your girlfriend’s number, Rozanov?”

Ilya chuckled. “Oh no, you misunderstand me. Svetlana is not my girlfriend.”

“She’s not?”

“No. She’s old friend.” Ilya paused for a moment before elaborating. “Sometimes we fuck, but…” he shrugged. “She’s busy these days, you know, new business selling fancy cars.”

“Wow.” Shane’s face was hard for Ilya to read. “So she’s the one behind your massive sports car collection. Sounds perfect for you.”

“Yes, it’s close to that, but…” Ilya trailed off, and he could see Shane giving him an impatient look.

“But what?”

“But it’s nothing more than that for either of us.” Ilya shrugged. “But it’s nice to have

regular woman like that around.

Shane raised an eyebrow at him. “You think she’s the only woman in Boston who’d sleep with you?”

“Mmm.” Ilya took a sip of his drink before answering. “I think I could find someone else. An actress, or a model.” He gave Shane a cheeky grin. But you know me. I’m lazy, so…”

Shane shook his head, an intensity in his eyes that took Ilya’s breath away. “I don’t know that side of you at all.”

Ilya froze, pinned by Shane’s stare. He could feel himself lean in, ever so slightly.

And then the timer went off for the oven. Shane went as if to get up, but Ilya waved him off.

“No, stay, stay. I’ll get it.”

“Are you sure?”

“You are my guest, Hollander. Let me take care of you.”

Ilya retreated to the kitchen, placing his hand on the counter and taking a deep breath. Maybe this was a mistake. He had never spent so much time alone with Hollander before. With every passing second, he could feel his resolve slipping. But he would remain strong. He could do this. He could be here with Hollander and now let on how he felt.

He plated up the sandwiches and brought them to the living room. Shane took the plate from him with a smile, and Ilya sat on the couch next to him.

“You like them?” Ilya asked, trying to get the conversation from earlier back on track as they ate.

“Yeah.” Shane wiped his mouth, nodding at Ilya as he chewed. “I love tuna melts.”

Ilya tried to forget the hour he spent formulating a grocery list based on Hollander’s food preferences, rolling his eyes. “Not the sandwich, Hollander.”

Shane gave him a confused look.

“Girls.” Ilya clarified, raising an eyebrow at Shane. “I never hear about you with girls.”

“I mean, it’s private.” Shane flushed a deep red and Ilya couldn’t resist the urge to tease him.

“Right, private.” Ilya snorted. “Like who you fuck in your spare time is so scandalous. Other than me, of course.”

Shane flushed a deeper red. “I keep a lot of things private. Obviously.”

Ilya shrugged, figuring there was more to the story but knowing Hollander wouldn’t appreciate him pushing.

“I like girls.” Ilya volunteered.

Shane huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, no shit.”

“But I also like you.” Ilya set, Shane letting out a laugh.

“Lucky me.”

Ilya thought he was showing too much, so he tried to pull back. “Not as person, of course.”

“Of course not, I’m boring.”

Ilya leaned in close, catching a bit of sauce from the corner of Hollander’s mouth with his thumb. “But you have a good mouth.” He could feel Shane’s eyes on him as he licked the sauce off his thumb, the other man’s face turning pink.

Ilya loved making his kotik blush. It made his constellations of freckles all the more prominent.

And then Ilya’s phone rang, and Ilya pulled away with a sigh. He checked his phone, stiffening when he saw his father’s number flashing across the screen. His father rarely called him, and it was never for good reasons.

“Sorry. I have to take this.” He stepped away, answering his phone.

“Hello, Father.” He said before his father cut him off.

“Didn’t you get my message?”

“Yes, I got your message.”

“Well, you didn’t answer me.” Something in his father’s voice sounded off, and Ilya’s blood ran cold.

“I did answer you, Father.” he tried to keep his voice calm, knowing that anger would no go over well when his father was like this. “We spoke yesterday.”

“Liar!”

“Father…” Ilya ran a hand through his hair. He tried to keep his voice down, knowing that Shane was on the couch nearby watching him. “Father, where is Alexei?”

“Who?”

“My brother Alexei.” Ilya reminded him. “Is he there with you?”

“No!”

“Are you alone?” Ilya tried to keep from panicking. “Is Polina there?”

“Who is that?”

“Polina, she is your wife.”

“My wife is your mother, Irina.”

Ilya let out a breath. “Father, stay calm. I will call Alexei. I will call him.

Ilya quickly dialed Alexei’s number, his voice dropping into a furious hiss when his brother’s drowsy voice answered the phone.

“Where the fuck are you?” He hissed. “Dad is alone, and he’s freaking out.”

“Relax, Ilya. I’ll swing by later when I get some coffee.”

Ilya could barely keep his voice low. “I fucking pay you to be there with him, you asshole!”

“If you cared so much, why aren’t you here with him?”

“You smug piece of–”

“I’d stop now, Ilya.”

Alexei hung up the phone, Ilya’s blood boiling at his dismissive attitude.

This was the man whom he trusted with his father. How could Alexei care so little about their own father?

He made his way back over to the couch, flopping down next to Shane. He could tell that the other man was giving him a look, but he tried to ignore it. He picked up his sandwich, finished what remained, and then turned to Shane.

“You still hungry?” He asked.

Shane shook his head. “No, but thank you. That was great.”

“Good.” Ilya nodded. “I am glad you enjoyed it.”

There was silence for a moment and then–

“How is your father?” Shane asked, and Ilya froze. Trying to remain casual, he turned to Shane.

“Ah, you speak Russian now?” Ilya asked, eyebrow raised.

Shane gave him a look. “I know the word for father.”

Iya shrugged. “Family is complicated.”

Ilya leaned back against the couch cushions, pulling Shane with him. He maneuvered the other man until his head was resting on Ilya’s chest, just above his heart. Ilya carded hand through Shane’s hair, inky tendrils twisting around his fingers. He pressed a kiss to Shane’s head, hoping that Shane would mistake it as his hand moving through his hair.

Ilya could not offer his heart to Shane Hollander. He knew that would never be possible. But he could give Shane this moment between them. A movement that Ilya would carry in his heart for the rest of his days, a constant reminder of the man he could not allow himself to love.

They stayed like that for a moment, suspended in time like a bug in amber, when Ilya suddenly felt Shane’s hand on his cock through his sweatpants. Shane turned his head, pressing a kiss to Ilya’s heart before trailing his lips down his stomach. Ilya arched into the touch, his movements slow and unhurried.

This wasn’t like every other time they had been together. They did not only have a few stolen hours. They had all day and all night. There was no need to rush.

Shane started to nose at Ilya’s cock, Ilya slipping his hands under Shane’s borrowed t-shirt to caress him. And then Shane lifted his head, moving to straddle Ilya. He pulled off his shirt, leaning in to kiss Ilya even as his hands went to the waistband of the other man’s sweats. Ilya lifted the two of them off the couch for a moment, just long enough for him to push his sweatpants down to his ankles, before groaning into Shane’s mouth as the other man reached for his cock.

Shane barely lifted from his lap long enough to take off his own pants, sinking down onto Ilya’s cock before he could blink.

“Oh, fuck.” Ilya groaned, Shane pressing his lips to Ilya’s brow.

The two moved together as if they had become one, Ilya groaning with every move of Shane’s body against him.

“Oh, fuck, Hollander!” he said, feeling Shane’s grin where his lips wre pressed against his neck.

Ilya pulled Shane’s lips to his, giving him a hungry kiss.

“You gonna come for me, Rozanov?” Shane asked as they broke away, Ilya growling in response.

“Fucking make me,” Ilya said before keening high in his throat.

He could feel his release coming, his gut clenching as the sensations spiraled higher and harder.

“Oh, fuck, Shane!” Ilya called out, sagging against the couch cushions as he came.

“Ilya.” Shane sighed in response, coming right after him.

The two of them stayed locked together, frozen in the heat of the moment, before Ilya realized something that made his heart stop.

He’d called Shane by his first name. They never did that in all the years that they’d been doing this. How could he have been so stupid? Hollander was going to overthink this and run.

Just then, he heard Shane swear and start to move away from him.

“What is wrong?” Ilya asked, a part of him knowing the answer.

He had been too much, like he always was, and now Hollander was going to leave the way everyone did.

“Fuck. I am so sorry.” Shane kept saying as he pulled away from Ilya, starting to get dressed. “I need to fix this.”

Ilya felt his heart drop, and then–

“Where do you keep your cleaning supplies?”

Ilya blinked at him in confusion. “My what?”

“I messed up your couch. I have to clean it!”

Ilya looked to his side, and he could see white drops against his couch. He burst out laughing, Shane glaring at him.

“This is not a laughing matter, Rozanov!”

“No, I know.” Ilya got up, grabbing Shane around the waist and throwing him over his shoulder. “But maybe we should get clean before we worry about the couch. Hmm?”

“Put me down!” Shane pounded against his back, Ilya barely noticing. “We are the same size. How are you able to do this?”

Ilya rolled his eyes. “Hollander, you were drowning in my shirt. We are not the same size.”

“That shirt is oversized!”

“Not that oversized.” He put Shane down when he reached the bathroom, the other man shooting him a glare. “Now, how about we shower and then worry about the couch later?”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Fine, but we clean it right after we’re done.”

“Absolutely.” Ilya hustled him into the shower, part of him amused at how indignant he could get.

~~

Shane knew he should have left. A part of him had wanted to run the second Ilya had looked at him like he was something precious. Something cherished. But he managed to keep himself from running, instead focusing on the mess he’d made of the couch.

Even then, he could have found an excuse to leave. He could have pretended that there was a team dinner instead of eating sushi at Ilya’s kitchen island, or said that he wanted to sleep in his own bed.

Instead, he was here, Ilya pressed against him as his hands made their way down Shane’s body.

Ilya nipped at his skin, Shane breathless with anticipation. His eyes gleamed as he grabbed the lube from the bedside table, slicking up his fingers.

Shane leaned forward to help, but Ilya pushed him back down.

“Stay there,” Ilya told him, his eyes darkening as he took in Shane. “Let me do this.”

Shane nodded as Ilya surged forward, capturing Shane’s lips again. His lips soon left Shane’s, and Shane watched as Ilya kissed down his chest.

His breath hitched in his chest as Ilya teased his nipples with his teeth, the slightest touch setting him aflame.

“Ilya.” Shane reached for him, only for Ilya to bat his hands away. “Don’t tease me.”

Ilya winked at Shane as he kissed lower, finally reaching Shane’s cock.

Just as Ilya took his cock into his mouth, Shane jerked as he felt one of Ilya’s fingers circling his hole, pressing inside.

Shane knew he could move, that he could guide Ilya’s head or do something. But Ilya told him not to move, and a part of him craved the peace that came with following Ilya.

Before Shane knew it, Ilya was tracing the slit of his cock with his tongue while a second finger was getting pushed in.

“Ilya, please,” Shane begged as his hips bucked, the other man easily holding him down. He could feel Ilya smirking around him as he started to scissor his fingers. Shane moaned loudly as he tried to keep himself from coming. Not that it was easy. Ilya could take him apart with his touch alone.

Time passed slowly but also raced by at the speed of light. Before Shane knew it, Ilya was pulling back and removing his fingers. Shane keened slightly at the loss before Ilya pulled him into a kiss. Shane moaned into the kiss, tasting himself on Ilya’s tongue.

When Ilya pulled away, his eyes glinted as he pushed himself into Shane. The two of them panted, their breaths heavy as they adjusted to the sensations. Soon, all too soon, Ilya pulled out, snapping his hips slightly as he pushed back in. Shane groaned at the slow pace, reaching to hold onto Ilya’s hips. Before he could, Ilya grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them between the two of them.

“Not yet.” Ilya breathed as he kept up the torturously slow pace. “I want to take my time with you.” Ilya leaned in, his lips grazing a spot on Shane’s neck. “Let me. Please.”

Shane nodded, and Ilya smirked against him as the pace slightly quickened. Shane tried to free his wrists, but Ilya held firm. Propping himself up on one arm, Ilya continued to move as he spoke to Shane.

“If I could have you here all the time, in my bed like this? I would die happy man.”

“I know.” Shane groaned as he felt himself getting closer and closer. “Ilya, I’m–”

“I know.” Ilya kissed Shane hard. “Come for me.”

Shane screamed as he came, his release splattering across both their chests. Ilya’s hips stuttered, once, twice, until he finally came with a long groan.

The two of them collapsed against each other, breathless.

Later that night, as they curled up together, Shane realized something important.

He had been lying before when he told Ilya that he liked girls. He didn’t. Maybe he never had. All he knew was that he liked Ilya, and something in that terrified him.

Chapter 4:

Shane had no clue what the hell he was doing at this party.

JJ had called him after practice and all but insisted that he come to his friend’s restaurant, telling him that the place was full of movie stars. Shane didn’t really care about any of that. He just wanted to relax at home and not have to deal with people giving him strange looks for ordering ginger ale at a party.

Ginger ale was a common soda. Why did people act like ordering that was so odd? It wasn’t like he was ordering milk or something strange.

At least this party, as loud as it was, was a distraction from staring at his phone, wondering if Ilya would call. Things hadn’t changed between them since that day that Shane spent at his house, but Shane couldn’t stop wishing that they had. Something had felt different about that day. The way Ilya had looked with him, the easy domesticity of sharing a meal together. The way that Ilya had sighed out his name, looking at him as though he were the only person on earth. It was everything that Shane had wanted, and everything he never thought he’d be able to have.

Shane shook himself slightly as he walked through the restaurant. He had to try to get Ilya Rozanov out of his head, even just for a little while. After all, he was sure that Rozanov was not spending his time worrying about Shane. He was probably busy fucking pretty, perfect Svetlana.

“Are you here to help me finish these fries?” a woman asked him as he neared a table. Shane turned, his mouth opening slightly when he realized he was staring at Rose Landry. He’d been a big fan of hers for a while. He knew that some of the cast of her new movie were at the restaurant, but he had never expected her to be there.

“The chef gave them to me, and they are really good,” she kept talking, not seeming to notice him staring at her. “I’m not going to fit in my costume if I eat them all.”

Shane almost never ate fries during the season, but sitting with her would probably be better than wandering through the restaurant, so he took a seat. She pushed the plate towards him, and he grabbed a fry, groaning as the salty taste filled his mouth.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, these are so good!” he groaned, rose laughing.

“Right? I’m Rose, by the way,” she held out a hand, Shane shaking it.

“I’m Shane.” he shook his head, unable to believe that he was sitting across from one of his favorite movie stars. “I’m… Wow, I’m a big fan.”

“You’re very sweet,” she told him. “Would you be surprised to know that I’m a fan of yours?”

Shane blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

The two of them settled into an easy conversation. Rose had grown up in Michigan with three brothers who loved hockey, so she knew plenty about the sport. She asked him questions about what it was like to play professionally, and Shane asked her about some of the movies that he’s seen.

Talking with her was nice, easy even. It was refreshing to talk to someone who didn’t want anything from him.

“So, um, are you going to be in town a little while this time?” Shane asked as the night started to wind down.

Rose gave him a grin as she reached for his hand. “Why, are you offering to be my tour guide this time?”

Shane flushed a deep red. “Sorry, I think I might have–”

“Oh.” Rose looked down, red filling her cheeks. “Sorry, I guess I thought you were–”

“You’re really pretty,” Shane rushed to assure her. And she was. She was gorgeous. She was everything that he should want in a girlfriend, everything that anyone else would want in a girlfriend, and yet… when he looked into her blue eyes, he wished that they belonged to someone else. “I’m just–I don’t think we’d be compatible.”

Rose raised her eyebrows, giving him a curious look. “Not compatible.”

“Yeah.” Shane was looking at the empty plate of fries like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Not compatible.”

Silence stretched between them, so thick Shane could feel it pressing against his skin. And then–

“Okay.”

Shane blinked, looking up at her. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Rose told him. “Okay. We aren’t compatible. But maybe we can at least be friends?”

Shane stared at her, not believing how easy that was. “You aren’t curious as to why I think we aren’t compatible?”

“Not really.” Rose gave Shane a slight smirk. “I’ve known plenty of guys who told me we weren’t compatible, and they were all right. But they also all made excellent friends. So at least this way we skipped the awkward middle part.”

Shane laughed, holding out his hand. “Friends.”

She took it, the two of them grinning and not noticing the person snapping their picture.

~~

The next morning, Shane was putting together his morning smoothie when his phone buzzed with a text.

Lily: So, you are dating Rose Landry now?

Shane frowned at the text he saw when he woke up the next morning.

Shane: No? Why do you ask?

Ilya sent him a picture of Shane and Rose from the night before, the angle making it look like they were holding hands. It was from a gossip Twitter account, speculating whether or not they were dating.

Shane: Jesus, that’s not what happened. We met up at a restaurant thing, and we chatted for a while. That picture was me shaking her hand after we decided to be friends.

It took Ilya a long time to respond, and then Shane’s phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Shane picked it up, Ilya’s amused voice filling his ears.

“You are sitting across from famous movie star, and you decide to shake her hand and say, ‘Let’s be friends?’”

Shane flushed a deep red. “It seemed like a good idea at the time!”

“Hollander, you are hopeless with women. How do you fumble a date with Rose Landry?”

“I didn’t fumble her!” Shane insisted. “I just- I didn’t think we were compatible.”

There was silence on the line for a long moment, and then Ilya scoffed. “That is what someone who fumbled movie star would say.”

Shane groaned. “You’re hopeless.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Well at least we have that in common.”

“True.” Ilya paused. “Though there is one way we differ.”

Shane tensed. “Oh? And what would that be?”

“Well, I am going to win at Montreal game next month, and you are not.”

“Fuck you! You’re not beating me at center ice.”

“Watch me, Hollander.”

Shane was suddenly reminded of a dream he had where Ilya had fucked in the middle of center ice, and his face grew hot.

“I should probably go, I have to get ready for practice,” he said, wishing he didn’t have to go.

“See you next month, Hollander.”

The line went dead, and Shane started to get ready for the day. But in the back of his mind, he wondered what it meant that Ilya had seen that picture and immediately texted Shane.

If Ilya was fucking other people, going to clubs and bringing someone home nearly every night, why did he care whether or not Shane was dating a movie star? Was it just because he didn’t think Shane would sleep with him anymore if he was in a relationship?

Shane figured that had to be it, and refused to let himself consider that maybe, maybe, Ilya wanted more out of their current arrangement.

~~

Shane had barely made it to the locker room before JJ came across him.

“Capitaine, you dog!” He clapped a hand around Shane’s shoulder, the other man jumping in surprise. “I invite you to a party and you get a date with Rose Landry? Well done.”

“It’s not like that,” Shaner told him. “Rose and I are just friends.”

JJ rolled his eyes. “Capitaine, you don’t have to lie to me, I am happy for you!”

JJ went into the locker room before Shane could correct him, Shane groaning. He was going to get that a lot; he could just tell.

It didn’t stop there.

“Nice pass, Hollander. Rose’ll be impressed at the next game!

“Okay, everyone who didn’t hook up with a movie star, take shots on goal!

“Think Rose could hook me up with one of her co-stars?”

They said cruder things too after they found out what really happened, Shane’s face almost permanently red under his helmet for the rest of practice.

He weathered his team’s comments during practice as best he could, finally sagging back onto the locker room bench after most of the team had left.

“Everything okay?” Hayden asked, hanging back for a second.

Shane let out a frustrated noise. “It’s just the jokes about me dating Rose Landry kind of got to me today. And then, if I had to listen to one more person say I fumbled dating a movie star–”

“So why not actually date her?” Hayden leaned against the locker as Shane finished getting changed. “JJ said it seemed like you hit it off with her.”

“As friends!”

“But why not let it be more? Don’t you want to have an actual relationship?”

“I thought we tabled this discussion after the aquarium trip.”

“You tabled it, I lay in wait until it could be brought up again.”

“Of course you did.” Shane grabbed his bag, and the two of them walked out of the locker room. “She’s nice, and I liked talking to her, but..” he shrugged. “I’m just not interested.”

Hayden stopped walking for a second. “Please tell me that you didn’t turn down Rose Landry because of your thing with Boston Lily.”

Shane didn’t answer, and Hayden groaned. “Shane, are you kidding me? You turned down a celebrity because of your fuckbuddy?”

“It’s not like that!”

“Isn’t it?” Hayden turned to face Shane, concern etched into every line of his face. “Shane. You’ve been seeing this woman for years. No one has ever met her. You don’t bring her around; you’ve never been seen in public with her. Have you ever even been on a date with her? Shane looked down, and Hayden kept going. “You’re not dating her, you’re just convenient to her.”

Shane flushed a deep red. “It isn’t like that. Lily cares about me.”

Hayden seemed to sense that Shane wasn’t willing to budge. “Shane. I care about you, you know this.” He put a hand on Shane’s shoulder. “I just worry about you.”

“I know.”

“Maybe I’m wrong, and Lily cares about you. Maybe what you have is real.” Hayden sighed as they got to their cars. “I hope I am wrong, because I want you to be happy, Shane.”

“That’s all I want.”

Hayden gave him a look. “I hope you and Lily can be as happy as Jackie and me someday. I just don’t want your hope of things working out with her to keep you from finding something real.”

Hayden got into his car, leaving Shane standing in the parking lot.

The entire drive home, Shane kept thinking about what Hayden had said. The worst part? He was probably right.

What was he doing with Ilya Rozanov? The two of them had been fucking for years, and the last time in Boston was the first time that they’d even done anything other than fuck.

Maybe Hayden was right to be worried about him. Hell, his own parents were worried about him. His mom had texted him again, asking if he wanted to go to Wimbledon and sit next to that Swedish princess. He’d turned her down, and now she was texting him about whether or not the rumors about him and Rose were true. He wondered if she’d be disappointed to learn the truth.

He wished that he could tell his parents and Hayden not to worry, that he was happy. He wished that he could be honest with them about who he loved. But if he was. Being honest? He wasn’t happy. And he didn’t think he would be until he finally told Ilya how he felt. And maybe one day, Shane could be honest with them and let everyone in his life know that he was in love with Ilya Rozanov.

He could only hope that one day, he would get the chance.

~~

Ilya was sitting on the couch, watching hockey with Svetlana. Which really meant listening to her lambast the various teams’ poor choices.

“Matheson on the power play while Petrov warms the bench.” Svetlana let out an annoyed huff. “Jesus Christ. It’s like Colorado doesn’t want to make the playoffs.”

“Since when do you care what Colorado does?” Ilya fussed with a lighter, rolling his eyes at Svetlana.

“Since when did you start smoking again?” She pointed out, his face shuttering.

“I haven’t started again.” He deflected, thinking of a disapproving look from a face full of freckles. “I just smoke every once in a while.”

Svetlana narrowed her eyes but seemed to accept that. “I care about all hockey teams, as you well know.”

“Of course.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. “Especially ones that put good Russian players on the second shift of the power play so mediocre Canadian players can waste a minute and a half with the man advantage.”

“Mediocre?” Ilya asked, raising an eyebrow. “You think Matheson is mediocre?

“Yes.” She looked at him, eyebrow raised, “You can quote me on that the next time you see him.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that when I see him at the All-Star Game.” Ilya scoffed. “I’m sure getting my teeth knocked out before I even get on the ice is exactly what the MLH wants to see that weekend.”

“It might be worth it.”

Ilya gave her an offended look. “You would have me risk my perfect smile to get a jab in at Matheson?”

“It’s not that pretty a smile.”

“You wound me, Svetlana. And here I thought you were my friend.

Svetlana laughed, turning back to the game. “It’s so embarrassing that Matheson is even playing.”

“The people voted.” Ilya reminded her. “They love him.”

“The people are wrong.” She retorted before pausing. “You’re playing on the same team as Hollander this year, right?”

“Is he also mediocre?” Ilya sked, trying not to react to Shane’s name.

“No, he’s amazing.” Svetlana sighed. “Those hands.” She bit her lip. “And he’s gorgeous.” She gave him a teasing look, “Now that is a smile that I would not risk under any circumstances.”

Ilya tried to ignore the swirling jealousy in his stomach. “If you say so.”

“What?” Svetlana seemed to think that there was something wrong with his reaction. “You know he’s gorgeous. And you know he’s good.”

“He’s very good.” Ilya agreed. “Probably why he is my captain for the weekend.”

“If you didn’t piss off 99 percent of the players, it could have been you being captain.”

“I do not piss off 99 percent of the players!” Ilya gave her an offended look.

Svetlana narrowed her eyes. “Do not play innocent with me, Ilyusha.” She turned back to the TV, watching the game unfold.

“I would love to see you on a line with Hollander.” She finally said after a long moment.

“Ilya scoffed. “It’s a nice idea, but I am not sure he can play wing.”

She shrugged, her tone almost too casual. “But you can.”

Ilya stared at Svetlana, turning to face her. He had never experienced betrayal like this before in his life.

“You would have him center me?” He demanded, poking a finger into his own chest as she laughed. “Me?!”

“The people would love it.” Svetlana archly pointed out, and Ilya snapped.

“The people are wrong!” He roared as he tackled Svetlana into the couch, his hands roaming over her body, finding where she was most ticklish. Svetlana screamed in laughter as she tried to push him off, but she was no match for a massive hockey player on a mission. “The people are so wrong!”

~~

Later that night, Ilya lay in bed thinking about the upcoming All-Star Game.

Playing on the same team as Hollander was something that he had never dared to hope for. The league had pitted them against each other for so long and made it seem like the two of them hated each other. He was sure that everyone expected them to butt heads during the weekend. He was sure that they’d be disappointed when they didn’t.

What he wasn’t sure about was what would happen between him and Hollander during that weekend. They hadn’t talked much since the last time they met up after a game in Montreal. It seemed as though Shane had wanted to say something the entire time that they had been together, but when asked, he had just shaken his head and acted like nothing was wrong. Ilya knew better, though: he could tell that Shane was hiding something. And then during the next Montreal game, Rose Landry was seated in a VIP box. Shana had said if they were just friends, but perhaps things had changed.

As selfish as it was, Ilya hoped that they were just friends and that Shane was still his. Even if it was unfair, he did not want to lose Shane yet.

Chapter 5:

Ilya was sitting at the bar in Tampa during the opening party of All-Star weekend when the bartender looked over his shoulder.

“Can I offer you something to drink?”

He felt a familiar touch on his shoulder and saw Shane taking the seat next to him out of the corner of his eye.

“I’ll have the same as my teammate, please.”

“Of course.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow at Shane. “So, what, are they out of ginger ale, Captain?”

“I’m feeling a bit wild.” Shane leaned in closer, grinning. “So this should be fun, huh? I’ve always wondered what it would be like to play on the same team. Have you?”

“Yeah, I have.” Ilya sighed. “If only salary caps did not exist. Otherwise, I would have tempted you away from Montreal years ago.”

Shane snorted. “Or I could have stolen you away from Boston.”

Ilya looked around, lowering his voice. “I think we both know that you would not have been able to resist my charms, Hollander.”

Shane’s cheeks went pink, and he looked away, coughing.

“It’s nice that it’s in Florida this year, right?”

“Yes.”

The bartender slid Shane’s beer over to him. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Shane took a sip, Ilya amused to see him make a face at the taste.

“Did you bring anyone with you?” Ilya asked.

“Nope.” Shane shook his head. “My parents thought about coming, but they’re going to Mexico in, like, two weeks, and they’ve been to these before, so…Also, I didn’t feel like being managed this weekend.

Ah. So, no Rose Landry?”

Shane rolled his eyes. “As I’ve told you a thousand times, we are just friends.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“I believe you.” Ilya rolled his eyes, dropping the subject.

“Did you, uh, bring anybody?” Shane asked, and Ilya shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Good.” Shane flushed when Ilya raised an eyebrow at him. “Not that it’s good that you don’t have anyone.” Shane trailed off, then coughed and changed the subject. “Nice shirt.”

“Thanks. Ilya pulled at the fabric, admiring it. “I like to, you know, get into the spirit.”

“You’re pulling it off.” Shane took a sip of his drink, avoiding eye contact with Ilya.

Ilya wanted to tell Shane that he could pull it off later if he wanted, but then Carter Vaughn slammed into both of them from behind.

“Cats and dogs!” He bellowed, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “Look at this! fucking beauties!

“Yeah, should be a fun time.” Shane was as polite as ever, but Ilya could tell that he was resisting the urge to glare at Vaughn for running the moment. After all these years, Ilya could read Shane like a book.

“Careful with this guy, though.” Vaughn pointed at Ilya. “You can never trust him.”

Ilya tried to ignore Vaughn, catching the bartender’s eye. “One black coffee, please.”

“I’m just fucking with you, Rozy.” Vaughn laughed it off. “It’ll be a hell of a time. Let’s go, East boys! Woo-hoo!”

He rushed off to another area of the room, Ilya and Shane rolling their eyes as he left.

“I feel like we’re going to get a lot of that sort of thing this weekend,” Shane told him, and Ilya shrugged.

“Yes. Probably.”

“It’s nice. It should give us a chance to get to know each other.” Shane lowered his voice. “Who knows what we might have in common.

“You’re looking very pretty today.” Ilya changed the subject, raising an eyebrow as Shane blushed. “Hmm? Different, maybe? Did Someone take you shopping?”

Deep down, Ilya still wondered if there was any truth to the rumors about Shane having a girlfriend. Perhaps Rose had introduced him to another celebrity who could give him what Ilya couldn’t.

Shane leaned in close. “If I, um…If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone or make fun of me?”

Ilya clicked his teeth, pretending to think about it. “Well, it depends.”

“Seriously.” Shane fixed him with those dark eyes, and Ilya could barely keep himself from staring at his freckles.

“Yeah, sure.” He finally said, tearing his gaze away from Shane’s cheeks to look into his eyes. “I can be good.”

Shane gave him a look. “You have never been good a day in your life.”

“Just tell me, Hollander.” Ilya groaned

Shane bit his lip, leaning in. “I hired a stylist.”

Ilya stared at him for a moment before letting out a surprised laugh.

Shane glared at him, Ilya unable to take his angry kitten face seriously. “Fuck you.”

“Sorry.” Ilya scrubbed a hand over his face, relieved. Shane did not have a girlfriend. Ilya had not lost him. “Wow. Of course you did.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“No, no.” Ilya waved him off, taking a sip of his beer. “I love it. I love it. You got, what, tired of looking like shit?”

“I didn’t look like shit.” Shane scoffed, Ilya giving him a look. “I just wore, like, athletic stuff.”

“Mmm.” Ilya resisted the urge to waggle his brows. “I know what you wore.”

“And some of the guys in the league are so fashionable,” Shane admitted, and Ilya couldn’t help but preen.

“Yeah, so very.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Not you. Other players.”

“Okay.” Ilya did not believe him for a second.

The two of them stayed locked in that moment, staring at each other, until Shane stepped away. “I should circulate, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Ilya agreed. “You have new clothes to show off.”

Shane flipped him off as he started to walk away, and Ilya sent up a prayer to the stylist who had gotten Shane pants that showed off his beautiful ass.

~~

The next day after practice, Shane was lying out by the pool. His sunglasses perched on his nose, Shane tipped his head back to the sun and tried to ignore the fact that Ilya was in the pool with a pack of children.

Ilya had been racing them in the pool for the last half hour, each time conveniently having some sort of attack so that the kids came in first.

God, that man would be such a good father one day. Shane could already see it.

Part of him, a small, traitorous part, wished that Ilya would be the father to his children, but he shoved that out of his head.

The kids in the pool were clamoring for Ilya to race again, begging and pleading.

“Okay, okay,” Ilya announced to the elated children. “ok, and I will not

be losing this time.” The kids started clamoring in protest, and Ilya raised his hands. “But if I lose, I will buy you all candy bars from machine inside, okay?” The children cheered, and Ilya looked over to see Shane.

“Hey, Hollander!” He called out, Shane raising his hand as he tried to pretend that he had not been staring at Ilya like a slab of meat the entire time. “Hollander, make sure none of these cheaters cheat, ok?”

“ok.” Shane gave Ilya a thumbs up, the other man giving an exaggerated wink in response.

“You know that guy?” Ilya asked, and the kids cheered again. He didn’t seek to believe them, so he asked again. “Who’s this guy?”

“That’s Shane Hollander.” One little girl piped up, and Ilya nodded in agreement.

“Okay, so you know this guy.” He said, and she excitedly nodded as the rest of the children cheered.

“He’s the best player in the league.” She told Ilya, Shane barking out a laugh as Ilya pretended to be offended

“Oh, no, no. That’s not true.” Ilya turned to the other children. “Splash her! Boo!”

All the other kids started passing the girl as Ilya looked on. “No, you get out of the pool. Who is your dad? Show me your dad.”

“Be nice to my fan, Rozanov!” Shane called out, Ilya rolling his eyes.

“I suppose I can be.” He smirked, his wet curls shining in the sun. “After all, her life is already hard enough if you’re her favorite hockey player.”

Shane was two seconds away from flipping him off before he realized there were children present, and that smug asshole knew it.

“Okay, I forgive you.” Ilya patted the girl on the shoulder. “You can stay.”

Ilya made the kids line up at the other end of the pool and joined them.

“On your mark, get set…” he called out, getting ready to swim. “Go!”

The kids took off, Shane watching as Ilya cut through the water like a warm knife through butter. For a moment, it looked like he was going to win. And then…

“There is a shark in the water!” Ilya stopped swimming, splashing around as if something was attacking him. “There is a shark!”

Shane fought back a laugh as Ilya started dramatically sinking, gurgling water, and acting as though he was being dragged underneath the pool’s surface.

God, this man was a dumbass. Why was Shane in love with him?

Ilya miraculously recovered, paddling to the end of the pool just to come in dead last. The kids surrounded him, begging him for the candy he had promised them.

“Okay, you guys won fair and square.” Ilya held up his hands to the children cheering as he made his way to the edge of the pool.

Shane watched as Ilya put his hands on the edge of the pool, grateful that his sunglasses hid how he watched his abs contract as he pulled himself out of the pool. From the smirk that Ilya gave him, he was more than aware of what Shane was looking at. He sauntered over, Shane unabashedly eyeing how his trunks were plastered to his skin.

“Hey, Hollander.” Ilya greeted, finally reaching Shane. “Can you give these kids some money? I don’t have my wallet.”

“Wow. Cheaping out on the kids?” Shane joked. “Do the Raiders not pay you enough to buy some candy bars?”

Ilya gave him an impish grin in response, shaking his head over Shane.

“Ugh!” Shane tried to shield himself from the flying droplets. “What are you, a dog?”

Ilya stuck out his tongue in response, leaning in close. Shane’s breath hitched as Ilya drew ever closer.

Was he about to kiss Shane in the middle of the pool area at All Stars? No, that would be crazy, right? Ilya would never do that

But what if he did?

Shane felt his breath catch in his throat as Ilya got close enough for Shane to see the small drop of water on the bridge of his upper lip. His heart started beating faster and faster…as Ilya reached across him to where Shane had left his wallet.

“Thank you.” He grinned, walking off with his prize.

Shane recovered just enough to shout, “You better bring my wallet to practice later!” receiving a wave of the hand in response as Ilya left, pursued by a pack of children.

He slumped into his chair, his face feeling like it was on fire.

~~

Ilya waved the wallet in front of him like a banner in a parade as he entered the locker room.

“As requested, my Captain.” He bowed, presenting it to Shane on an outstretched palm.

Shane snatched it back, rolling his eyes.

“Uh, why did Rozanov have your wallet?” Scott Hunter asked, giving the two of them a confused look.

“Because someone promised a bunch of children in the pool candy and then didn’t have the cash to back it up,” Shane told him. “Rozanov literally could not put his money where his mouth was.”

“Or maybe I just wanted to see if you’d spend some of that fancy Rolex money.” Ilya shrugged as the rest of the team snickered. “Is very nice wallet by the way. I may buy one for myself.”

Shane took advantage of the fact that there were no kids around and flipped him off. Ilya was delighted by the action.

“How about we just go out and practice and not worry about what’s in each other’s wallets,” Shane suggested, the rest of the team agreeing and filing out.

Ilya moved closer to Shane, his breath hitting his ear.

“I was surprised to see no condom in your wallet.” Ilya mused. “Do not worry, I have plenty.”

“You’re not actually supposed to keep a condom in your wallet—”

“And you are missing the point.” Ilya cut him off, giving Shane a meaningful glance as he left the locker room.

~~

The next day was the first All-Star Game, and the first game Shane would ever play on the same line as Ilya Rozanov.

Shane had been playing hockey since he was a child. But he was sure that he had never clicked with a first line the way he and Ilya clicked together. Not even with Hayden and JJ. The two of them had been lethal against each other for years, pushing each other to the breaking point on the ice. But on the same team, for the All-Star game, against a common enemy? It was as though they had always played hockey just like this. When Shane made his way towards the goal, he didn’t even have to look to see where Ilya was. It was as though he could sense him, like some part of him was linked to Ilya in a way that science could never have explained.

Shane didn’t even have to stop. He expertly picked up the pass from Ilya, slamming it into the goal without a second’s hesitation.

The crowd went wild, and the next thing Shane knew, Ilya was pulling him into a bear hug on the ice. He smacked a kiss to the side of Shane’s helmet, Shane ducking his head. To anyone else, it looked like two incredible hockey players joking around after an incredible goal. But Shane knew the truth.

“Great pass.” He told Ilya, the other man grinning.

“Great goal, captain,” He said, his eyes darkening.

Shane pushed away from Ilya and skated back into position, grateful that the helmet obscured his flushed skin from the audience.

~~

After the finals, Shane spent ninety minutes at the afterparty before making his way to the beach for some peace and quiet.

“Found you.” He jumped, Ilya coming up from behind him.

“So you were looking for me?” Shane grinned, the other man scoffing and rolling his eyes.

“Of course not.” he sat down next to Shane, Shane watching as Ilya’s toes dug into the sand in front of them. “I just noticed that the party was less boring than expected, so I knew you had left.”

“Funny.”

“I am very funny guy.”

“Just keep telling yourself that, Rozanov.” Shane paused for a moment. He knew they needed to talk, but this was not the moment to do it. Anyone could come across them out in the open like this. “When do you fly out?”

“Early.”

“Same. Columbus.” Shane shrugged.

“Toronto.”

Shane let out a chuckle. “We’re always going in opposite directions.”

“Way of the world, Hollander.”

Shane let out a deep breath. “What room are you in? Can I meet you there?”

Ilya seemed confused but nodded. “Meet me at room 1217 in thirty minutes.”

Shane got up and left the beach, his mind swirling.

~~

Ilya let Shane into the room as soon as he knocked. Shane immediately started to pace as soon as the door closed behind him.

“This looks serious,” Ilya remarked, standing near the door and watching Shane.

“It’s not.” Shane paused. “I mean, yeah, I guess.” He looked at Ilya as he took a spot on the bed. “Can you just sit down or something?”

Ilya rolled his eyes, leaning against the dresser. “Better?”

“A little.” Shane paused, trying to figure out how best to say what was on his mind.

“Just spit it out, Hollander, for fuck’s sake.”

Shane shot Ilya a dirty look before deciding to just go for it. “It’s not just me, right?

“Not just you, what?”

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

Ilya gave him a look. “Feel what?”

Shane looked up at Ilya. “Last time we were together, it was different.”

“What was different? That I got to hear you snore?”

“I don’t snore!”

“How would you know? Honestly, it was very effective form of sabotage. Make your rival lose sleep before the game so he doesn’t play as well.”

“You scored a hat trick in that game, asshole!”

“Maybe I would have scored two if you had not kept me up with your snoring.”

Shane let out an annoyed groan. “This is hard enough without you being an asshole.”

“What do you want, Hollander?” Ilya rolled his eyes, sighing. “We get together, we fuck. It’s simple.”

“Simple?” Shane scoffed. “Are you kidding me?”

Ilya shrugged from where he was leaning against the dresser. “It’s simple for me.”

“Bullshit!” Shane raised his voice for a moment before realizing where they were. He took a deep breath, hands on his thighs as he tried to calm his racing heart.

He could do this. He knew he could do this. He just had to say it.

“I think…” Shane started, then frowned and started over. “I know…I’m gay.”

Ilya stared at him for a moment before chuckling hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Oh yeah?” he forced out between giggles. “What… what makes you think that?”

“Could you try to take this seriously?”

“You’ve been sucking my dick for nearly a decade. Is this supposed to be surprise?”

“Fuck you, you’re not gay.” Shane snapped, and Ilya shrugged.

“No, not completely.”

“Well, I am. Completely.”

“ok, so you’re gay, so what?” Ilya let out an annoyed huff.

“Well, it’s kind of a big deal.” Shane gave him an annoyed look. “To me, at least. Sorry if I’m being boring again.”

Ilya groaned, looking at Shane, after a long moment.

“Why are you telling me this?” He finally asked, and Shane let out an incredulous laugh.

“Who else am I going to tell?” He let out a bitter laugh, Ilya finally moving towards him. He sat down next to Shane, and Shane collected his words before continuing to speak.

“It’s… not just being gay.” Shane finally said. His stomach was all in knots, but he knew he had to tell him now. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t ever be able to. “It’s you. It’s this,” he let out a sigh. Being gay is one thing, but this- fucking your arch-rival is another thing.”

“That’s why it is a secret.” Ilya reminded him, and Shane gave him a look.

“I know that, but last time…” Shane shrugged. “It was nice.”

“It was.” Ilya shrugged, Shane not buying his nonchalant act. “I do not see why it had to be discussed. We had a nice time, leave it at that.”

“I can’t.”

“Try.”

Shane huffed out a breath. “I never expected that something like that could be so normal, especially between us. It was…different.”

“If you say so.”

“And it felt like we were…something.”

Ilya didn’t look at him, keeping his eyes on the carpet with its stupid shell pattern. Shane idly wondered when that carpet had last been cleaned. “We can’t be something, Hollander.”

Shane tried not to react, though he felt like he’d been slapped.

“Would you want to be, if we could?” Shane finally asked.

“We can’t.”

Shane gave Ilya a look. “That’s not what I asked, and you know it.”

“What does it fucking matter?” Ilya burst out. “Fuck, why are you making this complicated?”

“I’m not trying to!” Shane realized he was on the verge of shouting and lowered his voice. The last thing either of them needed was a player in a nearby room hearing what was going on and checking on them.

“I just.” Shane clasped his hands together, trying to hide that they were shaking. “I don’t think I can keep pretending I don’t like you anymore.

Ilya scoffed. “You don’t like me.”

Yeah, I do.” Shane took a deep breath. “I-I love you, Ilya.”

Ilya froze for a moment before he turned to face Shane.

“No, you don’t.”

Shane felt like he’d been slapped when Ilya spoke, but he soldiered on.

“Yes, I do. I love you, Ilya.”

“Don’t.” Ilya held up a hand, stopping Shane from moving closer. “Don’t fucking

do this, Hollander.”

Shane froze. Of course. Of course, Ilya didn’t feel the same way. Why would he? Ilya could have anyone that he wanted. It wasn’t his fault that Shane only wanted him.

“It’s okay.” Shane forced a smile. “I get it. You don’t feel the same way.”

Ilya’s eyes locked onto Shane’s face. “Hollander.”

“I’m just going to go. See you around, Rozanov.”

Shane started to get off the bed, but Ilya’s arm shot out and stopped him.

“Hollander. Don’t run from this.”

“Why not?”

“How do you not get this!” Ilya raised his voice, shocking Shane. “You have highest IQ in league, how do you not understand this?” He let Shane go, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I’m not…” Ilya didn’t look at him. “I wouldn’t be able to go home again. Ever.” He finally looked back at Shane, Shane taken aback by the intensity in his eyes. “Do you get that? If I say what you want me to say… I would never be able to go home.”

“Because your family?” Shane asked, and Ilya let out an annoyed groan.

“Because Russia!” he practically spat out the words. “I would not be able to go back to Russia!”

The silence between them was as thick as the ice on the All-Star rink. Ilya sat back down on the bed, Shane following him as he shot Ilya a nervous glance.

“What would happen to you?” Shane finally asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t want to find out.”

“But would your parents…” Shane trialed off, not sure how to finish that sentence. How do you ask the man you loved if his parents would turn him in for being with a man? He could never imagine his parents doing anything like that. Even if he wasn’t sure how they would respond, he knew they would never do that to him.

“My father is police.” Ilya told him. “My brother is police.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, Shane noticing the faintest tremble in his limbs. “I do not have to be psychic to know it would go bad if they found out.”

“And your mother?”

Ilya flinched slightly, still not looking at Shane. “Dead.”

Shane moved closer, putting a hand on Ilya’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Ilya looked at Shane, shrugging. “I was young.” He sighed, the corners of his mouth downturned. “My father is very old-fashioned,” he pushed for a moment. “And sick.”

“Sick like crazy?” Shane asked, wincing at how he phrased it.

At least his phrasing seemed to amuse Ilya, the other man’s mouth twitching for a moment. “That too, a little, but no, sick more like…” he trialed off.

“Oh, like cancer?”

Ilya shook his head. “Dementia.”

“That’s awful.”

Shane saw Ilya turn his head away from him, and he heard a light sniffling noise.

“Hey.” Shane moved to see Ilya’s face, his heart breaking to see tears welling up in his eyes. Acting on instinct, he climbed into Ilya’s lap, wrapping his arms around the other man’s frame.

“Hey…” He soothed him, Ilya clutching his shoulders as they held each other. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“Sorry.” Ilya choked out.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Shane soothed him, the other man shaking his head.

“No, I do.” He pulled away, looking into Shane’s eyes. “I am sorry that I cannot say what you want me to say. You opened your heart to me, and I cannot do the same.”

“Ilya.” Shane cut him off, pressing their foreheads together. “You don’t have to apologize. I get it. I want you to stay safe. I want you to stay happy.” he took a deep breath. “I want you to stay mine, in whatever way I can have you.”

Ilya swallowed hard. “You have me, Shane. Always.”

Shane grinned at that, pressing his lips to Ilya’s. It wasn’t the confession of love that he had hoped for, but it was something. And Shane could live with that as long as it meant he didn’t have to lose Ilya.

Ilya moved, twisting his body and pushing Shane onto the bed. Shane aoid there on his back, Ilya hovering over him as hands reached for the bottom of his shirt.

“Ilya, we don’t have to–”

“I want to.” Ilya told him, tracks of tears still visible on his face. “I want you. Can I do this?”

Shane nodded, and Ilya grinned, peeling off his own shirt before reaching for Shane’s.

What happened next was desperate, as if both of them were trying to prove something to themselves. When it was over, Ilya pressed a kiss to Shane’s lips before pausing.

“What is it?” Shane asked.

“Nothing.” Ilya shook his head, Shane unconvinced.

“I should go.” Shane finally said, part of him wanting Ilya to task him to stay. He knew he couldn’t: if someone caught Shane coming out of Ilya’s room in the morning, it would be over for both of them.

Ilya pressed another kiss to Shane’s temple, Shane arching into the touch like a cat.

Shane got ready to leave, wishing he could stay even a little longer,

He paused near the door, looking back at Ilya splayed out across the messed-up bed like he was posing for a magazine.

“Good night, Shane.” Ilya finally said, his eyes filled with an emotion that Shane was no longer scared to read.

“Good night, Ilya.” Shane told him, the other man giving him one last smile before Shane left the room.

Shane flopped back onto the bed when he got back to his room, his hands scrubbing across his face.

Chapter 6:

Shane gasped, arching up into Ilya’s mouth as he nibbled along the edge of Shane’s jaw. Shane could feel Ilya’s tongue tracing every dip and curve in his skin, the sensation being almost too much at times.

Ilya made his way down Shane’s body, licking and sucking at various points until Shane could have connected the dots between love bites. Finally, Ilya sat up, a bottle of lube in hand.

Shane wasn’t sure when Ilya had had time to grab the lube, but as Ilya slicked up his fingers, Shane couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Shane sat up as Ilya started to open him up, wrapping his arms around the other man to hold him in place. Shane gently nipped at the area where Ilya’s shoulder met his neck, the other man gasping at the action. Shane lavished the spot with attention, delighting in watching the skin darken under his actions.

Before long, Ilya pushed Shane back onto the bed, Shane watching aas the other man lined himself up and pushed inside Shane. Shane sighed, a light sheen of sweat beading on his forehead as he adjusted to the stretch. Finally, Ilya reached for both of Shane’s hands, and Shane willingly gave them, After gathering them into one of his, Ilya finally started to move.

Shane groaned at the feeling of Ilya moving inside him, his skin brushing against his. He desperately wanted to hold onto the other man’s hips, but Ilya was keeping a firm grasp on Shane’s wrists, which he had pinned to the bed above Shane’s hand. Ilya grinned, the action almost feral as he captured Shane’s lips in a kiss. It wasn’t as heated as their kiss earlier, but the intensity was still there as their mouths moved against each other in a crescendo of motion.

“Definitely,” Shane said as their lips parted. He felt the tightening in his gut and knew he was close. “Ilya–”

“I know.” Ilya moaned. “Me too. Come whenever you want.”

Shane tried to hold off for as long as he could, but before long, he felt himself tumbling over the edge, spurting all over Ilya’s chest. Shane’s release seemed to trigger Ilya’s, the other man coming in an instant. Ilya pulled himself out of Shane, collapsing on the bed next to him.

“okay, that was..” Shane trailed off. “Intense.”

“Wow, what a compliment.”

Shane shoved him. “Shut up.”

Ilya sighed. “We should take shower. Unless you want to show up to the game smelling like sex.”

“Would that distract you on the ice? Because it might be worth a shot.”

Ilya rolled his eyes, pulling Shane to his feet and leading him to the bathroom. “Sorry, Hollander. You will have to find other way to beat me.”

“I think I can manage that.”

The two of them washed quickly, keeping the wandering hands to a minimum. When they were back in bed, Ilya’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. Ilya picked it up, cursed, and put it down.

“Bad news?” Shane asked, looking at him.

“My brother.”

“You can take it if you want to.” Shane told him. “It’s not like I would be able to understand you.”

“No, I don’t want to.”

Shane frowned. “Is everything ok at home? Your father?”

Ilya let out an annoyed groan. “Enough, ok?”

“Enough what?”

“Questions.” Ilya waved him off. “You have too many of them.”

Shane sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Ilya softened after a moment. “It’s ok. i know you are just trying to care for me.”

Shane let that sit for a moment and then spoke. “I wasn’t clear. I’m sorry in advance for tonight’s game. We’re going to destroy you guys.”

Ilya raised his eyebrows at Shane, an incredulous look on his face. “Oh. So you are the asshole.”

Shane shook his head. “No, it’s still you.”

“No, not me,” Ilya argued. “You are the asshole. Everyone must know this.” Ilya cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. “Everyone, Shane Hollander is an asshole.”

Shane pretended to be offended. “Well, if I’m such an asshole, maybe I won’t suck your dick before we leave for the game.”

“…did I say asshole? I meant ‘lovely, wonderful, not asshole person. With a weak backhand.”

“You’re on thin ice, Rozanov.”

~~

At the game later, Ilya tried to keep his mind off of how good it felt to have Shane in his bed once again, and how much he wished he could have that every day.

Instead, he tried to motivate his team with the one thing he knew they loved more than beating Montreal.

He and Shane had a deal that they would put in their best effort against each other. However, they said nothing against giving your teammates a financial incentive to beat the Metros.

“ok, listen up.” Ilya clapped his hands, the locker room snapping to attention. “The rumors are true! $1,000 for every goal scored tonight.” The Rom erupted into cheers, Ilya continuing to speak. “ok, boys? Montreal goes home crying. Please, please!”

“You fucking heard him, boys.” Marley grabbed his helmet and started toward the rink. “Roll out!”

~~

They slaughtered Montreal at the end of the three periods. It only took Ilya sixty seconds to walk back his deal form before the game.

“No, no, no, is not true.” Ilya argued as they reentered the locker room. “I said you fuckers owe me $1,000 for every goal I score. You each owe me $3,000.00.”

“Fuck off, Rozy.” Marley shoved him lightly.

“You all agreed, huh?” Ilya argued, grinning at the boos from his team. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, groaning when he saw that his brother was calling again. He wanted to send him to voicemail like he had the previous seven times, but he knew things would only get worse the longer he waited.

“What the fuck do you want?” He snapped into the phone.

“I’ve been trying to reach you all day!” His brother hissed into the phone and Ilya rolled his eyes,

“Excuse me for not wanting to deal with you begging for money.”

“Father is dead.”

Ilya felt the blood rush from his face, sitting down on the bench. “Oh.”

Marley turned to him, sensing something wrong with the tone in his voice. Ilya ignored his concerned look and focused on his call.

“He died this morning. The funeral will be in four days.” His brother’s voice was softer but still full of venom. “You need to be here for it. It’s the least you can do for Father, given that you weren’t here for him when he died.”

Ilya wanted to argue that his father deserved a lot less, but instead he nodded.

“I’ll be there.”

“At least you’re capable of that.” Alexei hung up the phone, and Ilya stared at the floor.

“Roz?” Marley put a hand on his shoulder, startling Ilya. “Are you okay?”

Ilya looked up at him, suddenly aware of the tracks of tears running down his face.

“My…” Ilya swallowed hard. “My father is dead. My brother just let me know.”

“Fuck.” Marley dropped down onto the bench next to him.

“I have to go home to Moscow for the funeral.”

“okay.” Marley nodded. “Let us help,” he turned to the rest of the locker room, the team silent. “St. Simon, let coach know,” he turned back to Ilya. “I’ll look up flights while you drive home and pack. I’ll send you whatever I find.”

Ilya nodded, starting to get dressed. “Thank you, Marley.”

Marley gave him a small smile. “What are teammates for?”

Ilya couldn’t remember a single moment of the drive home. He felt like he was sleepwalking through packing his suitcase, buying his ticket, and getting on the plane.

The only thing going through his head the entire time was something he refused to admit to himself until he was in his seat on the plane, heading back to his homeland.

He wished Shane was coming with him. He wished that Shane could be by his side, supporting him through the difficult next few days.

But he couldn’t be. So Ilya would have to figure out how to do this by himself.

~~

The next day, Shane was getting changed after practice when JJ let out a low whistle next to him.

“Hey, did you hear about Rozanov?”

Shane went on high alert, turning to him. “What about Rozanov?”

JJ didn’t look up from his phone. “Well, he did not fly with the rest of the team to Nashville.”

“He flew separately?”

JJ finally looked up. “He did not go to Nashville at all.”

“That’s weird,” Hayden said, leaning forward. “He didn’t get hurt last night, did he?”

“Not as far as I saw.”

“I wish I had gotten a chance to wipe that smirk off his face by slamming him into the boards.” Comeau joked, Shane resisting the urge to snap at him.

“Maybe he’s sick,” Hayden suggested.

“He’s not,” Shane said before freezing, feeling everyone’s eyes upon him. “I mean, he didn’t seem sick.”

“Who gives a shit?” Hayden finished getting dressed. “If he’s out, it means Boston might not make it into the playoffs, and we have a better chance at a third cup in a row.”

“ESPN is just saying he did not go to Nashville.” JJ reminded him. “Calm down.”

“Yeah, Hayden, you still have to actually put in the effort at practice if you want us to get a third cup.” Shane forced a smile on his face, and the locker room laughed at the look on Hayden’s face.

~~

Shane made an excuse not to go out to dinner with the rest of the team, then made his way home. He opened a can of ginger ale, leaning against the counter as he dialed Rozanov’s number.

“Hi. This is Ilya. Shane heard Ilya’s voicemail greeting. “I will never listen to your voicemail.”

Shane hung up without leaving a message and started pacing.

It was fine. Everything was fine. The fact that Ilya didn’t make it to Nashville didn’t mean something was wrong. If he’d been admitted to a hospital, it would be all over social media. Maybe he was just taking personal time, or sprained his ankle in practice.

Even as Shane tried to convince himself, he knew one thing for sure. He was not going to stop worrying until he heard from Ilya. Hopefully, that will be soon.

~~

Hours later, Shane was reading the news for any mention of Ilyas’ name when a call came in from the man himself.

It was a FaceTime, so Shane picked up.

“Hey,” he asked, scanning Ilya’s image for any signs of injury. “Are you ok?”

“You wear glasses?” Ilya said.

Shane flushed, taking them off. “Just for reading. Where are you? I heard you didn’t go to Nashville.”

“Were you worried?”

Shane glanced away. “Maybe. Where are you?”

“Home.” Shane saw the image moving as if Ilya were walking around. “Put them

back on, please.”

Shane frowned. What little he could see of the background didn’t look like Ilya’s home in Boston. “You’re in Boston?”

Ilya shook his head. “Moscow.”

“Oh.” Shane’s mind was racing with why Ilya would have gone to Russia in the middle of the season, but he tried to put that out of his head. “Are you ok?”

Ilya’s gaze locked onto Shane, raising an eyebrow. “I will be better when I see you in your glasses again.”

Shane scoffed, picking up the glasses from where he dropped them on the couch and jamming them back onto his face.

“Happy?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

A ghost of a smile crossed Ilya’s face. “Happier.”

It then hit Shane why Ilya had gone to Russia.

“Is your father…”

“Yes.” Shane saw Ilya sit down, a bedframe visible behind him. “He is dead. Alexei called me after the game. Is why we didn’t meet.”

Shane hated how relieved he felt in that moment. Ilya hadn’t been with someone else, and he hadn’t been avoiding Shane. He had been dealing with something horrible.

“Ilya…” he shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Is okay, you didn’t know.” Ilya paused for a moment. “What are people saying about me?”

“Nothing.” Shane shook his head. “People know you didn’t go to Nashville with the rest of your team, but no one knows why. The media is being super secretive, and the Raiders haven’t…they haven’t said anything.”

“Good.” Ilya scrubbed a hand over his face. “I will not be here for long anyway. “My flight is on Monday. I will be back on the ice by the end of the week.”

Shane frowned, leaning in closer. “You should take more time than that.”

Ilya chuckled, a small smile crossing his face. “Why? So you can catch up to me in the scoring race?”

“That would happen regardless of whether or not you’re on the ice, and you know it.” Shane retorted. “I’m being serious, though. This must be hard for you.”

“Is not like I didn’t know he was dying.”

Shane gave Ilya a look. “You know, you don’t have to be a stoic Russian right now.”

“I am stoic Russian all the time.

“Ilya. Seriously, you can talk to me about whatever.” Shane shrugged. “I want to help if I can.”

Ilya stared at him for a moment, considering.

“Take off your clothes.”

Shane blinked at Ilya on his screen. “What?”

“I am also being serious, Hollander. If you want to help me, take your clothes off.”

Shane snorted, taking off his glasses and pulling his crewneck off over his head.

“Ah,” Ilya said, Shane stopping before he could shimmy off his sweatpants. Ilya tapped the side of his face, his gaze as piercing as ever, even when halfway across the world.

“Glasses back on.”

Shane rolled his eyes, jamming them back on his face as Ilya smirked.

“Good boy.”

~~

The funeral was dignified, ostentatious, and far more than a man like his father deserved.

His mother’s funeral had been small, painfully so. His father had not wanted to draw attention to the way she had died, so he had refused to celebrate his late wife the way she deserved.

His mother deserved so much more, and his father deserved so much less. Such was the way of the world.

Ilya’s back was against the wall, the black bread and vodka stinging as it slid down his throat. It was all he could do not to leave this place. Leave this city, and go back to America. But he couldn’t. He had to send his father off one last time.

He thought he had found a place to stand where no one would bother him. Where he could mourn the fact that he was an orphan. And then he heard a voice from beside him.

“Stop fucking avoiding me.” His brother hissed in his ear.

“If only I could.” Ilya downed the rest of his vodka.

Alexei grabbed his shoulder, pulling him into a back room. He stepped away from Ilya, sniffling and rubbing at his nose.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Ilya hissed, the venom he’d been bottling up all day slipping through.

“Then tell me the fucking plan.” Alexei glared at him, and Ilya rolled his eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath before turning back to his brother. “I don’t know yet, Alexei!’ he scrubbed a hand over his face. “He just died. Can I get a minute to breathe?”

“Of course, because this is all about you.” Alexei spat at him. “What about me? Do I get to breathe too?” An ugly look crossed his face, and he sneered. “Or is that just something reserved for rich disappointments who abandon their families?”

Ilya’s hackles rose as he stepped towards Alexei, hands clenching into fists. “Abandoned?” he said, his voice dark. “Whose money do you live on, you piece of shit? Who puts food in your mouth and coke up your nose?”

“I have a child, Ilya!” Alexei raised his voice, the sound deafening in the empty room. “And a fucking wife!” he stepped closer, pointing a finger at Ilya. “And me, I’ve spent the last five months taking care of our dying father every fucking day while you partied in America!

The door to the room opened, and Svetlana slinked inside.

“I thought I heard singing.” She said, the tension in her frame betraying her playful tone.

“Great.” Alexei scoffed. “Now we have to listen to this whore run her mouth.”

Ilya lunged forward, slamming his fist into his brother’s face before he could even blink. Alexei crumpled to the ground, Ilya following him as he punched him again and again. Alexei dissolved into screams, and Ilya felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Stop, Ilya! Stop.” Ilya turned to look at her, her eyes filled with understanding. “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth anything.”

Ilya let out a low breath, releasing his hold on Alexei’s collar. He stood up, straightening his suit jacket as he looked at his crumpled form. This was his brother, the one he looked up to as a child, his only blood family left in this world. And Ilya felt nothing for him.

“You can have my apartment.” Ilya finally said, his voice low as Alexei glared at him. “And there will be a trust for my niece.” Alexei’s eyes gleamed, and Ilya gave him a look. She can have it when she’s 18.”

“You useless little–”

“And you will never, ever contact me again.” Ilya acted as though Alexei had not spoken. “If you do, I will use every piece of my fame and money and notoriety to make sure

that you can’t show your face in this fucking city without someone

wanting to break it open.” he moved to leave before pausing and looking back at Alexei. “So take what I offer, shut your fucking mouth, and walk away.”

Ilya left the room, Svetlana following. The two of them walked to an abandoned hallway, Ilya collapsing against the wall.

Fuck.” He said, looking at the splatters of blood on his knuckles.

“You need to get cleaned up if you want to go back out there,” Svetlana told him, pulling him into a nearby bathroom.

Ilya gave her a look as she wet a towel and started cleaning the blood off his hands. “It is my father’s funeral. I think I have to go back out there.”

She shrugged. “Or I could make an exercise for you so you can leave.”

Ilya let out a low breath. Thank you, Svetlana. I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do,” she winked before her face turned serious. “But you don’t want me.”

“You know I love you.”

“I know you do.” She reassured him, a soft smile on her face. “But it’s not the same

as it is with Jane, is it?” She seemed to read the answer on his face, and she patted his cheek. “I love you too. And whatever you need, I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She went to leave the bathroom, pausing for a moment with her hand on the door. “I just hope Jane knows how lucky he is.”

Ilya froze, letting out a bitter laugh as the door closed behind her. Of course, she knew. She might have known for years.

Ilya didn’t remember leaving the building or even grabbing his coat. But all of a sudden, he was outside, walking in the cold Moscow evening. He grabbed his phone before he knew what he was doing. He knew it was risky, but he didn’t care. He needed to hear Shane’s voice. Everyone would be okay if he could just talk to Shane.

“How are you?” Shane asked, Ilya leaning against the wall in the tunnel where he was hiding.

“ok.” Ilya started to say the familiar lie on the tip of his tongue before he stopped himself. “Not good,” he sighed. “Probably bad.”

“How’s your… family?”

Ilya rested the back of his head against the wall. “At their worst. My brother is…” Ilya struggled to find the word for a moment. I don’t know. Scared. It makes him terrible,” he bit his lip before admitting, “And it makes me terrible back.”

“Is it very upsetting?” Shane asked, and Ilya could practically hear him wincing over the phone. “I mean, obviously it’s terrible–”

“Yes.” Ilya cut him off. “But maybe I’m upset about the wrong thing.”

There was a moment of silence. “You mean not your father?”

“Maybe…” Ilya let out a breath, feeling the tension start to drain away from him. “I do not know. I wish…I wish it could be different,” he finally admitted. “I wish he could know me, or…” he took a deep breath through his nose and let it out through his mouth. “I don’t know. I don’t know. English is too hard right now.”

“I wish I spoke Russian.”

Ilya couldn’t help but snort at that. “Yeah, you could probably learn it in a week. No accent. Perfect. Bonjour.”

“That’s French, Ilya.”

“Yeah, I know, Shane.”

Shane paused. “Where are you? Are you with your family?”

“No. I’m just walking. I needed to get out.” Iya sniffed. Blyat, he hated how weak he was being right now. This was not how he was raised. But if there was one person he could trust not to judge him, it would be Shane.

“Hey, uh, I have an idea,” Shane said after a long moment. “How about you tell me everything that’s on your mind, but in Russian? I won’t understand, but maybe it’ll help.”

Ilya let out a long sigh. “ok,” he took a deep breath, trying to figure out exactly what to say.

“I never want to come back here again,” he confessed, his voice low. “I fucking hate it here. And they all fucking hate me.” he ran a hand through his hair, pulling at his blond curls. His father always hated them, but now he had no father to hate them. He had no one. “I pay for everything. I make sure everyone has clothes they like. I make sure the food is perfect, that Father is buried next to his parents, that the tomb is perfect.” he turned and thumped his fist against the wall. And the only fucking word I ever hear is: ‘I want more, Ilya. I need more, Ilya, more, more, more!” he could hear himself starting to raise his voice, and he forced himself to stay quiet, screaming wouldn’t help him. It would only draw attention.

“And I have nothing for these people! I give them everything… but I feel fucking empty,” he scoffed. “They don’t care. They look at me, and they see a bank. Or an enemy. Or I don’t even know what.” he turned, his back against the wall as he slid down towards the ground.

“My brother, he always hated me. And I know why, but…” his voice broke, but he made himself keep it together. He had to keep it together. “…it kills me. And it kills me that he took care of my father, and I didn’t. But I couldn’t! I wasn’t here. I still paid for it all. And he will never forgive me. For any of it.” he could feel the venom in his words, and he was so glad that Shane couldn’t understand him. “For existing. “And it means that I have no one now,” he paused. “Well, not no one. I have…Svetlana. She loves me. And I love her. But not like…” he cut himself off, catching police lights out of the corner of his eye. He pressed his head against the wall, breathing as quietly as possible, and waited until they turned the corner before speaking again. “Fuck. But not like I love you.”

He hated that he couldn’t say these words to Shane at the All-Star Game. He hated that the only way he could bring himself to say them was when Shane couldn’t understand him. “That’s the worst fucking part of all this…that all I want is you. It’s always you. I’m so in love with you, and I don’t know what to do about it.” he rubbed his free hand over his face, wiping away the tears that had formed while he was speaking. “ok, I’m done.”

“Do you feel better?” Shane asked, his voice soft.

“Yes,” Ilya admitted, wiping his face. He always felt better when talking to Shane, though he could never admit it. “Thank you.”

“Maybe you could teach me Russian someday,” Shane suggested, and Ilya snorted.

‘Yeah. ok,” he thought for a moment. “Only useful phrases.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, like: “Harder, please. Yes, sir.”

Shane sounded like he was trying to keep from laughing. “fuck you.”

Ilya shook his head. “No, more like: “fuck me, please.”

Shane laughed and then went quiet. “How about…”I wish you were here right now”?”

Ilya sighed, getting up from the ground as he looked back over the empty street. “I wish you were too, Hollander.”

~~

It had taken hours, but Ilya had finally sorted the last of his belongings from his apartment. He was leaving some behind, but Svetlana had promised to ship whatever he couldn’t fit in his suitcase.

It was strange to think that this would be the last time he was here. This apartment had been bought right after his rookie season, when he needed a place to escape to after dealing with his father’s disappointment over losing the rookie of the year award to Shane. It had been close enough to his father’s house that Ilya could keep an eye on him when his illness had worsened.

But all of that was over now.

His father was gone. His brother could care less if he ever saw him again. Ilya had no reason to return to Russia again.

Realizing that was harder than he had expected it to be.

Russia was all he had known for so long. He had been raised here. He had lost both of his parents, now buried in the earth here. But the Russia of today was not the kind of place that Ilya could build a future in. Even if the future did not involve Shane Hollander.

Ilya locked the door for the last time. Svetlana was waiting in the car downstairs, seeming to sense that Ilya needed a moment alone.

He slid into the passenger seat, looking over at her.

“I have a few hours before my flight. Can we make two stops?”

Svetlana nodded. “Where are we stopping?”

~~

They pulled up in front of the cemetery, Svetlana giving Ilya an understanding look.

“Would you like me to come with you?”

Ilya shook his head. “No, thank you. I think it is best if I go alone.”

Svetlana nodded. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Ilya got out of the car with the bouquet of lilies that he’d picked up in his hands. They’d always been her favorite. When he was a child, he remembered seeing the lily clip in her hair when she’d go to parties.

He made his way through the rows of headstones without hesitation, the well-worn path all too familiar to him.

He was at his destination before too long, the letters still legible on the weathered stone.

Irina Rozanova.

Beloved mother and wife.

Ilya placed the lilies at the base of the headstone and fell to his knees.

He didn’t spare a glance towards his father’s grave next to his mother’s. He was not here for him.

“Hello, mama.” He said after a long moment. “I am sorry that I have not been here in so long.” He took a deep breath. “And I am sorry that this may be my last time coming to see you.”

He clasped his hands together to hide the shaking.

“I do not want to leave you. I love you, mama. I will always love you.” He let out a low breath. “But Russia is not safe for someone like me. I am only safe if I hide who I am, and I do not want to do that anymore. The only thing keeping me here was father, and now he is gone.”

Ilya looked down for a moment before looking back at the headstone. “I want a life that is not possible if I stay here. But just because I am no longer able to visit does not mean that I do not care for you. I will carry you in my heart for the rest of my life, mama. I love you.”

He stands up, pausing before turning to leave. “I hope that you can be happy for me. Even if the life I want is not one that you expected me to have.”

Ilya walked back through the cemetery, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

Svetlana gave him a look as he got back into the car.

“Are you ready to go?”

Ilya nodded, looking out the window as she started the car. He watched the city pass him by as they drove, one thought rattling through his mind.

He might not know what the future held for him, but he knew it would not be found trapped in his past.

---