Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(39)

“See you,” Shane called out.

“Goodbye, Hollander,” Rozanov replied from the other room.

And Shane left. He realized, when he was back in his room, that they hadn’t even kissed. He also realized, with horror, that he regretted that.



Part Three




Chapter Twelve


October 2016—Philadelphia

Ilya had a man pinned under the weight of his body.

The man was big, almost as tall as Ilya, and pressing back against him aggressively. Ilya wedged a knee between the man’s thighs, holding him firmly in place.

“Fuck off, asshole,” the man growled.

Ilya leaned on him harder.

“All right, let him go, Rozanov,” the referee said. “I’ll call holding if you don’t back off right now.”

Ilya released the other man’s jersey, raising his hands innocently.

“Fucker,” the other man growled. He shoved Ilya before he skated away from the boards where Ilya had trapped him.

“That wasn’t nice,” Ilya called after him.

Ilya could hear the boos and taunts from the crowd as he skated to the bench.

Fuck you, Rozanov!

You’re a fucking pussy, Rozanov!

Go back to Russia, you piece of shit!

Et cetera.

Ilya smiled to himself. He actually loved this. He loved being on the road, and disappointing home crowds across North America. He loved the insults, the booing, and, most of all, the sound of a crowd so gutted by his team’s performance that they couldn’t even bother to boo. A winded, humiliated crowd. That was Ilya’s favorite sound.

The crowd was still loud in Philadelphia. This was not an easy city to silence. He would have to work extra hard tonight to get that glorious, devastated quiet he craved.

He sat on the bench next to Brad Hammersmith. Brad was a veteran forward. He was also about a hundred years old.

“Making friends?” Hammersmith asked.

“I’m playing hockey.”

Hammersmith snorted.

A Philadelphia defenseman skated by the bench when the play had stopped. “Keep it up and see what happens, Rozanov,” he threatened.

“I know what will happen. My team will win.”

“Suck my dick, Rozanov.”

Be the best blow job of your life, sweetheart. Ilya winked at him.

“Faggot,” the other player grumbled.

Ilya shrugged. It was half true.

Maybe, like, thirty percent true.

At that moment, the scoreboard screens showed a highlight from the Montreal vs. Ottawa game that was also happening that night. Hollander had just scored a goal. Of course.

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

Well, now he was going to have to score two goals tonight.

October 2016—Montreal

“Jackie is pregnant.”

Shane stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence ecosystem at the Montreal Biodome. “Again?” he said.

Hayden laughed. “Jesus, thanks.”

“Sorry! I mean, congratulations.”

Hayden shot him an amused look. “Yeah, you sound super happy for me.”

Shane gestured to the stroller Hayden was pushing his one-year-old son in, and then toward the twin three-year-old girls who were peering into a touch tank. “Well, I mean...”

“Yeah,” Hayden sighed. “I know. But Jackie’s happy. I mean...she’s fucking bored, right?”

The nearby parent of a wobbly toddler glared at them.

“Sorry,” Hayden said quickly to the offended party. Then, to Shane, he said, “I gotta watch my language. Jackie always says so.”

“Hazard of our occupation,” Shane said.

“I know I—hey! Jade, sweetie, don’t splash your sister!—I need a swear jar or something at home.”

“I don’t think you can afford that.”

As a man without children, or a wife, Shane was in the minority among his teammates. Most of the guys were married well before the age of twenty-five. Hayden had married Jackie at twenty-one, after only dating her for a year. Shane had been there the night they’d met. Hayden had dragged Shane and a couple of other guys out to a club, where Hayden had met his future wife, and Shane had left to have one of the most embarrassing sexual encounters of his life with a very patient woman named... Olivia? Ophelia?

But Jackie was great. Hayden had done well marrying her. And their kids were adorable, even if naming the twins Jade and Ruby was a choice.

“Thanks for coming with us,” Hayden said, stooping to pick up the pacifier that his son, Arthur, had dropped on the ground. Hayden gave it a quick wipe on his shirt and plunged it back into Arthur’s mouth. Shane made a disgusted face that Hayden didn’t see. “Jackie’s sister is visiting and they wanted to go shopping and shit.”

“Swear jar,” Shane said.

“Right. Shopping and stuff. Anyway, it’s hard going anywhere with these three monsters, so I appreciate the help.”

“My pleasure, man.”

Shane was sincerely enjoying himself. The Biodome was a good place for him to go without getting mobbed. People were so distracted by the animals, and by trying to wrangle their own children, that they weren’t bothering to look at the other adults in the room. Shane was also wearing a ball cap and a simple black jacket to try to blend in even better. So far it was working.