Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(53)

Ilya wondered if Rose Landry would be joining Shane in Florida for the All-Star Game. He wondered if Rose Landry would be accompanying Shane to everything from now on. Maybe they would get married.

For the first time ever, Ilya was not looking forward to the All-Star Game.



Chapter Sixteen


January 2017—Tampa Bay

Shane was nervous. After six and a half seasons, he was used to his fucked-up arrangement with Rozanov, but something felt different now. Maybe it was because he had finally spoken aloud to someone about his...possible preference. Or maybe it was because of the weird way things were left the last time he and Rozanov had been together, in Ilya’s apartment. Or maybe Shane just felt surer of what he wanted now, after walking away from a relationship that had been almost perfect.

Almost.

He wanted to see Rozanov this weekend. He wanted to be with him, alone, behind closed doors; he was tired of lying to himself about it.

This year, finally, Shane would know what it felt like to play with Ilya Rozanov. Six All-Star Games and this was the first time they had been placed on the same team. Injuries and weird, gimmicky team arrangements that the league kept coming up with had prevented it from happening before.

He wasn’t the only one who was excited about him being Ilya’s teammate. The press was having a field day writing about this monumental event where Shane and Ilya would have to put aside their supposed animosity and learn to work together. Was it even possible, they wondered?

Shane smiled to himself as he hung up his suit in the hotel room closet. If they only knew.

But, truthfully, if he only knew what Ilya was thinking these days. He wasn’t sure if Ilya wanted to end things, or if he wanted to push things further. He really had no idea what to expect from his temporary teammate this weekend.

He glanced at his watch. The team meet-up downstairs was starting in a few minutes.

Shane blew out a breath, then checked himself in the mirror.

Let’s do this.

Ilya hadn’t texted Hollander in over two months.

Not that they had ever regularly contacted each other before, but this silence had been particularly deafening. The past few weeks had been the first time that Ilya felt sure that, if he texted him, Shane wouldn’t reply.

Shane would probably show the text to his movie star girlfriend, and they would laugh at how pathetic Ilya was.

No. That wouldn’t happen. Of course Shane wouldn’t do that.

Maybe.

Ilya fumbled his package of nicotine gum out of his pocket and popped a piece in his mouth. Had Shane brought his girlfriend to All-Star weekend? Would he introduce her to Ilya?

God.

Ilya ran out of time to fret, because at that moment, Hollander walked into the bar. Every head turned. Some guys actually stood up, for fuck’s sake.

Ilya leaned against the bar and watched Shane shake hands and clap guys on the back. He watched him smile and laugh with everyone. He looked relaxed and confident, like a man who had gotten his life together. Like a man who didn’t question himself anymore. He looked...

Christ, he looks so fucking good.

Maybe Rose had taken him shopping or something. Suddenly he was dressing like the millionaire he was. He had on a white, button-up linen shirt, open at the collar, with the sleeves rolled up. They were in Florida, after all. It was tucked into slate blue pants that fit him perfectly. The outfit was finished with a woven belt and some stylish gray sneakers with no socks.

Ilya was wearing shorts, and a shirt that was covered in palm trees because he’d thought it would be funny. Now he felt like a fucking idiot.

He ordered another drink just so he’d stop staring at Shane.

He cursed himself for feeling so gloomy. It should be a fun weekend; the hotel was a fucking beach resort.

Someone moved into the space next to him at the bar. Without looking, Ilya knew it was Hollander.

“Hey, teammate,” Shane said.

“Hello, Captain,” Ilya said, because Shane had been selected as the captain of their All-Star team. Of course.

Shane flagged the bartender down and Ilya noticed the expensive watch on his wrist. A gift from Rose, maybe?

“So this should be fun, huh?” Shane said. “Always wondered what it would be like to play on the same team.”

“Have you?”

“Nice that it’s in Florida this year, eh?”

“Mm.”

Shane’s beer arrived and Ilya watched him take a long haul off the bottle. He watched his throat work as he swallowed.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

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

Shane shook his head. “No. I mean...my parents thought about it, but they’ve been to so many of these things and they’re already going to Mexico next month, so...”

“Ah.” Rose Landry must be busy filming somewhere.

Shane’s tongue darted out to lick his upper lip. Ilya could have sworn it happened in slow motion.

“Nice shirt,” Shane said with a grin.

“Thought I’d get in the spirit. You know.”

“You can pull it off.” He raked his eyes over Ilya’s body, and Ilya’s heart sped up. “Looks good.”

Ilya probably could have said something similar in return, but he was too busy staring at the hollow of Shane’s throat.

“Jesus, look at this! Fucking beautiful!” A pair of giant arms landed heavily across the shoulders of Ilya and Shane. The intruder, Mike Brophy—a huge defenseman for New Jersey—pulled Ilya’s and Shane’s heads together. “This is what it’s all about! Fucking Hollander and Rozanov working together! Love it!”