Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(79)
“That’s how many the recipe was for!”
“You can’t do math? Cut it in half?”
“Leave me alone.”
Instead, Ilya stood directly behind Shane and draped an arm across his chest. He kissed him behind the ear. “No,” he murmured.
Shane tipped his head back, and Ilya could see the color that had flooded to his cheeks.
It was exhilarating, to be outdoors like this and to be able to touch each other the way they wanted to.
Christ. He hadn’t even been here for two days yet and already he had no idea how he was going to be able to go back to the real world.
“I would bring some of the burgers over to my parents’ cottage, but that would ruin the whole I-can’t-be-disturbed-I’m-meditating lie I told them.”
Ilya kissed his neck. “Have you ever lied to your parents before?”
Shane shuddered. “Probably. I mean... I must have. But not often, no.”
“You love your parents. You are a good son.”
“I try to be.”
“They don’t know how bad you can be.”
“Stop it.”
“What is your mother’s name?”
Shane pulled away, and turned to face him. “What are you doing? Why all the questions?” He was frowning, as if he suspected Ilya was making fun of him.
“What? I want to know about your family! All I know is your mother is Japanese or something. Probably where you get your looks.”
“Half of them, yes.”
“And your dad is...boring? Is that where you get your boring from?”
Shane shook his head, but he was smiling a bit. “My dad is not boring.”
“He is exciting?”
“He’s...normal. He works for the Treasury Board of Canada.”
“Super exciting.”
“He played hockey for McGill.”
“Wow. Is McGill a town? What the fuck is McGill?”
“It’s a school! A university in Montreal! A very famous one.”
Ilya shrugged and took a sip of his beer.
“My parents are awesome,” Shane said, turning his attention back to the grill. “Seriously, they’re the best.”
“Maybe I will meet them someday.”
Shane froze. Ilya saw the tension grip his back and shoulders.
“Relax,” Ilya said. “Was a joke. I know I won’t—”
“I’d like you to,” Shane said quietly. “I mean... I wish you could. You know. If things were...different.”
Ilya reached out and tapped Shane’s elbow. Shane turned to face him.
“Do they know?”
“About you?”
“No,” Ilya said. “About you.”
Shane looked down and shook his head. “No.”
“They would not be...good? If you told them?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said they are the best.”
Shane looked up. “They are. I mean... I think they would be fine with it. I know they would be, really. They love me. They’ve always supported me. They aren’t homophobic at all, I don’t think. It’s just not something we’ve ever really talked about.”
“Maybe you should.”
Shane turned and picked up a plate that he started piling burger patties on. “Sometimes I think I would have told them by now. If it wasn’t for...”
Ilya raised an eyebrow that Shane couldn’t see. “This is my fault?”
“No. Yes. Sort of. I just think...if I had a normal dating life or whatever. I mean, still dating men, but not...doing whatever we’re doing. With, you know, you.”
“You don’t want to tell your parents that you are fucking Ilya Rozanov?”
Shane sputtered out a laugh. “No. I definitely do not want to have to explain that to them.”
“Why would you, though?”
“What do you mean?”
“You can tell your parents that you are gay, I think, without telling them the names of men you are fucking. I am pretty sure about this.”
“I know! I know. But...” Shane sighed. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Let’s eat these burgers before they get cold.”
Ilya wanted to push him to say more, but instead he just followed Shane to the table.
The truth was that Shane thought about Ilya meeting his parents a lot.
He was kind of obsessed with the idea.
He couldn’t even form a clear thought about why it was so important to him. For one thing, it was an absurd, terrible idea and there was absolutely no reason why he should want it to happen.
He had even imagined benign scenarios where they are at a function—maybe the NHL Awards—and Shane just casually says, “Mom. Dad. Have you met Ilya Rozanov?” And they would meet. And they would shake his hand and Ilya would nod politely at them and tell them it was nice to meet them. Then it would be over, and his parents would shake the hand of the next person who approached them and they would have no idea—no idea—how much of a relief it would be for Shane to have witnessed just that simple contact. To know that the two people he loved the most had touched the skin of Ilya Rozanov, and had looked into his eyes, even for a second, and that Shane now had concrete proof that all three of them existed in the same world.