Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(84)

“I don’t know. I am thinking...maybe somewhere else.”

“Oh.”

“I have been thinking...” Ilya said. He’d never said any of this out loud before. He maybe hadn’t even formed it altogether in his head before. “I am a free agent, after next season.”

He definitely had Shane’s full attention now. “You’d leave Boston?”

“I have just been thinking. Maybe...a Canadian team.”

“Holy shit, really?”

“Yes.”

“Like where?” Ilya could see the thoughts play out on Shane’s face like a movie: What if we played together in Montreal? No. Montreal couldn’t afford both of us.

“Not Montreal,” Ilya said gently.

“No. I know.”

But good god, now Ilya was imagining that. Playing together, living together, being together.

It was never going to happen.

But it was a nice thought.

“I could marry Svetlana,” Ilya said, out of nowhere. It was the following night, and they were playing pool.

Shane frowned at the three ball that just missed the side pocket. He would have made that shot if Ilya hadn’t just casually dropped his worst nightmare on him.

“Oh?” Shane asked calmly.

“She is American, so it would mean American citizenship, but she would do it.”

“Would she?”

“I think so. Yes. She is Sergei Vetrov’s daughter. Did you know?”

“What? Really?”

“Yes. She would help me.”

Shane watched Ilya sink the twelve ball. And then the fourteen ball. He felt like snapping his own cue over his knee.

“Do you—I mean—is she someone that you would...want to marry?”

Ilya straightened his posture and looked at him. “I like Svetlana, yes. But it would be for citizenship.”

“But,” Shane said. He had to say this next part. It had been eating away at him for too long. “You want to get married, right? To a woman, I mean. You’re not...like me. You like women. And I’m sure...Svetlana is gorgeous and fun and...all that stuff. Right?”

“Yes,” Ilya said. “I do. She is. But.”

“But?”

Ilya shrugged, and he looked like he was possibly blushing. “I have this problem,” he mumbled.

Shane waited.

“I like women. I always was thinking that to get married would be nice. Kids. All of that. Someday. But...this problem will not go away.”

Shane bit his lip. “Tell me about this problem.”

“Is so annoying.” Ilya sighed, and Shane could see him fighting a grin. “Always I am with beautiful women. Wonderful women. Everywhere.”

“Sounds rough.”

“Yes. Listen. These women, they are so sexy and fun, but is no matter. I cannot stop thinking about this short fucking hockey player with these stupid freckles and a weak backhand.”

“A weak backhand?” Shane couldn’t stop smiling.

“Yes. And he is just so boring and he drives a terrible car and...that is my problem. All of these beautiful women and I am always wishing they were him.”

Ilya bent to take his third shot. “Is terrible problem.”

Fuck. Shane was going start crying right here in his games room. He swallowed and steadied himself. “Do you want the problem to go away?”

“No,” Ilya said seriously, looking Shane dead in the eye. “I do not want the problem to ever go away.”

“Don’t marry Svetlana,” Shane blurted out.

Ilya raised an eyebrow.

“Just...don’t. I know it wouldn’t be...for love or whatever. But don’t. I couldn’t—we can figure something else out, okay?”

Ilya looked surprised, but he nodded.

“Okay.”

“I was thinking,” Ilya said. It was late morning the next day, and they were sitting on the deck with coffee. “If I played for a team that was not Boston. Maybe in the west. The rivalry would not be such a big deal.”

Shane seemed to consider this. “That’s true. We’d only play against each other twice a year.”

He frowned and Ilya knew he didn’t like that idea any more than he did. We’d only see each other twice a year.

“Is...like, sacrifice. For future gain, yes?”

Shane brightened. “Future gain?”

“Yes. Our rivalry has been huge. But maybe we can help it to...fade away? A little?”

“Yeah...” Shane said. He was getting excited. “Yeah! I don’t like the idea of you being so far, but we could make people forget all about us as rivals and maybe no one would care about us at all one day.”

“One day. Yes.”

Shane smiled shyly at him, and Ilya grinned back, and they both sat there, smiling stupidly at each other while they thought about the possibility of one day.

“I have another idea,” Shane said. He’d been thinking about what Ilya had proposed all day and he had come up with a plan of his own. He propped himself up on an elbow and poked the sleepy Russian in the shoulder.

Ilya rolled over. “What idea? About what?”

“What if you played for Ottawa?”

“Ottawa? Is almost as bad as playing for Boston. We would be rivals just the same.”