The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(120)

He opened the door just as Scott reached his front steps. “Hunter. You are at my house.”

Scott looked a little bewildered, as if he hadn’t realized this would be Ilya’s house or something. His perfect fucking face glanced around like he’d been dropped there by aliens. “Yeah, I um. I got the address from Wyatt. He had to make sure my intentions were noble first.”

Ilya really wasn’t sure what the intentions were of the rival team captain—the man whose team the Centaurs were currently in the middle of a playoffs series against—standing on his doorstep. “You could have texted.”

“You seem to enjoy showing up at things unannounced. Maybe I wanted to see what it was like.”

Ilya smiled at that. “Come in.”

And then Scott Hunter was in Ilya’s house.

Shane had returned to the living room, still a little rumpled but mostly presentable. “Hi, Scott.”

Scott nodded at him. “Shane. Good. I was hoping you’d be here too.”

“He usually is,” Ilya said, a bit smugly and for no real reason. Something about Hunter always made him feel territorial and juvenile.

And god, it felt good to finally be able to let people know that Shane Hollander was his. He knew that Scott was happily married and not looking at Shane in that way any more than he was looking at Ilya in that way, but still. Ilya was proud of himself for landing such an impressive boyfriend.

“Oh, were you guys watching the Madrid Open?” Scott asked, glancing at the TV.

“Uh, yeah,” Shane said.

“Kind of,” Ilya added.

Scott sat in an armchair, perched on the edge of the cushion. “I know it’s awkward because we’re in the middle of a playoff series, but I wanted to talk to you guys about...you know.” He waved a hand between Ilya and Shane.

“Uh-oh,” Ilya said. “Are we getting a lecture from Dad?”

Scott looked at Shane. “Is it possible for him to not be an asshole for five seconds?”

“No,” Shane said. He sat on the couch, facing Scott. “So what did you want to talk about, exactly?”

“Well, first of all, I’m sorry you guys got outed that way. That’s awful.”

“It wasn’t great,” Shane agreed.

“Ruined our plan to kiss on television,” Ilya said dryly.

Scott narrowed his eyes at him, then directed his next words to Shane. “When I heard about what happened, I felt sick, honestly. Being outed was my biggest fear for years. That decision shouldn’t have been taken from you.”

Ilya joined Shane on the couch. “Is that the only reason you felt sick?”

Scott gave him a wary smile. “I was pretty shocked. Not gonna lie.”

“If you are here to tell us our relationship is okay or not okay, we don’t care,” Ilya said bluntly.

“Jesus, Ilya,” Shane muttered.

“I’m not,” Scott assured Ilya. “I have no idea how this thing with you has even been working, but you guys obviously have it figured out. It’s definitely never interfered with your hockey.”

Ilya understood what that meant: Scott didn’t believe Shane had tripped on purpose. He lowered his defenses and said, “Thank you for saying so.”

“How’d Crowell react to your relationship?”

Ilya snorted. Shane said, “You can probably guess. I think if he thought he could get away with it, we’d both be out of the league.”

Scott’s expression turned dangerous, the way it often did on the ice. “I think he felt the same way about me when I came out.”

“And Troy Barrett,” Ilya added. “Troy got an email after that was like...what is the word? Nice but sounds angry?”

“Passive-aggressive,” Shane said.

“Yes. Okay. That.”

“Crowell’s a dinosaur,” Scott said. “He’s standing in the way of progress, which is part of why I wanted to talk to you. Carter Vaughan and I are trying to start a group of NHL players.” He paused. “No. Of hockey players—I’ve already reached out to Max Riley and Leah Campbell—who are interested in fighting back against toxic hockey culture. Not just homophobia, but all of it: racism, sexism, rape culture, transphobia, toxic masculinity. I know that sounds kind of huge and impossible, but it has to start somewhere.”

“Like a club?” Ilya asked. “Of nice hockey players?”

“Basically,” Scott said. “I thought when I came out that would make a difference for other queer hockey players.”

“I think it did,” Shane said. He glanced at Ilya. “It did for us, anyway.”

Oh god. That was embarrassing. But it was true; Ilya probably wouldn’t have taken a chance on trying to be with Shane if Scott hadn’t kissed his boyfriend on television after winning the Stanley Cup.

“Yeah?” Scott asked, sounding surprised and maybe a bit touched. “That’s nice to hear. But when I heard Troy’s story, it made me realize that queer NHL players still didn’t feel safe coming out. And that’s just one problem with hockey culture.” He sighed. “Sometimes it all seems so broken I don’t know if it can be fixed. But I want to try.”

“So,” Shane said slowly, “like, if someone in hockey says or does something awful, we would speak as a united front against it? Is that what you’re thinking?”