The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(13)

Shane still couldn’t get over how different Ryan and Fabian were. Ryan was so huge and shy, often hunched to make himself appear smaller. Fabian was possibly a full foot shorter than him, but made himself impossible to ignore with his beauty and the unapologetic way he decorated himself with makeup, feminine clothing, and sparkly jewelry. “I’ll bet their sex life is wild.”

Ilya grinned. “Pervert.”

“As if you’ve never thought about it.” Shane waited for Ilya to merge from the off-ramp before he asked, “Do you think we looked like that to them?”

“What, sexy? I probably did.”

“No, like...in love?”

Ilya seemed to consider the question before answering. “We are very good at pretending to not be in love. Maybe we are bad at showing it when we are allowed.”

Ilya’s words felt like a lead vest. Shane slid down in his seat and stared out the window, frowning. Neither man said a word for the rest of the drive.



Chapter Four


“I fucking love hockey,” Max said with a big grin. He tossed his camp-issued bagged lunch on the coaches’ table and slid energetically into the seat opposite Ilya.

“It shows,” Ilya said, because Max had absolutely thrown himself into coaching this camp.

“I just—” Max glanced at the tables of kids all around them. “This is seriously the best. I’ve been mad at the game for a while, and I needed this.”

“I get that,” Ryan said quietly. “I mean, not for the same reason. Your situation is unfair and awful, but I kind of hated hockey until I, y’know, quit.”

Unlike Ryan, Max always spoke loudly and confidently. He pointed a finger at Ryan and said, “The NHL did you dirty, Ryan. I never liked how you were treated, and I like it even less now that I’ve met you and know what a sweetheart you are.”

Leah dropped into the seat next to her husband. “Are we talking about how much we love Ryan?”

“No,” Ryan mumbled to his sandwich.

“We’re talking about how fucked up hockey is. And how we love it anyway,” Max said.

Leah smiled. “Yep. That’s the problem right there.”

Ilya glanced at the end of the table, where Shane was sitting. As Ilya had suspected, Shane looked confused and uncomfortable. Hockey had never made Shane sad for a minute of his life.

Ilya couldn’t pretend to know how it felt to be let down by the game he loved—not in the way Max or Ryan had been—but he was more aware of hockey’s flaws than Shane was. He’d been paying more attention, over the past few years, to the darker side of his sport.

“Hey,” Max said to Ilya, “what do you think of your new coach?”

Ilya shrugged. “Haven’t met him yet.”

“Yeah, but it’s a pretty interesting hire, right? I mean, how old is Brandon Wiebe these days? He must be in his thirties still.”

“He’s forty-one,” Shane said, because of course he knew. Brandon Wiebe had been a forward in the NHL for eleven seasons, before he’d retired nearly a decade ago. He’d never been a star, and had earned himself a reputation as a “difficult” player to manage, though Ilya had never known why. Wiebe had still been playing when Ilya had started his own NHL career, but Ilya had never interacted with him.

“He’s cute,” Leah said. “Like, I watched him being interviewed on TSN. He’s aged well.”

Max placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “I can’t believe you’d say that right in front of me.”

Leah laughed. “Well, he is. Ryan will back me up on this, right, buddy?”

“Nope,” Ryan said. “No comment.”

“There is no way Wiebe is hot enough for Ryan,” Ilya said. “Have you seen his boyfriend?”

“Uh, yeah,” Max said. “Leah and I Googled him last night. What the heck, dude? He’s, like, an actual angel or something.”

Ryan crumpled his empty lunch bag in one giant hand. “You guys are weird.” He stood to leave, but paused and said, with a small smile, “But yeah. My boyfriend is super hot.”

Max slapped the table. “Love it. Be proud of your hot man, Ryan.”

Ryan walked away, shaking his head but probably smiling.

“So besides being cute,” Shane said in a somewhat clipped tone, “what makes Wiebe a good coach?”

“He played in the NHL,” Ilya said. “Might make him good.”

“No offense,” J.J. called from his end of the table, “but Ottawa probably didn’t have a lot of coaches to choose from, y’know?”

“Hey,” Wyatt protested. “Just because we’re bad, and in a city that no one wants to play in, and we have no fans...”

J.J. laughed loudly at that. “See? Your goalie gets it.”

“Just wait,” Ilya warned. “We are turning it around this year. You will see.”

“Sure,” J.J. said. “I believe in you. One hundred percent.”

Ilya was going to say something snarky back, but at that moment Hayden rushed up to the table clutching his own bagged lunch. “Sorry if I missed anything,” he said. “Had to deal with a family emergency.”

“Did your wife have another baby?” Ilya asked dryly.