The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(33)

“What about you?” he asked, hoping to change the subject. “You seeing anyone?”

“Nah. I sort of had a thing going with a pro surfer, but he was a lot. Always wanted to talk about deep shit for hours. It was intense. And boring.”

“Sorry.”

“I think I want to find a nice, normal guy, y’know? No celebrities. I want to meet, like, a bookstore owner.”

“Isn’t that the exact plot of a movie? I swear I watched a movie like that with my parents.”

Rose laughed. “You’re right! That’s Notting Hill. Okay, not a bookstore. Maybe a...flower shop. There. Totally different.”

“I wish I knew a nice flower shop owner. I’d introduce you.”

“Keep your eyes open. I’d also accept a baker. I love bread.”

“I miss bread,” Shane said wistfully.

“God, I’ll bet. Is it worth it, though? Does the clean eating make you feel better?”

Shane frowned at his bowl of kale. “I keep saying it does, but it might be the discipline that makes me feel better, not the food.”

Rose’s mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. “Wow. This just turned into therapy.”

“Sorry. Ignore me.”

“No way. Tell me all about how much you like discipline.”

“Shut up. It’s not a sex thing.”

“Hm.”

“It’s not! I like to practice discipline and self-control, and be rewarded for it. That’s all.”

“That still sounds like it could be a sex thing.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Eat your poke.”

“Is that an order, sir?” she asked in a husky voice.

“Holy fuck! That doesn’t even make sense. Wouldn’t I be the submissive one in this fantasy you’re making up?”

Rose cackled while Shane wished he could disappear. The truth was, he did like it when he and Ilya played a bit with discipline in the bedroom. Shane wasn’t into punishment, or shame, but he loved it when Ilya made things...challenging. And then rewarded Shane for it.

“I’m sorry,” Rose said gleefully. “You’re just so fun to tease.”

“I’ve been told.”

Late in the afternoon, Rose dropped Shane off at his hotel. She hugged him as they stood next to her car and told him she’d be at his game the next night.

“Oh yeah?” Shane said.

“I’ll be in a box, wearing a Montreal jersey.”

“That’ll cause a scene.”

“Maybe the paps will think we’re back together.”

Well, that wouldn’t hurt. Except Ilya would never let him hear the end of it. “I’ll see you...someday,” Shane said. His heart felt heavy. He really wished she lived closer to him.

“Soon,” she promised. “I fly to Romania on Monday to start shooting a movie that I already know will be terrible, but maybe we can meet up somewhere after that.”

“Definitely.”

She hugged him again and said, quietly against his ear, “Say hi to Ilya for me.”

“Okay.”

“And come up with a backup plan.”

“I will.”

As he watched her drive away, a ball of tension formed inside his stomach, expanding into his chest. There was no backup plan. If he and Ilya were found out, they were fucked.

“Guess what,” Ilya said as soon as Shane accepted his FaceTime request. It was the next morning—early in L.A., almost lunchtime in Ottawa—and Shane was still in bed.

“What?”

“We are getting a team puppy! Harris told us today at practice.”

“Oh. Cute.”

Ilya looked perfect, sitting on his deck in the early-autumn sunshine. He was wearing a black sweater that looked soft and cozy, and his jaw was covered in thick stubble. The sunlight made his golden-brown hair gleam. “He is too small right now, but when he is old enough he will come to the arena to visit!”

“You gonna let anyone else play with him, or...”

“Maybe. Good game last night.” He lifted a McDonald’s cup and took a long sip of something that was, at best, Coke, but could possibly be a chocolate shake. Shane decided to ignore it.

“You stayed up that late?”

Ilya grinned. “Yes, but, you know. Mostly partying.”

Shane smiled back, knowing damn well Ilya had only stayed up late to watch his boyfriend play hockey. “Sure. I saw Rose yesterday.”

“Yes, I saw the photos.”

“Aw man, did those hit the internet?”

“They say you are back together. Congratulations. Very happy for you.”

“Anyway, I want to tell you what she said.”

“She wants you back?”

“No. Shut up. She said we should maybe make, like, a backup plan. In case our secret gets out.”

“Backup plan,” Ilya repeated. “What would that be?”

“No idea. I figure we either stick to the plan we have, or our secret gets blown and we’re fucked, right?”

Ilya frowned. “Maybe. Yes.”

“I know we’re careful, but...”

“Someone might notice my heart eyes.”

“Your what?”