The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(5)

“Impossible.”

“You know what I mean. No innuendo.”

“Innu-what? Is this a sex thing?”

“No flirting. No, y’know, trying to get me all turned on or whatever. Be professional.”

Ilya stepped close to him. “I do not have to try to get you all turned on, moy lyubimyy.”

Shane’s lips parted and he shifted his stance, just slightly. Then he blinked and said, “That. Exactly that. Don’t do anything like it today.”

Ilya trailed a fingertip down Shane’s cheek. “Why? Are you all turned on?”

“No. And as soon as I see you eating one of those disgusting breakfast sandwiches I’ll never want to kiss you again.”

Ilya laughed. “I’d better eat two, then. To be safe.”

“Welcome to Camp Rozanov,” Ilya announced.

“Boooo,” said Wyatt Hayes, and the kids laughed.

“Is that not the name?” Ilya asked innocently. “I thought we had agreed.”

Shane could only shake his head, pressing his lips tight together to suppress his grin.

“It’s the Game Changers Hockey Camp!” one of the kids yelled out.

“Ugh. Bad. Camp Rozanov is better. I am Ilya, and this is my friend Shane.”

“Hi,” Shane said.

“Everyone knows that me and Shane like each other a lot and always get along,” Ilya said. The kids laughed more. Some called out protests. “But in case we... disagree...we have brought more friends to help. For the goalies, your coaches will be Wyatt Hayes, who plays with me for your favorite team, the Ottawa Centaurs.”

Some of the kids were brave enough to boo.

“We’re all on the same team this week,” Wyatt said, grinning. “Save the booing for the winter.”

“And also, Leah Campbell, who has more medals and awards than anyone else here, I think.”

“By two,” Leah said cheerfully. “Not that anyone’s counting.”

Ilya tapped his stick on the ice as applause, and the kids and other coaches all did the same. “For defense players, the coaches will be Ryan Price, who is the very tall and handsome man over there...”

“Uh, hi,” Ryan said quietly as he shuffled his skates.

“...and J.J. Boiziau, the tall and sort of handsome man next to him.”

“Watch it, Rozanov,” J.J. said, and Shane knew he was only partly kidding. J.J., one of Shane’s alternate captains and closest friends, had not been impressed when he’d first learned that Shane and Ilya were friends. He’d mostly gotten over it but, like Hayden, had never quite warmed to Ilya. Shane certainly wasn’t ready to tell J.J. that he and Ilya were more than friends. Not yet.

Despite Ilya’s teasing assessment, J.J. was undeniably handsome, though he and Ryan Price couldn’t look or be more different from each other. Ryan was pale with nervous hazel eyes, red hair, and a beard that, at the moment, was more trimmed than when Shane had seen him in the past. He also suffered from anxiety, which was one of the reasons he had retired early at age thirty-one. J.J., at six-six, was nearly as tall as Ryan, and just as broad, but he had dark skin, short hair, a Quebecois accent with a bit of a Haitian Creole lilt from his parents, and all the confidence in the world.

The other major difference between them was that Ryan Price did know Shane and Ilya’s secret. He’d walked in on them kissing last year at the end of the first day of camp. Shane still barely knew the guy because he was too embarrassed to even look Ryan in the eye. But Ryan was gay himself, and he wasn’t much of a talker. He’d kept their secret, as far as Shane could tell.

“And for the forwards,” Ilya continued after the kids had stopped scolding him. “We have me and Shane, and also Max Riley, who you know from Team Canada. And from being Leah’s husband.”

Shane was pleased by the enthusiastic stick tapping for Max. Ilya had suggested inviting him to be a coach, and Shane had quickly agreed. Max had been in the media spotlight quite a bit over the past couple of years after coming out as a trans man. He’d played with his wife for Team Canada for years, including in two Olympics but, since coming out, had been without a team. He was a vocal advocate for trans rights in sports, and Shane was glad both he and Leah were part of their staff. Not only because they were activists, but because they were both incredible hockey players.

“And also Hayden Pike,” Ilya said quickly. “Okay! Let’s get started.”

Shane was, Ilya had to admit, a pretty terrible coach. But in an adorable way.

“Okay,” Shane mumbled to a group of forty young hockey players. “So, you start at the goal line, and you receive a pass when you hit the blue line. I mean, there’ll be a whistle and then you go. And the puck is coming from the next person in line. No. Wait. It’s coming from the next person in line, but the opposite corner. Um...there’s two groups. One in each corner, and, uh...”

Ilya felt like he’d somehow walked into one of Shane’s nightmares. Like he was being forced to present a lecture on a topic he knew nothing about.

Likely also noticing the confusion and panic on the kids’ faces, J.J. took over. As he explained the fairly simple drill with his cheerful, booming voice, Shane retreated to stand next to Ilya.

“Very good job, Coach Shane,” Ilya teased.