The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(77)

“Fucking right!” Bood yelled as the team returned to the dressing room at the end of the game. “New year, new energy. We’re gonna be unstoppable, baby!”

Ilya hoped so. He really hoped so. He believed in this team, despite their long history of losing. He had great teammates and a great coach. He was playing on a line with Bood and Troy now, and they were really starting to click. It felt great to have a player on his right who could keep up with him. The team just needed a few wins to gain confidence. Maybe this would be the road trip that changed everything.

Troy seemed happy about it too. Or maybe he was mostly happy that Harris had traveled with the team for this southern road trip. It wasn’t something Harris did often, but Ilya was glad he was getting a working vacation to some warmer climates. The team was heading directly from the arena to the plane that would take them to Tampa Bay. They’d have the rest of the night and all of tomorrow off to enjoy the warm Florida weather.

Harris was shooting video of the celebration in the room while Troy grinned at him from his stall, completely moony-eyed. Ilya sat next to Troy. “Still haven’t told him?”

“Not going to either.”

Ilya scoffed. “This would be a good chance. Romantic day together in Tampa tomorrow, maybe?”

Troy’s cheeks darkened slightly. “As if.”

“Think about it.”

“No.”

Coach Wiebe entered the room, and everyone cheered.

“Huge win tonight, guys,” Wiebe said with a huge smile. “I’m proud of you. Barrett with two beautiful goals? Are you kidding me? Amazing stuff, Troy. And where are our all-stars? Wyatt, Roz? Massive saves tonight, Wyatt. Absolutely incredible. And a goal and two assists from our captain? Can’t ask for more than that. Love it.”

Ilya stood and waved, which made everyone laugh. He realized he was actually in a great mood for the first time in a long time.

“All right,” Coach said, and clapped his hands together once, “let’s go to Florida, folks!”

The room erupted in cheers.

The party continued all the way to the plane. Everyone was rowdy and laughing, and Ilya soaked it in like a sponge. He’d missed this feeling.

Ilya was sitting alone, across the aisle from Harris, who seemed to be hard at work on his laptop. Near the end of the flight, Troy moved to sit in the empty seat beside Harris. Ilya smiled to himself, and looked out the window to hide the wistfulness that had probably crept into his expression. If things worked out with Harris and Troy, Ilya couldn’t promise he wouldn’t be a little bit jealous. It would be amazing to have your boyfriend so close.

The plane dipped suddenly—some unexpected turbulence. Everyone laughed at Bood, who had been standing in the aisle and was now on the floor. Ilya hastily wiped at his shirt, where Coke had splashed from the can he was holding. Ugh. He shouldn’t have worn a white shirt.

He pulled out his phone and checked to see if there was any score yet in the game Shane was playing tonight. It had just started, so no. Nothing yet.

They hadn’t spoken much since their phone call over a week ago. Ilya missed him, but he also thought the space from each other was good. They would talk—really talk—when they saw each other again, but for now Ilya needed time to think about what actually needed to be said.

He loved him, he knew that. He wanted to make sure Shane never doubted it. He didn’t expect their impending conversation to be easy, but whatever was said, he needed Shane to know he loved him. That he was still willing to do whatever it took to be together. But he also needed Shane to know all of the reasons why Ilya had decided to see a psychologist. He needed the man he loved to know the worst about himself.

A bang louder than any noise Ilya had heard during a flight rocked the plane. Everything shook violently for a moment, and Ilya’s can of Coke fell to the floor. He didn’t have time to worry about it before the plane fucking dropped.

Ilya was screaming. He knew he was screaming and that he should probably stop, but everyone around him was screaming too. He gripped the arms of his seat and closed his eyes, as if either of those things would help.

We’re going to crash.

I’m going to die.

I’ll never see Shane again.

We were going to have dogs and kids.

The plane leveled out with another horrible shudder. Suddenly, the screaming stopped, and the cabin of the plane was eerily silent, as if everyone was holding their breath at once.

The pilot made an announcement. Ilya’s brain was too panicked to translate all the words, but he heard “engine” and “emergency landing.” He focused on the word landing. Pilots were trained to deal with this, right? He’d know if Shane hadn’t been such a pill about Ilya wanting to get his pilot’s license.

Shane.

What if Ilya died? What would Shane do? How would he mourn?

Several rows behind him, Ilya heard Nick Chouinard yelling about a fire. He didn’t want to look.

Fuck. This was really happening. They were going to die, and Ilya would never get to have the big conversation with Shane. Would never get to tell him everything that Ilya had been hiding in his heart.

If only Shane wasn’t playing a game right now. Ilya could—well, not call him, but talk to him somehow. He wished he could text, but all he had access to was Wi-Fi.

Fuck it. Ilya opened Instagram and started typing a new private message to ShaneHollanderHockeyPlayer.