The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(8)

Shane exhaled slowly, lowered his hands, and said, “Nothing. Just, y’know, replaying the entire day in my head. I can’t believe Ryan walked in on us again.”

Yuna turned away from the chicken breasts she’d been checking. “Seriously, guys?”

“We weren’t doing anything!” Shane clarified.

“Shane was about to,” Ilya said.

“I was not.”

“You were going to kiss me.”

“You were going to kiss me.”

“Okay. Enough,” Yuna said. “It’s not such a big deal, right? Ryan’s gay, so he must be...” She rotated one hand in the air, searching for the right words. “Cool with it.”

“He looked horrified,” Shane said.

“Is fine,” Ilya said easily. “He has known for a year and has not told anyone. Where is the goat cheese?”

“I know, but it’s embarrassing. And unprofessional. And we’ve burdened the poor guy with a pretty huge secret,” Shane said. “Leave the cheese off my salad, okay?”

“I know.”

“I like Ryan,” Yuna said. “He’s a big sweetie.”

“Yes,” Ilya agreed. “We are going to ask about a double date with him and his boyfriend, maybe.”

Yuna placed her hands on Ilya’s shoulders and squeezed, once. “I love that idea.”

Ilya bit his lip to contain his smile. He really liked Shane’s family.

“You don’t think you could tell the rest of the staff about your relationship?” Yuna asked, returning to the chicken. It was a question Ilya had been asking himself a lot. He focused on getting the goat cheese out of the fridge and let Shane answer.

“Not yet,” Shane said. “Leah and Max would be safe, I think. But we don’t know them that well, so I don’t really see the point in telling them, y’know?”

“We could tell Wyatt, maybe,” Ilya said.

“You think?” Shane asked. Then he shook his head. “I don’t want your goalie to know. Too weird.”

“Hayden knows,” Yuna pointed out. “Why can’t Ilya’s teammate know?”

“Hayden is my best friend, and the only one of my teammates who knows. I’m sure as hell not telling J.J.”

“Can I tell him?” Ilya asked.

“Don’t even joke about that.” Shane sighed. “I love J.J., and he’s been really supportive of me being gay, but he’s not ready to hear about us. Trust me.”

“Well, neither was I,” Yuna said. “But I got over it.”

“J.J. isn’t my mom.”

“No,” Yuna said. “Your mom is the one making dinner at the end of a long day while you sit on your butt and mope. Come help.”

“I’m helping,” Ilya couldn’t resist pointing out.

“I know you are.” Yuna patted his cheek. “That’s why you’re my favorite son.”

Ilya grinned at Shane, who tried to look annoyed but mostly failed because his eyes had gone soft.

Later, they sat around the table and toasted their successful first day of camp with glasses of water. They ate their healthy, Shane-approved dinner and talked about hockey, and the charity, and decor ideas for Shane’s house, and plans for the rest of the summer. It felt, as it always did to Ilya, wonderful and surreal at the same time. He’d never expected to have this domestic comfort in his life. Not with anyone. He’d never expected to be part of a family, and have parents again.

He would do absolutely everything to protect this, and he was constantly terrified that, when it came to it, he wouldn’t be able to. Because the day would come.

Shane offered to clean up after dinner to make up for slacking off during the preparation. Yuna insisted on helping, which probably meant she wanted to talk to Shane, so Ilya headed outside to the back deck.

He leaned on the railing and stared up at the sky where the stars were barely visible from all of the city lights. Nothing like at Shane’s cottage.

“I think you’d like what we did today.” Ilya spoke quietly, in Russian, to the sky. “I hope you are proud.”

He only ever spoke to one of his parents, though both were dead now. His mother’s death had been sudden and devastating. His father had faded away gradually from Alzheimer’s, and Ilya still hadn’t sorted out his feelings about losing the man who’d never had a nice word to say to him. Or to Ilya’s wonderful mother.

Ilya’s friend Harris, back in Ottawa, swore there was a ghost living in his parents’ house. A great-uncle or something. Ilya didn’t think he believed in ghosts, but he clung to the idea that his mother’s spirit was with him, somehow. He needed her to be.

“Hey,” Shane said in a hushed voice behind him. “Mom’s gone to bed.”

Ilya turned to face him. He’d changed, when they’d gotten home, into sweat shorts and a Voyageurs T-shirt. His feet were bare and his shaggy hair was rumpled. Ilya immediately opened his arms and Shane practically fell into them, resting his forehead on Ilya’s shoulder and exhaling loudly.

“I’m exhausted,” Shane said. “Let’s go to bed, okay?”

“Sure.”

But Shane didn’t move. He wrapped his strong arms around Ilya’s waist and held him, breathing slowly against Ilya’s neck. Ilya rocked them a bit, gently, from side to side, and enjoyed the quiet. He closed his eyes and focused on how good it felt to be with Shane, alone in the dark, and tried not to wish it could be the same in the light.