The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(87)

Ilya nodded. “Only helpful things, yes.”

“Why the fuck would Crowell want him to stop?”

Ilya nodded in the direction of Dallas Kent. “I think because it hurts Kent’s feelings.”

Shane’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously? Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Or because it makes the league look bad.”

Shane scoffed. “Probably.”

At that moment, Kent skated by them. Ilya glared at him, and he was sure Shane was doing the same.

“I meant to tell you,” Shane said, once Kent was out of earshot, “I was impressed with what Troy was doing.”

“Did you forget to tell me, or did you not tell me because you still hate him?”

“I don’t hate him.”

“Hm.”

“I’m glad you’re friends, or whatever,” Shane grumbled.

“I will tell him you said that,” Ilya said, “next time we are showering together.”

Shane elbowed him in the arm. “Shut up. I’m trying to watch this.”

“They are setting up pylons. Is that what you want to watch?”

Shane ducked his head, which meant his cheeks were turning pink.

Wyatt suddenly appeared in front of them and leaned one elbow on the boards. “How’s it going, fellas?”

“Shhh. Shane is watching the men set up pylons.”

“Would you fuck off?” Shane snarled.

Wyatt glanced at the ice. “That’s cool. The ice crew’s hard work isn’t appreciated enough. Except the Zamboni drivers. Talk about all-stars.” He slapped the boards. “There should be a Zamboni competition. With obstacles and stuff.”

Ilya blinked at his goalie. “Yes. Great idea, Hazy.”

“Congrats on winning the skating thing, Shane.”

“Thanks.”

“It was a tie, basically,” Ilya said.

“That’s not what the clock said,” Shane argued.

“If we did it again right now, I would probably win.”

“Well, you should have won the first time, dickhead.”

Wyatt furrowed his brow at them. “You know, you two don’t have to sit together.”

“Hello, Hunter,” Ilya said cheerfully as he sat in the chair next to Scott Hunter. A bunch of the players were gathered in the hotel bar, most of them sitting at large tables.

“Rozanov,” Scott said with a wary nod.

Ilya plunked his pint of beer on the table and leaned back in his chair. “Too bad about the thing you lost.”

Scott huffed. “The stickhandling event is stupid anyway. It’s designed to make us look bad.”

“Mm. Someone still won, though.”

Scott narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t win your event either. Hollander smoked you.”

“Was basically a tie.”

Scott took a sip of his own beer and seemed to glance around for someone else to talk to. Finally he sighed and said, “Your team’s been playing well lately.”

It was an understatement. Ottawa had been on fire since returning from their nearly ill-fated trip to Florida, and was enjoying a franchise-record winning streak. “We’re making the playoffs this year,” Ilya said.

“Might be a bit early to be stating that as fact.”

“I don’t think so. We are very good. Remember when we beat you? We haven’t lost since then. Since that time we beat you.”

Scott snorted. “Man, you’re annoying.”

Ilya grinned. “Hollander told me you want to coach our camps.”

“One of them, maybe. Yeah.”

“What are your qualifications? We have a boring guy already: Hollander.”

“You know what? I might be busy this summer after all.”

Ilya nudged him. “We are happy to have you. Really. The kids will be very excited.”

Scott eyed him suspiciously. “Okay?”

“Yes. And bring Kip. We go out at night sometimes and have fun. Ryan Price brings his boyfriend.”

Scott’s face relaxed a bit. “Kip said he’d like to see Montreal.”

Ilya gasped. “Ottawa is also good!”

“Yeah, but Montreal is Montreal.”

Ilya couldn’t argue that. He glanced across the room and spotted Shane, talking to Colorado’s team captain, Matheson. Shane was wearing that sexy silk T-shirt that Rose bought him—the one that was practically transparent—and Ilya had been stealing glances at him all night.

Ilya briefly rubbed his own chest, searching for and finding the round outline of the ring hidden under his shirt.

“How is married life?” he asked.

Scott’s expression shifted back to suspicious. “Good...”

“You are happy? Kip is happy?”

“Last I heard.”

Ilya raised his eyebrows.

“This morning!” Scott clarified. “I was talking to him this morning! He was going to come with me, actually, but he’s doing some volunteer work in Brooklyn this weekend instead.”

“Nice of him.”

“Yeah,” Scott said defensively. “He’s nice.”

“Good.” Ilya took a drink of beer. Shane was laughing at something Matheson said. His eyes were all crinkled. “Is Kip happy you are retiring this year?”