Page 57 of The Long Game (Game Changers #6)

“Jesus Christ, what are we going to do? Fuck, what does J.J. think? Oh god.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to talk to him,” Hayden said. “He’s, um, not into it.”

Shane met Ilya’s gaze for a moment, and saw concern there.

“He’ll come around,” Shane said, mostly trying to convince himself. “It’s a shock. I get it. I don’t expect everyone to understand, but J.J.’s one of my best friends.”

Hayden stood, then bent to scratch Anya’s ears. “He’s not too happy with me either right now. I think his feelings might be hurt for being left out, y’know?”

Shit. Shane should have told him sooner. “Well. That’s on me. I’ll talk to him.”

Hayden left a few minutes later, but not before Shane gave him a reassuring hug. Hayden had done a good job keeping their secret. He didn’t deserve to feel shitty about this.

When Shane went back to the living room, he found Ilya staring at his phone with one hand over his mouth.

“Are you watching the video?” Shane asked.

Ilya nodded.

“Is it bad?”

“Terrible. Hayden needs to write down what he is going to say in these videos. He is all over the place.”

Shane dropped on the couch beside Ilya. Anya hopped into Shane’s lap, and he held her there, stroking her back and trying not to look at the video.

“There we are,” Ilya said. He was quiet a moment and then said, “Oh yes. This would be hard to deny.” He huffed. “We are really going for it.”

“This is a fucking nightmare,” Shane said faintly.

The couch began to shake, and Shane realized that Ilya was laughing. “It’s not funny.”

“Is very funny!” Ilya squeaked out. “Hayden’s stupid FanMail video. Oh my god. This was somebody’s birthday greeting. Someone named Brad.”

“Sorry, Brad,” Shane mumbled.

That made Ilya absolutely lose it. He fell over on the couch, howling with laughter. Anya whimpered with concern.

“Stop laughing!” Shane said, but now he was laughing too.

Anya leaped to the floor and starting pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table while Shane fell on top of Ilya and laughed until his body ached with it.

“We are so fucked,” Shane sighed when he’d finally calmed down. “How many messages are on your phone?”

“A lot. We should call Farah now.”

Shane nodded slowly. “Probably. Okay. Yeah. Call her.”

Ilya tapped his phone, then set it on the coffee table on speaker mode. Both men crouched forward, waiting for her to answer.

“Ilya. God. How are you holding up?” Farah said as soon as she did.

“Oh. You know.”

“Is Shane with you?”

“Yes,” Ilya said.

“Hi. Hello,” Shane said.

“I’m so sorry this happened. You guys must be devastated.”

“I think I’m more...dazed?” Shane said. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel real.”

“I wish it wasn’t, but I’m here to help.”

“What do you think the league is going to do?” Shane asked.

“Legally, I’m not sure they can do much. But Crowell will try to do something, that’s for sure.”

Shane’s stomach cramped. Ilya huffed angrily beside him.

“If he does, he’ll be hearing from me,” Farah continued. “If that’s what you want.”

Shane wasn’t sure. The one thing he knew is that he wanted to keep playing in the NHL, and Crowell had the ability to make that difficult, or at least uncomfortable. Shane was pretty sure Crowell couldn’t actually kick him or Ilya out, though.

He glanced at Ilya, who only shrugged. “Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Shane said, though he doubted they’d be so lucky.

“What should we do next?” Ilya asked.

“First,” Farah said, “I’m going to write an official statement. Unless you want to write it yourselves.”

“Nope,” Shane said at the same time Ilya said, “No way.”

“I figured. I’ll get that written and send it to both of you when I’m done. I think we should post it as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” Shane said, “but I want to wait until after practice this afternoon at least. I need to talk to my team.”

“That’s reasonable. But we should release it tomorrow at the latest, probably.”

“All right. Yeah.”

“What about your team, Ilya?” Farah asked. “Have you spoken to anyone there?”

“Not yet. But I think it will be okay.”

“I think so too. But I’m sorry this happened,” Farah said. “It’s awful. Hayden must feel terrible.”

“He does,” Shane said, “but we talked to him. It’s not his fault.”

“Good. Okay, let me get cracking on this statement. I know things are bleak right now, but it will die down. We’ll steer things back your way, I promise.”

Shane stared at the phone for a while after the call ended, still numb. Ilya rubbed his shoulder.

“Farah will help,” Ilya assured him.

“I’m worried she can’t.”

“I know.” Ilya sighed. “I have to go back to Ottawa now. Our plane leaves in a few hours.”

“Right. Shit.”

“I am sorry to leave you now. Will you be okay?”

“I mean, no. I’ll be a fucking mess.” He blew out a breath. “I need to try to talk to J.J. before practice.”

“Do you think your team will be okay?”

“I have no idea. Probably not at first. I don’t think Coach is going to be okay with it. Or management. Or, like, anyone.” Shane sighed. “I’ll find out this afternoon, I guess.”

Ilya took his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing Shane’s knuckles. “One thing at a time.”

Shane shifted closer until his face was hovering over Ilya’s.

“One thing at a time,” he agreed. He kissed him, and realized this was it.

Ilya was going to leave the safety of Shane’s house soon, and walk into chaos.

The secret wasn’t a secret anymore, and it was time to face whatever was about to happen next. Together.

“Fuck,” Ilya said when he spotted the black SUV parked outside the gates at the end of his driveway.

He didn’t know who owned the vehicle, but he was sure they were here to bother him.

Probably an overly ambitious journalist. He didn’t need this right now.

He needed to pack, get Anya to the dog hotel, and then get to the team plane.

He pressed the remote button that opened his gate and steered into his driveway. When he stepped out of the car, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Ilya,” Coach Wiebe called out from the end of the driveway. “You got a minute?”

Ilya sighed, nodded, and gestured for his coach to follow him to the house. May as well get this over with.

When they got inside, Anya stood in front of Ilya’s legs and barked menacingly at Coach Wiebe. Ilya bent and petted her head. “Is okay, Anya. He is a friend.”

Ilya glanced up and locked eyes with his coach, silently asking, Right?

Wiebe crouched too and offered Anya his hand to sniff. “Nice to meet you, Anya. I’m just here to talk to your dad.” He smiled at Ilya. “She’s cute.”

“She is the best.”

Wiebe stood. “Can we sit, maybe?”

Ilya stood as well. “I can make coffee.”

“Now we’re talking.”

They went to the kitchen, and Ilya used his espresso machine to make them each an Americano. It was faster than brewing a pot. Wiebe waited until they were both sitting at the kitchen table before he got down to business.

“So,” he said, with a hint of amusement in his eyes, “I’m guessing your, um, appearance in Pike’s video was unintentional.”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.” Wiebe looked genuinely sympathetic. “That’s terrible.”

Ilya sipped his coffee, not saying anything.

“Is it serious?” Wiebe asked. “You and Hollander?”

“You mean, was it a joke?”

Wiebe shook his head. “No way a kiss like that was a joke. No, I mean, are you two an item?”

The ice shelf that Ilya had built up in his chest began to crumble and slide away. “I love him,” he said quietly.

There was a long silence. Ilya stared at his coffee and waited.

“And I’d say the feeling is mutual,” his coach finally said. “Based on that video, anyway.”

Ilya’s lips curved up. “It is very much mutual.” His tentative smile only lasted a moment. “How bad will this be?”

Wiebe exhaled slowly. “I don’t know,” he said. “Crowell has ordered that you both be benched for a bit. He wants it dealt with, whatever that means.”

Jesus. Shane was going to lose his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Ilya said, not really meaning it. He wasn’t sorry he’d fallen in love with Shane. Wasn’t even sorry he’d made the mistake of kissing him when he’d thought no one could see. But he was a bit sorry that Coach Wiebe needed to deal with this. He was a good guy.

“I’m not going to pretend this isn’t complicated as hell,” Coach said, “but you don’t need to apologize to me.”

“No?”

“No.” Wiebe smiled. His smiles were always warm, with a hint of mischief. “I mean, the timing isn’t great. I’m a rookie coach, Roz! Come on!”

“Sorry,” Ilya said again.

“The thing is, because I’m a rookie coach—and not particularly popular with Crowell—I don’t know how much help I can be. But know that you have my support, whatever happens.”

That was...more than Ilya had expected from his coach. “Thank you,” he said, sincerely.

Wiebe studied him for a long moment, took a sip of coffee, then seemed to reach a decision. “I’m going to share something with you that I’ve only ever told my wife.”

Oh god. “Okay,” Ilya said.

“When I was playing my second season, in Detroit, I had a thing with one of my teammates. It doesn’t matter who, and I’m not going to tell you, but we got drunk and fooled around one night during a road trip and then we...kept doing it a bit. For a few months.”

Ilya didn’t say a word.

Wiebe grimaced. “I’m not telling this right. The truth was, I’d been half in love with him before we first hooked up—before I’d even thought that was a possibility—and after that first night, I fell the rest of the way. I was nuts about him. But he was...he said he didn’t feel that way about me.”

“He was scared,” Ilya said.

“Maybe. Or maybe he truly only wanted a bit of release on the road. We never hooked up at home. But I thought he might have returned the feelings more than he’d let on.

” Wiebe waved a hand. “Anyway. It all fell apart when I told him I loved him. He, uh, didn’t take it well.

I ended up being sent down to the AHL for a while after that, and then he was traded in the summer. Haven’t spoken to him since.”

Ilya didn’t know what to say. He’d been the first one to say “I love you” in his and Shane’s relationship. What if Shane hadn’t said it back? What if he’d been horrified?

“Sorry that happened to you,” Ilya said.

Wiebe just nodded. “Now I look back and I think, maybe he saved me a whole mountain of trouble. If we’d been a real couple, trying to hide, I can imagine how hard that would have been.” He gave a small smile. “So that’s a long-winded way of saying I have your back. That I understand.”

Ilya’s lips curved up. “This team is very gay.”

Wiebe laughed. “Technically, I’m bisexual. To be clear, I love my wife. I’m not hiding anything.”

Ilya’s smile grew. “Bisexual! Great. Yes, me too.”

“I figured, what with your long and impressive history with the ladies.”

“That is over. It has been only Shane for a long time.”

“I’m glad you have each other. It’s not going to sit right with a lot of people, but I’ll be talking to the team about my feelings on it at a meeting before we get on the plane.

Like I said, I can’t do much, but I’ll do what I can.

” He stood. “Thanks for the coffee. I should get going, but I’m sorry you aren’t coming with us. ”

Ilya stood too. “Me too. Thank you for coming here. It has helped.”

Then Wiebe embraced him in a hug, and slapped his back for good measure. “Stay strong, Captain. We’ll be needing you in the playoffs.”

“Keep winning,” Ilya instructed.

Wiebe stepped back, smiling wide. “With this team? Easy.”