Oh god. That was embarrassing. But it was true; Ilya probably wouldn’t have taken a chance on trying to be with Shane if Scott hadn’t kissed his boyfriend on television after winning the Stanley Cup.
“Yeah?” Scott asked, sounding surprised and maybe a bit touched. “That’s nice to hear. But when I heard Troy’s story, it made me realize that queer NHL players still didn’t feel safe coming out. And that’s just one problem with hockey culture.” He sighed. “Sometimes it all seems so broken I don’t know if it can be fixed. But I want to try.”
“So,” Shane said slowly, “like, if someone in hockey says or does something awful, we would speak as a united front against it? Is that what you’re thinking?”
Scott’s eyes flashing with excitement. “Exactly! Right now it’s scary, speaking out, when you’re just one person. But if we have an organized group who can release statements, it’s a lot less scary. It’s powerful.” He leaned forward. “I have over fifty hockey players interested in joining already. I think we can really do this.”
Ilya was impressed. This was actually a really good idea. “I’m in.”
“Me too,” Shane said. “A hundred percent. I know J.J. and Hayden would be into it too.”
“My coach might join as well,” Ilya said thoughtfully. “He is a very good guy.”
“Yeah? That would be great. I’d love to get some people from that side of the bench.” He smiled. “Sorry I kind of jumped right into my pitch. I mostly came here to tell you that, y’know, I’ve got your back. And congratulations, I guess.”
“You can congratulate us after we are married,” Ilya couldn’t resist saying.
Scott’s eyebrows shot up. “And when will that be?”
“July,” Shane said, even though they hadn’t officially decided. He glanced at Ilya. “Makes sense, right? Maybe the week before camps start?”
“Sure,” Ilya said easily. “Whenever.”
Scott blew out a breath. “Jesus. This is really weird. Sorry.”
“Why?” Ilya asked. “Because we are both men?”
“What?” Scott sputtered. “No! Because...you know what? Fuck you, Rozanov.”
Ilya laughed, then stood and extended his hand to Scott. “You are a good guy, Hunter.” When Scott took his hand, Ilya pulled Scott to his feet and, without really thinking about it, wrapped him in a hug. Scott let out a surprised-sounding “Oh,” when his enormous body collided with Ilya’s.
“Well,” Shane said. “There’s something I never thought I’d see.”
Scott laughed and stepped out of the embrace. “Funny. I said the exact same thing when I saw you guys kissing in that video.”
“I want to be friends,” Ilya said simply. The truth was, he’d always had a lot of respect for Scott, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise. Being honest felt great. He’d have to tell Galina about it.
“Me too,” Scott said. Then he grinned and added, “After this series ends, of course.”
Ilya smiled back. “I will be busy in the semifinals after that.”
“Dream on, Rozanov.”
* * *
In the end, New York won the series against Ottawa four games to one, knocking Ottawa out of the playoffs. The Centaurs and their fans were disappointed, but optimistic about the team’s future.
On the plane home from New York, immediately after the game, Ilya felt himself start to spiral. He was frustrated about the loss, but it was more than that. He wanted to fucking disappear. He didn’t want his teammates to look at him, he didn’t want to talk to anyone. He was exhausted and he couldn’t remember what it felt like to not be exhausted.
It was a tiny bit devastating to learn that none of the changes he’d made in his life—therapy, winning, getting a dog, coming out to friends and teammates about his sexuality and his relationship with Shane, getting engaged—had fixed him. Even with so much to be happy about, he was almost hoping for the plane to crash for real this time.
No. Of course he didn’t want that. He just needed to get home to his own bed, and stay there forever.
“Hey,” said a voice, and Ilya turned away from the window to see Troy leaning on the empty seat between Ilya and the aisle. “Can I sit for a minute?”
“Yes. Sure.”
“You sticking around Ottawa this summer? Besides the camp in Montreal, I mean?”
Ilya almost told Troy about the wedding plans, but didn’t feel like sharing that right now. Instead, he said, “Usually we go to Shane’s cottage. Is on a lake, maybe two hours from Ottawa.”
“That sounds nice.”
“What about you? Ottawa? Home to Vancouver?”
Troy wrinkled his nose. “Definitely not Vancouver. I’m going to look for a house outside Ottawa. Somewhere Chiron can run around.”
Ilya raised his eyebrows. “You are going to live with Harris, then?”
Troy’s cheeks pinked. “Yeah. I know it’s super fucking soon, but yeah.”
Ilya smiled. “Is Harris. Why wait? He is perfect for you.”
“He really is.” Troy’s face shifted into a dreamy expression that he quickly shook off. “So anyway, if Anya needs someone to play with, me and Harris are around all summer.”
God, it was nice to finally have friends who knew about Shane. “Thank you,” Ilya said sincerely. “Maybe you guys could come to the cottage for a visit. It is very nice. And, like, huge.”
Troy smiled. “That sounds cool.”
He left shortly after, and Ilya felt a bit lighter for a few minutes. He wished he knew how to make the good feelings last.
* * *
It was nearly two in the morning by the time Ilya pulled into his driveway, but Shane was waiting right inside the front door, Anya barking happily at his feet.
“She’s missed you,” Shane said. “But she’s surprisingly easy to take care of, y’know?”
“Because she is the best.” Ilya bent to scratch her head. His hand was trembling for some reason. “I missed you too, sweet girl. I am done traveling for a long time now.”
He stood to meet Shane, who was studying his face with obvious concern.
“What?” Ilya asked.
Shane opened his arms. “Come here.”
Ilya’s face crumpled before he was in his embrace. He sobbed against Shane’s shoulder, not even knowing why. Shane held him and stroked his hair and shushed his apologies.