Chapter Fifteen
One week later—Montreal Shane liked Rose Landry. He did.
She was easy to talk to, and she had a warmth about her that drew people in. She was a bigger celebrity than he was, but she handled it so easily. She laughed a lot, and when she asked people questions—which was often—she genuinely seemed to care about their answers. Maybe it was because she was an actress, but she always seemed very interested in people. Always observing. And she remembered every detail.
They had slept together a couple of times. It had been…fine. Better than usual, really. Except Shane knew she wouldn’t be so dazzled by his stardom that she would be able to overlook his performance, and that had made him nervous. Which had made it more difficult for him to…perform.
But she had been patient and helpful, and he’d completed the task both times. He may have noticed some surprise on her part that it seemed to be such a chore for him—especially the second time. He was sure she wasn’t used to that.
Tonight, Shane was alone with her at a private table in a wine bar in Old Montreal. He had actually been surprised when he’d arrived and found her alone there. He’d been expecting the usual crowd of Rose’s friends and coworkers.
“I thought it would be nice to have some time to…talk,” she’d explained. “Just the two of us.”
“Sure.” Shane had nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. It’s nice.”
They talked for a long time, over wine and charcuterie. At one point Rose laughed at some dumb joke Shane made. “You’re so cute,” she said.
“Have I told you how cute you are?”
“No,” Shane said, blushing a little.
“You are. I’ll tell you,” she said, leaning in, “Miles is extremely
jealous.”
“Of me?”
She laughed. “No, silly! Of me!”
“Oh.” Shane let that sink in. “Oh!”
Rose’s eyes bugged out a bit. “Wait…did you not notice that Miles is gay?”
“Um… I guess I hadn’t really thought about it,” Shane lied.
“Well, he is. And he’s low-key in love with you.”
“Oh.” Shane knew he was beet red. He hoped the dim lighting hid it.
“Are you…surprised that a young actor is gay, Shane?”
“No—I mean…no.”
She leaned back in her chair. “Are there, like, gay hockey players?” she asked. “I mean, obviously, yes, there are, right? But are there any openly gay hockey players?”
“No,” Shane said. “I mean, yes. There are gay players. Bi players.
Whatever. I’m sure there must be, yeah. But no one has ever…come out.
Publicly.” Why is she asking me about this?
“Hm,” she said.
“What?”
She gave him a small smile. He wasn’t sure what it meant. “I’m sorry.
I’m going about this the wrong way.”
“Going about what?” And suddenly Shane felt like he was staring down a slap shot. He braced himself for impact.
She reached out and put her hand on his. “Shane. I really like you. But…
I’m getting the vibe that maybe I’m not…doing it for you.”
“You are! You do! I like you a lot too!”
“You like talking to me.”
“Yeah…”
“Do you like…kissing me?”
“Sure.”
She laughed. “Wow.”
Oh god. Shane was fucking this up. “I mean…yes, of course I do!”
“It’s okay, Shane. I just…get the impression…that maybe you would rather be kissing, just for example… Miles?”
Shane didn’t know what to say. He had never encountered a direct accusation like this before.
Except it wasn’t really an accusation. Rose wasn’t judging him. She was just trying to understand him.
He stared into his wineglass. He knew he had taken too long to reply already. The jig was up.
“It’s okay,” she said again, her voice soft and warm. Her fingers brushed over his hand reassuringly.
“I like you,” Shane said quietly. “I like being with you. I like talking to you. But the sex part… I know it’s…a problem.”
“It’s not a problem,” she said. “A problem is something you can solve.
We’re like…a square peg and a round hole.” She scrunched her nose. “Ew.
No. Gross. Forget I said that.”
Shane laughed. “I get it.”
“We just…aren’t supposed to fit together. And that’s fine. But we can’t keep trying.”
Shane nodded. “For the record, I’m not sure that I’m…like Miles, exactly.”
When he met her eyes, she smiled. “Well, it’s nothing that you need to figure out today.” She took a sip of her wine, possibly for courage, because the next words out of her mouth were, “Have you ever been with a man?”
For whatever reason, Shane didn’t feel like lying. He’d made it this far.
“Yes.”
“And? Was it different?”
“Of course.”
“I mean…was it better?”
Shane’s memory supplied him with flashes of golden brown curls and sparkling hazel eyes and a playful smile and hard muscles and of strong hands holding him down as he was entered and filled and…
“Yeah,” Shane said softly. “Yeah. It was better.” He cleared his throat.
“The thing is… I kind of prefer to be the hole. Than the peg.”
“Ha!” Rose threw her head back in delight. Shane laughed too. He felt lighter, suddenly.
Later, before they left the bar, Rose gave him a mischievous look over the rim of her wineglass and said, “So…should I give Miles your number?”
“No. Thank you, but no. I need to…figure some stuff out.”
“I know. I was just joking. Mostly.”
They waited outside for her driver and she said, “Let’s be friends. And I don’t mean in an ‘I hope we can still be friends’ bullshit way. I mean it.
Let’s be friends. Let’s be best friends. Because I really do care about you a lot, Shane. And I feel like you might not have anyone else to talk to about…certain things.”
“I’d like that. You’re right. I don’t. And I care about you too. We’ll be friends. You have my number. Text me. Text me all the time. Please.”
“Whenever we’re in the same city, we’ll hang out. I promise.”
She hugged him as her driver pulled up. He hugged her back and kissed the top of her head. He was surprised to feel tears in his eyes.
The same night—Boston
Svetlana was his favorite.
Ilya watched her now, perched on the end of his bed, naked, flipping through channels searching for the Vancouver vs. Colorado hockey game.
When she found it, she slapped the remote down on the mattress and shimmied back until she was beside Ilya, against the headboard. She pulled the cigarette from between his lips and took a drag.
“I thought you quit,” she teased.
She had vivid blue eyes, and long, straight hair that was so blonde it almost had no color at all. She couldn’t have looked less like…
“Why is Matheson still on the power play line?” she complained at the television, in Russian. “It’s bullshit. He’s been horrible all season. They should put Bogrov in.”
“Why don’t you coach Colorado then?” Ilya asked, snatching back his
cigarette.
“They would be lucky to have me.”
Ilya laughed. He had first met Svetlana three years ago, when she’d worked for the Lamborghini dealership in Boston. He had been surprised to learn, after he had slept with her the first time, that she was the daughter of a retired Russian Boston Bears star player. She possibly knew more about hockey than Ilya did.
“What was that shot?” she asked the television. “He should have gone high!”
“Mm. It is a little harder when you are the one who is actually doing it.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “What would you know?” she said.
Then she smiled, and they both laughed.
Despite her fierce love of hockey, she never treated Ilya with any reverence. Maybe it was being the daughter of a former superstar that made her unable to put Ilya on a pedestal. She seemed to want exactly what Ilya wanted: a no-expectations hookup from time to time. They had
fun together, and she was incredibly beautiful. The fact that Ilya could
speak to her in Russian was a bonus.
“Ugh. Matheson again. He’s terrible!”
“Why do you even care about Colorado?”
“I care about all teams. I don’t like good Russian players being put on the second line so a no-talent Canadian can hog the spotlight.”
“No talent?”
“No talent! None! You can tell him, next time you see him.”
“I will.”
“Good. You tell him Svetlana Vetrova says he is terrible.”
“I’ll see him next week at the All-Star Game.”
“I can’t believe Matheson is an all-star. It makes no sense.”
“He is beloved.”
“He is terrible.”
Ilya rolled his eyes and smiled.
“You are playing with Shane Hollander this year, right? In the All-Star Game?” Svetlana asked, as if she didn’t know the answer.
“Yes. Is he also terrible?”
“No! No, Hollander is amazing. I love Shane Hollander.” She sort of
purred the last few words.
“Traitor.”
“He’s a beautiful skater. Such talented hands. And so cute.”
“Now you are trying to make me angry.”
“You can’t argue those facts, Ilya.”
“No,” Ilya said, grinding the butt of his cigarette into a small plate he was using as a makeshift ashtray. “I can’t argue them. He is very good.”
“And cute.”
“If you say so.”
She pulled her knees to her chest. “Are we going to fuck again, or should I get dressed? I’m cold.”
Ilya considered her question, then shrugged. “I’m hungry. You should get dressed.”
She looked momentarily surprised, then her features changed to match his own cool indifference. “All right.”
She stood up and began retrieving her clothes from the floor. Ilya watched her, but his mind wasn’t on her slim, perfect body.
Would he have shrugged if Shane had asked him if they were going to fuck again? Would he have turned down his chance to enjoy his body as many times as he possibly could? Don’t you dare put your clothes on, Hollander. I’m not done with you yet.
The truth—the truth that he tried so very hard to ignore—was that no one set him on fire like Shane Hollander. All of these women…they were gorgeous. Fun. Very sexy. But he didn’t think about them after they were gone. He didn’t long for them. With them, he could be sated.
He grimaced at himself as Svetlana pulled her shirt back on. Shane Hollander was not an option. He wasn’t ever an option, not really. This thing between them needed to stop. It was bad for both of them, and Ilya knew they should end it.
What scared Ilya was how desperately he wanted it to continue.
But not enough to embarrass himself. Which was why he hadn’t even bothered texting Shane when their teams had played against each other in Montreal last week. He had no interest in being rejected by Shane Hollander.
He’d also had no interest in seeing Shane Hollander with his hands all over Rose fucking Landry in a nightclub, but fate seemed determined to rub Hollander in his face. A fucking nightclub! If he couldn’t be safe from Hollander there, then where?
Ilya wondered if Rose Landry would be joining Shane in Florida for the All-Star Game. He wondered if Rose Landry would be accompanying Shane to everything from now on. Maybe they would get married.
For the first time ever, Ilya was not looking forward to the All-Star Game.
