Chapter 3: The Long Game: Chapter 3

Shane asked Ryan to help him get some gear out of storage at the rink the next morning. Ryan, understandably, looked uneasy about it.

“I haven’t told anyone,” Ryan blurted out as soon as they were alone in the equipment room.

“I know. I’m not worried about that,” Shane assured him.

“Oh.” Ryan’s massive shoulders dropped away from his ears. “So what equipment do we need?”

“The mini-nets and some of those, um, things for, like, stickhandling practice. Y’know. The little…things?”

“Things,” Ryan repeated slowly, glancing around like maybe the would reveal themselves.

“Listen, um,” Shane said.

Ryan’s attention snapped back to Shane.

“Your boyfriend’s in town with you, right? Fabian?”

“Yes,” Ryan said suspiciously.

“Cool. We were thinking—I mean, Ilya and I were thinking—that you guys might like to go out tonight. Get some dinner, maybe? With us?”

Ryan’s brow furrowed. “Like a double date?”

“Yeah, I guess. Sort of. Or, y’know. Yes.” Shane exhaled and tried to pull himself together. “We’ve never been out with another couple. Like, a gay couple. As a couple.”

“Um.”

Shane felt like a dam had burst inside him, and he unleashed a tidal wave of excited babbling on poor Ryan. “No one knows about us, I mean, almost no one, so it would be cool to, like, not have to hide. Well, we’d still have to hide if we’re at a restaurant or whatever. We wouldn’t, like, be obvious about being…anyway, it would be nice to spend an evening with people who won’t judge us. Unless you judging us. Maybe you think what we’re doing is fucked up, because I guess it kind of fucked up, but—”

“Other people know?” Ryan interrupted.

“What?”

“I’m not the only one who knows. Other people know?”

“Yeah. Sure. A few people. My parents. Hayden and his wife. My teammates know I’m gay, but they don’t know about Ilya. Except Hayden. But I just said that, so—”

Ryan closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. “Thank fuck. I thought I was the only one who knew or something.”

“It’s not just you. Sorry if we let you think that.”

“It’s okay. I should have figured.” He sighed. “Fabian was talking about a pizza place he wanted to go to tonight. You guys could come too, I guess.”

Shane’s current diet meant he could eat basically nothing at a pizza restaurant, but he nodded enthusiastically. “Sounds great. Let’s do it.”

“Okay.” Ryan turned to look at one of the piles of equipment along a wall. “So…can we get whatever we need and get out of here now?”

Shane realized that he’d basically trapped Ryan in a small space and unloaded a bunch of weirdness on him, which probably wasn’t an ideal situation for someone with clinical anxiety. “Yes. Sorry. Shit, Ryan. I’m being super fucking weird. I’m just…”

“Nervous?” Ryan guessed.

“Yeah. But excited too.” Shane laughed shakily. “I’m sort of glad you walked in on us last year.”

Ryan’s face told him that he was glad that he’d walked in on them.

“And I’m really looking forward to meeting your boyfriend,” Shane said. “I didn’t get the chance to last year.”

Ryan finally smiled at that. “He’s nothing like me. No one can believe we’re together.”

“I know the feeling.”

The pizza place turned out to be more of a bar that served pizza. A that served pizza.

Shane hesitated as they approached the entrance. Ilya noticed.

“Problem?” Ilya asked.

Shane attempted to school his features into the face of someone who was chill and up for whatever. “Nope.” He walked confidently through the door.

He was on a date. With his boyfriend. In Montreal. No big deal.

His boyfriend who, incidentally, looked super fucking hot. Ilya was wearing a teal tank top with a faded floral print that showed off his muscular arms, as well as the loon tattoo near his left shoulder that Shane still couldn’t believe Ilya had gotten. He’d surprised Shane with it a couple of months ago and had blamed being bored while Shane was in the playoffs, but Shane knew it wasn’t something Ilya had gotten out of boredom. The tattoo meant something, to both of them. It represented their time together in the summers, at their home on the lake.

Ilya was also wearing loose-fitting gray shorts and black slip-on sneakers, and looked so relaxed and summery that Shane was tempted to drive them both directly to the cottage and make love to him on the grassy shore.

“Over there,” Ilya said, breaking Shane’s fantasy. He was pointing to a table against a wall where Ryan Price was sitting beside a much smaller man.

When they reached the table, Ilya immediately took charge. “I like that shirt, Price. Purple is good on you.”

“Oh. Uh. Thanks.”

“And you are Fabian, yes?”

“The one and only.”

Shane hadn’t really put any effort into imagining Ryan’s boyfriend, but he never would have pictured him looking like . Fabian Salah was . He had warm, golden skin and silky dark hair that was cut short on the sides, but long enough on top to fall into his dark eyes, which were decorated with makeup. He was wearing a black lace tank top that fit close to his slim torso, and had a heart-shaped diamond pendant hanging from his elegant neck.

He was, like, really blatantly not straight in a way that Shane wasn’t used to. The kind of man who, when Shane had been younger and still figuring himself out, he would look at and think “I’m not gay because I’m not like .” It wasn’t a good way to think about anything, but even as a gay man who was in love with another man who he had gay sex with, Shane couldn’t help the knee-jerk reaction of uneasiness in Fabian’s presence.

Which just proved that Shane needed to spend more time around other queer people. Particularly, queer people who didn’t play hockey.

“I am Ilya. This is my… Shane.”

Shane tried to ignore how cute that was because otherwise Fabian’s first impression of him was going to involve a big, goofy grin. “Hi, Fabian,” Shane said, shaking his hand as he sat in the chair opposite him. Fabian’s fingernails were painted periwinkle blue. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same.” The single word did something funny to Shane’s insides. Fabian radiated an effortless sensuality that was distracting, to say the least.

“I like your hair,” Shane tried, because it was true. Fabian’s hair was cool.

Fabian’s lips curved into a smile that was warm and teasing at the same time, not unlike the way Ilya often smiled. “Thank you. I like your glasses.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“He thinks they are a disguise,” Ilya quipped. “Like Superman.”

“Well!” Shane protested. “They can’t hurt. Also, I can’t read a menu without them. So shut up.”

Ilya lightly tapped his sneaker against Shane’s ankle under the table, which made Shane realize his leg had been bouncing nervously. He stilled, but Ilya kept his foot pressed against Shane’s.

“Ryan has told me all about your camps and your charity,” Fabian said. “It’s wonderful. I play fundraisers for youth shelters and mental health initiatives in Toronto as often as I can.”

“You’re a musician, right?” Shane asked. “Sorry, I know almost nothing about music.”

“He’s amazing,” Ryan said earnestly. “You should see him perform. He’s playing a show on Friday night here in town if you—um. I mean.”

“I can put you on the guest list,” Fabian said easily. “Don’t worry about it if you choose not to go.”

“I already bought tickets,” Ilya said. “For us both.”

“You did? You didn’t tell me.”

“Surprise.”

Shane wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He and Ilya never went anywhere together, and this particular outing seemed pretty far outside Shane’s comfort zone.

“What kind of venue is the show at?” Shane asked as casually as he could. “Like, a club, or…”

“He wants to know if it is a gay club,” Ilya said helpfully.

Shane stepped on Ilya’s foot.

“It’s just a bar. Club. Whatever,” Fabian said with a wave of his elegant hand. Then he leaned in and, with a mischievous grin, said, “But it will be gay by the time I’m done playing.”

Ilya laughed loudly at that while Ryan huffed and shook his head, smiling at his boyfriend with a palpable amount of love in his eyes.

“Sounds fun,” Shane said, mostly meaning it. He’d never been one for live music, but he was curious to see Fabian do his thing. And he was a bit charmed by the fact that Ilya had planned a surprise date, of sorts, for the two of them.

They made small talk about Montreal until their server came to take their drink order. The young man introduced himself as Leo, and then his eyes went wide as if he’d just recognized who was at his table. Shane braced himself for a selfie request, but Leo surprised him.

“Are you Fabian Salah?” he asked in a hushed voice.

Fabian only answered with a sly smile.

“Holy shit,” Leo said. “I am such a huge fan.” He pressed a hand briefly over his mouth, then removed it just as quickly. “Sorry. I’m going to your show on Friday. I booked the night off weeks ago.”

“That’s lovely,” Fabian said. “Thank you. I’ll try to make it worth it.”

“Everything you do is incredible. I saw you play in Toronto once and I am just so…wow. Sorry. Okay, I’m cool. What can I get you to drink?”

Shane heard Ilya snicker beside him. Across the table, Ryan was beaming with pride.

“I’d love one of your mojitos,” Fabian said. “I see other tables with them and I’m jealous.”

“Of course,” Leo said, smiling dopily as if Fabian had him in a trance.

“I will have this one,” Ilya said, pointing to a card on the table advertising a local brewery’s products. “The pilsner.”

“Right! Yes,” Leo said, snapping back to attention. “Good choice.”

“I’ll have the same,” Ryan said quietly.

“Do you have unsweetened iced tea?” Shane asked. He saw the panic creep into Leo’s face right away. “Never mind. I’ll just have a sparkling water with lime. Or lemon. Whichever.”

Leo gave Fabian one last nervous, giddy smile, then darted off to get their drinks. Ilya poked Ryan’s forearm, which was resting on the table. “Leo is in love with your boyfriend.”

Ryan smiled. “I’m used to that sort of thing happening. Still nice, though.”

“Ryan gets plenty of attention too,” Fabian said. “But we rarely get recognized by the same people.”

“Very different fan bases,” Ryan agreed.

“Except the queer hockey fans who think it’s, like, the best that we’re a couple.”

“Oh yeah?” Shane asked, suddenly very interested in the conversation. “What do they say?”

“They’re happy for me,” Ryan said quietly.

“And jealous of me, I’m sure,” Fabian said.

“As if,” Ryan huffed.

“Do you ever get the other side of it?” Shane asked. “From hockey fans?”

“Maybe,” Ryan said. “I stay offline and I don’t play hockey anymore, so I guess I don’t hear it if it’s out there.”

Well. Shane play hockey still, and while he wasn’t very active online, he’d been doing more with his Instagram account since he and Ilya had started the charity. And also he was, y’know, in a committed relationship with his archrival. That was a bit different from Ryan’s situation.

Leo returned with their drinks. He gave Fabian his mojito first, which was packed with mint leaves and looked very refreshing.

“You’re a lifesaver, darling,” Fabian told him. “This is exactly what I need.”

Leo smiled widely as he handed out the rest of the drinks. He placed a tall glass of sparkling water in front of Shane with both lime and lemon wedges decorating the rim. “Have you decided what you want to eat?”

Shane hadn’t even looked at the menu. Fabian ordered a fancy-sounding pizza for him and Ryan to share, Ilya ordered a less fancy pizza to eat by himself, and Shane frantically read the menu’s salad selection.

“Um.”

“Look,” Ilya said, pointing to something lower down the menu. Shane quickly read the description of the grilled salmon with sauteed vegetables and roasted potato and almost kissed him.

“I’ll have the salmon with no sauce, and could I get the vegetables with no butter? If that’s a problem, maybe a side garden salad instead of the vegetables?”

“Sure, uh. That shouldn’t be a problem.” Leo sounded uncertain as he wrote everything down. “If it’s a salad, which dressing would you like?”

“Just a bit of olive oil and red wine vinegar, if it’s not too much trouble. Or a lemon wedge.”

“He is fun to go to restaurants with,” Ilya teased. Everyone laughed except Shane, who irritably bumped his knee against Ilya’s.

“I’m on a strict performance diet,” Shane explained defensively after Leo left. “It’s normal for professional athletes and .” He aimed this last word at Ilya, who ate like a thirteen-year-old most of the time.

“Shane thinks he is getting old,” Ilya said. “He fears death.”

“That’s not it at all! I fear not living up to the expectations of the Montreal Voyageurs organization and our fans.”

“Would be easier to cheat death,” Ilya said, “than to meet Montreal’s hockey expectations.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Do you both play for Montreal?” Fabian asked.

“No. Just me. Ilya plays for Ottawa.”

“So it’s not a super-long-distance relationship,” Fabian observed.

Shane squirmed because this was the first time anyone at the table had directly acknowledged the fact that Ilya and Shane were a couple. “It’s, um. It’s not a huge distance, but—”

“Feels farther,” Ilya said. “We are so busy, during the season. Not much time together.”

“That must be hard. And this—” Fabian waved a hand between them “—is a secret, right?”

“A big one,” Ryan said.

“That makes it harder,” Fabian said sympathetically. He leaned in so he could lower his voice. “Why is it a secret? You wouldn’t be the only gay hockey players. Or queer. Sorry, I shouldn’t assume.”

“I am bisexual,” Ilya said, nodding. “Shane is super gay.”

“I’m gay,” Shane argued. “And, no, we aren’t the only queer NHL players. But our situation is complicated.”

“Because you’re on different teams?”

“Mostly, yes. It’s a little bigger than that, though.”

“The league has built up this huge rivalry between them,” Ryan explained. “Been going on since their rookie seasons.”

“Before that, even,” Shane said.

“Oh wow. That’s kind of fascinating,” Fabian said. “But everyone knows you’re friends, obviously. You have this charity together. What difference does it make if you also kiss?”

Shane opened his mouth to explain the difference, but couldn’t quite find the words. The way Fabian said it made the distinction sound so unimportant. It really make a difference. But it did.

“It would make things very…hard for us,” Ilya said. “Distracting.”

“It would be a fucking shitshow,” Shane agreed. “I think we’d both rather focus on hockey for now.”

Fabian hummed, then said, “For now. How long have you been together?”

Shane and Ilya looked at each other, which made Shane blush for some reason.

“Not an easy question,” Ilya said.

“Over ten years, though,” Shane clarified, “depending on your definition of ‘together.’”

“That’s a long time to keep a secret,” Fabian said thoughtfully. “Isn’t that a distraction too? Having to hide?”

Shane wasn’t sure how to answer that, and, judging by Ilya’s expression, Ilya wasn’t sure either.

“Sorry,” Fabian said quickly. “I’m super nosy. It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s fine,” Shane said. “It’s just, you know, a lot to think about.”

“Yes,” Ilya agreed quietly.

Their food arrived and the conversation turned to the best pizza in various cities. Shane was dying for a slice of Ilya’s greasy, sausage-covered dinner, but he dutifully ate his salmon and garden salad. He’d started this diet in February and he didn’t care what Ilya said—Shane felt better. And he’d just won the Stanley Cup the Conn Smythe Trophy. So there.

As he chewed his salmon, Shane thought about the questions Fabian had asked. He’d always imagined that the hockey world’s reaction if he and Ilya were ever found out would be the biggest nightmare to deal with, but maybe the bigger challenge was hiding. Maybe keeping how he felt about Ilya a secret was more draining than facing the backlash.

It was possible he was on a bit of a high from the past two weeks together at the cottage, followed by a successful start to their camp, and now being on their first ever double date. He may not be thinking clearly.

When they’d all finished eating, Ryan left to go to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of earshot, Fabian said, “I want to thank you both for inviting Ryan to be a part of these camps. It’s meant so much to him. He absolutely loves working with kids and I think it’s been healing for him.”

“Healing?” Shane asked.

Fabian nodded. “He had a bad breakup with hockey, you know? I don’t think he’s ever regretted retiring, but he misses how hockey used to make him feel. Before it made him feel bad all the time.”

“Oh.” Shane couldn’t imagine hockey ever making him feel bad, but Ryan had a very different career from his own. “Well, I’m glad if we helped him gain back some of that love for the game.”

“You did.” Fabian smiled. “And he’s so proud, being a part of this initiative of yours. I think he’s still a bit intimidated by the other coaches. He told me they’re all superstars, and he feels out of place.”

“Not all superstars,” Ilya said. “Hayden is there.”

Shane flicked Ilya’s thigh. “We’re happy to have Ryan as part of the team. We’re glad he can do both weeks this year.”

“He is a great coach,” Ilya agreed. “The kids love him.”

Fabian beamed, which made him look younger and less intimidatingly sexy. When Ryan returned to the table, Fabian smiled up at him with unguarded adoration in his eyes.

“What?” Ryan asked suspiciously.

“Nothing, darling. We were just talking about hockey.”

Ryan scoffed. “If you say so.”

Fabian stretched his neck and kissed him, quickly, on the mouth. Ryan grinned, then tried to hide his grin as he glanced sideways at Ilya and Shane. He didn’t quite manage.

“Fabian really loves him, huh?” Shane asked, later, as Ilya was driving them back home over the Champlain Bridge to Brossard. They were in one of Ilya’s “summer cars,” a bright orange Porsche something-or-other.

“Yes. Too bad for you.”

Shane turned in his seat to face him. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ilya’s lips quirked up, but he kept his gaze fixed on the road. “You were checking him out.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Okay.”

“If I it was only because, like, I’d never seen anyone who was so…”

“Beautiful?” Ilya suggested.

“No! Shut up.”

“He beautiful,” Ilya said plainly. “And, like, sexy. You know what I mean.”

“I guess,” Shane said, as if he didn’t know exactly what Ilya was talking about. “But if I was staring at him it was only because I couldn’t figure out how he and Ryan are together.”

“Ryan is not ugly.”

“No,” Shane agreed. “Especially now that his hair and beard are all trimmed up. But I spent so many years being terrified of the guy, it’s still hard to see him as handsome, y’know?”

“He is a sweetheart. I am glad Fabian loves him.”

“How did they even meet?”

“Ryan lived with Fabian’s family when he played junior hockey.”

“

Fabian’s parents billeted hockey players?”

“Yes. Big hockey family, I guess. Ryan told me he and Fabian, um…met again?”

“Reunited?”

“Yes. In Toronto when Ryan played there. Cute, right?”

It was really fucking cute. “Wow. So it was, like, destiny.”

“Maybe.”

Shane still couldn’t get over how Ryan and Fabian were. Ryan was so huge and shy, often hunched to make himself appear smaller. Fabian was possibly a full foot shorter than him, but made himself impossible to ignore with his beauty and the unapologetic way he decorated himself with makeup, feminine clothing, and sparkly jewelry. “I’ll bet their sex life is wild.”

Ilya grinned. “Pervert.”

“As if you’ve never thought about it.” Shane waited for Ilya to merge from the off-ramp before he asked, “Do you think we looked like that to them?”

“What, sexy? I probably did.”

“No, like…in love?”

Ilya seemed to consider the question before answering. “We are very good at pretending to not be in love. Maybe we are bad at showing it when we are allowed.”

Ilya’s words felt like a lead vest. Shane slid down in his seat and stared out the window, frowning. Neither man said a word for the rest of the drive.