Page 119 of The Long Game
I’m going to die.
I’ll never see Shane again.
We were going to have dogs and kids.
The plane leveled out with another horrible shudder. Suddenly, the screaming stopped, and the cabin of the plane was eerily silent, as if everyone was holding their breath at once.
The pilot made an announcement. Ilya’s brain was too panicked to translate all the words, but he heard “engine” and “emergency landing.” He focused on the wordlanding. Pilots were trained to deal with this, right? He’dknowif Shane hadn’t been such a pill about Ilya wanting to get his pilot’s license.
Shane.
What if Ilya died? What would Shane do? How would he mourn?
Several rows behind him, Ilya heard Nick Chouinard yelling about a fire. He didn’t want to look.
Fuck. This was really happening. They were going to die, and Ilya would never get to have the big conversation with Shane. Would never get to tell him everything that Ilya had been hiding in his heart.
If only Shane wasn’t playing a game right now. Ilya could—well, not call him, but talk to him somehow. He wished he could text, but all he had access to was Wi-Fi.
Fuck it. Ilya opened Instagram and started typing a new private message to ShaneHollanderHockeyPlayer.
Shane, he wrote, then stopped. He had no idea what to say. There was no possible way to put everything he needed to tell Shane into words.
But the plane was on fire, and Ilya didn’t have time to think. He wrote what was in his terrified heart:You are the best thing in my life.
His eyes were blurry, making it hard to type. He quickly swiped at his eyes and kept writing.
I love you. Always. Maybe from the first time I saw you.
He let his mind take him away from the nightmare happening around him and back to a rink parking lot in Saskatchewan. Ilya couldn’t remember what Shane had said, exactly, that firsttime they’d met. He only remembered freckles splashed over rosy red cheeks. He remembered Shane’s hand being unfairly warm when he shook it. He remembered being studied by dark, earnest eyes.
It was entirely possible that Ilyahadlost his heart in that moment. It took his brain a long time to catch up, but his heart had known right away.
He wished Shane could respond. He hated thinking about Shane seeing these messages...after.
He’d keep them forever. Ilya knew he would. Fuck. He had to say something really good.
I am thinking only about you right now. A million memories. Thank you for those.
Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart. I believe it.
He did. Ilya only had vague ideas of the afterlife and any gods who may be waiting there, but he believed his soul would stay with Shane, however it could. He believed the people you loved stayed with you until it was your time to go. He often felt his mother with him, and he knew he’d do the same for Shane.
And maybe he’d see his mother again soon. That was a nice thought. Ilya pressed his palm to his chest, feeling the crucifix pendant through the fabric of his shirt. He prayed, quietly and with no real structure. He murmured requests for whoever was listening to keep Shane safe, to let him live a long, happy life.
To please not let this plane crash, because Ilya had wasted so much fucking time hiding how much he loved Shane—from the world, from Shane, from himself. He needed more time. He needed to love Shane properly.
The plane tilted to one side, then the other, and a moment later came the glorious thud of wheels touching down on solid ground.
The jubilant roar from his teammates was earsplitting. Probably because Ilya was cheering louder than anyone. He looked out the window and saw flashing lights from various emergency vehicles but holy shit, the pilots had managed to land on the actual runway, safe and sound.
“Thank you,” Ilya said, gazing at the ceiling of the plane. “I won’t waste it.”
Montreal lost their game in Washington, which was annoying. Shane saw that Ilya’s team had won big against Carolina that afternoon, and he fully expected Ilya to give him shit about it.
He didn’t check his phone until he was on the bus, heading back to the team’s hotel. He had one text and one missed call from Ilya. The text said:Sorry about the Instagram messages. Call me.
Shane hardly ever checked his Instagram messages, but sometimes Ilya used that when he was on a plane and couldn’t text.
