Page 183 of The Long Game
“Here?”Shane scrambled off the couch, tucking his still-hard dick into his sweatpants.
“Yes.” Ilya hit the button to open the gate.
“Why? What does he want? Fuck... I’ve gotta... I need a few minutes.”
Shane jogged to the stairs, then up into the bedroom. Ilya, meanwhile, calmly adjusted himself, straightened his shirt, and walked to the front door. He glanced toward Anya’s bed to make sure she wasn’t going to make a run for the door, but she was still fast asleep after the long walk they’d taken her on that morning.
He opened the door just as Scott reached his front steps. “Hunter. You are at my house.”
Scott looked a little bewildered, as if he hadn’t realized this would be Ilya’s house or something. His perfect fucking face glanced around like he’d been dropped there by aliens. “Yeah, I um. I got the address from Wyatt. He had to make sure my intentions were noble first.”
Ilya really wasn’t sure what theintentionswere of the rival team captain—the man whose team the Centaurs were currentlyin the middle of a playoffs series against—standing on his doorstep. “You could have texted.”
“You seem to enjoy showing up at things unannounced. Maybe I wanted to see what it was like.”
Ilya smiled at that. “Come in.”
And then Scott Hunter was in Ilya’s house.
Shane had returned to the living room, still a little rumpled but mostly presentable. “Hi, Scott.”
Scott nodded at him. “Shane. Good. I was hoping you’d be here too.”
“He usually is,” Ilya said, a bit smugly and for no real reason. Something about Hunter always made him feel territorial and juvenile.
And god, it felt good to finally be able to let people know that Shane Hollander washis. He knew that Scott was happily married and not looking at Shane in that way any more than he was looking atIlyain that way, but still. Ilya was proud of himself for landing such an impressive boyfriend.
“Oh, were you guys watching the Madrid Open?” Scott asked, glancing at the TV.
“Uh, yeah,” Shane said.
“Kind of,” Ilya added.
Scott sat in an armchair, perched on the edge of the cushion. “I know it’s awkward because we’re in the middle of a playoff series, but I wanted to talk to you guys about...you know.” He waved a hand between Ilya and Shane.
“Uh-oh,” Ilya said. “Are we getting a lecture from Dad?”
Scott looked at Shane. “Is it possible for him to not be an asshole for five seconds?”
“No,” Shane said. He sat on the couch, facing Scott. “So what did you want to talk about, exactly?”
“Well, first of all, I’m sorry you guys got outed that way. That’s awful.”
“It wasn’t great,” Shane agreed.
“Ruined our plan to kiss on television,” Ilya said dryly.
Scott narrowed his eyes at him, then directed his next words to Shane. “When I heard about what happened, I felt sick, honestly. Being outed was my biggest fear for years. That decision shouldn’t have been taken from you.”
Ilya joined Shane on the couch. “Is that the only reason you felt sick?”
Scott gave him a wary smile. “I was pretty shocked. Not gonna lie.”
“If you are here to tell us our relationship is okay or not okay, we don’t care,” Ilya said bluntly.
“Jesus, Ilya,” Shane muttered.
“I’m not,” Scott assured Ilya. “I have no idea how this thing with you has even been working, but you guys obviously have it figured out. It’s definitely never interfered with your hockey.”
