Page 31 of The Long Game
Ilya made a show of picking up a point of toast, chewing thoughtfully as if he couldn’t quite recall how many men he’d bedded before Shane. “Maybe.”
Shane folded his arms. “I didn’t think this would be such a difficult question to answer.”
“Can you remember every goal you have ever scored?”
“Oh, is it a similar number?” Shane had scored over five hundred goals in the NHL alone.
“Give or take.”
Shane left the kitchen.
Ilya gave him a one-minute head start, then sauntered off after him. He found him near the front door, already wearing his jacket. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
Ilya leaned back against the wall. “So soon?” Shane did have to drive back to Montreal that morning, but Ilya certainly wasn’t going to let him go like this.
“I told youmynumber,” Shane said.
As if Ilya had ever forgotten. “Yes. Two men besides me. Both terrible.”
“Notterrible. Just not...”
Ilya waggled his eyebrows.
“I’m leaving.” Shane put his hand on the doorknob. Ilya put his hand on Shane’s shoulder.
“You were the second.”
Shane didn’t turn around. “And after me?”
“Is there a wrong answer to this question?”
Shane exhaled, his shoulders slumping. “No.”
“A few. Not many. Was dangerous, right? A rare treat.”
“Yuck.”
Ilya let his hand slide off Shane’s shoulder and down his chest. Shane took a small step backward, and almost relaxed against him. Ilya dipped his head and kissed Shane’s neck, and Shane relaxed more. “None of them matter. Not anymore.”
Shane sighed. “I know.”
“Then why ask?”
Shane turned. Ilya kept his arm draped over him, his hand now resting on Shane’s back. “I don’t know.” He thunked his forehead against Ilya’s chest. “Sorry.”
Ilya wrapped his other arm around him and held him close as he nuzzled Shane’s dark, glossy hair. It smelled like expensive shampoo. “I will miss you.”
Shane exhaled loudly. “Are you ready to do another season of this?”
Ilya’s heart stuttered. What did that question mean? “Another season of what?”
Shane pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “Hiding.”
It would be, altogether, their eleventh NHL season of hiding. Seven seasons of secret hookups, and three seasons of being in a mostly secret committed relationship. It had been alotof hiding.
“Sure,” Ilya said.
