Chapter Text
Shane arrives at the restaurant ten minutes early.
It’s a tiny place with barely twenty tables and it's well known for its discretion. Of course, the moment he steps inside, he sees Rose already seated. He waves off the hostess and heads straight for her table.
Rose looks up and smiles. She stands to greet him, pulling him into a brief hug that smells faintly of citrus and perfume.
He likes Rose. He really does. She’s friendly and funny, and she doesn’t take herself too seriously. When she talks to you, she actually listens, like what you’re saying matters. They’ve been friends for six solid months now, ever since they’d met at the same party where Shane had first met Eva and exchanged numbers.
“Hi, Shane. Good to see you,” Rose says warmly.
“Nice to see you too,” he replies, returning her smile as they sit. “How’s the new movie?”
Rose rolls her eyes, launching into an animated explanation of a shapeshifter role that requires three hours of makeup and prosthetics every day. Shane lets her chatter, nodding along as their server stops by to take drink orders. He asks for water; Rose gets a lemonade.
Once the server leaves, Rose turns her attention back to him. “Enough about me. How are your ribs? I saw you take that hit in the last game.”
Shane lifts an eyebrow. “You watched the game?”
She winces. “Well, watched the highlights? Which included you getting slammed.”
They both laugh, and Shane is struck, again, by how easy it is to be around her. Eva isn’t like this at all. A small, traitorous part of him wonders what would’ve happened if he’d dated Rose instead.
Eva Loren is everything Rose isn’t. She’s famous, and she makes sure everyone knows it. Eva has perfect tan skin and hair that takes stylists hours to perfect. She goes around in iny dresses and towering heels. Shane always feels like he’s scrambling to keep up with her, perpetually a step behind.
“Nice,” he says dryly. “Me getting crushed into the boards is a highlight.”
Rose giggles into her lemonade just as the server returns to take their food orders. Rose chooses the chicken with a creamy lemon sauce. Shane orders salmon with brown rice. Rose’s eyes flick to him for a split second before she looks away again, so quickly he wonders if he imagined it.
When the server leaves, Rose leans back in her chair. “So,” she says, clearing her throat. “How’s Eva?”
Shane blinks. “Oh. Uh, good. She’s doing The Tonight Show this week.”
Rose nods. “I saw. How long have you two been together now? Five months?”
“About that,” Shane says with a shrug.
Rose looks at him for a minute and bites her lower lip. Shane can tell she's debating about saying something. Finally she takes a breath, steeling herself.
“Shane,” Rose says gently, “I don’t think Eva is good for you.”
He sighs into his water glass. This again. One shoe thrown during an argument and suddenly everyone thinks he’s being abused.
“It’s not like that, Rose,” he says tiredly.
Eva is great. She has a temper, sure, but who doesn’t? She works a high-stress job. Hell, Shane does too. He understands frustration.
It had happened a few weeks ago, when they were both in New York. They’d been at her penthouse, arguing about… something. He can’t even remember what now. At some point, she’d kicked off her three-inch heels and hurled one at him. It hit just above his eyebrow, splitting the skin.
She’d been horrified afterward, apologetic. Shane had slapped on a bandage and moved on.
When he video-called Rose the next day and she’d asked about the cut, he’d told her the truth. She’d given him a strange look and asked if Eva had done things like that before. And Shane-stupidly-had said yes.
Eva runs hot and cold. One moment she’s curled against him, affectionate and sweet. The next, she’s smashing dishes.
Then his mom had texted him, asking if he was okay. Rose had reached out to her. Shane had been furious-but Rose apologized, clearly shaken, and said she was just worried. He let it go.
His mom hadn’t helped. She never said abusive relationship outright, but she danced around it enough that Shane spent half an hour convincing her it wasn’t like that. Because it wasn’t.
He’s a professional hockey player. He’s got three inches and a hundred pounds on Eva. It’s not like he’s some battered spouse. If he really needed to leave, he could. He just… didn’t need to.
“Shane,” Rose says now, exasperated by his silence.
“It’s fine,” he insists. “Things just get heated sometimes. That’s normal.”
Rose arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “It really isn’t.”
“Did you invite me to dinner to hang out,” Shane asks suspiciously, “or just to ambush me?”
His phone buzzes. He glances down.
Eva: Hey babe! Call me? I miss you.
“Is that her?” Rose asks, nodding toward the phone.
“No,” Shane lies poorly.
The buzzing doesn’t stop.
Eva: Shane
Eva: c’mon, I just wanna talk
Eva: Shane
Eva: seriously??
Eva: guess I’m not worth your time
Eva: Shane. Pick up.
Then she starts calling. It hasn’t even been five minutes.
“Rose, I -” Shane says apologetically.
“Just take it,” she mutters, clearly annoyed.
He excuses himself and heads for the hallway near the bathrooms, answering the next call.
“Shane!” Eva’s voice is slurred. Club music thumps in the background, voices overlapping. She’s at a party. “Why didn’t you pick up?”
“I’m at dinner,” he says. “What’s up?”
“With who?” she asks immediately.
His heart jumps. He’s a terrible liar, but maybe she’s drunk enough not to notice.
“It’s a business thing.”
It works- sort of. She sighs. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too. I’ll be in New York next week. You can come to the game.”
“Ew, no,” she says, laughing. “But I’ll see you after?”
“Yeah. Listen, I’ve gotta go.”
She doesn’t sound happy. “Fine. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
She hangs up first.
Shane exhales and leans against the hallway wall. Eva is exhausting.Rose isn’t exhausting. Fan meet-and-greets aren’t exhausting. Even being with Ilya hadn’t been this exhausting-and Ilya was an asshole who'd sent him into a sexuality crisis.
He knows he needs to break up with Eva. He just can’t figure out how to do it without everything blowing up. Maybe he needs to talk to his PR team.
When he returns to the table, their food is waiting, hot and steaming. Rose’s lips are pursed.
“She was just checking in,” Shane says as he sits.
“Shane,” Rose says quietly, disappointment heavy in her voice. “I’ve worked with her. I know what she’s like.”
“It’s complicated,” he replies with a shrug and picks up his fork.
The salmon smells good, but he suddenly isn’t hungry at all.