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Rose’s slinky silvery dress brushed her thighs as she walked arm-in-arm with Miles, heading around the side of the Bell Centre to the player entrances. Shane was planning to meet them at the club soon, but filming had wrapped a little earlier than expected, so Rose had thought a surprise might be in order. The chance to see a freshly showered Shane still high on the adrenaline from a game was too good to pass up. Her boyfriend was hot, and if she had anything to do with it, she’d be seeing a lot of him tonight.
Hopefully it would go better than the last time, but hey, nerves got to everyone sometimes.
As she and Miles rounded the corner to the back side of the building, Rose spotted a man leaning against the wall, head tipped back, a cigarette dangling from one hand with smoke curling into the sky. As they drew closer, Rose saw curly hair, killer cheekbones, and a tank top—despite the chill in the air—revealing arms that made her mouth water.
“That tank top should be illegal,” Miles murmured in her ear, clearly thinking the same thing.
“Punishable by up to five years in prison,” Rose agreed.
The security lighting on the building was plenty good enough for her to easily identify the owner of the truly unfair arms. She gasped.
“Ilya Rozanov!” she said, grinning. “Fancy meeting you here!”
The man rolled his head to the side, something in his expression going tight as he recognized her.
“Rose Landry,” he replied, his tone significantly darker than hers had been. Well, that wasn’t the reception she usually got. He continued. “You know who I am.”
“Of course I do,” she said, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. “I’m a big hockey fan, born and raised. Impossible not to know one of the best players in the league.”
“The best,” he corrected.
“So modest, too,” Miles crooned, and Rose snorted.
“Sure, buddy,” she said, her eyes scanning the side of the building. Rozanov was leaning next to a door marked “visitors,” and she assumed the door further down the same wall was for home players. Rozanov took a deep drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out in a long stream, careful to aim it away from her and Miles.
“Here to collect your boyfriend?” he asked, seeming almost… bitter or something. She frowned, then wiped the look off her face.
“Yep!” she said, refusing to let him dampen her spirit. “We’re heading out to a club for a bit.”
Rozanov huffed a laugh. “Hollander in a club. That’s new.”
Rose fought the temptation to frown again, trying to parse out the odd note in Rozanov’s voice. There was something she wasn’t getting. Rozanov and Shane were rivals, sure, but that wasn’t the energy she was getting from him. She’d always been perceptive; it was part of what made her a good actor. The words Rozanov was saying were correct, but something about the tone or facial expression was off.
She was saved from having to analyze it any further by the crack of the other door opening further down the walkway. Shane stepped out, hair wet and bag slung over his shoulder, wearing nice jeans and a simple white T-shirt under a light coat.
“Hey babe, over here!” Rose called, waving to get Shane’s attention. Shane whirled around, his gaze landing on her and Miles first, then slipping instantly to Rozanov. His eyes went wide with something like panic as he jogged over. She gave him a kiss on the cheek as soon as he reached her side, and he greeted her with a soft “hey,” but his eyes went straight back to Rozanov.
“You’re smoking again,” he said, his nose wrinkled.
Rozanov feigned indifference. “Yes, well, I don’t think you really get input on my smoking habit anymore.”
He took another drag, staring Shane down the whole time. Rose and Miles shared a look, brows knitted.
“Fine, die of lung cancer if you want, I guess,” Shane said, rolling his eyes.
Rozanov smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “No, I bet you’d miss me.”
Shane made a face and shifted uncomfortably.
“Rose, we should go,” he said.
“Yes, you should go with your new girlfriend,” Rozanov said, waving dismissively with the hand holding his cigarette. “Goodbye, Hollander.”
Shane scowled and placed a hand on Rose’s back.
“No, hold on,” Rose said, shifting away from Shane and looking between him and Rozanov. There was something she was missing. Miles raised an eyebrow at her and tilted his head like you’re seeing this too, right? She planted her hands on her hips and looked to Rozanov.
“Why are you acting like a jealous ex?”
Shane choked on nothing, his eyes going wide in horror as Ilya cut his gaze away, jaw clenched.
Suddenly, it all made sense.
“Oh my god, you are a jealous ex,” she breathed.
Ilya shook his head.
“No,” he said, taking a heavy drag off his cigarette with a strange twisted expression. Shane looked like a cornered animal, hackles up, eyes darting.
“No, we’re not—we’re not—”
“Mm, no, I have never been more sure in my life that two people have fucked,” Miles said, waving a finger between Shane and Rozanov. Rose nodded, agreeing, her brain slowly assembling the pieces she’d been given. Her intuition, which had been quietly murmuring ever since she and Shane had first tried to sleep together, gathered together a hundred tiny clues—little flinches, a lack of looking, kisses missing their heat… and now this.
Shane and Rozanov looked like they were having an entire silent conversation.
“You clearly were something, Shane, it’s obvious,” Rose said, her voice gentle. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” Shane said, finally breaking his stare-down with Rozanov to look over at her. He looked positively ill. Terrified.
“It really is fine, Shane. I promise.”
He shook his head, glancing between her and Rozanov before finally saying: “We weren’t anything.”
“Oh fuck you, Hollander!” Rozanov snapped. And that seemed to flip a switch in Shane. The terror was swiftly replaced with anger.
“Fuck you, Rozanov,” he snapped back. “Look me in the face and tell me it was more than just sex to you.”
Holy shit. It was real. They’d slept together. Rose held her breath, waiting for the reply.
Rozanov pressed his lips together and shook his head, staring off to the side, seemingly unable to meet anyone’s eyes.
“Yes, Hollander, I invite all my casual hookups to spend the night and cook them food and cuddle on my fucking couch,” he said, the sarcasm a heavy weight in his voice. “What the fuck do you think?”
Miles reached out and took Rose’s hand, squeezing once in support as Shane wrestled with that answer. After a moment, Shane’s words came out softer, almost pained.
“Why was it suddenly different after six fucking years?”
Rose’s eyes went wide. “Six years, holy shit. I can’t believe I’m the rebound.”
Shane grimaced. He apparently hadn’t meant to reveal that, but the secret was well and truly out now. A six-year affair between the two biggest stars in the MLH, and famous rivals at that. Unbelievable.
“I told you, Hollander. I wanted more time,” Rozanov muttered, smashing the tip of his cigarette into the wall and slipping the butt into his pocket. He still wouldn’t look at anyone.
“Okay, but you also sat there and talked about the girls you fuck, so how exactly was I supposed to interpret that? How was I not supposed to feel like just another warm body to you?”
Rozanov threw his hands in the air. “I was trying to figure out if you were completely gay or if you liked both like me. And I was… maybe trying to find out if you were seeing other people.”
Shane scoffed. “What the fuck does it matter to you? You see other people all the fucking time.”
“I told you, not as much anymore,” Rozanov said, risking a quick glance at Shane before looking back to the ground. “And I would stop.”
“For Shane?” Rose clarified.
Rozanov nodded without looking at her. “Yes.”
Wow. That was huge. Rose didn’t know a ton about Ilya Rozanov, but she knew he had something of a reputation, always in and out of clubs with girls hanging off of him. Shane walked two paces away and looked around the parking lot with his thumbs hooked in his pockets. When he turned back, he looked completely lost.
“How the fuck was I supposed to get ‘I want to be exclusive’ out of that conversation?” he asked, baffled.
“I hadn’t gotten there yet!” Rozanov said, his hands splayed in front of him like ‘what do you want from me?’ “I was trying not to scare you off! Clearly I fucking failed at that anyway.”
Shane shook his head, gaze fixed on some point over Rozanov’s shoulder, eyes vacant.
“I can’t do this,” he said, taking a step backwards, then another.
Rozanov waved a hand. “Yes, run away, Hollander. It’s what you always do.”
Shane seemed to collapse in on himself, a hand coming up to rub at his brow. “Look, I’m sorry about that, okay? I shouldn’t have left like that.”
Rozanov gave an aggressive attempt at an unbothered shrug, missing the mark by a mile.
“Ilya,” Shane tried, and for some reason that seemed to strike home.
“Oh, do first names not scare you now?” Rozanov snarked. “You won’t go sprinting across the parking lot if I call you Shane?”
Shane nodded, lips pursed. “I deserve that.”
Rose watched Shane watching Rozanov: the way his gaze darted all over Rozanov’s face, the way it slipped down his body and lingered on his throat and shoulders. The way the spot between his brows tensed with pain and focus. Rose had never stood a chance with him. But it wasn’t too late for these two to work things out, if they could just be honest with each other.
“Shane, what happened that day?” she asked. “Why did you run away?”
He shrugged, looking at the ground. “I panicked.”
“Why?” Miles asked, his arms folded, posture saying you aren’t getting out of this. Shane ran a hand through his hair and shook his head over and over.
“Because it was nice, okay?” he finally exploded. “It was nice, and I wanted it, and I can’t want it. I can’t be gay. I can’t have a fucking boyfriend. That’s not what I’m supposed to do. That’s not who I’m supposed to be.”
Rozanov looked like he’d been punched in the stomach, and Rose’s heart shattered.
“Fuck supposed to, Shane,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “You can’t force yourself to like women if you don’t.”
“I do like you, Rose,” Shane said, almost pleading. “I like talking with you, I like spending time with you.”
“Yeah, we’re great friends, but I’m not really doing it for you, am I, Shane?” she asked, not unkindly. “You never stare at my chest, no matter how low cut my top is. You don’t really seem to like having your hands on me. And when we—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Shane said, jamming his eyes shut against the evidence. “I can’t be gay as an MLH player. What am I supposed to do, just be alone until retirement? Never get to have a relationship or a family? Disappoint my parents?”
Miles made a small, pained sound.
“Shane, I’m not a hockey player, so feel free to tell me to shut up,” he said. “But in Hollywood, people who are gay and can’t come out without harming their careers have secret relationships all the time. You guys could be together without telling the world.”
“It would have to be secret anyway,” Ilya said. “I would not be able to go home to Russia if people knew.”
Oh, fuck, that was a whole other part of this mess Rose hadn’t even considered. Rozanov was Russian. Did that mean this whole thing was doomed from the start?
“What if Shane did feel comfortable coming out at some point?” Rose asked. “Whether it was after a few years or after retirement. What would you do then?”
Ilya was silent for a moment, visibly wrestling with his words. When he finally spoke, it was directly to Shane.
“I would ask that we wait to come out until after my father died, if possible. He has dementia and is not doing well. It likely will not be long anyway,” he said, the words flat. “He hates me, but I still have to make sure he is taken care of. I have to get my family's affairs in order, make sure they are taken care of, too. And I would like to visit my mother’s grave one last time before leaving Russia for good.”
He took a breath, hesitated, and continued. “Then, I would speak with my agent and make sure we had an immigration lawyer ready just in case. We would get applications for asylum filled out ahead of time for both Canada and the United States just in case Russia tried to punish me. I should be okay so long as I have my work visa, and the MLH will want to protect me, but it’s smart to be prepared.”
“Ilya, no, it’s too dangerous,” Shane said, his breath speeding. “See, this is why—“
“It is my choice,” Rozanov cut in. “I am the one who gets to decide if the risk is worth it. To me, it is worth it. To have you.”
The words were like a detonation. Rose sucked in a sharp breath, looking over to see Miles covering his mouth with one hand. Shane’s eyes were shining with unshed tears in the face of Rozanov’s naked confession.
“Even after I…” Shane said, his voice rough.
Rozanov nodded. “Even after. Yes.”
Shane was almost there, Rose could see it, but there was still a lingering shadow over him, a hesitance, a holding back. Fear battling with need. Expectations battling with reality. Rose rubbed Shane’s shoulder gently and smiled.
“You can’t help who you fall in love with, you know,” she said, and then watched with an aching heart as Shane and Ilya locked eyes, pain evident in every line of their faces.
“I know,” Shane whispered.
“I know,” Rozanov agreed.
Shane looked over at Rose, who gave him a gentle shove. It was all the encouragement he needed.
Shane flung himself at Rozanov, burying his face in the crook of his neck as they wound their arms around each other, rocking gently. One of Rozanov’s hands buried itself in Shane’s hair as he stroked the other one up and down Shane’s back in a soothing rhythm. Rose only caught a few of the things they murmured to each other, words buried in skin and shirt: “I’m so sorry” and “are you sure?” and “it’s okay.”
Rose scanned the empty parking lot just to be safe, and to give them privacy. It looked like the two captains were the last ones left, with just Shane’s sensible Land Rover in the lot, but a fan or member of the media walking by would be terrible right now. A moment later, they drew apart, looking equally hesitant and soft.
“How are you not freezing?” Shane finally said, plucking at Rozanov’s black tank top. “You can’t bear to stop showing off your arms for a second, even in January?”
“You like them,” Rozanov said with a smirk. Shane flushed. “Besides, I did not expect to be out long. I only intended to sneak out for a quick cigarette before heading back to the hotel.”
Shane smiled down at the ground. “Maybe… you could come home with me instead? We could talk some more?”
Rozanov’s mouth lifted at the corner as he rubbed his thumb over Shane’s jawline. “Da. Yes. I’d like that. Maybe I’ll… go grab my bags.”
He said the last part with a quick glance over at Rose, then used his toe to pull out the rock he’d been using to keep the door cracked open. He disappeared inside, seeming to take a huge amount of the lingering tension with him. Shane blew out a breath and stuck his hands in his pockets, turning back to Rose.
“I’m, uh…” He rocked back on his heels, then shook his head and steeled himself. “I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I really was trying.”
“Hey, it’s really fine,” Rose said, reaching out to squeeze Shane’s upper arm. “I understand. Besides, like seventy percent of my boyfriends have left me for other guys, so you’re in good company.”
“Seventy percent?”
“Maybe eighty,” she corrected. “Theater school boys. I have to admit, I thought the hockey player would be a safe bet, but that just goes to show that I still have biases to work on, right?”
Shane laughed weakly, then looked up at her with serious eyes.
“You can’t… tell anyone, okay?” His gaze cut over to Miles. “Either of you. It’s not safe for Ilya, or for our careers.”
“Hey, no one gets it more than me,” Miles said, giving Shane a sincere smile. “I’m in your corner, okay?”
“Me, too,” Rose said. “I really do like you, Shane. I want to be friends. Real friends, not the bullshit people say after a breakup.”
She paused, then grinned wickedly.
“And just to be extra clear, we’re obviously broken up, okay? So, you know, make-up sex is on the table for you tonight. You are free and clear.”
“Oh my god,” Shane said, dropping his face into one hand, the tips of his ears going red.
“I have a feeling sex with him is a lot better for you than sex with me was,” Rose continued, consumed by a desire to see Shane turn into an actual tomato. It worked.
Shane laughed helplessly. “It’s so fucking good, Rose, you have no idea.”
Rose and Miles cackled.
“I want to know everything,” she said. “You will text me tomorrow. And the day after, and the day after. You will wish you never met me.”
“Impossible,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you for being so cool with this. And for, you know, helping us figure our shit out.”
“You’re welcome, Shane Hollander,” Rose said, squeezing him tightly. “You deserve to have what really makes you happy. Fuck everyone else.”
“Fuck everyone else,” Miles agreed, pulling Shane into another quick hug. “We’re here for you.”
The door opened to reveal Rozanov—wearing a jacket this time—with his bag slung over his shoulder and a cautious smile on his face.
“Ready to go?” he asked, eyes only for Shane.
Shane pulled his car keys from his pocket. “Ready.”
Rozanov turned to Rose, his smile widening a touch. “Thank you, Rose Landry. Sorry for hating you so much for the last month. You’re pretty okay.”
“You’re pretty okay, too, Rozanov,” Rose said with a laugh. “Take care of him.”
“I will.”
“Do you two want a ride wherever you’re going after this?” Shane offered, still looking a bit guilty. Rose waved a hand in dismissal.
“No, no, I’ll order a car. Go home and get railed.”
A loud laugh burst out of Rozanov as Shane covered his face again, shoulders shaking.
“Good night, then,” he said, whirling around to march over to his car, embarrassment hanging over him like a cloud. Rozanov caught up and slipped a hand around his waist, leaning in to whisper something in Shane’s ear. Rose watched them go for a moment, then turned to Miles.
“Well! That was… something,” she said.
“Still wanna go out tonight?” Miles asked, eyebrow raised.
Rose thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Hell yes. We already got ourselves all beautiful. Let’s go enjoy it. We deserve a reward for doing our good deed for the day.”
“Getting your gay boyfriend back together with his ex and sending him home to get laid?”
Rose huffed. “Well, when you put it like that, it just sounds sad for me. But it’s not! I’m happy for him, really. Did you see the way they looked at each other?”
Miles nodded, his smile a little wistful.
“Yeah. I did.” A beat, then: “Can you imagine how fucking hot they are together?”
“Oh my god I know, right?”
The two of them moved on to new topics as Rose ordered them a car, watching as Shane’s Land Rover pulled away. Rose couldn’t wait to blow up his texts in the morning.
She had a feeling tonight was going to go very, very well.