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David's fingers are steady as they straighten Shane's tie, his dad giving him a brief smile when Shane forces himself to meet his eyes. "There," he says, giving the knot one final tug before smoothing the lapels of Shane's black suit jacket. "Perfect."

Yuna hums her agreement from where she stands beside them, hands clasped in front of her. "Very handsome," she says, smiling softly. "You clean up well."

Shane manages to smile back, though it feels incredibly brittle to him; his cheeks ache with the effort to keep it plastered to his face.

His dad studies him for another second, his own smile faltering around the edges. There's a stretch of silence before he pats Shane's shoulder twice, his hand gripping him slightly. "I'm going to go grab something from the reception hall," he says, though Shane thinks they all know there's nothing he needs. "Be right back."

Shane watches him disappear through the door, the silence returning. His mom just looks at him for several moments before she steps closer, her face falling slightly at whatever she sees in Shane's eyes.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, brushing a nonexistent speck of lint from Shane's jacket sleeve.

Shane swallows, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm good," he says, his voice catching embarrassingly on the words. He clears his throat, his neck feeling hot. "Great."

The lie hangs between them, but his mom doesn't call him on it. Instead, she watches him quietly, her eyes searching his face with the same wondering expression she'd started to wear the closer they got to his wedding date. After another long moment, she gently takes his elbow and turns them both toward the full-length mirror.

"There," she murmurs. "Look."

Shane obeys, but he sort of wishes he hadn't. The man staring back at him looks mostly composed on the surface, his black hair carefully styled and his suit perfectly stretched across his shoulders. His tie is straight and his shoes shine beneath the dressing room lights.

He looks exactly like someone getting ready to be married should. Something thick lodges itself in his throat, a wave of terror threatening to overwhelm him.

"I'll go find your father," his mom says eventually, not immediately moving away. They both stand there, looking at the figure Shane cuts, a moment in time that feels almost liminal in nature. "Shane," his mom starts before she stops, a little sigh leaving her lips. Whatever she intends to say dies when their gazes meet in the mirror. Her eyes search his, looking for something he can't make himself guess at.

Is she looking for happiness? Certainty? Maybe she's looking for something in him that she doesn't even know he's hiding; that little voice screeching in him that he can back out right now. He doesn't think she finds it, because she simply offers him a strained smile before turning and leaving him all alone.

The click of the door echoes through the room and Shane's eyes close automatically, the will he needs to keep them open gone. 

Just over a year ago he'd been worried about making the playoffs, not seating charts and guests lists. He hadn't pictured himself smiling through engagement photos, hollow smile stapled on for the world to see. He wasn't picturing himself standing at the altar, body stiff and numb, his friends and family smiling proudly up at him as he broke something inside of himself.

Especially not when—his thoughts slam into a wall, his brain not letting him finish the thought. He fights down the nausea that builds in his gut, the memory of golden curls and rough hands that felt impossibly gentle trying to overtake him.  He presses his thumbnail into the side of his index finger until the sharp sting grounds him, taking in several shaky breaths.

The door opens again, Shane turning to catch his dad poking his head inside. "There you are," David says, smile fixed on his face. "Ready?"

Shane blinks once and turns back to the mirror, his head feeling stuffed full of cotton. No, he thinks to himself, his inner voice muffled by the gray creeping along his senses. He tears himself away from the mirror, nodding slightly.

The walk through the church feels strangely unreal, the afternoon light seeping into the halls through the windows. Everything is polished and perfectly placed, beautiful and utterly stifling. Shane wouldn't have picked it himself, it isn't really his style, but he supposes marriage has never really been about getting everything you want. It's about compromise, meeting someone halfway and choosing a future together.

His stomach twists so violently he nearly stops walking, his breathing turning shallow without him noticing. He rubs his damp palms against his dress pants as discreetly as he possibly can. His dad says something to him, but Shane doesn't catch it. He blinks, realizing that both of his parents have stopped walking and are looking at him expectantly.

"Sorry," he says, a nervous laugh slipping past his lips. "What?"

David's eyebrows pinch together. "I asked if you wanted some water."

"Oh," Shane says, his mouth suddenly painfully dry. He shakes his head anyway, rubbing his palms against his pants again. "No, I'm okay."

He's not sure how much time passes after that. It could be a few minutes or half an hour; Shane's watch feels heavy around his wrist and he can't gather the fortitude to look at it. He stands near the closed doors leading into the sanctuary with his parents beside him, rocking forward onto his toes before forcing his heels back down against the carpet.

His fingers twitch at his sides. He curls them into fists, uncurls them, and then reaches up to adjust his tie even though he knows it's already perfectly straight. His dad's gaze flickers toward him, but Shane drops his hand before he can say anything.

There's a narrow window in one of the doors, just large enough for Shane to catch glimpses of the guests seated inside. He sees familiar faces every time someone shifts in the pews, teammates and extended family turned toward the front as they wait.  Miitka spots him through the glass and lifts a hand in greeting. Shane automatically raises his own before stepping away from the door, his heart slamming hard enough against his ribs that it almost hurts.

Everyone is here for him and the weight of all those people waiting to watch Shane promise his life to someone settles heavily across his shoulders. His neck feels hot again, sweat gathering beneath the collar of his shirt. He takes a slow breath in through his nose, but it catches somewhere in his chest, leaving him feeling like he can't quite fill his lungs.

"Shane," his mom says quietly.

He looks over at her, blinking several times. She gives him a small, encouraging smile, but her eyes have a searching look in them. He tries to smile back and feels his lips tremble. The first notes of music drifts through the doors. Shane's entire body goes tense, his stomach dropping so suddenly that he feels briefly dizzy.

The wedding coordinator appears from around the corner, smiling brightly at the three of them. She says something about it being time, her voice sounding like it's coming from the other end of a long tunnel. Shane watches her gesture toward the doors, unable to make himself move until his mom slips her arm through his on one side, and his dad does the same on the other. His parents are warm and solid beside him.

Shane stares down at the floor between his polished shoes, flexing his fingers once before the doors open. The sanctuary is filled with flowers and afternoon light. Everyone turns to look at him, the sudden rustle of clothing and creaking of pews making Shane's pulse jump. He forces his head up, the smile returning to his face through years of practice.

His parents begin to walk and Shane is forced to move with them.

They smile and nod at the guests as they make their way down the aisle, his mom lifting her free hand in greeting when she recognizes someone. His dad looks proud, his chin held a little higher than usual. Shane keeps his gaze fixed somewhere ahead of him, afraid that if he looks too closely at anyone, they'll see straight through him.

He catches the eye of several of his teammates anyway. They grin at him from their seats, a few of them giving him small nods of encouragement. Someone near the back mouths something that Shane can't make out, and he gives another brittle smile in response. His fingers twitch against his parents' arms, every step toward the altar somehow both too fast and impossibly slow.

The church feels too warm. Shane can hear each breath he takes beneath the music, short and shallow and wrong. He concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, on not tripping, on not turning his head toward the doors that have closed behind him.

When they reach the front, his mom squeezes his arm before letting go. She leans in and kisses his cheek, careful not to linger, but her hand stays against his shoulder for an extra second, giving him a brief squeeze for comfort.

His dad pulls him into a brief hug. "Proud of you," he murmurs into Shane's ear. Something twists sharply inside Shane at the words, only barely managing to nod in return because he doesn't trust himself to speak, watching silently as they move into the front row and take their seats.

The few steps leading up to the altar look abnormally steep. Shane climbs them carefully, aware of every person watching him, and turns to face the aisle. He takes a deep breath that does absolutely nothing to settle him, clasping his damp hands together in front of his body.

After a moment of brief silence, the music starts again, shifting in tone as the wedding party begins to enter, slowly moving down the aisle in carefully paired groups. Shane smiles at J.J. and Joe, each of them with a bridesmaid on their arm. His mind drifts somewhere distant again, the edges of the room turning fuzzy as he stares toward the doors.

Hayden is the last to walk in with the maid of honor beside him. He looks more excited about this than Shane has managed to feel all day, a huge grin stretched across his face as he makes his way toward the altar. He gives Shane an enthusiastic thumbs-up when he reaches him. Shane huffs something that could maybe passes for a laugh, his chest still too tight.

"You're gonna be blown away, dude," Hayden whispers when he reaches Shane's side, a twinkle in his eyes.

Shane gives him an insincere smile. His hands shake slightly where they're clasped together, so he lowers them and hooks his thumbs inside the pockets of his pants instead, conscious of how silly he must look doing so. 

"Can't wait," he murmurs.

Hayden bumps their shoulders together before taking his place behind him. Shane braces himself, turning his attention toward the double doors that hold his future. The music changes once more, softer this time, playing the familiar tune so many people probably know. Everyone rises again and turns, anticipation rolling through the room. The door creaks open and Shane's entire body feels cold.

Rose looks beautiful.

Truly, she looks stunning in her gown, delicate lace sweeping across her shoulders before giving way to the long skirt trailing behind her. Her hair is pinned back from her face, her makeup accentuating her already delicate features. She enters on her father's arm, as elegant as ever, seemingly untouched by nerves as she glides down the aisle.

She beams at him and Shane gives her his first real smile of the day. It's small and full of affection, coming easily when he sees the smile on her face. Some of the tightness in his chest loosens, just enough to let him breathe. Rose has always been good at that. She makes things feel simpler than they are, as if Shane can look at her and find the version of this that makes sense. He focuses on her as she approaches, letting the rest of the church blur around her.

Her father looks close to tears by the time they reach the altar. Rose turns toward him, smiling warmly as he lifts her hand and presses a kiss to her cheek. He says something too quiet for Shane to hear before releasing her, wiping quickly beneath one eye as he moves toward his seat.

Shane steps forward automatically and offers Rose his hand. She gathers the front of her dress with the other, accepting his help as she climbs the few steps needed to reach his level. Her fingers are cool where they rest against his. Shane releases them once she's steady, swallowing as Rose turns to face him with her bouquet still clutched in both hands.

For a moment, he can't breathe. She looks at him with so much understanding that it makes something inside him ache. Shane's mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

"Hi," Rose says sweetly.

"Hi," Shane softly replies.

She searches his gaze for a moment, her smile fading just slightly around the edges. Shane wonders what she sees in his face, whether his fear is as obvious to her as it had been to his mom. Rose doesn't ask him about it. Instead, she turns and gives her bouquet to her maid of honor. When she faces Shane again, she reaches for both of his hands, folding them securely inside her own. Her thumbs move across his knuckles, and the touch is comforting, but it doesn't stop the trembling entirely.

"You ready for this?" Rose asks.

Shane holds her gaze. He can feel everyone watching them, making it feel like the entire room is waiting for his answer, even though he knows her question is too quiet for anyone else to hear.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Shane responds, his jaw clenching as she squeezes his hands in response. Rose gives him one last searching look before they both turn toward the pastor. The man offers them both a gentle smile, his hands resting on the open Bible in front of him.

"Please be seated," he says, waiting as the guests settle back into the pews. "Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today in the presence of God to witness and bless this union as Shane Hollander and Rose Landry join together in Holy Matrimony," the pastor says, his voice echoing in the silent church. "The sacred covenant of marriage was established by God to join together a man and woman in love and prosperity, so they might weather the ups and downs of life with a constant friend, and build a family that’s made strong and joyful in faith."

Shane tries to listen, he really does, watching the pastor's mouth move and making an effort to follow each word, but none of them seem to register. He's heard the same script at every rehearsal, familiar enough now that it's easy for his brain to block it all out. Rose's fingers remain wrapped around his, her grip tightening whenever his hands start to shake again, gentle reassurance that only makes his chest hurt more.

"The Apostle Paul wrote in First Corinthians that love is patient, love is kind," the pastor continues, his voice taking on the familiar cadence Shane remembers from the rehearsal just a few days ago. "True marriage is built on putting the other person first."

Shane stares at a point just past Rose's shoulder, his mind desperate to focus on anything but the droning words. The flowers decorating the altar are white, ironically mostly roses with smaller blooms arranged around them. Shane can't remember what the smaller flowers are called, even though he knows Rose had told him when they'd met with the florist.

Shane swallows, his throat painfully tight as his heart attempts to beat its way out of his chest. He tries taking another deep breath and barely manages to pull in enough air, his lungs refusing to expand beneath his suit jacket.

The pastor pauses, looking out over the congregation. "Does anyone here object to their union?"

Silence follows.

Of course no one says anything, why would they? Shane and Rose might have only been together for a short time, but everyone knows how in love they are. Hockey players get married young and fast, after all. Hayden had, and no one had thought that was strange. Everyone saw the headlines when Shane and Rose first started dating. They saw the grainy pictures of them leaving restaurants together, Rose's hand tucked through his arm, and Shane leaning close to hear her over the noise. They saw her wearing his jersey at games and him going out with her afterwards, both of them highlighted in flashes of color at whatever club they had found themselves in.

People had spotted how in love they were from the very beginning. Commentators joked about it during games, his teammates teased him in the locker room, and his mom had called him after the first pictures came out to tell him how happy he looked.

No one is concerned about an objection because everyone knows Shane loves Rose.

His chest aches as he struggles to breathe, his eyes meeting Rose's concerned gaze. She tilts her head slightly, the silent question clear on her face, and Shane forces his shoulders to relax.

Everyone knows they're in love, except for them.

It had all looked like it was on the up and up when Rose sat him down and basically told him he was gay.

They'd been seeing each other for less than a month, long enough for Shane to know she was funny. and kind, and far too observant. He'd thought he was doing a decent job of being interested in her romantically. They held hands when cameras were nearby, kissed briefly when they needed to, and Shane brought her flowers before every date because it seemed like the sort of thing a good boyfriend was supposed to do. Their second attempt at sex wasn't exactly great, but it wasn't any worse than their first attempt, which he was willing to take as a positive.

Then Rose sits him down in a dimly lit restaurant and manages to gently coax Shane into admitting something that even getting railed by Ilya Rozanov never managed to get him to admit. 

He loves her for that alone, if he's being honest, for somehow knowing the exact thing Shane needed to hear. He loves her for reaching out the next day, for coming to his apartment and sitting beside him while he cried, embarrassed and silent, and for pretending not to notice when he wiped at his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. She got him to admit that he wasn't wrong for the way he felt, that he didn't need to be fixed, no matter how long he'd spent wishing he could force himself to want something different.

It was everything after that where things started to go downhill.

He told her about him eventually, though Shane never used Ilya's name. Rose didn't need it, and Shane couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. It felt too dangerous, Shane very aware that just because he knew he could trust Rose with his secret, that doesn't mean he's willing to out Ilya and trust anyone else with his. 

He told her how long they'd been sleeping together. He told her about stolen nights in hotel rooms and about years of wanting something Shane can't have while stewing in denial. He also told her how he'd walked away from him right before meeting Rose. Not all of it, and definitely not enough for her to realize he was talking about another player, but enough to mostly explain that Shane had panicked. Shane had run and not looked back, the sudden change in their routine and Ilya's name slipping from his lips leaving him disoriented and panicked.

Rose had looked heartbroken for him by the time he finished. "Do you love him?"

Shane hadn't been able to answer. Not because he didn't know now, how he felt, but because he didn't think it was right for Rose to hear it from him before Ilya ever did.

Instead of telling Shane that he'd ruined everything, she helped him. Rose got him in touch with a stylist, helped him choose something that would look effortless while still making it clear that Shane had put in the effort. She laughed when he rejected four different shirts and threatened to dress him herself when he started spiraling over his hair.

"You're apologizing," she'd reminded him. "Not proposing."

That particular word had made Shane's heart jump anyway. Of course he wasn't proposing, he couldn't propose to Ilya, but imagining a world where that was a possibility still sent his heart fluttering in his chest. 

He'd gone to the All-Star Game with something dangerously close to hope lodged in his chest. Shane had spent the entire flight rehearsing what he wanted to say, changing it every time it sounded too clunky or too stiff. By the time he arrived, he'd reached what he thought was the perfect apology.

It went nowhere when Ilya never showed up.

At first, Shane thought he was late. He kept glancing toward the doors while sitting uncomfortably on one of the bar stools, expecting Ilya to stroll in at any minute. When Ilya never showed up to mingle, Shane told himself he'd be there the next morning.

He wasn't.

Shane found out pretty soon afterwards that Ilya wasn't showing up, and then a week later that Ilya's father's health had taken a nosedive, which explained where exactly he had been that weekend. He was in Russia, taking a leave of absence from the league, and gone for who knew how long.

None of Shane's texts would go through, all failing to send. His calls never reached him either, each one failing before he could even hear the sound of the phone ringing. Eventually, Shane had to accept the humiliating truth that Ilya had blocked him.

How Shane ended up here after that was even more of a blur.

He and Rose never publicly broke up, not like they'd originally planned to do after Shane's planned talked with Ilya. Shane told her how much he dreaded having to listen to people ask about their breakup, especially when he wouldn't have him there afterwards. The idea of losing both of them at once made panic claw at the inside of his chest.

Rose suggested that they keep pretending to date, just for a little bit longer. It wasn't like either of them had someone else they wanted to see, not with Ilya MIA for who knows how long, and being together kept reporters from asking questions they didn't know how to answer.

It seemed so simple at the time.

Shane didn't expect the pressure that came from that decision. He knew hockey players had a habit of getting married young and fast, but he wasn't prepared for his mom to start asking about him proposing only a few months after meeting Rose.

At first, Yuna tried to be subtle. She sent him pictures of rings she claimed to have seen while shopping and casually mentioned that his paternal grandmother's diamond is still in the family. She asked whether Rose had ever talked about wanting a summer wedding, her tone far too innocent for Shane to believe it.

Rose's parents weren't much better. They loved Shane, apparently, and thought he was exactly the kind of stable, respectful man their daughter needed. Her father started making comments about welcoming him into the family while her mother sent Rose links to wedding blogs and bakeries.

By the end of May, Shane realized he'd lost his chance.

Ilya still had him blocked. He was still in Russia, presumably taking care of his father, and there was no public indication of when or if he'd be coming back. Shane checked anyway, looking for updates every morning before he got out of bed and every night before he let himself fall into a troubled sleep.

There was never anything.

Eventually, Shane accepted that he was never going to love anyone the way he loved Ilya. The knowledge settled inside him with a strange sort of finality, heartbreak leaving him aching and wistful. 

So, when his mom brought up marriage again, Shane told her maybe soon. Yuna was so happy for him that he immediately felt sick. She started talking about logistics right then and there, already discussing guest lists and dates while Shane sat at his kitchen counter with the phone pressed against his ear. He could hear his dad in the background telling her not to overwhelm him; his mom ignored  him completely, asking Shane if he planned on proposing with his grandmother's ring or was planning on buying Rose a brand new one.

When Shane mentioned the conversation to Rose later, she stared at him for several seconds before dropping her face into her hands. "Oh my God," she had groaned, "my parents are doing the exact same thing."

They had sat together on Shane's couch, a forgotten movie playing quietly on the TV. Rose grabbed another piece of popcorn from the bowl between them, one that Shane had politely declined to eat because of the butter Rose had slathered on, and looked deeply annoyed as she told him about the wedding catering her mom had already started researching.

"I think I might be a lesbian," she had said at the very end of her tirade, completely throwing Shane for a loop.

Shane turned his head slowly, catching Rose staring ahead, not looking at him, her brow furrowed in thought

"You think?" he had asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I think I might be subconsciously choosing gay men to date so I don't have to, like, actually pick one."

Despite everything, Shane had laughed. It had escaped him before he could stop it and Rose threw a piece of popcorn at his face in retaliation.

"It's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

She glared at him for another second before her expression shifted and she started laughing too. Shane had leaned back against the couch, the tension easing from his shoulders while Rose wiped beneath her eyes.

Her smile eventually disappeared, though, her attention finally turning fully to him. "My parents aren't particularly vocal about their support for the LGBTQ community, though, so that sucks. Like, they've never said anything bad, but they also haven't said anything supportive, you know?"

Shane knew exactly what she meant by that; he didn't think his parents would care if he came out, they would probably be super supportive, but he didn't have anything to really point at to confirm his suspicions.

They sat in silence for a while after that. Rose stretched her legs across his lap and Shane rested one hand absently on her ankle, the two of them watching characters on the screen fall in love with an ease that feels particularly insulting.

"Do you want to get married?" Shane had asked spontaneously, the words surprising him.

Rose turned to look at him. "What?"

"Like a marriage of convenience," Shane had explained, his heart beating faster as his mind slowly started to race. "It would get everyone off our backs. You wouldn't have to worry about your parents pressuring you, and I—"

He had stopped talking just before he could say I would have an excuse to never love anyone else.

Rose studied him, her expression unreadable. Shane braced himself for her to laugh or tell him he'd lost his mind. "A lavender marriage," she said instead.

Shane frowned. "What?"

"That's what they're called," she explained, her mouth twitching. "A lavender marriage. You and your flowers."

He had rolled his eyes, but his chest loosened enough for him to breathe. "Is that a yes?"

Rose leaned back, her head tilting as she contemplated his offer. "You know what? Sure. Why the hell not?"

So they made plans.

It's still a fast turnaround, especially for two people as famous as Rose and Shane are in their own circles. The announcement dominated the news for weeks after they announced their engagement, paparazzi following them every second that were in public together, and the entire world treating it like the conclusion to a love story that Shane didn't remember living.

Shane insisted that he only wanted his team and family there. Rose was even more discerning, inviting only her closest friends and relatives despite her mother's increasingly dramatic objections. 

Rose choose the church where her parents were married, which is how Shane ended up getting married in Michigan of all places. He also let her choose the cake flavor; Shane wouldn't be having any, and it felt like the least he could do. Rose had chosen lemon with raspberry filling. Shane had nodded when she told him, pretending the decision mattered while she watched him with a sad little smile, her own little wistful twinkle in her eyes.

Now, Rose squeezes his hands again, pulling him sharply back into the church. The pastor is still waiting for an objection that will never come, the silence stretching for only a second before his gentle smile returns. Shane draws in another shallow breath, Rose's fingers tightening around his, holding him steady as the ceremony moves on.

"Since no objection has been made," the pastor says, "let us continue in the presence of God and these witnesses." Shane's fingers jerk inside Rose's grasp, but she doesn't let go, holding his hands firmly in place. "Shane and Rose, this holy bond is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, thoughtfully, and in accordance with those purposes for which God created it. "

Shane's eyes start to burn and he blinks rapidly, trying to force the feeling away before anyone notices. The church is too bright, sunlight cutting through the stained glass and casting colors across the floor. He fixes his gaze on the blue light touching the hem of Rose's dress, counting each breath as it leaves his body. It doesn't help, the pressure behind his eyes only building, his vision beginning to blur around the edges.

Everyone is probably going to assume he's tearing up because he's happy.

They'll think he's overwhelmed by the sight of his beautiful bride, and the promise of their future together. His teammates will tease him about it at the reception, his mom will cry harder when she sees him escorting Rose, and someone will capture it in a photo that will be printed in every magazine willing to pay for it.

No one will know that Shane is crying because he lost.

He lost Ilya somewhere between that day in Boston and the All-Star Game, throwing away years of whatever they'd been because he'd been too afraid to call it what it was. He lost his chance to apologize when Ilya disappeared to Russia, and every week that passes without a response buries that chance a little deeper. Now Shane is standing at an altar, about to make vows that will put the final shovelful of dirt over it.

He lost his chance to be with Ilya. Worse than that, he lost his chance to be himself.

The realization settles over Shane with such suffocating finality that a tear finally escapes before he can stop it. It slips hot and humiliating down his cheek, and his lips press together in a desperate attempt to keep them from trembling.

Rose never looks away from him, her expression softening, concern clear in her eyes. She shifts slightly closer, blocking some of Shane's face from the guests as she runs her thumb over his knuckles. "Breathe," she whispers, her voice so quiet that even the pastor doesn't seem to hear her.

Shane pulls in a trembling breath. Rose squeezes his hands until the pressure gives him something solid to focus on, her presence strong and steady in front of him. She's been steady when Shane couldn't be during this entire affair. She sat beside him when he admitted the truth, helped him plan an apology, and stayed when that apology had nowhere to go. She's standing here now, offering him a future that will keep both of them safe, and Shane loves her so much for it that another tear slips free.

It's just a shame that it's not in the way everyone believes he should love her..

Rose gives him the smallest smile, sad and understanding. She doesn't ask him whether he wants to stop, because they both know what is waiting for them outside this moment. Their parents, their careers, their carefully constructed lives; every choice that brought them here presses against Shane's back, forcing him toward the only direction he knows how to go.

The pastor glances between them, his own expression turning sympathetic. He gives Shane a moment to collect himself before speaking again.

"Shane," he says gently, "do you take Rose to be your wife, to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and remain faithful to her for as long as you both shall live?"

Shane knows the answer he's supposed to give. They've practiced this exact moment several times, Rose smiling at him across the empty church while the coordinator told them where to stand and when to speak. His tongue feels too large for his mouth. "I do," he manages, the words rough and barely recognizable.

Rose's shoulders fall slightly with what might be a mix of relief and duty. Shane isn't sure whether she had been afraid he wouldn't say it or hopeful that he might not.

The pastor turns to her and repeats the question. Rose listens without looking away from Shane, her hands warm around his as the words fill the space between them. "I do," she says clearly, her voice not shaking at all.

She really is a very good actress.

The pastor smiles and looks toward Hayden. "May we have the rings?"

Hayden steps forward immediately, fumbling in his jacket pocket before producing the small ring box. The grin he'd worn earlier is gone, replaced by an uncertain expression as his eyes dart over Shane's face.

Shane wonders what he sees; Hayden knows him better than almost anyone, but Shane has spent most of their friendship keeping his sexuality hidden from even himself. Hayden opens the box and offers it to him. Shane releases one of Rose's hands to take the thin gold band from its cushion, nearly dropping it when it slips against his damp fingers. Rose takes the opportunity to hide his fumble from their audience by grabbing the other ring.

"You've got this," Hayden murmurs.

Shane nods without looking at him. His hand trembles as he holds the ring between his thumb and index finger, the metal catching the light. Rose offers him her left hand, her fingers perfectly steady.

The pastor begins to speak. "Shane, place the ring on Rose's finger and repeat after me."

Shane takes Rose's hand in his, the ring feeling heavy despite how little it weighs.

"Rose," the pastor says, pausing for Shane to follow, "I give you this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness."

"Rose," Shane repeats, his voice catching immediately, and he has to clear his throat before trying again. "I give you this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness." He presses the band over the tip of her finger and his hands start shaking badly without his input.

"With all that I am and all that I have," the pastor continues, "I honor you."

"With all that I am," Shane says, sliding the ring down toward her knuckle, "and all that I—"

The words disappear suddenly, his tongue not willing to form anything further. Shane stops moving with the band only halfway onto Rose's finger. His mouth remains open, but nothing comes out, his throat closing completely around the rest of the vow.

Shane can feel everyone watching him. His dad shifts in the front pew and someone coughs farther back, the sound painfully loud in the stillness. Shane hears the quiet rustle of Hayden moving behind him and forces down a painful swallow.

The pastor softly repeats the line. "With all that I am and all that I have, I honor you."

Shane tries, okay, he really does. He pulls in a breath and wills his mouth to form the words, but his body refuses to cooperate.

The ring remains caught against Rose's knuckle.

If he pushes it the rest of the way, he realizes painfully, this becomes real. The life he'd only been pretending to live will become permanent, witnessed by almost everyone who matters to him, and sealed with words he can't make himself say.

His vision blurs completely. Shane's chest hitches as he looks up from their joined hands, meeting Rose's gaze. She watches him quietly. There is concern on her face and something almost unbearably tender, but she doesn't prompt him or try to finish the vow for him, simply letting Shane come to whatever decision he needs to make on his own.

Shane stares at her, his breath coming in small, uneven bursts. Rose's fingers curl slightly around his, steadying the hand that is supposed to finish sliding the ring onto hers. "Rose," he says, choking on her name. Her eyes widen just slightly. Shane has no idea what he's about to say, only that he can't put the ring on her finger and keep pretending that the part of him screaming to escape doesn't exist. That both of them are running from themselves by going through with this.

Before he can force out another word, the double doors at the back of the church burst open. The sound cracks through the silence, wood striking hard against the walls. Shane whips his head around along with everyone else, his grip on Rose's hand going slack.

He stares, completely dumbfounded.

Ilya Rozanov stands in the open doorway, windswept and disheveled, his golden curls in complete disarray. His shirt is wrinkled and partially untucked, his chest heaving as if he's run ten miles without a break. A woman stands beside him looking just as breathless, one hand braced against the doorframe while she fights to pull air into her lungs.

Ilya's wild gaze searches the church before landing on Shane.

"Stop the wedding!" he shouts.

"Oh my God," Rose says beside him. Shane glances at her, still too stunned to do anything but follow the sound of her voice. She has her free hand pressed over her mouth, her eyes wide as she stares toward the back of the church. For one horrible second, Shane thinks she's upset, then he sees the grin she's trying to hide behind her palm, and the unmistakable excitement shining in her eyes.

She looks absolutely delighted by this surprise turn of events.

Shane's gaze drops to where they're still joined, the gold band caught halfway down Rose's finger. His own hand has gone completely still around hers, but she doesn't seem to notice. She's nearly bouncing in place, her attention fixed onto the two people who just burst through the church's doors.

He turns back to Ilya, eyes widening slightly when he sees that Ilya is marching up the aisle with a determined look on his face, shoulders squared and gaze locked on to Shane. He doesn't seem to notice the rows of people turning to stare at him, or the shocked whispers that sweep through the church as everyone recognizes him.

Shane can't make himself move. His heart is racing so fast it makes his chest hurt, each beat harder than the last. Every breath catches in his throat as he watches Ilya approach, terrified that if he blinks, Ilya will disappear.

Ilya isn't supposed to be here. He's supposed to be in Russia, unreachable and completely done with Shane. He's supposed to exist only in memories Shane tries not to touch, golden curls and rough hands haunting the edges of a life that Shane doesn't get to have.

Except he's here; he's here, and he's coming toward Shane with the same single-minded focus he has when he sees an opening on the ice. His suit jacket hangs open, revealing several buttons of his shirt undone at the collar, and there are dark patches of sweat along his collar. One side of his hair has been flattened down while the other is sticking up wildly.

He's the most beautiful thing Shane has ever seen.

The woman who entered with him follows close behind. She's shorter than Ilya, but moves with just as much purpose, glaring at anyone who looks like they might attempt to interfere. A murmur rises from the pews filled with Shane's team. One of his teammates steps into the aisle as Ilya nears them, looking between him and the altar with open disbelief.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Rozanov?" he demands.

Ilya doesn't slow down for even a second, and the woman immediately steps in front of Shane's teammate, planting herself between him and Ilya. Her eyes narrow dangerously as she lifts her chin, every line of her body promising violence if he makes another move.

"Sit down," she says.

Shane's teammate glances around as if waiting for someone to back him up, but no one moves. The woman's lip curls, and a sound that is almost a snarl seems to catch in the back of her throat.

His teammate retakes his seat, the fear clear on his face as he presses himself back against the pew, keeping his hands carefully where she can see them. The woman watches him for another second before turning and hurrying after Ilya, apparently satisfied that the threat has been handled.

Hayden makes a strangled sound behind Shane. "Holy shit," he whispers, sounding stunned.

Shane still can't male himself speak. The church has erupted into hushed conversation around them, but it all sounds distant to him. The pastor says something Shane doesn't catch, lifting one hand as if he has some remaining hope that he could regaining some semblance of control over the ceremony.

Rose gives Shane's fingers an urgent squeeze. When he looks at her again, she jerks her head toward the aisle as if she's afraid he hasn't understood what is happening.

Shane thinks he understands perfectly, he just doesn't believe it.

His gaze skitters toward the front pew, his stomach twisting as he remembers his parents. The shock of seeing Ilya had momentarily pushed everything else out of his mind, but now reality crashes back into him all at once: his team is here, Rose's family is here, and his parents are sitting only a few feet away, watching the man Shane has secretly and unknowingly loved for years storm down the aisle to stop him from marrying a woman.

Shane expects to see anger on his mother's face. Disappointment, maybe, or the same horror that has lived in the back of Shane's mind every time he imagined her learning the truth. Instead, Yuna has tears in her eyes. There isn't a trace of anger in her expression. She's surprised, obviously, her lips parting slightly as she watches Ilya approach, but her hands are wrapped tightly around his dad's arm. Something close to understanding settles across her face, soft, sad, and so gentle that Shane's vision blurs again.

His dad looks stunned, his gaze moving from Ilya to Shane, eyes widening slightly when they meet. Shane has no idea what his own face is giving away. Everything, probably. He doesn't think he's ever been capable of looking at Ilya without showing too much, no matter how desperately he tries. David glances down at Yuna's hand gripping his arm and he covers them with one of his own, then he looks back at Shane, a smile curling the edges of his mouth.

Neither of them tries to stop Ilya.

Ilya reaches the front of the church, stopping at the bottom of the steps leading to the altar. Up close, he looks even more disheveled, his cheeks flushed and his chest still heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. The woman stops several feet behind him, bending forward with her hands braced on her knees. She appears to say something in Russian beneath her breath, glaring at Ilya's back before straightening and turning to guard the aisle.

Ilya doesn't look at her. He doesn't look at Rose, the pastor, Shane's parents, or any of the guests whispering behind him. He only looks at Shane.

Shane's fingers loosen around Rose's hand. The ring remains suspended against her knuckle, forgotten between them, while his entire body strains toward the man standing below him.

Ilya's determination falters for the first time since he rushed into the church. His lips part, but several seconds pass without any words leaving them. Shane watches fear creep into his expression. It feels like an impossibility; Ilya never looks afraid, not on the ice and certainly not in front of a crowd. Now his blue eyes are wide and painfully vulnerable, searching Shane's face desperately for something he hopes to find there.

"Shane Hollander," Ilya says, his voice cracking slightly on Shane's last name. Ilya swallows, his confidence slipping further as his gaze drops briefly to Shane and Rose's joined hands. Pain flashes across Ilya's face, raw enough that Shane instinctively pulls his hand away slightly. Rose releases him without resistance, the ring sliding further off, now just barely resting against the edge of her finger.

Ilya meets Shane's eyes again and he takes a deep breath before saying, "I fell in love with you the first time I met you."

The words steal the air from Shane's lungs. He stares down at Ilya, unable to understand what he's hearing. His brain catches on each individual word without managing to assemble them into anything that makes sense.

Ilya fell in love with him?

"I did not know it at the time, of course," Ilya continues, a strained attempt at a smile touching his lips. "I was too young and stupid to realize it. I saw pretty boy with freckles and just knew I needed to know him." A few faint, startled gasps ring through the church. Ilya doesn't seem to hear them, his eyes never leaving Shane's face.

"There was something inside me that knew then what would happen," he says.

Shane's mouth falls open slightly. His chest aches with every shallow breath he attempts to take, the pressure behind his ribs almost unbearable. He remembers approaching Ilya in that parking lot with painful clarity. Ilya had been smoking and had looked so beautiful that Shane had barely known how to look at him. Shane had spent their entire one-sided conversation pretending he wasn't fascinated, already furious at how Ilya was seemingly dismissing his attempt at an introduction.

Shane had spent years wondering when everything between them had actually turned from the budding sparks of a rivalry to something much more heated. He'd searched his memory for the moment attraction turned into something deeper, never once considering the possibility that neither of them had stood a chance from the beginning.

Ilya loved him even then. Maybe not in a way he'd understood, but enough that some part of him had known. Enough that he remembers it now, standing in a crowded church and confessing it in front of people Shane has spent his life hiding from.

"I tried to fight it so hard, Shane. I really did," Ilya says, his smile disappearing as his expression twists with regret. "I knew we were something that could not happen. Russia was there, the league was there. So many things were in the way."

His gaze flickers briefly toward the pews filled with Shane's teammates. Several of them look angry, their heads turning toward Shane as the full meaning of Ilya's words settles over them. Shane should care. He knows he should be terrified by the realization that everyone is learning the truth at once, but the fear never comes. There isn't room for it, not when Ilya is standing in front of him, admitting to loving Shane before Shane had even allowed himself to imagine being loved. Nothing else seems capable of mattering next to that.

"I told myself it was only sex," Ilya says. His voice lowers, the words sounding as if they're meant only for Shane despite the silence carrying them through the entire church. "Then I told myself it was not complicated. I told myself many stupid things because truth was too frightening."

Shane lets out a broken sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Ilya's eyes soften at the noise, but the desperation in them doesn't fade.

"But I could not stop."

Ilya moves forward, climbing a single step. He's closer now, near enough that Shane can see the fine tremble in his hands and the dampness clinging to his hairline. The movement sends another wave of whispers through the church. The woman who came in with Ilya turns toward a guest whose grumbling has grown louder, glaring at them until he grows silent once more.

Rose shifts beside Shane. He looks at her automatically, guilt cutting through his chest when he remembers where they're standing and what she must be feeling. She's still grinning. Rose meets Shane's gaze and nods firmly toward Ilya, her eyes shining with tears of her own.

"The second I kissed you, I knew I would never be able to get you out of my head," Ilya says, bringing Shane's attention back to him.

Shane remembers Ilya grabbing him in the dark, their mouths coming together for the first time, the feeling of it rocking through Shane with all the grace of a collision on the ice. Shane had been shocked by the intensity of it, and even more shocked by the way his entire body had responded, as if he'd been waiting his whole life to be touched exactly like that. He'd spent years telling himself it was only physical. He'd treated every frantic heartbeat and lingering glance like something he could outgrow if he ignored it for long enough.

"You stitched yourself into my very soul, Shane Hollander," Ilya tells him.

A sob tears itself out of Shane before he can stop it. He lifts one hand to his mouth, his entire body trembling as he tries to hold himself together. No one has ever spoken to him like this. No one has ever looked at him the way Ilya does now, as if Shane is the only person in the church, and the answer he gives will decide whether the world keeps spinning.

Ilya's pleading gaze moves over his face. His own eyes shine now, the blue made brighter by the tears gathering along his lashes. Shane wants to reach for him. Every part of him aches to close the remaining distance between them, but his feet remain frozen against the floor.

The gold band is still pinched between his fingers.

He looks down at it, barely remembering taking it from Rose's hand when he'd pulled away. It's plain and perfectly respectable, chosen to match the life Shane thought he was supposed to want. His vision blurs until the ring becomes nothing more than a smear of gold against his skin.

"I'm sorry I scared you the last time we saw each other," Ilya says.

Shane's gaze snaps back to him, his stomach dropping when he sees just how devastated Ilya looks. His shoulders have begun to curl forward, some of the determination that carried him through the doors crumbling now that he's close enough to see Shane's shock.

"I'm sorry if I moved too fast," he continues. "I should not have done that."

"No," Shane tries to say, but the word catches silently in his throat. It hadn't been Ilya's fault. Ilya had changed their status quo and Shane had responded by running. He'd been so terrified of what that change might bring, of the way he'd moaned Ilya's name and Ilya had moaned his name in return.

Ilya takes another unsteady breath. He looks briefly toward Rose, pain and guilt passing over his face, before turning back to Shane. "But Hollander—," Ilya starts, his voice breaking. Ilya swallows and tries again. "Shane, I am begging you." His fingers curl against his palms, visibly resisting the urge to reach out. Shane can see how much the distance between them costs him, how afraid Ilya is that touching him without permission will send Shane running again.

"Please," Ilya whispers. The church has gone completely silent. Even the guests who had been whispering are quiet now, every person waiting for Shane to answer. Ilya climbs one more step. He's directly below Shane, close enough that Shane could reach out and bury his hands in those windswept curls.

"Please do not marry Rose Landry."

Shane says nothing. For several long seconds, he simply stares at Ilya's face. He traces the familiar shape of him with his eyes, taking in every detail he can. His curls are a mess and his cheeks are flushed, tears shining at the corners if his eyes. His chest continues to rise and fall with uneven breaths. He looks terrified, more vulnerable than Shane has ever seen him.

Ilya waits for an answer and Shane can actually see the hope in his eyes begin to fade with every second Shane remains silent. His shoulders sink, his gaze dropping briefly toward the gold band still resting in Shane's hand. Shane's fingers close around it and he turns back to Rose. She's watching him with tears streaming openly down her cheeks now, but her smile is wide and bright. She looks happier than she has at any point since the wedding planning started, practically glowing as she glances between Shane and Ilya.

Shane searches her face and Rose seems to understand the question he can't make himself ask, because she gives him a firm nod.

The last of the fear lodged in Shane's chest breaks apart.

He takes Rose's hand and turns it over, opening her fingers with careful touches. The plain gold band looks painfully small in his palm, nothing more than a piece of metal now that it no longer represents the entire life waiting to close around him. Shane gently places it into her hand and Rose curls her fingers around the ring. She steps away from him, the train of her wedding dress dragging over the floor as she moves towards her maid of honor. She's clearly tickled by the entire situation, pressing her lips together as if she's struggling not to laugh.

Shane turns back to Ilya and watches the devastation on Ilya's face transforms into surprise. His lips part, his wet eyes widening as they move from Rose's closed hand to Shane's empty one. Hope follows slowly, the emotions on his face making him look so fragile it make's Shane want to cry.

"Shane?" he whispers.

Shane steps toward him, his entire body still trembling, but his voice is surprisingly strong when he finally answers. "Ilya," he says, "you fucking asshole."

Confusion flashes across Ilya's face as Shane reaches for him, grabbing the front of his jacket with both hands, and dragging him up the final step.

Shane kisses him with everything he has.

The church disappears around them, Shane unable to care about the pastor standing only a few feet away, the guests watching in shocked silence, or the teammates who are currently discovering that Shane Hollander has been secretly in love with his greatest rival for years.

He only cares about Ilya's lips against his, about the push and pull of their tongues as Ilya makes a startled sound into Shane's mouth before responding with desperate force. His arms wrap around Shane, pulling him impossibly closer until there isn't any space left between their bodies. A sob tears itself from Shane's chest, the sound disappearing into the kiss, caught between their mouths as Ilya holds him tighter. Shane buries both hands in Ilya's curls, the soft texture beneath his fingers exactly as he remembers it, and the familiar sensation nearly destroys him.

He's touching Ilya again. Ilya is actually here, having crossed an ocean, crashing Shane's wedding, and telling an entire church full of people that he's been in love with Shane since they were teenagers.

Shane kisses him harder, trying to pour every apology and every wasted year into it. His tears mix with Ilya's, their mouths slipping clumsily together as neither of them seems willing to pull away long enough to breathe. One of Ilya's hand slides up Shane's back, gripping the fabric of his jacket between his fingers, while the other cups the back of Shane's head, holding him with a tenderness that makes Shane whimper.

He thought he'd never have this again. He'd stood at the altar and accepted that he had lost it forever, only for Ilya to come crashing back into his life at the exact moment Shane needed him most.

Ilya finally breaks the kiss, dragging in a ragged breath. Shane makes a wounded noise and tries to follow, but Ilya holds him back just far enough to search his face. His blue eyes move frantically over Shane's features, clearing trying to find something on Shane's flushed face. "Is this real?" he asks, his voice breaking. "You are not—Shane, you are sure?"

Shane tightens his grip on Ilya's curls. "I love you too," he tells him. Shane doesn't lower his voice or soften them into something meant only for Ilya. He says them loudly enough for his parents, his team, Rose's family, and every other person watching, to hear.

He loves Ilya Rozanov, the truth finally said outside of his thoughts, and the world miraculously doesn't end. Ilya's entire face crumbles at his confession, a broken laugh escaping him as tears roll down his cheek, his hands tightening around Shane like he's afraid someone might try to pull them apart.

"Shane," Ilya whispers reverently.

He pulls Shane into another kiss, this one softer, but no less desperate. Ilya cradles Shane's face between his hands, his thumbs brushing away tears that are immediately replaced by more. Shane smiles helplessly against his mouth. The last of the terror that's followed him through the day drains out of his body, leaving him lightheaded with relief.

A high-pitched squeal cuts through the stunned silence caused by their confessions.

He breaks away from Ilya, startled into laughter as Rose barrels toward them with her arms already spread, nearly tripping over the front of her gown in her excitement.

"Oh my God, Shane, I'm so happy!" she shouts. She wraps her arms around both of them before Shane can respond. Ilya makes a surprised noise as Rose wedges herself against their bodies, crushing them together in an awkward embrace. Shane laughs harder, the sound wet and breathless. He wraps one arm around Rose while keeping the other firmly around Ilya's waist, unwilling to risk letting him go.

"This is so much better than getting married," Rose says certainly, griping them both tightly to her.

Ilya stares at her over Shane's shoulder, clearly bewildered. "You are not angry?"

"Are you kidding?" Rose shouts, pulling back far enough to look at him, her face glowing with delight. "You stopped my fake wedding to publicly declare your love. This is the most romantic thing I've ever seen!"

"Fake wedding?" Ilya repeats.

Shane winces. "We have a lot to explain."

Rose waves away his concern. She looks toward the woman standing several feet behind Ilya, who is gaping at them with open surprise. "Get in here," Rose calls.

The woman points at herself. Her gaze moves uncertainly between Rose's wedding dress and the tangle Shane and Ilya have made of each other.

"Sveta," Ilya says, shocked laughter leaving him as Rose shakes them both a little, her excitement becoming contagious. 

Shane's brain finally catches up: this is Svetlana, the woman Ilya once told him was a regular friends with benefits. She is also, apparently, the person who helped him cross an ocean and storm a church in order to confess his love to his biggest rival. Svetlana looks around at the staring guests, taking a moment to look at the three of them all huddled together, before she lifts both hands in surrender.

"Fuck it," she says. She marches up the steps and joins the hug.

Rose immediately wraps an arm around her, dragging her into the group with enough enthusiasm to make Svetlana stumble. Ilya laughs against Shane's hair, one hand still planted firmly at the base of his spine. All four of them probably look ridiculous. Rose is still wearing her wedding gown, Ilya looks like he fought his way through an airport, and Svetlana is still trying to recover from their mad dash to the church.

Shane has never felt so happy. He turns his face into Ilya's neck for a moment, breathing him in. Ilya's familiar scent fills his lungs, real and warm and here, and Shane's eyes close as another wave of relief washes over him. When he opens them, he finds his mother's gaze across the small distance between the altar and the first pew.

Yuna is smiling widely at him. Tears collect in her eyes, but the strained uncertainty she wore in the dressing room is gone. She looks happy, clutching his dad's hand as she watches Shane cling to Ilya. His dad looks overwhelmed, but he doesn't hesitate to give Shane a beaming smile, love evident in his gaze.

Shane knows he'll have to explain some things. He'll have to tell his parents about Ilya, about how long this has been going on, and why he never said anything. He'll have to explain the marriage of convenience and apologize to Rose's family for the wedding that was secretly never supposed to be real.

Even with every measure they put in place to keep the ceremony private, people will talk. One of the guests will tell someone, who will tell someone else, and eventually the entire world will know that Ilya Rozanov stopped Shane Hollander's wedding by confessing his—requited!—love for him.. People will know about them, it's not something Shane can stop.

For the first time in his life, Shane doesn't care. Ilya is here. He loves Shane, and Shane is finally holding him without hiding.

He couldn't be happier.