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Sasha
Sasha was glad Svetlana had talked Ilya into meeting up with him for this music festival while they were in Russia for the summer. He hadn’t seen much of Ilya since he left for the NHL, let alone exchange the occasional text message. Every update Sasha ever got about Ilya was either from Svetlana or the news.
Svetlana said that Ilya had changed once he moved to America, but Sasha had been doubtful. She always had a tendency to be dramatic whenever he or Ilya got busy with their own lives and couldn’t prioritise her the way they could when they were teenagers, but seeing Ilya over the last day or two, Sasha could see it. If anything, Svetlana had undersold how much Ilya had changed.
Ilya was...off.
He was still so much fun; drinking and smoking and snorting everything that Sasha offered him. Sasha had watched him kiss girl after girl as they danced in the crowd, hanging off Svetlana and shouting the song lyrics into Sasha’s ear. For today at least, it had felt like they were sixteen again, going to the underground clubs that Sasha used to get them into back in Moscow.
Then Ilya had grabbed his wrist and dragged Sasha into his hotel room, ignoring Svetlana despite her angling for some attention from them, shoving him roughly against the door and kissing him. Sasha could hear Svetlana scoff as Ilya wrapped one hand around Sasha’s throat and shoved the other down his pants, his touch possessive and mean.
Sasha had missed this. He’d been fucking French boys for the last three years, and while he loved them; loved how passionate and romantic and sexy they were, loved how languid and ethereal they were, there was something about Ilya that Sasha hadn’t been able to shake.
Ilya kissed Sasha like he was taking something. He manhandled Sasha like he was property, and he fucked him like he was punishing him. He was solid and hard and mean in a way that only Russian men could be. Ilya trusted Sasha to take him in a way French boys didn’t. Ilya knew him, and he still wanted him. Even if it was to just fuck him like he hated him.
Sasha had taken it greedily, moaning and whimpering and scratching his nails down Ilya’s back the way he knew Ilya loved, and Ilya had bit him and squeezed Sasha's neck before he pinned his wrists above his head. But there was something in his eyes that told Sasha that Ilya wasn't totally there with him. His suspicions were confirmed after they came when Ilya rolled over to pass out without saying a word to Sasha.
Ilya was so lovely when he was asleep. It was the only time Sasha ever saw the tension in Ilya's brow relax completely.
It was fine. They were fine. Sasha knew that he couldn't expect Ilya to talk to him like he had when they were teenagers. They used to be friends, or something like it, united by a terrifying secret that nobody else knew. But the distance had gotten to them, and their lives were different now. They were both different now, Sasha realised, lying in the dark and staring up at the ceiling.
Maybe Sasha should go to America when he finished his degree. Maybe he could move in with Svetlana and go to Ilya's games and be his friend again. Maybe Sasha could experience American men. Maybe they would be more interested in him than French men, who only seemed to hang around for a weekend before disappearing into whatever ether they appeared from. Maybe Ilya would want Sasha if he could have him without the risks that they had to worry about in Moscow. Maybe they could share men together, the way they had that one night when they’d taken off for a weekend to Berlin.
Sasha blinked when Ilya shuffled next to him, holding his breath when a small light illuminated the bedroom. He turned his head slowly, careful not to let Ilya know that he was awake, and frowned when he saw a text message lighting up Ilya's phone.
Jane
Still mad about Vegas? I
J I'm not mad about anything!
😉 I
Sasha frowned, waiting for Jane, whoever she was, to respond to Ilya, but nothing came. He wondered what sort of girl would ignore Ilya fucking Rozanov as Ilya stared at the screen, unmoving, for long enough that Sasha eventually felt his eyes drift shut.
In the morning, Sasha woke up alone. Ilya had gone back to Moscow to be with his father, his note said. Svetlana was still asleep, so Sasha sat on the balcony, well into his last pack of cigarettes, smoking and wondering.
He could not stop thinking about the Ilya Rozanov, the top player in the NHL and the most sought after man in at least three continents, lying in bed and staring at a silent text chain, waiting for some random woman to message him back. Sasha couldn't even imagine what sort of woman would leave Ilya on read to begin with. He knew from experience that there was no other man that could be worth texting back over Ilya.
Sasha asked Svetlana about Jane when she woke up and joined him, but she just shrugged and said that she must have been one of Ilya's many puck bunnies. Some random girl he had hooked up with a couple of times in Montreal, according to her sleuthing.
He didn't believe her. Sasha and Ilya might have drifted, but there was no way some random puck bunny would have Ilya staring at his phone, reading old messages over and over at four in the morning.
JJ
“No, but look,” Hollander stressed, holding his phone out to JJ.
JJ shook his head. “You’re seeing something that isn’t there, ami.”
“I’m telling you,” Hollander ignored him, tapping his finger against the side of his iPad. “He’s not shooting like he normally does. He's tensing where he normally doesn't. There’s something up with his shoulder. I’m right about this.”
JJ sighed, taking the iPad from him and pressing play as Hollander turned around in his seat to talk to Pike behind them, trying to see what Hollander was seeing. If he said Dallas Kent had an injury, even if it wasn’t being reported, odds were that Hollander was probably right.
He'd only been a Metro for three months, but Shane Hollander had already taken JJ under his wing. A few of the older guys had made some weird comments about how JJ must be doing something special to have won Hollander's favour so fast, but JJ knew that he and Hollander had reflexively gravitated to each other because they were the only two not white players on the team. Hollander had caught his eye on JJ’s first day in the locker room when one of the older guys had made a comment about how JJ should be playing basketball, not hockey, and sat with him at lunch when no one else made a move to. At first, JJ figured that Hollander was just doing his duty as newly appointed team captain, but it became apparent that it was more than that pretty quickly.
Hollander was intense, and all he cared about was hockey, but JJ was so fond of him already. He was an absolute beast on the ice, a menace during training, and borderline insufferable when they reviewed tape.
But he was kind. He listened, always. He took the time to work with the coaches or the guys on the team to perfect plays that they wanted to try.
Hollander was different from JJ in a lot of ways; JJ had always been more of an extrovert. A social butterfly, his aunt always called him. Hollander would come to drinks with the guys, but JJ noticed how he always nursed the same beer for ages before mysteriously holding a ginger ale, rarely drinking. He'd only gone home with a girl once in the entire time JJ had been on the team so far. Pike had joked to him that nothing got Hollander as worked up as hockey did, and until he could find a way to fuck a hockey stick, Hollander wasn't interested in anyone.
JJ kindly did not point out to Pike that there was a way for someone to fuck a hockey stick, but he didn't think the boys on the team would appreciate that sort of joke.
But JJ had learned pretty quickly that Hollander mostly kept to himself outside of hockey.
Which is why he swore his heart nearly stopped when Hollander's phone buzzed on the table between them when it lit up with a text.
Lily [now]
Stop acting like we aren't going to fuck tonight
Lily [now]
I know you better than this
JJ blinked, staring at the message until the screen faded to black. He looked at Hollander in surprise before the phone buzzed again.
Lily [now]
We both know where you'll be after the game 😉
He startled when Hollander stood up and grabbed his phone, looking back at JJ.
JJ was surprised. He hadn't heard Hollander talk about a girlfriend before. He had seen Hollander go home with some other girl a few weeks ago, but maybe Hollander and Lily weren't serious. Maybe she was just someone he hooked up with. Hollander didn't strike JJ as disloyal. He wasn't sure Hollander would even be capable of disloyalty if he tried.
"Do you see it?" Hollander asked, nodding to the iPad, making a stilted motion with his arm.
"Yeah," JJ lied. "His shoulder's tight."
Hollander nodded emphatically, looking at Pike like JJ just proved something that Pike had disagreed on.
"I've gotta go meet Coach," Hollander said. "See you guys in a bit."
JJ reached out to give Hollander his iPad, smiling as Hollander took it and left the lunch room. Pike moved to take Hollander's seat, looking annoyed at Drapeau as he held court at the table, telling some sort of story JJ was sure he didn't want to hear. JJ looked around to make sure nobody was paying any attention to them before he leaned in close to Pike.
"Does Hollander have a girlfriend?" JJ asked.
Pike laughed and shook his head. "No, man. And I've been trying to set him up, but he barely even looks at a woman if it's during the season."
"Makes sense," JJ nodded to himself.
Of course Hollander didn't have a girlfriend.
"Except for Lily," Pike said.
JJ sat up straighter at that. "Lily?"
"Yeah, a girl he's got out in Boston," Pike shared. "He won't talk about it, though."
"Why not?"
Pike shrugged. "He's pretty private, I think. I don't know. I've caught him messaging her a few times, but he always acts like I'm seeing things."
"But not a girlfriend," JJ clarified.
"No," Pike shook his head. "We've set Shane up with so many cool girls but he's never interested in them."
JJ considered that as Pike finished his food. Maybe Pike was right after all. Maybe Shane Hollander really didn't care about anything unless it was hockey.
Connors
Connors loved a win.
He loved four consecutive wins in a row even more.
Boston were on a roll at the moment. Coach had been working and reworking the lines during their preseason, determined to make the most of their new trades, and it was fucking working. Rozanov had kept up the momentum by taking them out to celebrate after every single win, making sure all of the guys were having a great time, drinking and dancing and picking up.
Connors was sure he was the only one that noticed Rozanov was glued to his phone lately.
He didn't seem to be texting all that often, which was the weird part. Connors would watch at the gym, or at lunch, or after training or games in the locker room at Rozanov as he pulled his phone out, scroll, and put it away without typing anything.
Connors knew that look. It was how his little brother acted every time he started dating someone.
Rozanov had a girl.
It checked out to Connors. Statistically speaking, at the very least. Rozanov went out so often and met so many women that it was only a matter of time before he met one that piqued his interest.
At first, he had been so sure that it was Svetlana. It made sense; she was the only girl Rozanov had ever brought around the team, and he’d even taken her to a couple of events that the Raiders had hosted. And he was always on the phone talking in Russian, sometimes getting so riled up he’d fuck off to the gym for another two or three hours after everyone else had finished training.
It made sense to Connors. So he was surprised when he told Marleau his suspicions, and Marleau laughed in his face.
“Nah, man,” Marleau had chortled. “He’s got some girl up in Montreal he’s obsessed with. Jane.”
Connors wouldn’t have believed him unless he’d seen it for himself.
Rozanov had taken the seat next to Connors on the bus ride from the hotel to the rink. Connors hadn’t thought anything of the way that Rozanov was quieter than normal until he realised he was on his phone.
Connors looked over at Rozanov, nearly falling out of his chair when he realised that Rozanov was smiling. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever seen Rozanov smile like that before. Not outside of a club or off the ice.
He sank down into his seat a little, trying to get a look at Rozanov’s screen.
Not to pry. Just to see if Marleau was right.
Jane
J Let's see you fucking win first
J Your streak isn’t going to last much longer
J And I don’t fuck losers.
You're lucky because I do I
But it doesn't matter I
Because I am going to fucking win I
And you are going to congratulate me I
On your knees like last time I
J You’re fucking dreaming
J I'm not doing that
You will. Like last time I
Cry and beg me to fuck your throat I
I will let you choke on my cock because I am so nice I
J Let me???
Yes Jane I will let you I
And then because I am such a gentleman I
I will fuck you until you ruin the sheets again I
J Get fucked I didn't ruin the sheets
J Do you even know what a gentleman is
Yes. I am one. I
J Fuck off
J No you're not
J Fuck you
J Find someone else to suck your dick tonight
You want me to beg? I
Even though this is your job I
I love when you beg I
Connors watched for a long moment as Rozanov smirked at his phone before he locked it and turned in his seat to talk to Carmichael in the next aisle.
Well, Marleau was right, at least.
There was certainly a Jane. And she was fucking feisty. And Rozanov clearly liked it. Or her. Or both.
Connors stilled when he heard a buzz, carefully angling himself to read the newest message that Rozanov received.
J Please, Rozanov PLEASE
J Shut the fuck up
J And please fuck me
Connors tried to stifle a laugh, but Rozanov didn't bother. Connors had never heard Rozanov snort with laughter before. He watched as Rozanov bit his lip as he typed back, doing his best not to stand up and try to find Marleau to talk about what he'd witnessed.
Rozanov was definitely into Jane.
David
It was a good thing that Yuna had stepped into her office to make her call, because Shane hadn't looked up from his phone once in the last ten minutes.
David watched from the stove as Shane typed then waited, putting his phone face down on the counter and chopping vegetables before dropping the knife every time the phone buzzed again.
He had never seen his son look so giddy before. Shane would smirk to himself and reply, prepping the vegetables in between waiting for a reply, then typing back furiously, over and over. David waited until the onions had properly begun to caramalise before he cleared his throat and nodded at Shane for the carrots.
"Sorry," Shane said sheepishly, finishing dicing quickly and tossing them into the pot.
"No worries," David said breezily. He knew better than to push when it came to Shane. "Your phone was keeping you pretty busy."
Shane scoffed, moving onto chopping the potatoes into chunks. "It's nothing."
"Clearly."
"It's no one," Shane said, but David knew that tone.
Like Shane wanted to share, just a little. He was sure Yuna had never heard Shane use this tone before. David was sure that this was reserved for him. It made him feel a little proud, that Shane sometimes did this. Gave David little bits of information that he trusted him to hold onto.
David waited.
"Just someone I talk to sometimes," Shane mumbled.
David nodded as he stirred. He hadn't even been sure that Shane would admit there was someone, let alone someone that he talked to more than once. It was a big reveal for him. David tried not to smile at being trusted with this information that he was sure nobody else had.
"It's nice to have someone to talk to," David said instead, keeping his voice level.
He watched Shane nod out of the corner of his eye, relieved to see his shoulders unfurl as he moved the potatoes to the side and got started on the leek. They moved in tandem until the pot was full and the dishes were done.
"I'm just gonna wash up," Shane said, leaving the kitchen.
David listened to Shane's footsteps move down the hall to the bathroom, his eyes snagging on the phone, face down on the counter.
He knew he shouldn't.
David flipped the phone right side up and skimmed over the messages waiting on Shane's lock screen, grateful when they were cut off, too long for the preview window.
Lily [1m ago]
If you want me to shut up you should stuff my mouth full so I cannot tal
Lily [1m ago]
Make me choke on your cock like you did last time
Lily [now]
Maybe I will even put on a show for you. Gag and cry and beg for you lik
David flipped the phone back down, shaking out the tea towel and hanging it over the oven handle to dry.
Well. Shane was certainly talking to someone as spirited as David had suspected Shane was. It was nice, in its own way. David was happy to see that at the very least, Shane had a pretty open dialogue with Lily, whoever she was. That was healthy, even if it wasn't serious.
He went to college. He used to date around. David knew all too well that something didn't have to be serious to matter.
Whoever Lily was, she made Shane smile.
And, David noticed when Shane came back and checked his phone away from David's eyeline, Lily made Shane blush. David tried not to laugh as he ushered Shane out of the kitchen to leave the soup to simmer, herding him into the living room.
It was just nice to know that Shane had something going on outside of hockey.
Hayden
He was being shaken.
No, not shaken. Not really. The world was smooth, but Shane was laughing and it jostled him and –
Shane was laughing.
Hayden was vaguely aware that they were on a plane. He was even kind of aware that there was a fair bit of noise around him. But he realised that he had been asleep, and that he had woken up because he was asleep on Shane's shoulder, and Shane had laughed and shaken Hayden awake.
Normally, Hayden would move. He would apologise and lean back against the window like usual, and Shane would politely tell him that it was fine, even though Hayden knew that Shane hated when Hayden passed out on top of him.
But Shane had his phone out, and Hayden was curious.
And Shane was texting Lily.
Hayden knew he should look away. He knew that he should respect Shane’s privacy and space and let him maintain his boundaries. But he’d been so curious about Lily for so long that he just couldn’t bring himself to look away.
He'd seen Shane text Lily numerous times over the last couple of years. He had covered for Shane more than once when Shane had disappeared after a game in Boston, and he had kept his mouth shut when he'd seen bruises or hickeys fading on Shane's body, especially that time where he'd noticed the hickey on the base of Shane's dick that Hayden had accidentally noticed in the shower that he had only really seen because Shane had been so weird about trying to keep himself covered up. Hayden had gone home and asked Jackie how Shane had gotten it, and five months pregnant Jackie had cried and asked him if he was trying to tell her that her blow jobs weren't very exciting.
So Hayden wouldn't have noticed it if Shane hadn't been acting so weird about it. He also wouldn't have noticed the scratch marks on Shane's shoulders or the bruise on his ankle that kind of looked like he'd been tied up if Shane hadn't acted like they were there in the first place. But nothing could have prevented him from noticing how much lighter Shane was after Boston games. How much happier he was, how much quicker he was to smile.
Hayden was a professional athlete. He was trained in pattern recognition.
He knew that these all traced back to Boston Lily specifically. Shane had gone home with a few girls from clubs over the years, and he’d never seemed as happy the next day as he did when he was in Boston. Hayden had wondered for years what was so special about her that kept Shane from going back, what Lily had that all those other girls didn’t.
So, he looked.
And regretted it immediately.
Lily
L Do your media shirtless tonight when you lose
L For me
I'm not getting naked on tv S
And I'm not fucking losing S
L Not naked just shirtless
L Like all your slutty modelling photos
You’re so desperate S
Just google me shirtless S
L You are so boring Hollander
Fuck you S
L Only if you’re good
L Only good boys get a reward
A reward for what? S
L Winning
What do I get if I win? S
L I’ll sit on your face
Hayden blinked in shock as he stared down at Shane’s screen. Lily was a lot more...forward than Hayden had been expecting. And for that matter, so was Shane.
And what if I lose? S
L I thought you weren’t going to lose
I won’t S
L When you lose, I'll sit on your face as consolation prize
Shane made a soft, strangled sound, jostling Hayden on his shoulder as he shifted in his seat.
Who the fuck was this girl? And who the fuck was Shane, messaging her like this? Hayden had never known Shane to be so confident and rude and...kind of slutty? Did they talk like this all the time? Is this why Shane was smiling at his phone all the time? At the rink and between games and when he was over his house for dinner with Hayden’s kids? Was Shane sexting Lily?
Fuck S
You'll ride my face like last time? S
L Yes
L Except this time when you can’t breathe I won’t move
L Even if you pinch me and beg me to get off
Fuck S
L Are you still on the plane
L Are you hard
Yes S
One minute S
Hayden flinched when he realised Shane was moving slowly, trying to move Hayden off of his shoulder and back into his seat. Hayden shut his eyes and moved easily, feeling Shane shift and stand –
He cracked his eyes open and flinched when he realised that he was eye level with Shane’s clearly hard dick as Shane shuffled his way out of their row, footsteps disappearing quickly. Hayden sat up straight and stared out the window, taking in everything he had learned about Lily in the last four minutes.
Everything he’d learned about Shane.
Shane was a sexter. So was Lily. That wasn’t a total shock, not really.
Shane being really into being suffocated by good pussy – that was new. Surprising, even. Hayden wasn’t sure why, but he hadn’t ever considered that Shane would be the kind of guy that would have oral sex. Most guys didn’t, as far as Hayden knew. Receiving maybe; all men loved getting blow jobs. But Hayden knew eating pussy could be a chore, and plenty of women couldn’t even get off from oral sex. It could be hard enough for them to come from regular sex, even. Most of the time, Jackie couldn’t even come without her vibrator.
But it didn’t sound like that was something Shane was worried about. It sounded like he was the rare kind of guy that liked eating pussy.
Shane should be careful. He was a super rich hockey player that apparently had a puck bunny who was so desperate to sit on his face that she was making bullshit bets to make sure she ended up on his face. He was basically a unicorn. She'd probably try to get pregnant or something to lock Shane down for good.
Hayden reached for his phone, quickly typing out what he had learned to message Jackie. They had a running list of things they had learned about Lily over the years, and Hayden was sure that Jackie would be interested to know that Shane Hollander wasn’t opposed to literally drowning in pussy.
He locked his phone as Shane climbed back into his seat, looking –
Ew. Looking flushed and a little sweaty.
Hayden opted to ignore it. He didn't want to think about Shane disappearing into the bathroom of their plane to do...whatever it was he just did. It was bad enough sharing a room with him, sometimes. He also opted to ignore the buzz of Shane’s phone and the way Shane’s fingers trembled a little as he messaged Lily again.
He’d ignore Shane on his phone a lot more from now on, Hayden vowed.
Marleau
Rozy hadn’t taken his eyes off his phone all fucking night.
Cliff would have said something, but he was realising that there'd hardly been a point in the last couple of years where he hadn't seen Rozy on his phone at all hours of the day and night. He was always texting someone before practice, during lunch, on the bus, on the planes, whenever he was a passenger in someone's car. He was always on his fucking phone. He'd even started sneaking away to take phone calls.
Cliff hadn't ever heard Rozy speak to someone on the phone in English. His family and friends and agent were all Russian, and Rozy would usually answer their calls in front of the team.
But now, he was sneaking off to answer Jane, always in English, and always so quiet, not wanting anyone to overhear him.
It was kind of nice. Sweet, even. Cliff had long suspected that Rozy was getting serious with his Montreal girl before Rozy ever admitted it. Hell, Cliff had even noticed some time during last season that Rozy didn't even have girls anymore, aside from Svetlana. For ages, he had thought that Svetlana was Jane, but Rozy never hid his phone when Svetlana messaged or called him.
He only hid his phone when Jane's name lit up.
He'd drunkenly asked Svetlana about Jane when he'd bumped into her at a club a couple of years ago. She had laughed in his face and said do I look like the kind of woman that would put up with a boy like Ilya?
That had answered every question Cliff had had about the two of them, at least. And left him with more questions about Montreal Jane. Because who would put up with Rozy? Sure, he had a lot of good qualities, but a good woman usually wanted more than one or two nights a handful of times a year.
Cliff stood during the break, listening as the boys settled into easy conversation in groups and started grabbing empty beer bottles. He tossed them and moved around to the door behind the couch where Ilya was sitting, shutting it so the smell of cigarettes didn't come inside, chancing a look down –
J It's not as deep as you
J Let me use the big one
No I
You don't get anything as big as me unless I am there I
J That's not fair
J Ilya please
You don't need anything bigger than me I am all you need I
J But you're not here
You are just greedy I
You are not full enough? My Jane needs something bigger stuffed inside her ass? I
J Please Ilya I need more
You want to be full I
Like a slut I
J Don't call me that
You are a slut I
You cried when I said you had to choose between my cock and my fist last time I
J No I didn't
J Fuck you
Show me I
Right now I
I need to see you fuck your ass I
J Are you alone
I will call now I
Cliff blinked as Rozy stood up fast, nodding at him as he moved past him, not even bothering to hide his hard on as he stalked down the hallway and into the bathroom. Cliff remembered to move, wandering back into the kitchen to grab more snacks.
So. Jane was a freak, then.
That made sense. He'd spent enough time around Rozy to know that Rozy was kind of a freak, too. At first he thought that Rozy was just European and that’s what they were all like – he'd heard the stories about European clubs. But as Marleau got to know other Russians in the league, and even some Scandinavians and other more stereotypical Europeans, and realised that Rozy was on another level entirely.
He still remembered the first time they'd both brought girls back to their shared hotel room in Rozy's rookie year. Cliff had made out with his girl for a while before he fingered her and fucked her hard and fast, but Rozy had thrown his girl down on the bed and eaten her pussy until she was crying, coming at least twice before he finally fucked her after she begged for it. Cliff's girl had watched them intently while he fucked her, barely even noticing him, and not that Cliff would admit it to anyone even under extreme torture, but he was watching too. He wasn’t even mad when his girl wandered over to Ilya’s bed and asked for a turn. Cliff had just gone to take a long shower and think about how he needed to up his game so that the rookie didn't show him up again.
Cliff thought that Rozy would slow down once he settled in Boston, that he was just indulging in his rookie year like Cliff had the year before. He thought that it would be good to have Rozy to keep up with, to push him to be the kind of rockstar athlete people expected him to be.
Over the last few years, Cliff thought he’d caught up. He thought he’d learned enough tricks and patience from Rozy to blow women’s minds of his own merit. He got better at using his hands and his mouth and his dick, at teasing and taunting and pushing women to their limits that soon enough he had enough of a reputation of his own. Soon enough, he and Rozy even had a reputation as a pair.
But Cliff didn't have a woman in another country texting him and begging for him to stuff her ass full the way Rozy did. Cliff didn't even know people actually did things like fisting in real life. He thought that was just for porn. But there was Rozy, sitting on his couch and casually texting his girl about fisting her ass?
Who was Jane? And who the fuck was Rozy?
Cliff hadn’t even known that women even liked anal sex. He'd done it a few times, women who suggested it as their relationships were fizzling out, never asking for it himself, and they all acted like they liked it, but never asked for it again. Soon after, they usually stopped calling him at all.
Montreal Jane though...that seemed like something she liked. The chick was in fucking Canada with a dildo in her ass and texting Rozy about it, asking for permission or help or something. Rozy was promising to fist her and apparently it was something she wanted enough to cry about it.
Rozy might have actually found someone as freaky as him. Someone who was keeping him on his toes. Cliff never thought he’d see the day. No wonder Rozy had been obsessed with her for years. Cliff would be too, if he had a woman like Jane on the other end of the phone waiting for him.
Cliff grabbed another bag of pretzels and sat back down on the couch, trying to pay attention to the next period as it started. Fuck, Roz was a lucky guy. Cliff was jealous. He had more questions than ever about Jane. And Rozy, if he was being honest.
He wondered if Rozy would be interested in sharing Jane.
They'd done it a few times over the years. There was a club rat that he had hooked up with a few times who had told him that she wanted two cocks in her at once; Cliff had immediately called Rozy, who had immediately come to Cliff’s house, whipped out his cock and asked the girl who she wanted where.
Maybe Jane would be into that, too. Maybe she’d have fun with Cliff and Rozy at the same time. She seemed like the type to want something like that.
Cliff watched as Rozy made his way back to the couch, looking like he had definitely just jerked off in his bathroom. He was still texting, pink cheeked and smug and much too pleased with himself.
Cliff wondered what the best way to ask if Rozy and Jane were interested in a third, at least for a night. He had more questions than ever, but now his curiosity over who Jane was was secondary to his questions about what she could do.
Roz was going to kill him for asking, Cliff already knew, but he was always the guy who took a big swing. Rozy always stayed back to help whoever was hosting clean up, so Cliff was decided.
He was going to wait until after the game to see if Rozy would want to share Montreal Jane.
Yuna
Shane had been on a tear all season. As his mother, Yuna had been thrilled to see him throw himself into a stellar season of hockey and prove to everyone that he truly was the best hockey player of his generation, or perhaps ever. As his manager, she was ecstatic to parlay his talent into bigger and better brand deals, even if Shane was adamant that he wanted to spend less time on partnerships and more time between hockey and recovery.
We have a real shot at a cup run this year, mom. You can’t book me to work every free day I have. I have too much on right now. I don't have time.
Yuna begged to differ. She knew his schedule like the back of her hand. She knew better than anyone what her son could and couldn’t handle. She could make anything fit into Shane's calendar if the opportunity was good enough.
For the most part, at least.
As much as he’d been a machine on the ice, he had been quieter in private lately. Yuna and David had barely seen Shane over the last few months unless they had made the trip over to Montreal. He wasn't even as available for phone calls as he used to be. Nights where he would usually come to Ottawa were occupied with ice baths and team dinners and Hayden and Jackie's kids and recovery sessions.
Shane was missing opportunities to improve his image and his star power. He was missing out on deals that could change the trajectory of his post hockey life.
And more importantly, Yuna missed Shane. The less work he did with these partnerships, the less she saw him, which was the real issue, as David had so astutely pointed out to her.
David suspected that Shane was seeing somebody. Yuna shot that down immediately; if Shane was seeing someone, he would have told them.
But David was so sure that Shane was either dating or in a relationship, and that that was what was keeping him so preoccupied outside of hockey. David had told her that they should back off and give him space and let him come to them, but Yuna just rolled her eyes at him. The idea that David knew her son better than her was laughable.
Besides, Yuna was sure that Shane had learned from the PR mess that was dating Rose Landry. She knew that if he was dating someone new, he would tell Yuna about her. He would at the very least make sure to have an NDA signed so that nothing would leak without her knowledge again, and if it got serious, he would tell her. She was sure of it.
Yuna had told David all of that. David had made that face at her, the I know more than you know face that gave her goosebumps, smirking at her like he knew something she didn’t. She hated that face. Usually because he only used it when he was right.
She refused to believe it. Yuna knew Shane better than that.
At least, she thought she did.
They had driven to Montreal to catch a home game, relieved when they she had called Shane earlier in the week and proposed that she and David come visit for the weekend. Shane hadn’t said no, so they had driven down on Saturday morning to catch his afternoon game.
Montreal won, of course. New York were still having a great run after their recent win, but Shane was unstoppable. Yuna had beamed with pride when he scored the final goal, breaking the tie with less than a minute on the clock, preventing the game from going into overtime. She and David had left the game and gone straight to the grocery store to pick up some food for dinner, unsure of what Shane had in the fridge.
He seemed tired when they made it to his condo, his hair still damp from his shower at the arena.
“Amazing game,” Yuna congratulated him, hugging him at the door.
Shane smiled and hugged her back before he took the grocery bags from her hands and took them to the kitchen, dropping them on the counter. David followed them inside, dropping his own bags and hugging Shane.
“I’ll grab the rest,” David said, heading for the door.
“How much did you buy?” Shane frowned, looking between Yuna and the bags before he followed David back out to the car.
Yuna smiled as she moved into the kitchen, opening the fridge and unpacking the first bag. She stopped when she heard a buzzing sound, pulling her phone out of her back pocket and frowning when she saw that she had no notifications.
The buzz sounded again, and Yuna realised Shane’s phone was face down on the edge of the counter.
She shouldn't. Yuna knew she shouldn’t. David would tell her that she shouldn’t.
Yuna flipped the phone over.
There were a stack of notifications from Lily. Yuna leaned in closer and scanned them, frowning.
Lily [2m ago]
I know Hollander
Lily [2m ago]
I fucking hate sleeping without you too
Lily [1m ago]
Call me before you fall asleep okay?
Lily [1m ago]
I don’t care what time it is
Lily [now]
Even if we cannot have sexy video call I still want to talk to y
Lily [now]
I can’t fall asleep anymore without you snoring in my ear
Lily [now]
It's very annoying
Yuna was aghast. Partly because David was right, which she could never let him know, but mostly because Shane was keeping a secret from them.
From her.
She stared at the text messages, waiting for another one to come through, but Lily seemed to be done for now. The screen timed out, turning black as somewhere out there, some woman named Lily was sitting on the other side of the text exchange, waiting for Shane to respond to these texts.
Who the hell was Lily? Why wasn’t she here with Shane? Why hadn’t Shane told Yuna about her? What did she do for work? Was she a respectable woman or was she a puck bunny? Is that why Shane was hiding her? Had she signed an NDA?
Was she good to Shane? Was she just using him for his body or his money? Is that what their sexy video calls were for? What kind of girl called a man she was sleeping with by her last name? How long had Shane been sleeping with her for? How long had it been before Shane had started missing her? Why were they apart tonight if Shane would miss her? Why wasn’t she here where Yuna could meet her? Was Shane ashamed of her? What was wrong with her that Shane hadn’t told Yuna about her?
Yuna startled a little when the fridge beeped at her. She flipped the phone back to where she found it, closing and reopening the fridge as she began to properly put the groceries away, trying to relax the tension in her shoulders as David and Shane came back inside. She could hear David make his way upstairs to the spare bedrooms to put their overnight bags away as Shane came back to the kitchen with the last of the grocery bags.
“You guys bought way too much for one night,” Shane teased.
“It’s always nice to have more than you think you need,” Yuna waved off.
She watched out of the corner of her eye as Shane picked up his phone and smiled softly in a way she had never seen before. Not even in any of the paparazzi photos she had seen of Shane with Rose Landry. Shane looked like –
He looked like he was in love.
Yuna watched as he messaged Lily back, the softness in his eyes unwavering. Now, she had even more pertinent questions that she was desperate to ask.
How long has Shane loved her? Did Lily love him back? Did she deserve him? Did she make Shane feel safe?
When was Shane going to tell her about Lily?
Yuna forced herself to turn away from Shane and let him have a moment to himself. She hoped that Shane would talk to her about this soon. She wanted to know the woman who made Shane make that face more than anything.
If Shane loved Lily, then Yuna was sure she would love her too. Even if she was a little rough around the edges or a little loose or crass or casual. Yuna would accept anyone into her family that made Shane smile like that.
Svetlana
Ilya hadn’t gotten off his fucking phone all night.
Normally, Svetlana wouldn’t care. She was used to only having half of Ilya’s attention on her, anyway; the other half focused on another woman or a game or his phone in his hand, making plans with his idiot team for some club that even she couldn’t get into of her own merit. She was sure she knew who was on the other end of his messages, and she couldn’t even really begrudge Ilya for being so distracted.
But they had an agreement when it came to their birthdays. For two days a year, they were completely focused on one another, no distractions. Their phones stayed on silent as they went to lunch and shopping and a fancy dinner and a show or a club, totally devoted to celebrating one another without anyone else intruding on their time together. For two days a year, Svetlana didn’t have to compete with Ilya’s stupid club friends or his teammates or any of the women in his harem or Jane for his attention. For two days a year, he was all hers, just like it used to be when they were kids.
Not today, though. Despite it being her birthday, all Ilya was focused on was Jane.
Jane. Shane Hollander. Svetlana was sure of that much, at least.
Svetlana shouldn’t be angry. Not really. She had spent her entire life watching Ilya try to outrun his own pain. She should be happy that for the first time in their lives, he was calm. Ilya had been a changed man since last summer. He’d been – sated, maybe. Happy? Svetlana wasn’t exactly sure. It wasn’t anything she had ever seen on Ilya before.
She wondered if he was in love.
She could forgive a lot if Ilya was in love. She could forgive the way he had all but forgotten about her for the last few months, throwing himself into Shane and hockey. She could forgive his frankly insane training schedule that left him with no time for her. She could forgive the fact that he hadn’t bought any cars from her in almost a year and that her commission had taken a hit.
But Svetlana wouldn’t tolerate being ignored on a night out that Ilya himself had invited her out for.
“How is Jane?” Svetlana asked carefully.
Ilya froze for a second before he looked around the restaurant, making sure nobody had overheard her, even though she had been sure to use the code name.
“Good,” Ilya said, locking his phone and putting it face down by his plate.
Finally.
“Just good?” she pushed.
Ilya looked uncomfortable, and Svetlana felt a flash of indignation. Did Ilya not trust her? After all the years she had spent protecting him, protecting Sasha, making sure that the two of them always had time together back in Moscow. She had been by his side through everything. Until now, it seemed.
“Very good,” Ilya said with a twitch of his lips. “Busy few weeks coming up.”
Svetlana hummed. “You play Montreal soon.”
Ilya hummed, reaching for his glass and swallowing the rest of the champagne in one swallow. She thought about the time she had watched him swallow Sasha down in the backseat of her car years ago and wondered if he’d somehow gotten even better at opening his throat. She wondered what he looked like swallowing down Shane Hollander.
She was sure they looked beautiful together. It pained her that Ilya was so protective of his Jane that she would never see it for herself.
Unless Shane was a lot more adventurous than she gave him credit for. Part of her hoped he was, for Ilya’s sake.
“Will be a good season for Boston,” was all Ilya said as he reached for the bottle.
“Tell me about her,” Svetlana pressed.
Ilya sighed.
“As my birthday present,” she tried.
Ilya raised an eyebrow at her, somehow looking more tired than she had ever seen him. Svetlana realised that Ilya had never, not once, talked about Jane to her. He still hadn’t even acknowledged that she had figured out Jane was Shane.
“There is not much to tell,” Ilya shrugged. “We talk a lot.”
“Yes, I can see,” Svetlana said curtly.
Ilya didn’t even bother to look ashamed at ignoring her for half the night. “There is not much to say. We are far apart. We see each other a few times a year. We talk. Nothing has changed.”
Svetlana huffed a quiet laugh out at the lie. “Ilya,” she admonished. “You think I haven’t noticed you aren’t fucking around anymore?”
Ilya rolled his eyes, reaching for his fork and digging into the carpaccio between them.
“You are hardly out drinking these days,” she continued.
“I am trying to win a cup,” Ilya said.
“I barely hear from you,” Svetlana continued. “I would think you are too busy with hockey but your phone has been glued to your hand all night, so you just ignore me, don’t you?”
At least at that, he looked sheepish.
“I am not ignoring you.”
“You are in love,” Svetlana surmised.
Ilya didn’t even bother denying it. He looked away from her when their waiter approached their table to drop off another appetiser, listening as Ilya switched to English to thank him before speaking to her again.
“You are so sure of this,” Ilya said instead.
“Yes,” Svetlana nodded. “That poor boy has been flirting with you all night and you have not even noticed. You are whipped.”
Ilya didn’t even glance back at the waiter, just shrugging like nothing mattered. She supposed maybe nothing did matter to him anymore aside from hockey and Shane.
“I thought you would look different when you fell in love,” Svetlana said, studying him.
“Maybe I have looked different and it has just been so long you didn’t notice,” Ilya said, shrugging at her again.
She opened her mouth to say something, to ask every question she was dying to ask, when someone called Ilya’s name. Svetlana sat back as he stood and moved away from the table, shaking hands with a couple of older men in suits, one of who was very clearly checking Ilya out. She could see the way Ilya caught his eye, but there was none of his usual heat or interest.
Ilya's phone buzzed on the table, and Svetlana didn’t think twice about it. She reached for it, reading the latest text on the screen, and did everything in her power not to laugh.
Jane [4m ago]
Get off your phone
Jane [4m ago]
It's Svetlana’s birthday we can go a few hours without texting eac
Jane [3m ago]
We can’t afford to be one of those codependent couples that can’
Jane [3m ago]
Not with the distance
Jane [3m ago]
Don't be a bad friend
Jane [2m ago]
I can keep myself occupied for one night Rozanov
Jane [now]
My fingers can’t get as deep as yours do
Jane [now]
Fuck I miss the way you feel inside me
Svetlana put the phone back down, watching as Ilya charmed whoever he was talking to.
Boyfriend. They were a couple. And Shane wanted Ilya to enjoy his night with her.
She liked Shane, she decided. She had been ready to blame Shane for being selfish and monopolising Ilya’s time, but Svetlana should have known that the most disciplined man in the world was healthy and balanced, and the man who she had long suspected of having an addictive personality had moved away from being addicted to chaos and unfulfilling highs to being addicted to his boyfriend.
Though, Svetlana understood it. If she had Shane Hollander at home begging for her to be inside him, she might be driven insane but the mundanities of every day life keeping them apart, too.
She nodded to the men as they stepped away from Ilya, accepting their polite apology for interrupting what they probably assumed was a date. She waited for Ilya to sit down before she asked who they were.
“Management for the Raiders,” he said.
“Did you fuck the one with the green shirt?” Svetlana asked.
Ilya smirked. “No. He asked me to fuck his wife in front of him once. That's all.”
Svetlana raised an eyebrow at him. “How is there so much about you I don’t know?”
Ilya met her eye, and she swore she could see something like sadness in them.
“I promise I will tell you when I can,” he said.
It took her a split second to catch on, but when she did, she nodded.
“I hope so,” Svetlana said. “I would like to hear about how happy you are.”
Ilya beamed at her for a moment before he tempered his face. She hoped more than anything that one day he wouldn’t have to do that.
Bood
Ilya Rozanov was nothing like Bood had expected. Bood had played him so many times in the last eight years, and Rozanov had always been sharp and funny and unbeatable, second only to Shane Hollander. He had thought that Rozanov would saunter into the Centaurs locker room and rule the team with more of a sense of fun than a desire to win.
Bood couldn’t have been more wrong.
Rozanov was an absolute gun on the ice. He watched every single one of them during their practices, talking to himself under his breath before adjusting himself to match the boys on the ice. Bood could tell that Rozanov was slowing himself down to keep up with his line, that he was watching the younger boys like a hawk to test them gently and watching the vets for injuries, careful not to agitate them during practice.
The guy was a total pro. And he was so unbelievably charming, knowing exactly when to switch it on for the cameras and the press. But he was nowhere near as aggressive and all consuming as Bood had expected. And unless he was on the ice, he was always on his phone.
Rozanov was kind of quiet. He didn’t speak unless he was spoken to, Bood realised pretty quickly. He had met a couple of Russian players over the years, though, and that seemed to be a very consistent trait. It seemed like Russians didn’t feel the need to fill the silence the way Canadians did. Still, he had been a little surprised to see that Rozanov was so quiet and intense during training and preseason.
He was nice, though. Kind, really. Bood watched as Rozanov took care to learn the names of everyone’s partners and kids, and realised very quickly that Rozanov knew all the staff by name. Everyone from the guys on the equipment team to the accounts department on the floor above them to management to the bus drive, Rozanov knew them all. And they all liked him.
Bood had initially been upset to be demoted from captain to alternate when Rozanov was signed, but coming into their first season together, Bood understood why it went to Rozanov. Aside from the optics, Rozanov was a great leader on the ice. The boys fell into line with him quickly, taking almost no time at all to trust Rozanov’s reactions to the plays. And while the team wasn’t totally cohesive yet, they were already shaping up to look a little better than they had the last few years.
The boys had a number of guesses as to what made Rozanov up and leave Boston for Ottawa. They ranged from everything from trouble with the bratva to a secret love child in Canada. Bood thought it was something more simple, though, like that Rozanov had moved because he had a girl here.
The team thought that that answer was too simple, though. They had been so sure that any woman that wanted to be with Rozanov would move to be with him, but Bood figured that Rozanov had a reason for being in Ottawa that was bigger than hockey. And if Rozanov loved someone the way that Bood loved Cassie, then it made total sense to him.
And he got confirmation about six months into the season when Rozanov was at his place for a barbeque celebrating a rough win against Toronto earlier that day.
The rookies were talking about playing Montreal on Friday, and Rozanov was hovering on the outside of the group, smirking. Bood moved to stand next to him to rehash the last game where Rozanov had chirped Hollander so aggressively Hollander had snapped and shoved Rozanov into the boards so hard that his entire shoulder had bruised despite his pads when he caught sight of Rozanov’s unlocked phone screen.
Jane
J It’s your call
Don’t fucking touch yourself I
I am serious I
You will pay for it if you do I
J Don’t fucking tell me what to do
J I need to come
J I don’t need you for that
J If you don’t come home and fuck me in the next half hour then you don’t fuck me at all this weekend
Let me just say goodbye to the team I
I will be home in twenty minutes do not touch yourself until I am home I
J Twenty minutes, Rozanov. I set a timer.
Bood looked away as Rozanov typed something back before he cleared his throat and puffed out his chest a little.
“Boys, I have to go,” Rozanov said, sounding sorry. He didn’t look sorry at all, Bood noted.
The boys all booed and begged him to stay, but Rozanov looked completely unbothered, his eyes locked on the door as he clapped Bood on the shoulder and thanked him for the food before he moved across the yard to give Cassie a kiss on the cheek and thank her as well. Bood did his best not to smirk at the sight of Ilya Rozanov being ordered home to fuck his – girlfriend?
He had expected Rozanov to have a girl up here, but he hadn’t expected Rozanov to be so under the thumb. He couldn’t wait t gossip with Cassie about it.
Rose
Rose had figured out that Shane was in love with someone else when they were dating. It wasn’t that hard to see that his heart was with someone else; Shane wore his heart on his sleeve, and it was so clear that he was missing someone once she had gotten to know him. He was in love, and not with her. She had tried to contextualise his awkwardness and his hesitance in getting close to her for a while, but after they had finally had sex, she had realised that there was someone else that she wasn’t living up to.
It wasn’t even the sex that had given it away. Rose had had way less satisfying sex with way straighter men with much, much harder dicks than Shane had had that night. It was the morning after, when Shane had turned to her side of the bed, chasing her warmth, then flinched so violently at the sight of her, so shocked that Rose was there and not somebody else, that it made her heart break for Shane.
And really, it was fine. She had loved Shane immediately, but they weren’t in love with each other. They had established a very solid friendship very quickly, and it wasn’t at all hard to remove the half hearted sex from the equation and stay friends. It was a relief for Rose, all things considered. After nearly a dozen gay boyfriends, Shane was the first one that she actually connected with and wanted to stay friends with.
Knowing Shane was gay was such a relief for both of them, she could tell. There was a whole side to him that was so closed off when they were dating, but Rose didn’t realise how much of himself Shane was hiding until they weren’t a couple anymore. He totally unfurled when they ended their relationship, opening up to her in a way he hadn’t been able to before. And then he flourished completely when he went official with his boyfriend.
She still didn’t know who his boyfriend was, but Shane loved talking about him. Rose had a couple of guesses up her sleeve, but she didn’t want to ask and put Shane in a position where he had to lie to her or tell her something he wasn’t ready to share yet. She had already done that to him once, and she wasn’t going to do that again.
Besides, it was nice to watch Shane get excited to gossip and brag about his boyfriend. Even at a shitty event like a launch party for her magazine cover, at least she could drag him along with her and the two of them could tuck away in a corner with a beer while Shane waxed lyrical about his man.
He's so fucking hot, Rose, it’s criminal. I nearly cancelled tonight to stay in bed with him.
It's so fucking hot and I had to wear this stupid fucking shirt to cover the bruises he left on my arms.
He gets so fucking possessive in the off season when he knows he can leave marks on me. You should all the bruises on my hips.
Rose loved hearing it all. She loved the way Shane beamed when he talked about his boyfriend, and how much he was clearly being spoiled by his guy.
And she wasn’t jealous. She was just experiencing a little bit of a dry spell, so listening to Shane talk about how his boyfriend had used a tie to bind him to his outdoor furniture and fuck him out on the open lake at his cottage last week was inspirational. Aspirational. Something to tack onto her vision board, that was all.
A huge, big burly boyfriend with pretty blue eyes and curly hair who was really into giving oral sex and eating ass which Rose didn’t even know was a thing and could fuck for hours without breaking a sweat. An athletic man who had lots of freckles and moles and an ass so juicy Shane described it as something models would weep over and thighs so thick Shane said he’s passed out between them more than once.
No names, of course, but Rose had a rough idea of what sort of man to put on her vision board. What sort of hockey player and charity co-runner, at least.
She took a sip of her beer as Shane pulled out his phone, his cheeks turning pink immediately.
“Is that him?” she asked.
Shane nodded, taking a large sip of his own beer and hiding his phone screen.
“Show me!” Rose said.
Shane balked, and she immediately felt guilty.
“Shit, sorry,” she apologised. “I thought it was flirty and it would be fun –”
Shane cut her off by angling the phone screen to her. Rose froze as she read it before looking up at Shane in awe.
Lily [now]
Stop telling me to shut up and shut me up Hollander
Lily [now]
Fuck my throat so hard I can’t speak anymore
Lily [now]
Leave your stupid party and come sit on my face
Lily [now]
The only way you’re going to make me stop is by suffocating me
Rose felt her own cheeks go pink at the messages. “Jesus, Shane.”
“I know,” Shane said, but he looked so pleased.
And why wouldn’t he, Rose wondered. He had Ilya fucking Rozanov sitting at home begging for him to come home and sit on his face. He wanted Shane to suffocate him. Rose would have knocked Shane to the ground and jumped over his unconscious body if that man was begging her to come and sit on his face. Shane really did have inhuman levels of self control.
“You’ve gotta go,” Rose said empathetically.
Shane snorted and shook his head. “No, it’s good for him to wait a little. He's too impatient.”
Rose felt her jaw drop a little as Shane put his phone back in his pocket without replying, looking smug and thrilled at leaving his boyfriend hanging.
“You’re such an asshole, oh my god,” Rose laughed.
Shane laughed with her, draining the rest of his beer and signalling to the waiters milling around for another.
“I’ve got at least another hour in me,” he winked at her.
Rose was so happy she got to know this Shane. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.
Wyatt
Wyatt watched from the bike as Dillon and LaPointe reenacted Die Hard for Haas, laughing as Bood and Chouinard shouted out lines in horrible German accents from where they were sitting against the back wall. He had no idea how their training session had devolved into this, but at some point, Rozanov had jumped off the treadmill and just stopped his workout to watch, and the rest of them had slowly followed as if they’d been granted permission to stop, too.
He liked Rozanov. Wyatt had really loved the team before Rozanov had joined, and had stupidly assumed that his presence would be harsh in some way, but Rozanov was shockingly kind of a sweetheart.
Wyatt liked him a lot. He was so fucking dedicated to hockey, but not in a way that made them feel like shit when they lost a game. He had asked Rozanov how he was coping with all the loss going from being with the Raiders to being with the Centaurs, and Rozanov had just shrugged and said the pressure to win was different, and refused to elaborate.
It was weird. Rozanov was weird. He wasn’t anything like what Wyatt expected when he transferred to the team. Bood had told Wyatt in confidence that he was sure that Rozanov had a girl stashed up here and that was why they hardly saw him outside of the rink. Wyatt wasn’t sure about that – he had been sure Rozanov had a secret baby that he was raising out here – but watching the way Rozanov smiled as his phone as he typed a message to someone, he was starting to believe Bood.
Maybe Wyatt was a little curious. Maybe he had money on what the fuck Rozanov was really doing out here. He finally jumped off the bike and made his way over to the wall where Rozanov was stretching, sitting close enough to try and get a look at his phone as Rozanov sat forward in pigeon pose. It’s like Rozanov was asking Wyatt to look, giving him a clear view of his screen, and –
Fuck. Rozanov’s girl was pissed.
Jane
J Just because you think this is a fucking joke doesn’t mean that we don’t need to take this seriously
J You can’t just do whatever the fuck you want and throw all of this hard work out the window
J You don’t get to make unilateral decisions, Rozanov
J We’re supposed to be a fucking team
Wyatt flinched as he read them. Rozanov's girlfriend was mad. What the fuck had he done? Wyatt doubted that he’d do something like cheat. He'd upended his entire life to move out here with Jane; Wyatt couldn’t see Rozanov doing anything to fuck that up. He was way too measured and careful with people for that.
He looked at Rozanov, surprised to see that he looked completely relaxed as he typed back. Wyatt sat forward to stretch out his legs and couldn’t help the surprise that flooded him.
You are being so dramatic I
We are a team and I do take this seriously I
But I can’t help it I love her I
Wyatt blinked, trying to make sense of it. Rozanov loved someone else? He was sure Bood had said that Rozanov’s girl was named Jane.
J You need to stop doing things for love your reputation is going to take a hit
J What are you gonna do when everyone realises you’re a big softie who can’t sleep unless you’re the little spoon and Anya is the baby spoon
J See this is the problem you can’t just give her treats for doing nothing
J They specifically said at obedience school that it defeats the purpose of training
J I’m serious, Rozanov. You can’t take her to camp to be around the kids if she isn’t trained properly. We can’t risk her getting excited and knocking over one of the kids or biting because she thinks someone might give her a treat.
J I know you love Anya but you need to set her up for success
Anya – the dog?
Wyatt's head was spinning as he looked back at Rozanov, wide smile on his face as he type something back to Jane.
He knew Anya. He'd met Anya. Harris had helped Rozanov adopt her after they’d fallen in love. Rozanov had dramatically described locking eyes with Anya and falling in love at first sight. Haas had said that that was a myth, and Rozanov had shook his head and said that no, it’s happened to him twice, and twice he was right about meeting the love of his life.
At the time, Wyatt had assumed he was talking about a childhood dog. He had felt the same about Goldie, his creatively named childhood Golden Retriever. But now he wondered if Rozanov meant Jane, who was berating Rozanov so hilariously and lovingly that he was convinced in sixty seconds flat that she could easily outchirp the most notorious chirper Wyatt have ever come across.
Wyatt hoped that Rozanov would bring Jane around eventually. He knew that Rozanov didn’t discuss anything too personal with the team. Everything Wyatt had learned about Rozanov’s personal life was either from the news or from Rozanov’s own mouth during the Irina Foundation press release. He figured Jane was probably the last private thing Rozanov was holding onto.
He hoped that would change at some point. Wyatt had a lot of questions for the woman that could tame notorious playboy Ilya Rozanov.