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Chapter Text

Rose smiled up at Shane, sliding her hands under his shirt, enjoying the warmth of his hands on her hips, not guiding or moving her, just holding her close. He seemed a little tense, kind of looking around. It was cute, how nervous he was.

It was only because she was watching him so closely that she noticed it. His face froze and then, his eyes widened.

She continued dancing, but turned her back so that she was dancing against him, following his gaze.

And that, over there, was Ilya Rozanov. Shane’s rival. Dancing with a very attractive blonde woman, his eyes intense as he stared back at them.

Well, that was interesting. 

Behind her, Shane was stiff, his movements stilted now that they had an audience. When she glanced back up at him, offering him a smile, his expression was pained.

He wasn’t looking at her, though. He was looking at Rozanov. He couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

And well, Rose might have been picking up a vibe. Shane’s eyes had drifted to Miles a lot, tonight. And while he was fun and sexy and super attentive, he wasn’t running his hands over her body the way Rozanov was doing to his dance partner.

He certainly hadn’t watched her dancing with the same intensity he was watching Rozanov.

That wasn’t how you looked at your enemy. Your rival.

Shane almost looked… heartbroken. Rozanov, for all that he was showing off, didn’t look much better.

Yes, very interesting indeed.

Rose took Shane’s hand. She was going to get to the bottom of this.

She twirled again, still dancing, guiding them a bit closer. Bodies moved around them. She glanced back at Rozanov over her shoulder. He was looking at her now, and his eyes swept up and down her body, lingering.

This time, when she turned, Shane’s hands were shaking slightly as they settled back on her hips. 

Rose leaned back against his chest, rolling her hips, looking down at where Rozanov’s hands were doing the same to this other woman. He slid his hands higher, and Rose put her hands on Shane’s, making them follow the same route.

She flicked her gaze up to Rozanov’s, and his gaze was heated, hungry.

She was so fucking wet. Somehow, she knew he could tell.

“What are you doing?” Shane murmured in her ear. His hands were resting just under her breasts now.

“Dancing,” she said, lolling her head back to look up at him. “It’s fun, right?”

Shane looked at her, and his expression was uncertain. She could tell he was turned on, though. She could feel how hard he was.

“Let it happen,” she told him. The club lights were dark, people everywhere. It was anonymous enough, the club exclusive enough that there would be no pictures. That was why Rose loved coming here so much. “It’s just us.”

He shot her a look. “Just us?” 

“Well.” She smiled. They both looked back at Rozanov, who seemed to be staring at Shane again. Sheesh, they were just as intense as each other.

If Shane was cute and sweet, though, Rozanov just oozed sex. It was kind of electric.

She wanted him closer.

Time to get rid of the girl.

She waited for Rozanov’s eyes to meet hers. She crooked a finger.

He raised an eyebrow at her. 

But he did relinquish his dance partner, slipping away from her, and then he was slinking closer, pausing in front of them.

She looked up at him. “Ilya Rozanov,” she purred.

“Rose Landry,” was his response. The deeply accented English made her smile. He glanced up. “Hollander.”

“Rozanov.”

Rose laughed. “Well, everyone knows everyone,” she said. “Dance with us?”

She held out a hand, and Rozanov’s dwarfed it as he took it, though he didn’t come any closer. He was looking at Shane again.

Yeah, okay, there was something here. History. Beyond just hating each other on the ice.

She was perceptive. 

She gave Rozanov’s hand a squeeze. Silent permission to come closer, to touch. To just… be there, with them.

With a reluctance that Rose didn’t take personally, he closed the gap, resting his left hand on her hip, tangling the fingers of his other hand with hers. Behind her, Shane gasped.

And then the three of them were moving. 

Rose watched them, eyes flicking between their faces. Shane’s hands were still pressed just under her breasts, and they trembled there. His face looked pained, but he wasn’t looking away, he wasn’t leaving. That was something.

Rozanov just looked conflicted, though his expression softened as he glanced down at her.

“I like your dress,” he told her.

She smiled at him again.

“I like your shirt,” she said. “Jean Paul Gautier, right?”

He nodded, winking at her. 

It made sense. Gautier’s clothing line was fucking sexy. It suited him to a T.

She reached for him, running her free hand up his chest. It was open a few buttons and she took full advantage, tickling her fingers through the slightly damp hair between his pecs.

He was so fucking hot.

At her waist, Rozanov’s thumb was drawing distracting circles on her bare skin. His eyes were heated as they looked down at her, at her breasts, held up by Shane like an offering. He looked very much like he wanted nothing more than to partake.

It was still nothing compared to the way he looked at Shane, though. Like he was a starving man. 

“Come here,” Rozanov murmured to her, tugging their interlocked hands.

And Rose turned to dance against his chest, and they both looked at Shane, both reached for him, pulling him in closer so that Rose was wedged between them.

Rozanov held her with one hand wrapped around her waist. The other, he brought up to Shane’s face, caressing his cheek. It was like Shane came alive, under his touch. His dark gaze heated, and God, the yearning in his expression. It told a whole story, a novel. He loved Rozanov. 

“So pretty,” Rozanov cooed at him. And Shane scowled.

“Fuck off,” he grumbled. 

But again, he didn’t leave. Again, he stayed, and he danced with them, and this time, his hands were moving, touching Rose, touching Rozanov, and Ilya was just as hard behind her as Shane was in front of her, and Rose was going to die.

Before the touches could get too heated, Rose grabbed a wrist of each of them and then dragged them both out to the foyer.

It was quieter there, but still private enough that they couldn’t be seen by whichever paparazzi were hovering outside.

Ilya leaned against the wall, his expression carefully blank as he looked back at her. Shane had his hands shoved in his pockets, staring at the floor.

“This,” she said, deciding to be the mature one and speak up first, “is what is going to happen.”

Neither of them said a word.

“Shane and I are going to get in a cab, and we are going to go to his place. And you, Ilya, are going to meet us there.”

Ilya blinked.

“Unless you want to come with us. It’ll cause a stir, but personally I don’t care,” she said. She put emphasis on the ‘I’. She’d never heard so much of a whisper of the two of them interacting outside a game, so whatever was going on between them, it was clearly private.

“I will follow,” Ilya conceded. “If this is what Shane wants.”

She turned to regard her sort-of boyfriend. Nothing was official. They’d just been hanging out a lot, dancing, sharing a kiss here and there. She’d gone along to one of his games, wearing his jersey. It had been fun.

But this, though, this was fucking setting her on fire. The two of them, their chemistry was off the charts. She wanted a chance to be burned, even if it was only once. She’d let Shane go after that, if that was what he wanted. She didn’t want to get between them.

It seemed like he needed this push, though. Why else would he have been dating her when this total fucking smoke show was completely gone on him?

“Shane?” she said. “Do you want Ilya to come home with us?”

God, he looked like she was torturing him. But he nodded, whispering a “yes.”

“Send the address,” Ilya said, pulling out his phone. “Real address.”

He gave Shane a pointed look, and again Shane nodded.

Rose felt her eyebrows raise. Okay, they were going to unpack that at some point, because what the fuck did that mean?

***

Shane was tense beside her the whole way back to his place. He’d cooked dinner for her there the week before, and it had been silly and fun. Now, though, it was like he was being sent to his own public execution.

She wanted to reassure him, but cab drivers were notorious gossips, and Rose had a feeling that this was something she needed to protect. Shane was trusting her a lot right now.

Instead, she just slid her hand into his and squeezed, offering him a smile when he glanced at her. His returned smile was pained.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t… I’m kind of freaking out right now.”

The cab driver’s eyes flicked up to the mirror. Nosy prick.

She patted his hand. “Later,” she said with a reassuring smile. “It’s fine.”

They didn’t even have to do anything, if Shane was actually as uncomfortable as he looked just then. She’d be fine with just… chatting. Figuring out what the hell was going on between these two.

Though she was definitely hoping for more.

It didn’t take long to arrive, and Rose tipped heavily, giving the driver a pointed look. He pocketed the hundred dollar bill she slipped him with a solemn nod.

He drove away, leaving them out the front of a large building. It was chilly, even with her large coat, and Shane wrapped an arm around her, leading her inside.

Shane let them into the penthouse and then took her coat like a proper gentleman, hanging it in the closet by the door. Rose toed off her heels with a happy sigh, and then padded into the loungeroom.

While she made herself comfortable, Shane paced in the kitchen, checking his phone every few seconds.

She observed him, hiding a smile behind her hand. It was kind of endearing; how nervous he was.

It was only a few minutes later that the buzzer was sounding, and Ilya Rozanov was walking through the door. Rose watched the way he looked around, eyes sweeping the house, a little frown on his face.

He hadn’t been here before, she realized. 

Shane followed on Ilya’s heels, and he was practically buzzing out of his skin, that tortured expression back on his face as he stared hopelessly at him.

How did anyone see them together and not know what they were to each other? She wondered. It was written all over their faces.

Ilya glanced at her, and then turned, taking Shane in.

“You are having a panic attack, aren’t you?” he observed.

“Maybe,” Shane muttered. He hid his face behind his hands, and Rose felt her chest ache a little, watching him.

Rose kind of expected Ilya to tease him, poke him out of it maybe, but instead he tugged Shane into his arms, wrapping around him. He whispered something softly in his ear, hands stroking down Shane’s spine.

And Shane folded into him. His hands were clinging at Ilya’s very pretty shirt, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in Ilya’s neck.

Over his shoulder, Ilya looked at Rose, and she offered him a tentative smile. He smiled back.

“You are being very rude to your girlfriend, right now,” Ilya murmured, loud enough for her to hear. “Go give her a kiss, Shane Hollander.”

And well. She could definitely understand his appeal. Her pussy throbbed at his words, at the low, sexy tenor of his voice. Something about that accent was definitely doing it for her.

Shane walked towards her, dropping to kneel before her. His gaze was hot as he reached for her, gathering her in his arms and kissing her.

Fuck. Shane hadn’t kissed her like that before. It had only been sweet, teasing pecks. This was like… a possession. His tongue licked into her mouth and she moaned, clinging to his shoulders.

“Good,” Ilya said. He’d come closer, and was dropping down onto the couch beside her. Shane started kissing down her neck and she turned to look at Ilya. He smirked. It was very attractive.

She released Shane’s shoulder to reach for him, and his face cleared as he considered her hand. 

Rose knew he wasn’t here for her, but she offered it anyway. Offered herself.

Gently, he took her hand, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist. He held her gaze as he licked over her racing pulse, just a flick of his tongue.

“You’re beautiful,” she told him earnestly.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. He was sweeter than she expected, and she watched him as he started to kiss his way up her arm, until he was hovering just out of her reach, his breath fanning her lips.

He held her hand against his chest, and she could feel how fast his heart was beating. He was nervous, too, she realized. He was just better at hiding it than Shane was.

These two sweet boys.

“Come here,” she whispered, tapping his chest.

Ilya ducked down, and his lips were gentle as they swept over hers. His tongue teased her lower lip and she met it with a happy sigh, letting him kiss her.

Shane had stilled and was leaning back now, watching them. When Ilya pulled away, it was to look at him as well.

Rose held her breath.

They leaned in.

Ilya cupped Shane’s cheeks in his hands, tilting his chin up. And Shane went to him, almost climbing over her lap in his eagerness. Their kiss was… reverent. There was no other word for it. It was gentle and loving and made her feel like a voyeur. She could get off, just sitting here, fingers in her panties while they kissed like that.

“Wow,” she breathed.

It broke the spell, and they both turned to look at her. Ilya looked amused, Shane flushed. 

“You two are so beautiful together,” she said. “I kind of feel like I’m intruding.”

“You’re not,” Shane assured her. His hand was on her bare thigh, and he tapped it, though he shot Ilya a questioning look. Ilya inclined his head slightly. 

“Will be fun,” Ilya assured her. “Hot.”

Well, there was no question of that. She felt like she was on fire.

She blushed as Ilya’s eyes drifted down her body. She knew how slutty she looked right now, sprawled on Shane’s couch, her dress hiked up her thighs to make room for him, the front of her dress clinging to her breasts. 

“Stunning,” Ilya told her. Then, “come here.”

His hands were gentle as he turned, pulling her to rest back against him, so that she was sprawled between his powerful legs.

Shane followed, hovering over them. He kissed her at Ilya’s silent urging, those long fingers tucking under Rose's chin and tilting it up in offering. His other hand settled on her waist, circling again at where the cut-out revealed her skin.

She moaned into Shane’s mouth.

“Can I touch you?” Ilya asked her, nipping at her ear with his teeth.

Rose pulled away from Shane and nodded, looking back at him. Shane’s lips drifted down her neck, licking at her collarbone, before biting at the swell of one of her breasts. She whimpered. Ilya smirked.

His hands went to the back of her neck, and he deftly slid it down her shoulders, letting it fall and exposing her. She gasped as Shane wrapped his lips around one of her nipples, and Ilya captured the other between his fingers, tugging at it, palming her breast.

Ilya leaned down to kiss her hungrily, and she matched him, sucking on his tongue, biting at his lower lip. He murmured something in Russian, an expletive, she was pretty sure. His grip tightened.

She moaned again and Ilya swallowed the noise with an approving hum. He pulled away, his eyes lidded as he looked from her to Shane who was now kissing down her stomach, peeling her dress down as he went.

Shane glanced up at her. “Alright?” he asked her. His voice was husky, his expression hungry now, all of the uncertainty long gone.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Such a good boy,” Ilya said in a teasing tone of voice. Shane shot Ilya a heated look, holding his gaze as he leaned back, easing her dress off and hanging it over the back of his couch. When she glanced back at Ilya, his expression was fond, amused.

Yeah, this was definitely a thing. 

Shane wriggled back, perching between her legs. He held her gaze as his head lowered.

Rose bit at her lower lip, holding back a needy whine as he nosed at her panties.

Behind her, Ilya was also still. He held her tits in his hands but was otherwise frozen, watching Shane with heated, hungry eyes.

“Good,” Ilya said again. His voice was gravel now, rough with need. “Taste her.”

Shane’s tongue darted out, his eyes hazy with desire as he licked over the damp spot at the front of her panties, parting her folds easily with his tongue, even through the fabric.

Rose jolted, gasping and trying to hold still, letting this fucking miracle happen.

He stroked her with his tongue, eyes closed as he got into it. Ilya squeezed her breasts, his breathing hot and heavy, his cock hard as a rock where it pressed up against her ass. He started to grind against her, massaging her tits with his big, beautiful hands, and the combination of Ilya touching her and Shane’s long, teasing licks was making her melt.

She was going to come so fucking hard. Just from this. Just from them.

Shane pushed her panties to the side and began to lick her in earnest, pushing up one of her thighs, hooking it over Ilya’s to give himself some space. Ilya grasped it, holding her open for him, kissing her neck, her shoulder, licking and nipping at her ear.

Rose moaned, burying her hands in Shane’s hair, writhing between them.

Ilay was murmuring instructions to Shane, telling him what to do. “Yes, softer, like that. Mmm she liked that, did you feel the way she jolted when you sucked her clit?” And she was fucking dying, it was so fucking hot.

“Gorgeous,” Ilya whispered in her ear. “You look so beautiful like this, coming apart with Shane licking you. You like his tongue in your pussy, sweetheart?”

Fucking hell. The mouth on this man. 

“Yes,” she cried. Fuck, she was so close. One more suck on her clit and she was spiraling over the edge, moaning as she gushed over Shane’s tongue, her whole body straining and thighs shaking against the firm hold Ilya had her in, crushed against his hot body.

She trembled through the aftershocks, whimpering as Shane kept up his gentle licks, his eyes dark as they watched her face.

Eventually, she gently pushed him away and he smirked at her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked kind of pleased with himself, and she let out a quiet huff of laughter at him.

“Was that the first time you ever made a woman come in bed?” Ilya asked him. He sounded amused.

Shane rolled his eyes. “Fuck off,” he said. There was no bite to it, however. He just looked fond, if anything.

Pleasantly tired from her amazing orgasm, she slumped back against Ilya, lounging in his strong arms. He kissed the side of her head, snuggling his face into her neck. She didn’t feel the slightest bit self-conscious, even as both of these beautiful men were fully clothed.

She held her arms open for Shane, and he immediately covered her with his body, resting his head on her stomach. She carded her fingers through his hair as she caught her breath, enjoying having them both close like this.

It was sweet.

Shane looked up at them, and the tension in his body was gone. He looked happier than she’d ever seen him, relaxed in a way that made her heart ache, a little. She liked him, more than she’d expected to.

Walking away from this was going to hurt like a bitch.

Chapter Text

Rose left them to it shortly after. She sensed they needed some time, and she told Shane to call her in the morning, kissing his cheek. He blushed and patted her on the head, and Rose laughed at him. She kissed Ilya as well, a soft peck on the cheek, and his eyes sparkled as he returned it.

“Don’t be a stranger, Rose Landry,” he murmured.

“I’d like not to be,” she admitted.

He nodded at her, and Shane walked her to the cab waiting for her out the front. He’d given her some warmer clothes to wear. Sweatpants and a hoodie. They swam on her, but it felt nice to be surrounded by his scent.

“I’ll call you,” Shane said, kissing her softly on the mouth. Then he’d closed the cab door behind her, watching her until the cab turned at the end of the street.

Leaning back against the seat, Rose sighed.

Jesus Christ. Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. 

The men that they were.

As soon as she got back to her hotel, she put her phone on the charger and then snuggled into the bed, wrapping her arms around herself, her nose buried in Shane’s hoodie. Her alarm would be going off early tomorrow. Another long day on set.

As soon as she closed her eyes, they were open again, her alarm blaring.

Rose moved on auto-pilot, showering and dressing, folding Shane’s clothes and tucking them into her suitcase. She was already sipping a smoothie, in the cab on the way to set when her phone buzzed with a text message.

Shane: Hi.

The smile on her face was automatic. 

Rose: Good morning, handsome.

Rose: Sleep well? ;)

Shane: Yeah. I did actually.

She beamed at that. She wanted to giggle like a little schoolgirl.

Rose: I need details.

Shane: I don’t kiss and tell, Rose Landry.

Flirting with Shane was so much fun.

Rose: I hope he treated you like a princess.

Shane: He always does. What time will you be finished today?

Rose chewed on her lip, checking her schedule. 

Rose: I think I should be done more or less by seven. I’m only in a few scenes today.

Shane: Perfect. I’ll pick you up?

Rose: It’s a date.

She sent a string of heart eye and love heart emojis, and he responded with a blue heart and a flower. She melted. Fuck, but he was adorable.

God, she really hoped this thing with Ilya wasn’t exclusive. She had loved her time with Shane, loved the way he made her feel. And she could tell it would be similar with Ilya. He was so sweet, so lovely.

Speaking of.

She searched for his Instagram, sliding into his DM's.

Rose.landryy: Hey sexy. Did you have a good time last night?

81.rozanov is now accepting your messages.

81.rozanov: Hello Rose Landry. Very good time. You are a gorgeous woman.

Rose blushed, biting at her lip. 

Rose.landryy: Where are you right now?

The response was instantaneous. 

81.rozanov: Airport. 

He sent several crying emojis, then: Had to leave arms of beautiful man to fly to stupid Colorado.

Rose giggled at that. 

Rose.landryy: Sounds tough. I’ll give him a kiss for you later ;)

81.rozanov: Good girl.

Her phone buzzed and she closed out of Instagram to check her text messages, holding her smoothie to her burning cheek.

Shane: Wait, are you texting Ilya right now?

Rose: Maybe. Is that okay?

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared.

Shane: Yeah.

Shane: My life is so weird.

She laughed at that and sent him a heart.

Rose: See you later, babe. I’m at set now so I have to go.

Shane: Have a good day x

She locked her phone and tucked it in her bag, thanking the cab driver. 

Time to focus on work.

***

It became a thing. She spent time with Shane when they could steal a few moments. It was sweet and he was so charming and lovely. He wasn’t super into having sex, but he liked kissing, and they spent their private time mostly just hanging out, maybe going shopping, eating out at restaurants, holding hands as they walked through town.

They were dating, but there was nothing particularly sexual about it. Rose didn’t mind it. A late-night conversation with more than a few drinks in both of them had been very revealing, with Shane admitting he kind of preferred being the peg than the hole.

Yeah, she definitely understood the Ilya thing a lot more now.

He liked her, though, liked what they were building together, and so it continued. The companionship was really nice.

The texting with Ilya was fun in a different way. Thrilling. She’d taken to sending him photos, and Ilya often reciprocated, sometimes by sending her a voice message detailing all the filthy things he wanted to do to her the next time he saw her. His voice was sinful, and she definitely had them saved on her phone for when she was alone and horny, fingering herself alone in her hotel room.

She knew he and Shane texted every day as well, though Shane was still a little shy about sharing any of the details of it with her.

They also had a group chat, now.

And well. Let’s just say she would rather die than let anyone catch so much of a glimpse of it. 

Mostly, it was innocent. She’d be out with Shane, and she’d snap a picture of him smiling and send it through. Ilya would send heart eyes and compliments until Shane would be a stammering, blushing mess, telling both of them to fuck off in that way that definitely meant something else, something much softer and sweeter.

Ilya would send them thirst traps. Working out. Running. A very memorable photo had been a mirror selfie of a towel slung low around his hips, his whole body on show, water still running in rivulets down his chest. There had been a smirk dancing on his lips.

Shane had choked on his smoothie. Rose had blushed scarlet.

They’d both left the cafe they’d been sitting in to race back to Shane’s house, and Shane had shoved Rose up against the wall, his tongue practically down her throat as he’d writhed against her, his clothed cock bringing her to the edge and over it, with him following not long after.

He’d apologized bashfully after letting her back down on the ground, and she’d just shaken her head, a little dazed.

“Never apologize,” she told him.

Shane had snapped a photo of her then, sending it to Ilya. The filthy words that had dripped from the voice message he’d sent them in response had been… well. Explicit. Direct. Descriptive. She had a much better idea of Shane’s preferences now.

So yes, she was protective of this. Of them. 

And she was conscious of how little time there was, for all three of them. Her movie was close to wrapping up, she’d be going back to her penthouse apartment in LA soon.

She didn’t want to leave Shane. And she was missing Ilya like a limb, despite only having met him in person that one time. She wanted to know him the way Shane did. Wanted to slot herself into his life the way she had with Shane.

They were going to have to talk about it. And soon.

Shane was away in New York the next time Ilya was anywhere near her. He was playing in Ottawa, and Rose impulsively decided to hire a car, booking in at a hotel near the stadium, one she heard the Boston team would be staying in.

She texted Ilya after she’d arrived and settled in.

Rose: Looking forward to watching you play tonight.

She sent him a picture of her game ticket.

Ilya: You drove to Ottawa for me, sweetheart?

Rose smiled. 

Rose: Of course. I’m not needed back on set until Monday. Decided to take a vacation.

Ilya: To Ottawa of all places?

She rolled her eyes. Men.

Rose: To you, silly. Let’s get dinner after your game. We can go out if you want. Or we can order in? Up to you.

Ilya: Either way.

Rose: Score a goal for me, tonight x

Ilya: I’ll score three. Hat trick for my favorite girl ;)

She sent him a heart emoji and held her phone to her chest, swooning. What a fucking sweetheart.

Her appearance at the game caused even more of a ruckus than going to see Shane. She saw multiple players glancing up at her, though she had eyes only for one. During warm-ups, she stood near the glass and beamed at Ilya as he skated in circles near her. He shot her a salacious wink as he tossed a puck over to her, and she caught it with a giggle.

Murmurs rose around her, but she ignored them.

“Isn’t she dating Hollander?” she heard one player say to another.

She waved at Ilya and then returned to her seat, pulling out her phone. Snapping a selfie of her in front of the rink, she texted it to Shane.

Rose: Cheering on our boy!

Shane: Hell yeah. Cheer super loud for me?

Rose: Of course x

She put her phone away, watching Ilya skate, admiring his form. He looked so fucking hot out there, even with that stupid helmet obscuring most of his gorgeous curls and pretty eyes.

He played like a demon possessed. Shane was all smooth lines and dizzying speed. Ilya was a force of nature, a hurricane barreling through players like they weren’t even there. She was spellbound, her eyes clinging to him through every shift.

And sure enough, he scored his three goals, one in each period. He didn’t look up at her, probably not wanting to fan the flames of the rumor mill any further than her presence already had, but she knew it was for her.

It was fucking hot. She maybe had a bit of a competence kink.

Boston destroyed Ottawa 5 to 1, and Ilya was grinning at his team as he stood at the exit of the rink, high fiving them all as they trudged off towards the locker room. Only once the last one had walked past did he look up at Rose, seeking out her gaze. His smile was sweet, happy, and she smiled back.

There were probably cameras pointed at them, so she didn’t blow him a kiss like she wanted to.

Instead, she just watched him as he left, pressing her legs together, the puck he’d given her clutched tightly in her hands.

Rose left, making her way back to her hotel room. She showered, bringing herself off with a hand over her mouth, pressing the heated skin of her cheek to the cool tiles as she smothered her own whimpers, her legs shaking at how powerfully and quickly she’d come.

She’d needed to take the edge off. Otherwise, she was going to jump Ilya the second she saw him, and she really, really wanted to spend some actual time with him.

After her knees had finally recovered from their jello state, she straightened and finished her shower, getting dressed in a pair of jeans and a low, sexy top. 

Her phone already had a text from Ilya on it.

Ilya: I made us a reservation. Text me your room number.

Rose: 1804.

Ilya: Be right there.

A few minutes later, she heard a knock at her door. Perfect timing.

She opened the door, letting him in.

“Rose,” Ilya murmured, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She clutched his shoulders, feeling her stomach swoop.

He smiled against her skin.

“You played well,” she whispered.

He hummed his agreement. “I had a very beautiful woman watching me,” he said, pulling back slightly. “Had to show off a bit.”

She rested her chin on his chest, smiling at him, charmed.

“Let’s go to dinner,” Ilya said, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “I want to hear about how filming is going.”

Dinner was sweet. Ilya had booked a private table for them, and the staff was attentive but remained out of ear shot. Ilya was quick to smile, and he listened to her stories, asking questions and asking her to slow down when she spoke a little too quickly, so that he didn’t miss anything.

It was really sweet. Rose had a lot of fun.

She rested her chin on her hand as he described some of the chirps he’d directed at the Ottawa team tonight, just drinking him in.

It was gratifying, having such a beautiful, sensual man sitting across the table from her. 

She missed Shane, though. When would she be able to get them all back in the same room together?

Ilya was also perceptive, he trailed off on his story, reaching over the table to take her hand, rubbing his thumb over her pulse.

“I miss him, too,” he murmured.

After dinner, she took him back to her hotel room. They didn’t have sex. She sensed that Ilya wasn’t there yet, and she just wanted to spend time with him. They cuddled on the couch, his hand trailing up and down her arm, watching whatever late-night film was on TV.

It was adorable. 

“Do you want to stay?” she asked when the movie was over. They were both drooping, exhausted.

“Do you want me to stay?” he countered.

“I’d love you to,” she said honestly.

He gave her this crooked smile that made her heart skip a beat.

“Then I will stay.”

They got ready for bed, he in just a tight pair of briefs, her in panties and her Shane shirt. He clearly recognized it, his smile softening as he pulled her into his arms, resting his lips on her shoulder as he folded around her.

Rose smiled as well, snuggling back against him.

It didn’t take long to fall asleep.

When she woke up early the next morning, Ilya was pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Early flight,” he whispered. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“Fly safe,” she murmured.

He kissed the top of her head and slipped away.

“Sleep,” he told her, brushing a hand down her arm, before tucking the blanket back under her chin. She snuggled into the bed and closed her eyes.

The door clicked quietly as he left.

Later, when she woke again, she found a new picture in their group chat, of her snuggled into her pillow, a soft smile on her lips. Shane had posted a love heart underneath it.

***

It didn’t take the press long to cotton on. She was good at avoiding paparazzi when necessary and ignoring the awful things they said about her. Suddenly, though, she was glad that the wrap party had happened, and that the premiere was that night. She was ready to go home, ready to hide away in her own house for a while until it all died down a bit.

Currently, she was hiding out at Shane’s place, a make-up artist doing the final touches on her look. She was in a long, slinky dress that left little to the imagination, and heels tall enough that even she felt a little unstable in them.

She wanted to be a little closer in height to her date, though.

At that moment, Shane walked out of his room. His suit was gorgeous, perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders and slim waist.

“Hey handsome,” she said with an appreciative whistle.

He ducked his head and blushed, though he looked pleased.

She got the make-up artist to take a photo of them together, her head resting on his shoulder, a hand gently resting on the center of his chest, his arm wrapped around her. Secretly, she took a second one when Rose turned her face up for a kiss, although Rose didn’t find it until after the premiere was already over.

She sent both to Ilya. 

That had led to a very sexy phone call, with him back in his enormous bed in Boston, directing Shane’s hands as he took her apart, while his own hand moved below the screen.

It was a very satisfying orgasm. 

It was even hotter afterwards, watching the two of them jack off in tandem, in some fucked up kind of competition about not coming first. She watched them, thoroughly enamored and turned on.

Surprisingly, Ilya lost.

Shane didn’t have much time to gloat, coming only a few moments later.

Rose threw her head back and laughed.

She slid out of bed to go and clean herself up, returning to bed in her panties and Shane’s shirt. She passed him a cloth, and he kissed her as thanks, passing her the phone.

“You looked stunning in your dress,” Ilya said.

She smiled at the compliment, quietly thanking him. “I wish you’d been here,” was her quiet response.

He nodded his agreement, his face carefully controlled. She could see the longing in his eyes, though, especially when Shane slipped back into the bed behind her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

She leaned back against him. Shane pressed his fingers to his lips, tapping them on the phone screen.

Ilya’s lower lip trembled.

“We’ll see you soon,” Rose promised fiercely. “All three of us together again.”

“I can’t wait,” Ilya admitted.

They said goodnight, and Rose buried her face in Shane’s chest, her eyes wet.

Whatever they had, the three of them, was no one’s business. But God, she hated this distance between them. She just wanted them. 

It was as simple as that.

Chapter Text

Rose sat on Shane’s couch, looking at her phone, worried.

They still hadn’t heard from Ilya. The last Shane had heard, he hadn’t travelled back to Boston with the rest of his team. 

He hadn’t responded to either of their messages, yet. Shane was sick with worry as well.

Before the game, Shane had gone briefly to Ilya’s home in Boston. Rose hadn’t gotten off her flight in time to see him, and had been looking forward to having him back in her arms after his exciting match against Shane. She’d flown to Boston as well to join them, her last trip before heading back home to LA.

The two of them on the ice together had been… God, so fucking hot. The way they circled each other like sharks, the hits against the boards, the way that only they could match each other… 

It was like there was no one else out there on the ice but them.

Ilya’s team had narrowly won. He’d scored two goals to Shane’s one. He’d been about to leave the rink to meet them back at his penthouse when something had happened. Something that had prevented their reunion.

Rose chewed on her nail, a nervous habit she thought she’d gotten rid of years ago.

With a sigh, she threw her phone onto the couch beside her. She’d flown with Shane to Detroit when it was clear that they wouldn’t be hearing from Ilya that night. She’d slept in the same bed as him in the hotel, sick with worry. Neither of them had slept well.

Shane wasn’t playing well at his next game, either, too distracted. Rose couldn’t blame him. She hadn’t gone to the rink, not wanting to distract him further. Instead, she was watching the game from his hotel room.

It was difficult, seeing his face so closed off, seeing the commentators joke about ‘trouble in paradise’ like they had any fucking idea what they were talking about.

During a break in the game, they also started to talk about Ilya.

Apparently, he also would not be joining his team in Tampa, absent for undisclosed reasons. Which meant that there was a reason, an important one.

Rose frowned. The lack of a media circus around it was also telling. It meant the media knew and were respecting the team’s wishes to keep it quiet.

Rose: Talk to me, love. What is going on?

To her surprise, she saw three dots appearing only moments later.

Ilya: I had to fly to Russia.

Rose: Are you okay?

Ilya: I am fine. It is my father. He passed away.

She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling tears spring up. She knew already that his mother had passed away when he was a child, he’d disclosed that much to her already, though he’d barely mentioned his father. She’d gotten the impression that it was a sore subject and left it alone.

Rose: Sweetheart. I’m sorry.

Ilya: Thank you. I will be okay.

Rose: Shane will probably call you after the game. Do you want him to?

There was a long pause, and then.

Ilya: Yes.

Rose: Okay, I will tell him. Be well, my love. I will talk to you soon x

He responded with a kiss emoji and she held her phone to her chest, taking a shaky breath. An orphan. Her Ilya was all alone in Russia, sad and lonely with no one there for him.

She sent a text off to Shane and then pulled a cushion to her chest, cuddling it, feeling sad and sorry for herself.

She hated this.

***

Her home felt so empty.

Rose sighed, wheeling her suitcase into her closet for her to deal with later, maybe never. She dropped her keys on the counter top and then flopped down onto her couch, rubbing her hands over her face.

She was exhausted. The flight from Detroit to LA had been unbearably long, even in first class, the cab from the airport moving through the LA traffic at a snail’s pace.

Her skin felt grimy, too.

After five minutes of wallowing, she made her way into her bathroom, running a bath and climbing in, sinking into the enormous tub with a sigh.

She checked her messages on her phone idly, responding to a few of her friends, asking her when she was getting back into town.

Some of them wanted to hang out, giving her addresses to different parties. 

It was the last thing she felt like doing.

Instead, she soaked in the bath and scrolled through her group chat with Shane and Ilya, smiling sadly at the photos they’d shared there. Always one or two of them together, never all three.

There was a gorgeous one from a few weeks ago that she saved, making it her screensaver. She wasn’t usually so reckless, but she wanted to gaze at Ilya’s face, and wanted to run a finger over the dimple in his cheek as he smiled at the camera.

She’d rather do it in person, but this was fine for now.

Shane had spoken to Ilya on the phone a few times now, so she knew he was doing as well as he could, all things considered. They’d texted a few times, but he’d been busy organizing the funeral and dealing with his apartment.

Rose hadn’t wanted to bother him. He had Shane. That was enough.

So, she was surprised when her phone started to ring. She almost dropped it into the water and cursed as she caught it, immediately answering the phone.

“Such a naughty word, Rose Landry,” Ilya said warmly.

“Ilya,” she said, pressing her phone into the side of her head, closing her eyes against the tears that immediately threatened to fall.

“Hello sweetheart,” he said. “I have missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she whispered.

Ilya hummed. 

“How are you?” she asked him. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s all done, now. I am on the way to the airport.”

She sighed, resting back against the tub. “That’s good,” she responded.

“Very,” he said. “I have missed my home. And it is too fucking cold here.”

“You’ve gotten soft,” she teased.

Ilya made an amused noise. “Not that soft.”

“Ah,” Rose said. “Is that why Shane blushed when he said you two had a video call last night?”

She heard Ilya laugh. “He told you about that?”

“No, not exactly, but I think you just did,” she said, fighting a grin.

“Jealous?” he purred.

“Immensely,” she said with a giggle, to show she didn’t mean it. “No, not really. I’m glad you have him.”

“Me too,” Ilya agreed. “But, I am glad I have you as well. You are good for me, Rose Landry.”

She was touched that he thought so. “I’m glad,” she whispered.

There was a long, pregnant pause.

Fuck it.

“I love you, Ilya Rozanov.”

There was a stunned silence, then, “Rose.”

“You don’t have to say it back,” she said simply. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Thank you,” Ilya said. He sounded choked up, and she smiled, making a kissy noise down the phone at him.

“Have a safe flight,” she told him. “And don’t be a stranger, Ilya Rozanov.”

“I’d like not to be,” he agreed.

She smiled, hanging up the phone.

Maybe she would go to one of those parties, after all.

***

Rose was busy for the next few months. Lots of auditions and advertisements and parties, lots of rubbing shoulders with other celebrities at fancy events. It was lonely, but at least she was too busy to miss her boys too much.

She still texted them both frequently.

The press had backed off a lot since she was no longer seen out and about with either of them, but she still fielded the occasional revolting question insinuating she was some kind of slut.

She was, but that wasn’t anyone’s business but her own.

Rose hadn’t even had actual sex with either of them. Although, fuck, she wanted to, so badly. 

It didn't feel right, with one of them or the other. Even the times she and Shane had gotten off together, it had been with Ilya on the phone with them.

And the two of them, well, they already had their own thing, so it felt disrespectful. Maybe that was a silly hang up, she wasn’t sure.

The distance didn’t help her in that regard, either. She was worried that she was intruding on whatever relationship they had. She didn’t really know. They’d never really sat down and had an open and honest conversation about it.

They had their hang-ups, both of them. Ilya was more open with his affection, but he was quick to deflect anything that really resembled an honest, deep conversation. Shane, on the other hand, was an open book about most things except his feelings.

It was an infuriating juxtaposition that made her wonder how they’d even managed to get together in the first place.

But seeing them together, there was no denying the way they both felt about the other. She’d spotted it instantly in the club.

Another thing she’d never really understood.

On her wall, she’d hung their team calendars side by side. She wasn’t always able to catch their games, but she would at least try and catch their highlights, messaging them excitedly about their good plays.

Ilya was cocky about it. Shane was shy. 

They were so fucking sweet. She was utterly gone on both of them.

There was a heart around a date the next week. Montreal versus Boston. A home game for Shane. She knew it would be the first time they would have seen each other since they’d last played in February.

Ilya had called and asked her if she planned on flying in for the game, and she’d certainly wanted to.

He’d been quiet when she said she wanted to give them their time together.

“Rose,” he said. “You know we want you with us, right? Shane does, I know this.”

“It’s okay,” she replied. “You two have fun without me.”

Ilya had sounded sad when he hung up.

But he’d only temporarily given up. It was Shane who was calling her twenty minutes later.

“I bought your ticket already,” Shane said, steam-rolling over her arguments. “I emailed you the details. See you next week.”

“Shane Hollander,” she scolded him, even as her heart had warmed, touched by the gesture.

“Say you’ll come,” Shane said, his voice softening. “Please, Rose?”

“Ugh,” she’d grumbled. “Fine, you win.”

She was packing for the flight, now. She would have a day with Shane, who would pick her up from the airport and bring her to his house and then they would go to the game.

Afterwards, God willing, hopefully, finally, the three of them would actually be able to spend some time together before Ilya had to jump straight onto another plane.

***

“Hey,” Shane said, picking her up and twirling her around. She laughed and kissed him, dizzyingly happy to see him.

“I missed you, Shane,” she said, her voice smothered in his hoodie.

“I missed you, too,” Shane said, kissing the top of her head. “Here, let me carry your bag for you.”

She handed it to him gratefully, holding his hand as he led the way out of the airport to where his Jeep Cherokee was parked.

They’d definitely been photographed, but she didn’t really pay attention. She was way beyond caring. She just wanted to spend time with her boys.

Well, only one of them, for now.

She’d see Ilya later, at the rink. For now, though, she was spending time with Shane, and she chatted happily with him in the car, basking in his shy smiles and gentle teasing. 

They dropped off her suitcase at his house before heading out to have lunch. Shane ate something that looked nutrient dense and revoltingly healthy, while she ate grilled chicken with fries and a side salad.

She took a photo of Shane’s bird food, sending it to Ilya.

Ilya: Tell Hollander it wouldn’t kill him to eat a burger every now and again.

Rose laughed, conveying the message, and Shane rolled his eyes.

“Tell Rozanov that I’ll beat him on the ice tonight. Especially because all he eats is McDonalds,” was his sassy reply.

She did so, giggling as Ilya responded, telling her that Shane was very funny.

“You two are so cute,” she told Shane. “Imagine the fan’s reactions to seeing your actual rivalry.”

Shane smiled, but it was kind of sad, and he looked down at his lunch, his shoulders going tense. Rose reached for his hand, squeezing it.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” was his quiet response. “I just wish things were different. That we didn’t need to hide it.”

Sympathy choked her. She squeezed again.

Shane offered her another smile and changed the subject. Rose let him. This was clearly a sore point for him. She’d save it for when they were in private.

The rest of their afternoon was lovely. They’d walked through town, casually browsing but not really going in any stores, paparazzi following them from place to place. They ignored them, refusing to rise to their baiting questions. 

Rose just drank in Shane’s presence, enjoying being close to him, spending time with him.

She paused at a jewelry store, sweeping her eyes over a really cute set of earrings when the paparazzi all suddenly lunged forward.

“Are you shopping for an engagement ring?” one of them shouted.

The cameras flashed, and Shane gathered her in his arms, turning her away from them.

“Hey, back off,” he snapped.

He led her away from the store, bristling with indignance.

“Sorry,” she murmured once they were further down the street. Her heart was racing in her chest, her stomach churning. “I should have known better.”

“Don’t be silly,” Shane reassured her, taking her hand again. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Still, it took a while for her pulse to calm, and there was a strange feeling churning in her chest as he drove her back home.

By the time he needed to leave for the game, she felt better, and she kissed him on the cheek before he had to go, wishing him luck. She would arrive closer to the game time, to avoid a ridiculous crowd forming around her.

She had a feeling that if she checked her social media, all of her numbers would be up after that shit-show earlier, and she wanted to lay low for a bit.

Instead, she sat on Shane’s couch, her feet tucked underneath her as she texted with Ilya, who was on the team bus on the way to the game.

Ilya: Everything okay? I saw the circus.

Rose: I’m fine. It was awful, but Shane got me out of there pretty quickly.

Ilya: What were you actually looking at?

Rose: There were some nice earrings on display. I shouldn’t have stopped.

She sighed, leaning back against the couch.

Ilya: You deserve to have nice things. Don’t let those assholes ruin your day.

Ilya: Shane said he had a great afternoon with you.

That brought a smile to her face, and she hugged a pillow to her chest.

Rose: I did, too. I can’t wait to see you, though!

Ilya: I’ll be the sexy one scoring all the goals ;)

Rose grinned.

Rose: I’ll be the one cheering the loudest x

He added a heart under her message, and she sighed dreamily. What a stud.

***

For this game, Shane had given her a ticket to the family section. She was, embarrassingly, sitting right next to his parents. Shane was skating nearby, clearly freaking out a little bit over this, but Yuna and David were lovely, and Rose enjoyed chatting with them as the warm-ups started.

She waved to Shane, who gave her a shy little smile before skating over to where Ilya was standing at the red line in the middle of the ice.

Yuna noticed it as well. “Huh, I didn’t realize they were on friendly terms now.”

She’d murmured this to her husband, David, but it was just loud enough that Rose heard it as well. Rose smiled.

They were much more than friends. But if they didn’t already know, Rose wasn’t going to be the one to spill Shane’s secret. Especially not when she’d introduced herself as Shane’s girlfriend.

She hoped they hadn’t seen the posts online about her going out with Ilya as well.

Her two boys spoke for a minute, and then Ilya was skating away. Hayden Pike approached Shane next, drawing him back into the actual warm-ups.

She alternated between watching both of them, wishing fervently that she could walk around to the Boston side of the ice and say hello to Ilya properly.

Well, as properly as she could with thousands of people witnessing it, anyway.

“So,” Yuna said conversationally, turning to look at her. “You and Shane have been dating for a while now.”

Rose smiled. “Yes, he’s very sweet to me.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Yuna said. Beside her, David smiled as well.

“He’s a sensitive soul,” Rose said. “But very diligent and protective. You’ve raised a lovely young man.”

“Thank you,” David said. He looked over at Shane, pride shining in his eyes, and Rose smiled.

Shane’s parents were so nice.

“I’ve seen online that you're friends with Ilya Rozanov as well,” Yuna said, still in that careful, conversational tone. It was friendly, but hid a thin layer of steel beneath it.

“I am,” Rose agreed. “I met Ilya at a club a few months ago. We became fast friends.”

Yuna’s eyebrows rose at that. “Friends?”

Well, Rose deserved that slightly patronising look, but not for the reasons Yuna probably thought she did.

“I’m not cheating on Shane, if that’s your implication,” she said, her own tone firm, brooking no argument. “Shane is aware that Ilya and I talk often.”

This just seemed to confuse Yuna more. “He knows?”

Rose nodded. “Of course, I wouldn’t hide it from him. But I am allowed to have friends who are men, just as he is allowed to have friends who are women. We trust each other implicitly.”

Yuna nodded slowly. “I see. Thank you for telling me.”

“He’s actually a total softy,” Rose said with a fond smile, looking over at where Ilya was slowly skating between his team-mates.

“Now, that I find hard to believe,” Yuna murmured. 

Rose glanced at her. Her heart sank. Shane would want them to love him, the way he did. He wouldn’t want his parents hating Ilya Rozanov.

She would try to… sow the seeds.

“Really,” she insisted. “I think he would surprise you. He’s very loyal, and he has a very strong moral compass.”

Yuna looked at her. “He has always been very rude to my son,” she pointed out.”I think the first time Shane met him, he told me about what a dick he was.”

Rose laughed at that, she couldn’t help it.

“Yes, he is a bit of a dick,” she said, unable to hide her amusement. “And he and Shane are very competitive, it’s true. But I know he respects Shane a lot. He only has nice things to say about him.”

Yuna and David exchanged a disbelieving look. “Really?” Yuna asked.

Rose remembered Shane’s last game, she’d sat on a call with Ilya, only half paying attention as he commentated the game to her. It had been cute, listening to him rib on Shane and praise him, sometimes in the same breath. He mostly railed at Shane’s teammates for being unable to keep up with him.

“He thinks Shane is very fast,” she listed. “He says his backhand still needs some work, but he is a good passer.” She leaned closer to Yuna, murmuring the last bit conscious of who she was surrounded by. “Especially considering how slow his teammates are.”

Yuna laughed at that, throwing her head back.

“He is one of the few skaters who can keep up with him,” Yuna conceded with a wry grin.

Rose rolled her eyes. “He only goes on about that speed skating competition every other day.” She put on a fake Russian accent. “It vas only half a second, Rose. Zat doesn’t even count!”

“You seem to know him well,” Yuna said, smiling at her. “He must be alright, if someone as smart and funny as you gives him the time of day.”

Rose blushed at that. “He’s the best,” she agreed.

All of the skaters were leaving the ice to go to their locker rooms, and Rose looked up in time to notice Ilya looking over at her with a wistful expression on his face. She chanced a small wave, and he nodded, smiling at her before stepping off the ice.

It was something. He knew she was here. He knew she would be watching and cheering him on.

Chapter Text

The first period passed without incident. The two of them were almost gleeful as they battled around the rink, stealing the puck off of each other constantly, slamming each other into the boards, chirping non-stop. The refs had given up on telling them to shut the fuck up, just shaking their heads now, and Rose watched them with amusement.

She knew Yuna had her lips pursed with disapproval, but couldn’t she see the way they were both grinning as they wrestled for the puck?

It was part of the way through the second period when disaster struck. Her boys were facing off over the puck. Shane won, skating off with it, but Ilya was on him seconds later, stealing it back. Shane turned on the tightest edge she’d ever seen and built up a quick burst of speed, slamming into Ilya’s side and taking off with it.

He glanced back at Ilya, which is why he didn’t see the defenseman bearing down on him until it was too late. He bounced off of him, hitting the boards near them with a painful, echoing thud.

Rose gasped, jumping to her feet and pressing against the glass, looking down at him. 

“He’s not moving,” she said, hysteria rising. “Shane!”

Moments later, medics had him surrounded, and Yuna had her arm around Rose, the two of them steadying each other as they watched. Rose’s eyes were on Shane’s chest, desperately trying to determine if he was breathing or not.

“Hollander?” she heard Ilya say. She looked up at him, devastated by the fear on his face. He looked gutted. 

Shane stirred at his voice, head lolling towards it.

“Oh, thank God,” Yuna whispered. She turned to David. “We have to go, we’ll meet them at the hospital.”

Rose nodded as they left. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet. Not without Ilya.

She had a feeling he needed her more right now.

Ilya hovered nearby as the medics transferred Shane onto a spinal board. He was trying to talk to Shane, though his voice was too low to make out through the thick glass. That was probably a good thing. People were holding up their cameras. She didn’t want them outed, not like this. 

Both teams returned to their benches as Shane was carried out.

Ilya’s shoulders were hunched in.

The rest of the game was a blur. Neither team’s hearts were really in it, and Ilya skated on auto-pilot, oddly silent, his face a smooth mask.

Rose’s heart was breaking for him. He looked like he was on the verge of a meltdown.

As the final buzzer sounded, Rose stood, making her way down to the glass. Ilya skated past, glancing at her. She gave him a grim smile, which he didn’t return. 

He skated off the ice, disappearing into the locker room.

Rose waited for him in the hotel lobby. She’d already texted him where she was, a toque hiding her distinctive red hair, one of Shane’s hoodies enveloping her body in a warm hug she desperately needed.

She held her phone to her chest. She wasn’t sure if Shane had his on him, but she’d texted him just in case, letting her know that she was there for him, that she’d visit him as soon as she could.

***

“You haven’t heard anything?” was the first thing Ilya said to her as he walked up to her.

She got to her feet immediately. “Nothing yet,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if he had his phone or not. If I don’t hear anything soon, I’ll call the hospital. See what I can charm out of a nurse.”

Ilya nodded. 

Behind them, his teammates looked at her curiously, making their way slowly over towards the lifts.

“Is that his Jane?” she heard one of them ask.

“No you fucking moron, that’s Rose Landry,” was the response.

Ilya looked back over his shoulder at them, shooting them a nasty glare. Suddenly, they all seemed to be in much more of a hurry.

Rose bit back a smile. 

“Jane?” she asked him.

Ilya gave her a dry look. “I couldn’t exactly save Shane Hollander’s number in my phone, could I?”

She laughed at that. “I guess not. And what are you called in his?”

Ilya blushed. “Lily.”

“Cute,” she said.

He shook his head. “I am worried about him,” he admitted. “That was ugly hit. He was so out of it, slurring his words.”

“He’s probably concussed,” she pointed out. “He hit his head pretty hard on the boards.”

Ilya nodded. “I’d say that’s probably a given. Hopefully, that’s all it is. A week or two off and back on the ice.”

He didn’t look like he believed it, though, and Rose took his hand. 

“Do you want to come and stay at Shane’s place with me tonight?” she asked him.

“I don’t know if I should,” he admitted. “Feels wrong. And my team…”

Rose waved that off. “Will assume you’re with me anyway. Might as well take advantage of the rumor mill. You know you’ll sleep better in his bed anyway.”

Ilya conceded this with a tight nod. “Let me grab my suitcase.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “I’ll order us a cab.”

She let him go, watching the tension in his shoulders as he stalked over to the lift.

While she waited for him to come down, she ordered the cab and then called the hospital.

After a frustrating few minutes being shuttled from person to person, she finally managed to get a nurse. One who was in charge of the rooms where Shane had been placed.

“Hello? This is Nurse Dana,”

“Hello Nurse Dana,” she said. “I know you cannot tell me much, but my boyfriend, Shane Hollander, was just admitted to the hospital. Are you able to let me know how serious his injuries are?”

There was a suspicious silence. “Shane Hollander’s girlfriend is-”

“Rose Landry,” she interrupted. “Yes, that’s me.”

“I cannot share personal information over the phone,” the nurse said stiffly. “No matter how good an actress you are, Miss Landry.”

“I understand,” Rose said, thinking quickly. “Shane’s parents would be there by now, Yuna and David?”

The nurse gave a non-committal hum. 

“If I give you my phone number, could you please pass it and my name onto Yuna?”

The nurse gave a sigh, but agreed to her request. Rose shared her information and then the nurse hung up.

Well, it was something, at least. Hopefully, Yuna would text or call her soon.

Ilya arrived then, his suitcase in tow, and she walked with him out to the cab, which was idling on the curb waiting for them. She watched as he put his suitcase in the back, before opening the back door for her, climbing in after.

They rode in silence. Rose clutched her phone in one hand, resting her other on Ilya’s knee, stroking a little circle there, while he stared blankly out the window.

***

Yuna called an hour later, letting her know that Shane was stable, and that she would be able to visit in the morning.

That had offered them some relief, at least, and some of the tension had eased from Ilya’s body.

Neither of them got much sleep. It was nice, though, to hold Ilya against her chest, her fingers carding through his curls. She hadn’t seen him properly for months, not since before he’d flown to Russia after the death of his father.

She was happy to offer him some company, even if it wasn’t really her he wanted just then.

“Talk to me,” she whispered. It was pitch black in the room, and the darkness was like a safety blanket, surrounding them in its embrace.

Rose traced a finger over his brow, his ear, tucking a rogue curl behind it.

Ilya sniffled. “I can’t lose him, Rose,” he whispered. “But how can I be with him? How can I ruin him?”

“Ruin him?” she asked. “You don’t ruin him, Ilya. You make him light up.”

Ilya shook his head, burying it in her neck. “No,” he murmured. “He is fine without me, he has you. I should have let him be, should have let you take him from me.”

She frowned. “No one is taking anyone,” Rose said firmly. “Ilya, be reasonable.”

“I have never once in my life been jealous,” Ilya said after a few long, strained moments. “Not until I saw him dancing with you. Kissing you. So open, where anyone could see.”

Ilya sighed. His fingers were clutched around the blanket at her waist. She could feel the tension in them, the way he trembled.

“He cannot do that with me,” he whispered.

She felt the wet glide of his tears on her neck.

Rose turned, wrapping her arms around him. “He cannot live without you,” she whispered back. “No matter how hard it is, no matter how he can’t love you openly the way you both wish.” 

She soothed her hands down his back, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And yet, he cannot help but love you anyway. It would destroy you both, trying to leave each other now.”

Ilya nodded at that.

“I am too selfish to leave him,” he agreed. His voice was dull. “He is my whole world.”

“Oh, Ilya, sweetheart,” she sighed, squeezing him just a little tighter. “My love, everything will work out, you’ll see.”

Ilya was silent, though his arms were also around her, cradling her against his chest. He pressed his lips to her collarbone.

“I never told you that I love you as well,” he said quietly.

She smiled, kissing the top of his head. “You didn’t have to,” she murmured. “I knew anyway.”

She felt his lips curl up in a small smile.

“Thank you,” he said eventually. “For being here with me.”

Rose pulled away slightly, tracing the fingers of her free hand over his cheek. “Any time.”

She tilted his chin up, seeking out his lips in the darkness, placing a soft kiss on them. 

“Sleep,” she whispered. “We’ll go see our boy in the morning.”

He nodded, and they snuggled further under the covers, wrapped around one another.

Rose closed her eyes and breathed him in, letting sleep claim her a short while later.

***

Ilya hung back as Rose got Shane’s room number from the desk. The nurse seemed very interested, but Rose ignored it. Her and Ilya anywhere were a news story. Here? In the hospital of Shane Hollander? It was probably going to break the internet.

She had to hope that the nurse would take pity on them and keep it to herself. She knew she looked awful. Ilya did too. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his curls were in complete disarray. 

They’d barely even stopped long enough to pick up coffee on the way here. Ilya had to be on a plane with his team in only a few short hours.

Rose led Ilya to Shane’s room. The door was slightly ajar, but no one was inside. David and Yuna must have left to go and seek out some breakfast.

Shane spotted them hovering at the door immediately, and his whole face brightened. “Ilya! Rose!”

He looked small in the bed, and his left arm was in a sling. Rose frowned. Not just a concussion then… Shit.

“Hi,” Ilya whispered, approaching the bed. “I just needed - are you?”

Rose closed the door and perched herself next to Shane on the other side of the bed, watching them with a sad smile.

Shane smiled at Ilya. “I’m okay,” he said. “I mean, I have a concussion, and a fractured collarbone. I’m out for the playoffs. But…”

“Could have been worse,” Ilya nodded. He still looked a bit gutted, like he’d been haunted all night by what the ‘worse’ could have been. Rose, who had witnessed that breakdown, reached over to take Shane’s right hand and squeeze it.

Shane smiled at her, squeezing back.

Ilya shot her a grateful look.

They talked quietly about the player who’d hit Shane, Marlow or something, but Rose could tell that Shane didn’t really care. He only had eyes for Ilya, and he was grinning up at him with this dopey expression on his face.

Eventually, Ilya couldn’t keep his hands to himself any longer. He took Shane’s face in his hands, brushing his cheeks with his thumbs. It was so tender that it made tears spring up to Rose’s eyes.

“You scared me,” Ilya admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Shane nodded. “Scared myself.”

Scared all of them, Rose added silently. She hadn’t been able to wipe the image out of her mind, of Shane lying so unnaturally still on the ice.

Shane whispered that he’d wanted to text them last night, but Ilya hushed him, resting his forehead on Shane’s and running his fingers through his hair. Shane closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

Adorable. Rose snuck a picture while neither of them were watching. They’d want it someday.

When she put her phone down, she found Shane looking at her with an exasperated expression. She winked at him.

“I had been looking forward to last night,” he said to her.

“Me too,” Rose said. “It’s okay.”

“I’m mostly mad at Marlow for fucking that up.”

That made Ilya laugh, and his shoulders relaxed slightly as he released Shane, looking down at him fondly.

“We’ll get another chance,” he promised him. “But you must focus on your recovery. And I must go and win Stanley Cup.”

His smile was crooked, and Shane pouted at him.

Rose laughed at them both.

“I’m sorry,” Ilya said. Montreal had been in serious contention for playoffs, Rose knew. Shane had talked about it the day before. Without Shane, though, they didn’t stand a chance against anyone, but especially not Boston. She had a feeling that Ilya was about to play like a demon possessed.

“It sucks,” Shane responded. 

“Don’t worry,” Rose said. “You’ll get it next year for sure, Shane.”

Shane looked at her and smiled between them. “True,” he conceded. “No back-to-back for you, sorry Rozanov.”

Ilya barked out a laugh at that.

Rose melted. It was so nice to hear Ilya laugh.

Shane seemed to agree. He was looking up at Ilya like he hung the moon. “Ilya, come to the cottage with me. After the playoffs are done. Don’t go to Russia.”

Ilya’s face did something complicated.

“I’ll be there, too,” she told him, drawing his gaze. “Two weeks in paradise, baby. Your two favorite people.”

She waggled her eyebrows. 

“Total privacy.”

“Rose,” he sighed. She stuck her tongue out at him. He gave her an unimpressed look, before turning back to Shane.

Shane’s expression was pleading. He reached out and took Ilya’s hand, tangling their fingers together and holding tight.

“We can have a week or two, Ilya,” he said. “Haven’t you ever wanted more time?”

Rose watched a dozen micro-expressions fall over Ilya’s face. 

“Of course,” he whispered. He was rubbing his thumb over the back of Shane’s hands. It was super sweet. 

She could tell he wanted desperately to say yes, but had no idea how to. How to choose this, to take what he really wanted.

He was so alone.

Rose slid off the bed and padded around to the other side.

She ducked under his other arm, looking up at him. He looked down at her, eyes glassy.

“You can have this,” she told him fiercely. “You can let yourself have this, Ilya.”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. She could feel that tension in every line of his body. He was resisting.

She remembered his words from last night. His self-sabotage. His disgust at himself for supposedly ruining Shane.

“Well, I’m not going if you’re not going,” she said.

Shane spluttered. “Rose! Nooooooo!”

She smiled at him. “Sorry, Hollander,” she teased. “Rozanov and I are a package deal, these days. It’s both of us or nothing.”

Ilya rolled his eyes, but he looked at her fondly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ll think about it,” he conceded, with a disbelieving little shake of his head. “Maybe.”

Rose cuddled into his side and winked at Shane. 

Shane beamed at them both.

Ilya dropped Shane’s hand as they heard the handle turn behind them. Rose kept hold of him, stopping him from bolting.

“Oh, sorry,” a new nurse said, looking between the three of them with amusement. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Rose nodded, and they watched silently as the nurse checked Shane’s vitals, asking how he was feeling, fluffing his pillows and refilling his water. She left them with a cheery smile only a few moments later.

She snickered.

“That was embarrassing,” Shane muttered, sinking back against his pillows and pouting over at them.

“Maybe for you,” Rose said with a wicked grin. “I thought it was adorable. Here, Mr Hollander, let me fluff your pillows for you. Are you warm enough, oh King of Montreal? Can I refill your water for you, my liege?”

“Shut up,” Shane said with a strangled voice, hiding his face in his good hand. Next to her, she felt Ilya shaking with laughter.

Rose grinned.

Yeah, they were gonna be okay.

***

Ilya had to leave shortly after to catch his flight in time, but Rose was still sitting at Shane’s bedside when his parents returned.

“Oh, hello again, Rose,” Yuna said with a pleased smile as her and David walked in.

Rose got to her feet, going to give Shane’s mother a hug.

“Thank you for calling last night,” she whispered as Yuna returned her hug. “I was so worried.”

“Of course,” Yuna said.

Rose moved to sit on the side of Shane’s bed so that his parents could take the chairs. 

“The nurses are gossiping something awful out there,” Yuna said after a few moments. Her eyes rested on where Rose’s hand was resting on Shane’s knee over the covers. “Apparently Ilya Rozanov came to visit.”

Shane’s face went carefully blank.

“He did,” Rose confirmed.

“He wanted to check on me,” Shane said. “He felt bad about Marlow.”

Yuna’s eyes flicked between Shane and Rose, her expression inscrutable. “I see,” she said.

Maybe she did, actually. She seemed like a very perceptive woman.

“That was decent of him,” David said mildly.

“I told you he would surprise you,” Rose said, winking at Shane when he turned to look at her, startled.

“You did,” David said with a nod.

“Shane would have done the same,” Rose said, smiling at Shane. “They’re similar, in that way.”

In a lot of ways, she added silently. The same but different. Two sides of a coin.

“Yeah,” Shane agreed. “I probably would have gloated a little less about getting to the playoffs, though.”

Rose burst out laughing.

Yuna looked pained. David looked confused.

Shane just shook his head at her, a rueful smile tugging at his lips.

She patted his hand. 

“I should go,” she said. “I have to catch my flight home in a few hours.”

And she would have to pop back to Shane’s place first, to get her bag. 

Shane pouted at her. “Don’t go.”

Rose smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Be good for your parents,” she murmured. 

“I won’t,” he promised.

His eyes looked shiny as she pulled away, and she tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. 

“I’ll call you when I get home. Get some rest.”

Shane nodded, reluctantly letting her go.

Yuna and David stood, hugging her again.

“It was lovely to meet you both,” Rose said.

“Hopefully next time it will be in better circumstances,” Yuna joked.

“Seconded,” David said cheerfully.

Rose smiled as Yuna released her, giving Shane one last kiss before walking out the door. 

She paused on the other side of it, listening for a moment.

“She seems very nice, Shane.”

“She is.”

Rose grinned to herself and made her way down the hall. Yes, she’d totally nailed the first impression.

She pulled out her phone to call a cab.

Chapter Text

Rose winced as she watched Ilya skate over to the bench. He had a hand cradled to his chest, his expression pinched.

“That looked like it hurt,” Shane noted.

He was on the phone with her while they both watched. New York was currently up in the series, three games to two, and it looked like Boston was close to admitting defeat, especially with Ilya slinking out of the game early.

“He shouldn't be playing with bruised ribs,” Rose said, chewing on her lower lip.

“That's hockey,” Shane replied. “It's not playoffs if you're not carrying some kind of injury.”

“Still,” Rose grumbled.

The game was basically over now, and she slumped back against her couch, not really paying attention.

“Are your parents still driving you crazy?” she asked.

Shane sighed. “Yes,” he admitted. “They mean well, but they're just hovering. I had to come and hide at my cottage just to watch this game.”

Rose laughed at that. “Jail break,” she teased.

“Exactly.”

She smiled, burying her nose in the hoodie she’d stolen from Shane's house a few weeks ago. It barely smelt like him now, but that was okay. She would hopefully be seeing him again in a few weeks.

Maybe earlier, with Ilya knocked out of the playoffs. She knew he’d be gutted, though. It would maybe take a bit more convincing.

Rose checked her calendar, expression thoughtful. She could probably organize a trip to Boston if he decided to be stubborn.

They could fly to Ontario together.

She shelved the idea for now.

“How are you feeling, anyway? 

Shane gave a weak laugh. “Sick of being asked that question,” he said. He didn't sound annoyed though, just tired. “I’m alright. My last scan showed that my collarbone has healed up really well. And I only get headaches occasionally now. I don’t even need to wear sunglasses anymore when I watch TV.”

“That's good,” she murmured back. “You’ll be right as rain in another week or so.”

She could hear the smile in Shane's voice. “That's the dream,” he said. 

There was a long, pregnant pause.

“Do you think he’ll come?”

His voice was small, uncertain. Rose wanted to crawl through the phone and pull him into a tight hug.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “It will take a lot of bravery, for him, I think. He's very scared.”

“Yeah,” Shane sighed. “That makes two of us.”

“Three,” she said with a smile, joking but also, not really.

“Three,” Shane confirmed. “That's right. Fuck knows where either us would be without you, Rose.”

“Miserable and desolate and pining, probably,” she said affectionately. “I’m the glue.”

Shane let out a huff of laughter at that. “The glue, right. You're right. That's exactly what you are.”

She beamed, pleased by the affirmation. On the screen, the final buzzer sounded and New York celebrated, while the Boston team trudged off the ice. Ilya was already gone.

Rose turned off the screen and put Shane on speaker so that she could open up her messages to Ilya, typing into their group chat.

Rose: So proud of you, Ilya! 

Shane: Get some ice on those ribs, Rozanov.

Rose: Shane! He means we love you and hope you're okay.

She added an eye roll emoji and a love heart. Shane added a love heart as well.

Ilya didn't respond until much later, long after Rose had left Shane to rest, his head starting to hurt after so much screen time.

Ilya: Fucking Scott Hunter.

Rose chuckled.

Rose: Something you need to tell us, Ilya Rozanov?

Ilya: Well, he is pretty hot.

Rose: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shane replied with a middle finger emoji.

Ilya: Don't make me laugh right now, Hollander. My ribs hurt like a bitch.

Shane: Stop being an idiot, then.

Rose: Might as well ask him to stop breathing.

Ilya: Ha. Ha. Ha. Landry has jokes.

Rose: Many more where that came from! I’d be so good at chirping!!

Ilya: Yes, like little bird. Even worse than Hollander.

Shane: I am a magnificent, dignified creature. Like a hawk. Or a panther, maybe. Something fast and cool.

Ilya: You are hissy, spitty little kitten, Hollander.

Rose cried with laughter.

Shane: And you're an asshole.

Ilya: Only for you ;)

Rose: I can't with this flirting. You two are adorable.

Immediately they both responded, protesting this, talking about how cool and macho and mature they were.

Rose shared the photo she'd taken at the hospital a few weeks previous.

Rose: My mistake. Very macho. Very cool. 

Ilya: This is toxic. I am just in touch with my emotions, Rose Landry.

Shane: Toxic. Wow. Who taught you that word?

Ilya: Your father ;)

Rose: !!!!?!!!!??!!!!!!

Shane: What she said.

Ilya: She did not say anything??

She giggled.

Rose: I said it all. David is a lucky man.

Shane: Don't encourage him.

Ilya: Yes, encourage me, Rose Landry. I am very sad, just lost game. Ribs hurt :(

She knew a sucker when she saw one. Time for step one of her evil plan to get her boys in the same place at the same time.

Rose: I bought an itty bitty bikini for summer. I hope I have a nice vacation to go on so I can wear it…

Ilya: … 

Ilya: This is cheating, yes?

Shane: Minor penalty at least. Two minutes.

Rose waited the whole allotted two minutes and then sent a photo of said bikini, where it was currently sitting on her bedspread.

Ilya: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shane: That is…. Not very much fabric.

Rose: ;)

And then she locked her phone, tossing it aside. She’d let that marinate for a while before enacting the next stage of her plan.

***

For the past week or so, Rose had been perusing a few options that her agent had sent through. She was after something small, something that wouldn’t be too much of a time sink but would have her flying over to the East Coast as soon as possible.

And Calvin Klein had expressed interest in shooting an advert for their new perfume.

It included flights to New York, a week-long stay at a ritzy hotel, and a little creative control in terms of who else to include.

She had a feeling she knew exactly what they were fishing for, but Shane would likely not be getting on a flight anytime soon.

So, she had responded to her agent, telling them to pursue Ilya instead.

Rose already had her suitcase packed when her phone rang. The cab was on the way to pick her up and take her to the airport.

“Hey handsome,” she said, grinning as she answered the call.

“Rose Landry,” Ilya purred. “I have a very persistent man from Calvin Klein telling me to be in commercial with very sexy and famous actress. He will not take no for an answer.”

“Nor should he,” she said with a laugh. “She sounds like a total smoke show.”

“This feels like a trick,” he said. She could hear his pout.

“No trick,” she promised him. “I just wanted an excuse to visit my favorite guy. Even better if that’s on someone else’s dollar.”

He snorted at that. “Rose, you are very rich. I am very rich. If you want to visit, you should just say.”

“I want to visit,” she shot back. “But also I want to show you off a bit. Is that okay?”

“Is great burden, being this good-looking,” was Ilya’s response. “Lucky for you I am a nice guy.”

“The best,” she agreed. “I’ll call you when my flight gets in.”

“No, send me flight details. I will pick you up.”

“Of course, love you,” she cheerfully responded.

“My Rose,” he said affectionately.

She ended the call, her cheeks heating. God. She was a total goner on this guy.

The flight was long, and boring, though it was comfortable in first class, with a very attentive waitress keeping her glass of champagne topped up. She didn’t imbibe too much, but she was a little giggly by the time she was swept up into Ilya’s arms in the flight lounge.

“Put me down,” she laughed.

He kissed the top of her head with a smacking kiss and then relinquished her of her bag and suitcase.

She affectionately patted his cheek. “I see you shaved off your sexy play-off beard,” she said with a pout.

“Yeah,” he said. “Was itchy. I am glad you thought it was hot, though. Shane never tells me I am hot. Is very sad.”

“You’re so hot,” she reassured him with a saucy wink, linking her arm in his.

“Come,” he said with a grin. “Let’s go have fun.”

He was driving something very sleek and sexy and fast, and Rose’s eyes were wide as she laughed with joy.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re an absolute menace. No wonder Shane refuses to get in the car with you.”

Ilya blew a raspberry at that. “I am very safe driver. Just also very fast. And Shane drives a Jeep of all things. So boring.”

“It snows more in Canada,” she pointed out sensibly. 

Ilya didn’t dignify this with a response, just looking through the windshield, an affectionate smile tugging at his lips.

“How’s the ribs?” she asked him.

“Still sore,” Ilya admitted. “Bruising is almost gone, though.”

“That’s good,” she said. “I was worried when you took that hit on them in that last game. It looked like it hurt.”

Ilya just shrugged. “Is hockey.”

She laughed. “Shane said the same thing.”

“Hollander is right sometimes. Don’t tell him, though.”

She mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key, and he glanced at her, looking amused.

He paid for a valet at the hotel, and they went upstairs to her room, immediately ordering in a bunch of food and champagne, sitting on the bed while they ate.

Rose had never laughed so hard in her life.

“No,” she said, cackling like a hyena. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Ilya admitted. He was leaning up on one arm, cradling his head in that hand. He looked casual, comfortable, and his eyes were twinkling with amusement. “You should have seen him, all shy and pissy about it.”

“So, what? You went up to his hotel room, and then the rest is history?”

“Basically,” Ilya nodded. His smile was soft as he remembered it and Rose melted. He loved Shane so much. “It was his first time, with a man. Was very special, that he let me, you know.”

He trailed off, looking bashful.

“I can’t believe you two have been a thing since you were rookies,” Rose said, flopping back onto her pillow, carefully setting her mostly empty champagne glass aside. “That’s like…”

“Eight years,” llya confirmed. “Is a long time.”

She looked at him. “How long was it just sex, do you think? Or were you guys together for longer?”

Ilya blinked, his expression shuttered. “Shane and I, we are not in a relationship.”

Rose stared at him. “Wait, what?”

She pushed herself back up, turning to face him.

Ilya’s gaze dropped.

“Ilya,” she said. She had to be careful here. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. She reached for his hand and he let her claim it, let her bring it to her lips, pressing a kiss to the palm of it. “Ilya,” she said again. “You two love each other. That’s obvious.”

She watched as Ilya shrugged. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But, that doesn’t mean we can be together.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“We cannot be out,” Ilya said. “I told you I was jealous of you. Is not because you are a woman, or beautiful, although you are. Is because he can be with you. Because people can know, and he can still be good, perfect Shane Hollander and win cups and medals and awards.”

“He can be all that and still be in love with you,” Rose pointed out.

Ilya shook his head. “He doesn’t believe so. That is why he left, I think. And I cannot be out, either. I would never be able to go back to Russia. Is illegal. To be gay - well, bisexual.”

Rose bristled at that. “That’s stupid,” she said.

“Is Russia,” Ilya sighed. “Is hockey. Both very homophobic.”

He looked a bit miserable.

“This is why you don’t want to go to the cottage,” she said quietly. “Because you know, or think you know, that it won’t work out. So you’re giving up.”

“I guess,” Ilya responded. 

“Hypothetical,” she said.

He frowned. “I do not know this word.”

“It’s like, imagining a scenario, like a play, thinking about how it would work.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “I understand, go on.”

“Okay,” Rose said. “Hypothetical. Shane and I continue to date. Maybe we get married one day, maybe not. He stays in Montreal, winning cups and medals and awards, like you say. And everyone still loves him and he gets to be the prince of hockey.”

With each sentence, Ilya’s frown deepened.

“And then you. You don’t go to the cottage. You don’t tell Shane how desperately in love with him you are. You stay away. You go out clubbing every weekend and you sleep around with random women and you drink vodka. You play hockey. You win your cups and medals and awards and every summer you go back to Russia and you sit in some hotel somewhere because you already gave your apartment to your brother.”

Ilya couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“And you both are completely and utterly miserable,” she finished quietly. 

Rose paused for a long moment, letting her words sink in.

“I don’t believe for a second that that’s what you want, Ilya. You are not a coward. If you were going to walk away from Shane, you would have done it years ago.”

Ilya nodded at that. He swallowed thickly.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “But I am so scared.”

“You can be scared,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But isn’t being scared better than being alone?”

Ilya looked up at her then, searching her face. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy.

“You told me he is your whole world,” she reminded him.

He let out a wet laugh at that, shaking his head. “He is like gravity,” he admitted. “He pulls me in.”

Rose nodded. “I think, maybe, you think that you love Shane more than he loves you. Like maybe he can walk away from this and be fine.”

He didn’t respond, but she felt it as he stiffened, his hand jolting slightly like he wanted to pull it back. She held on stubbornly, pressing another kiss to it.

“Shane is not fine. He wasn’t fine without you, he was sad. I could tell,” Rose said quietly. “The first time I saw him come alive, it was when he saw you on the other side of that dancefloor."

Ilya’s face fell, crumpling like a wet tissue, and then Rose was climbing across the bed to pull him into her arms, and finally, finally, Ilya let all of his hurt and sadness and confusion out, shuddering and clinging to her like he would break apart if she let go. He felt so deeply, but kept it all so locked inside, and it hurt Rose, to see him like this, to see him so lost and alone and sad.

But it was good, too, to see him let a bit of that go.

Still, it took many long minutes of her soothing him, pressing kisses into his curls and running her hands up and down his back for him to calm.

“You always make me cry, Rose Landry,” he complained, pulling away and pouting at her.

He was trying to mask his emotions again, but Rose ignored it, brushing her hands over his cheeks and wiping away the tears.

She smiled gently at him, poking his cheek. “At least you’re a pretty crier,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes, but smiled at her, turning his head to press a kiss to her palm.

“Thank you,” he said gently.

“Any time,” she promised. “I mean it.”

“Is Shane’s fault anyway,” he said with a put upon sigh. “Ridiculous, confusing man.”

“You can bitch at him all you like next week when we go to the cottage,” Rose said cheekily. 

Ilya fought a smile. “Maybe,” he said.

But ‘maybe’ was starting to sound a lot more like ‘yes.’

***

Shooting the advert with Ilya was just as sexy and fun as she’d thought it would be. He was attentive, and yes, very hot, and there was no denying their chemistry.

He was also a ridiculous flirt. He had the entire crew charmed, from the obviously gay director, right down to the girls doing hair and make-up, and even the shy closeted young man who was apparently in charge of spritzing water on them between takes.

It was kind of delightful.

He was also live-texting the entire experience to Shane.

Ilya: There was no mention of torture in the contract I signed for advert.

Shane: Torture? What do you mean?

Ilya: I am being waterboarded with little water bottle between every take. This is against Geneva convention, no?

Shane: Oh my God.

Rose, who had her chin tucked over Ilya’s shoulder as he typed, gave a little laugh at that.

“So cute,” Ilya sighed. “This guy.”

She made sure to supply Shane with a video of said torture, snickering to herself at the cross expression that flitted over Ilya’s face and the way the poor guy skittered away from him, looking mildly terrified.

Shane: Yeah, it looks like you’re really suffering.

Ilya: I definitely deserve reward, for putting up with all this. 

Shane: How much are they paying you again?

They shot another take, so Ilya had to wait to reply.

Ilya: Hollander, have mercy. I am under duress.

Shane: Did you just Google that word?

Ilya: Yes. I needed specific word to show my deep, intense pain.

Shane: I’ll give you deep, intense pain.

Ilya smirked at that, and Rose smothered a giggle behind one of her hands, shaking her head at him.

Ilya: Promises, promises.

Shane: You’re ridiculous.

Ilya: I am bored. Send us sexy picture. As reward.

Shane: Fuck off, no.

Rose shook her head. “It’s like he doesn’t even love us,” she said with a pout. Ilya nodded seriously.

Ilya: You are making my Rose sad, now. We will die in these trenches together.

Shane: You’re so dramatic.

Ilya: I think you mean romantic.

Shane: How is asking for a dick pic romantic again?

Ilya: I did not say anything about your dick. But if you are offering, we accept.

Shane didn’t respond and Ilya chuckled, locking his phone and setting it aside with the rest of their things.

“Do you think he’ll actually send anything?” she asked him curiously.

He shrugged. “Could go either way,” he said. “Either he is taking a million photos and trying to find perfect angle, or he is blushing like little tomato thinking about it.” 

Ilya looked her in the eyes, giving her a wink, that crooked grin making her stomach flip.

“Either way, he is thinking about my dick. So, I win.”

She couldn’t fault that logic. It was the same reason she’d sent them the photo of her tiny bikini a few weeks ago.

Chapter Text

Ilya drove her back to Boston, and they lounged around in his penthouse, mooching on his ridiculous couch while the last play-off game ticked down to the final minutes. New York was about to beat Los Angeles and win the Stanley Cup.

Rose was sitting back against the couch, with Ilya’s head in her lap. He was texting Shane about the game, having long since given up on getting any sympathy from Rose.

She wasn’t checking her phone, though she could feel the buzzing of the text messages flying back and forth, and hear Ilya’s low chuckles at whatever Shane was saying.

Instead, she busied herself with braiding some of Ilya’s curls together, her attention half on the game. His hair was too soft for the braids to really hold, but it was calming to let the hair slip through her fingers.

The final siren sounded and Ilya sighed. She patted his head in sympathy, watching the players in their blue jerseys launching onto the ice, all converging on their captain, Scott Hunter.

Everyone shook hands and cheered and cried, and the opposite team trudged by to shake hands, their faces devastated.

Ten minutes later, the Stanley Cup was being handed to Scott Hunter, and he kissed it and beamed at the camera, holding it above his head. There were tears of joy streaming down his face.

Glancing down at Ilya, she saw him roll his eyes.

Rose, who remembered seeing a clip of Ilya in similar circumstances several years ago screaming as he hoisted the cup, just smiled and said nothing.

He continued to text Shane as Hunter handed off the cup to one of his teammates, who kissed it five times in a row. The camera followed Hunter as he stalked over to the crowd, and-

“Oh,” she whispered.

In her lap, she felt Ilya go very, very still. Both of their phones buzzed loudly as Shane sent multiple texts. But neither of them could tear their eyes away from the screen for long enough to check.

Scott Hunter, on national television, was very enthusiastically kissing a man. They pulled apart, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes as they exchanged a few words, and then Hunter leaned in again, licking into his mouth in a way that made Rose feel a little hot under the collar.

Jesus Christ.

The cameras finally moved away, and only then did Ilya move, looking back down at his phone.

He slowly pushed himself out of Rose’s lap, and there was a determined expression on his face as he hit the call button.

Looking directly at her, he said to Shane, “I’m coming to the cottage.”

***

Unfortunately, he did not mean right that second, although Rose would happily have packed her bag and driven straight to the nearest airport. Apparently, there was this pesky thing called the NHL awards that Ilya was expected to attend in Las Vegas.

He had invited her along, and they’d made quite a stir. Rose Landry on the arm of her boyfriend’s rival. The three of them had discussed it, and decided that none of them cared all that much what the media had to say about it, and Rose had been delighted to step out with Ilya.

Even if it was only, publicly, as a close friend. Still, Ilya looked delectable in his tuxedo, and she was wearing a very low cut, slinky dress and the highest pair of heels she owned.

They looked fucking hot, and they drew a lot of attention.

She cried during Hunter’s speech, where he affirmed that he was gay and in a loving relationship with the man he’d kissed at the play-offs. Under the table, Ilya gripped her hand tightly, his eyes glued to Hunter with a naked, almost hungry expression.

She knew that Ilya was astonished at his bravery. Grateful, too. 

Hunter finished his speech inviting the whole of the NHL to a gay bar on the Vegas strip. Rose side-eyed Ilya as he typed the address into his phone with a smirk.

They’d made plans to head to Ontario in a day or two, waiting for the media frenzy of so many NHL stars being in one place had died down a bit. Something about Hunter coming out like that had eased some of the tension in Ilya. He didn’t seem quite so worried about the future anymore.

And he was eager to get to Shane. Not that he ever wasn’t, but there was a determination to him now, a quiet resolution that gave Rose a warm feeling in her chest.

Rose was hopeful that it would be the push her boys needed to finally take that next step.

But first, apparently, they were going to go to a gay bar with Scott Hunter and his boyfriend.

“Isn’t he going to be surprised when you turn up?” she asked Ilya, giggling as he ushered her into a cab.

“Definitely,” Ilya agreed. “Which is why it will be fun!”

“True,” she conceded, grinning back at him. Ilya leaned forward, giving the driver the address, before wrapping his arm around her.

“Don’t tell Shane,” he said to her. “I want to see his expression when I tell him.”

She nodded, snuggling into his side, smiling happily.

These past two weeks with Ilya had been so nice. He was so sweet to her, and so incredibly funny. They’d gone out a few times, whether just to dance, or go and eat at a restaurant, first in Boston and then in Las Vegas. She was ignoring the confused messages from her friends about it, asking what had happened with Shane.

It wasn’t anyone’s business, what she got up to during her personal time. She was between jobs right now, and not interested in picking anything up until after the summer was over. For the moment, she was perfectly content right where she was, snuggled up with the runner-up MVP of the NHL.

The club was already packed when the bouncer let them in, and the music was loud enough that she felt it in her bones. Ilya, so much taller than her, scanned the crowd for Hunter and the others, his hand holding onto her securely as he steered through the mob of people.

He paused near the VIP area, and Rose glanced around, curious to see if she recognized anyone. Miles was definitely going to freak when she told him about this. He’d been effusive in his praise of Scott Hunter since the play-offs. If he didn’t already have a boyfriend, she was sure her friend would have been sliding into his DMs.

She wouldn’t be shocked if he had anyway.

Suddenly, Scott Hunter was there, approaching them, his eyebrows raised.

“Rozanov?” He shook his head, clearly bewildered. “What are you doing here?”

Ilya shrugged. “Wanted to see what Scott Hunter Night was. Is not as bad as it sounds.”

Rose stifled a giggle at that. Hunter looked exasperated. “Did you really come to a gay bar in Vegas just to make fun of me?”

“Be nice,” she whispered, elbowing Ilya. “Hello Scott Hunter,” she said cheerfully. “I loved your speech tonight, by the way.”

He smiled. “Thank you, sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met?”

“Rose Landry,” she said, holding her hand out and giving him a bemused smile as he shook it. 

Ilya snorted. “She is even more famous than you, Hunter. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one of her movies?”

Scott gave her an apologetic look, but she waved it off.

“So,” Ilya said, gesturing towards the rest of the club. “This is you now?”

Rose watched Scott nod. “This is me,” he agreed. “I mean, this has always been me. But now I’m… better at being me.”

He was just as awkward and sweet as Shane was. Rose decided she liked Scott Hunter.

Ilya nodded along. “Is good. What you did. It will be good for… others.”

For him. For Shane. Rose nodded, squeezing Ilya’s hand. She looked up at Ilya, unsurprised to see the slight sheen in his eyes. He looked grateful.

“I hope so,” was Scott’s reply. She offered Scott another smile as Ilya glanced away.

He looked between them, searching Ilya’s face with dawning comprehension. He hesitated for a few seconds, before seeming to come to a decision.

“Well, I’m here with some of the guys,” Scott said. “From my team, I mean. Would you two like to join us?”

“We’d love to,” Rose beamed. “Thank you.”

They trailed after him into the VIP section, which was very slightly quieter. One of Scott’s teammates spotted them immediately.

“Hey! The star of Scott Hunter Night is back!” he cheered. “And what the fuck is that guy doing here?”

Ilya smirked at him and waved, and Rose snickered. Ilya was right. This was fun.

But Hunter vouched for them, and soon she was in the booth, tucked under Ilya’s arm as he fell into conversation with one of Scott Hunter’s teammates.

There was a lot of banter, a looooot of alcohol, and dancing. Rose danced with Ilya, with some of Scott’s teammates, with whoever was willing to twirl her around. She watched with some bemusement as Ilya danced with an array of very hot men, though she noticed his hands never strayed, and his eyes swept over to check on her often, his gaze heated and cheeky as he winked at her.

It was the most fun she’d had out dancing in a long time.

She just wished Shane could have been there to see it. To feel it. The energy. The love all of Scott Hunter’s teammates had for him. The absolutely filthy way Scott kissed his boyfriend where anyone could see them. The soft look in Ilya’s eyes whenever he looked over and saw them.

He would have loved it.

***

Finally, finally, they were on a plane to Ontario.

Rose was exhausted, still, after their big night in Las Vegas, but she was thrilled to be on her way back to Shane. She’d really fucking missed him.

But this had been important. It wouldn’t have been the same going to the cottage without Ilya, and he’d needed to get there himself. Sure, she’d poked and prodded a bit, but part of her was pretty sure he would have come to this same conclusion without her.

Currently, though, he was staring broodily out the window, fingers tapping nervously on the arm rest between them.

She caught her hand in his, interlocking their fingers.

Ilya dragged his gaze to her, offering her a small smile.

“Nervous?” she asked him.

He nodded. “Terrified, to be honest.” 

She squeezed his hand, and he brought hers up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“You are right, though,” he murmured. “Is better. To be scared with you. And with him.”

“It will be worth it,” she promised him.

After what she’d seen at the club, with Hunter and his teammates, she was only more sure of it.

“Yes,” Ilya agreed. His expression was serious as he looked down at her. “I want to thank you,” he said. “You could have gone to Shane weeks ago, but instead you were here, with me.”

She shook her head. “You needed me more than he did,” she said with a soft smile. “Shane had his parents looking after him, even if they were driving him up the wall.”

Ilya rolled his eyes. “He is a big baby.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “He’s the worst patient ever. But he didn’t really need me.” Not like you did, was the silent implication.

Ilya didn’t have anyone in his corner. Rose was more than happy to be his person, to see the soft side of him that he didn’t show to anyone else. It was a privilege that she took very seriously.

“Of course he needs you,” Ilya scolded her, pressing another kiss to her hand. “He has been seething with jealousy for weeks, that you chose Boston over his little cottage.”

Rose just shrugged her shoulders, giving him a cheeky grin. “I told him months ago that you and me are a package deal. I just had to wear you down, first.”

“You are very patient with me,” he said after a few moments. “More than I deserve.”

She reached for him with her other hand, gently caressing his cheek. He leaned into it, his pretty hazel eyes focused on her with an intensity that made her heart race. “You deserve everything, Ilya Rozanov.”

Ilya ducked down, giving her plenty of time to move away. Her eyes widened, but she let it happen, feeling a thrill go through her as he pressed a soft, searching kiss to her lips. She closed her eyes and returned it, blood rushing in her ears.

He’d kissed her, all those months ago, that night after the club when her whole life had been tilted on its axis. It had been hot and filthy and sweet, but he’d never repeated it.

Since then, he’d kissed the top of her head, her cheek, her hand, but he hadn’t kissed her again, not properly.

And she hadn’t pushed it, even as she’d often found herself watching his lips, the way they formed words, the different smiles that graced them, anywhere from that cocky, crooked grin all the way to that soft, sweet little half-smile he sometimes did. And she had yearned.

She loved kissing Shane, of course she did. He was sweet, and a very good kisser.

But there was something about the way Ilya kissed. He did it with his full body, his entire heart. And it was so special, for how rare it was.

Ilya leaned back slightly, his lips trailing to her cheek.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’re crying.”

She blinked her eyes open and gave a shocked little laugh. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m so ridiculous.”

“No,” Ilya said, and his voice was so very gentle. “You are just in love, I think.”

Rose smiled at him. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I love you so much.”

He whispered to her in Russian, and then her name, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. 

She buried her face in his neck, and he wrapped an arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

“Make sure you tell Shane, too,” he said quietly.

She let out a quiet laugh. “I will if you will.”

“Of course.”

***

Shane picked them up from the airport in his Jeep Cherokee. Ilya gave him absolute shit for it, and Rose giggled from the front seat. Ilya, being the gentleman he was, had immediately offered it to her, before sliding into the middle of the backseat, endlessly chirping at Shane as he drove them to the cottage.

Rose was giddy, watching the way the two of them just eased into being around each other again. Shane was often feigning offence or annoyance, but he couldn’t stop the smile that kept creeping onto his face.

With every mile they left behind them, they all relaxed just that little bit more.

“So, did you tell your parents we were coming?” Rose asked after a bit of a natural lull in conversation.

She heard Ilya snort.

“No,” Shane admitted. “I made something up about needing a sabbatical with no interruptions. Like a mental training thing.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Of course you did,” she said with a shake of her head. “And Yuna bought that?”

“Probably not,” Shane admitted. “But I was being enough of a brat about her hovering over me that I think I’ll get most of the time without one of them checking on me.”

Rose turned her head, exchanging an amused look with Ilya.

“I give it, like eight days, maybe,” she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “What do you think, Ilya?”

He tilted his head side to side, pretending to think. “Don’t know. Shane is a bit of a mama's boy. Maybe four.”

“Fuck off,” Shane pouted. “I am not a mama’s boy.”

Rose burst out into laughter.

“I’m not!”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, Hollander,” Ilya said in his stereotypical condescending tone. “You are good boy, love your mama. Is normal.”

Shane let out a deep sigh, banging his head once on the steering wheel.

“I hate you guys,” he grumbled.

“No, you don’t, you loooove us,” Ilya sing-songed, squeezing Shane’s shoulder and shaking him just slightly, not enough to impede his driving. “Admit it, Hollander.”

Shane just shook his head, fighting a losing battle against that smile again.

Instead, he changed the subject.

“Did you guys have fun at the awards?”

Rose looked at Ilya again, who raised an eyebrow at her. She once again mimed locking her lips and he grinned.

“It was alright,” Ilya said casually. “Hunter gave long, boring speech.”

“Stop it,” Rose said, smacking his arm. “It was actually really nice.”

“Was okay,” Ilya conceded, but his smile was soft as he looked at her. She wrinkled her nose up at him. “More fun when we went to a gay bar with him afterwards, though.”

Shane choked.

“What?!”

Rose couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. 

“You went to a gay bar?” Shane spluttered.

“We did,” Rose enthused. “I got soooo drunk. And we danced all night!”

“So many hot guys,” Ilya said, fighting a smile. “They couldn’t get enough of me.”

“That’s true,” she conceded. “You left a lot of broken hearts out on that dancefloor.”

“What the fuck?” Shane whispered. His hands were tight where they gripped the steering wheel.

“Oh, don’t worry, Hollander,” Ilya said, leaning forward with a cocky grin. “If you had been there, I would not have danced with anyone except you.”

“I think the look on Scott Hunter’s face when he saw us was the highlight,” Rose mused. “He was horrified, thought you were going to make fun of him.”

“I did, many times,” Ilya said with faux seriousness. “Hunter is a shit dancer. Too old, probably. I could hear his knees creaking from across the room.”

“How is this my life now?” Shane said with a put-upon sigh, turning off the main highway to a smaller road.

“You love it,” Ilya said confidently.

Shane rolled his eyes. He didn’t deny it.