Shane frowned as he seemed to consider it. Then he said, “If you want to come out, you should.”
“I can wait. Until summer. Is not long.”
“No,” Shane agreed.
They kissed, then Shane went back to resting against Ilya’s chest. Ilya stroked Shane’s hair, enjoying the quiet and the excitement that was crackling through him. Summer! Not ten years from now, butthis summer.
After several quiet minutes, Ilya said, “You have tomorrow off, yes?”
“Mm.”
“I am skipping practice.”
“Is it optional?” Shane murmured sleepily.
“I don’t care.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ilya felt like a fucking superhero as he got dressed for his next game.
The press of the ring that hung around his neck against his chest, under the layers of jersey, pads, and athletic shirt, was still foreign, but it sent a thrill through him every time he felt it. No one had asked about the ring. Probably no one had noticed it. Ilya wouldn’t give a straight answer if anyone did ask. He had a reputation for being mysterious anyway.
He’d met with Galina that afternoon after Shane had left, and they’d mostly talked about his near-death experience. He hadn’t told her that he’d gotten engaged. It still felt too new, too precious, to share with anyone.
Galina had probably noticed the change in him, though. He knew an engagement ring wasn’t a cure for depression, but he was happy to ride this high for as long as he could.
Which was why he hadn’t exactly gotten into his mental health concerns with Shane, like he’d planned. He was still optimistic that he could fix himself without troubling his future husband. It was probably stupid, but, well, Ilya had been feeling a bit stupid these past few days.
Tonight’s game was at home, and they were facing the number one ranked New York Admirals. Ilya wasn’t intimidated. He was Ilya fucking Rozanov, and it was time for his team to start winning.
He walked to the middle of the locker room. “Everyone listen.”
The room immediately fell silent. Ilya wasn’t surprised. He rarely gave speeches, preferring to lead with action more thanwords. Admittedly, he had no idea what he was going to say now, but he needed to saysomething.
He decided to start with something attention-grabbing. “The New York Admirals are not a better team than us.”
As he expected, his teammates began to scoff and laugh at that. Ilya talked right over it. “They arenot. They have Scott Hunter, we haveme.”
Across the room, Ilya could see Troy’s lips curve up. He kept going. “They have Tommy Andersson—a good goalie. Young, talented, yes. We have Wyatt Hayes—agreatgoalie.” He found Wyatt and grinned at him. “Old, talented.”
That caused the room to erupt into laughter and applause. Wyatt smiled back at him and said,“Experienced.”
Ilya continued until he’d named every player in the room, pointing out what made them great. What made thisteamgreat.
“I am fucking tired of losing. Enough. We are going to win this game tonight, and we are going to keep winning.” Since he was already making lofty promises, he decided to aim even higher. “We are going to fill every seat in this fucking arena. We are going to surpriseeveryoneand we are going to the playoffs this year. Not next year. Not in the future.This fucking year.”
Not one person in the room rolled their eyes or waved his bold predictions away. They all cheered, and it made Ilya’s heart soar. He loved this fucking team.
“We went through something together. It was fucking scary. But we are alive. We are all alive and I don’t plan on wasting another second of it.” No more losing, no more hiding his feelings, no more hiding his boyfriend. No more being afraid of his dark thoughts. No more being afraid of flying.
He finished the speech with, “Let’s fucking go.”
The roar of his teammates was deafening.
They won the fucking game.
Ilya scored, Troy scored, Luca scored. Even fucking Tanner Dillon had scored. Wyatt made great saves all night. And every minute had beenfun.
