“If he does, he’ll be hearing from me,” Farah continued. “If that’s what you want.”
Shane wasn’t sure. The one thing he knew is that he wanted to keep playing in the NHL, and Crowell had the ability to make that difficult, or at least uncomfortable. Shane was pretty sure Crowell couldn’t actually kick him or Ilya out, though.
He glanced at Ilya, who only shrugged. “Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Shane said, though he doubted they’d be so lucky.
“What should we do next?” Ilya asked.
“First,” Farah said, “I’m going to write an official statement. Unless you want to write it yourselves.”
“Nope,” Shane said at the same time Ilya said, “No way.”
“I figured. I’ll get that written and send it to both of you when I’m done. I think we should post it as soon as possible.”
“Okay,” Shane said, “but I want to wait until after practice this afternoon at least. I need to talk to my team.”
“That’s reasonable. But we should release it tomorrow at the latest, probably.”
“All right. Yeah.”
“What about your team, Ilya?” Farah asked. “Have you spoken to anyone there?”
“Not yet. But I think it will be okay.”
“I think so too. But I’m sorry this happened,” Farah said. “It’s awful. Hayden must feel terrible.”
“He does,” Shane said, “but we talked to him. It’s not his fault.”
“Good. Okay, let me get cracking on this statement. I know things are bleak right now, but it will die down. We’ll steer things back your way, I promise.”
Shane stared at the phone for a while after the call ended, still numb. Ilya rubbed his shoulder.
“Farah will help,” Ilya assured him.
“I’m worried she can’t.”
“I know.” Ilya sighed. “I have to go back to Ottawa now. Our plane leaves in a few hours.”
“Right. Shit.”
“I am sorry to leave you now. Will you be okay?”
“I mean, no. I’ll be a fucking mess.” He blew out a breath. “I need to try to talk to J.J. before practice.”
“Do you think your team will be okay?”
“I have no idea. Probably not at first. I don’t think Coach is going to be okay with it. Or management. Or, like, anyone.” Shane sighed. “I’ll find out this afternoon, I guess.”
Ilya took his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing Shane’s knuckles. “One thing at a time.”
Shane shifted closer until his face was hovering over Ilya’s. “One thing at a time,” he agreed. He kissed him, and realizedthis was it. Ilya was going to leave the safety of Shane’s house soon, and walk into chaos. The secret wasn’t a secret anymore, and it was time to face whatever was about to happen next. Together.
“Fuck,” Ilya said when he spotted the black SUV parked outside the gates at the end of his driveway. He didn’t know who owned the vehicle, but he was sure they were here to bother him. Probably an overly ambitious journalist. He didn’t need this right now. He needed to pack, get Anya to the dog hotel, and then get to the team plane.
He pressed the remote button that opened his gate and steered into his driveway. When he stepped out of the car, he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“Ilya,” Coach Wiebe called out from the end of the driveway. “You got a minute?”
Ilya sighed, nodded, and gestured for his coach to follow him to the house. May as well get this over with.
