“You have a chain now?” Ilya asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Shane said. “And a ring.”
Ilya smiled, and totally lost the face-off.
Ilya stared at the photo of Shane’s ring, nestled between his muscular, shower-damp pecs, for nearly the entire bus ride from the arena to the hotel. Shane had sent it from the locker room, presumably, which was bold and also super hot. It took some of the sting of losing 2–1 away.
He waited until he was safely in his hotel room before he texted Shane back:Can I see that ring again?
A couple of minutes later, a FaceTime request from Shane appeared on his phone.
“Hey,” Shane said. He was shirtless, the ring on full display. His hair was tied back and he was wearing his glasses, a lethal combination. “Sorry about the game.”
Ilya huffed. “No you are not. When did you start wearing the ring?”
“This morning.”
His heart flopped over. “Did anyone say anything?”
“No. I don’t think anyone wants to talk about it.” Shane sighed. “Tonight was the first time I hated playing against you. I may have even hated playing hockey altogether.”
“Was weird,” Ilya conceded, “but you love hockey.”
“You guys played a great game.”
“Not as great as your team.”
“It’s only the first game. We’re not cocky.” Shane grimaced. “Well, some of the guys are cocky.”
“Good,” Ilya said. “We like to be underestimated.”
“Big word,” Shane said with a cute little smile.
“Hockey word. One of the first ones I learned in Boston.”
“Montreal and Boston were both terrible teams when we joined them. I forget that, sometimes.”
Ilya smiled. “Do I need to fuck you in your trophy room again until you remember?”
Shane’s cheeks darkened. “I wish.”
“Do not forget,” Ilya said seriously, “what that team owes you.”
Shane chewed his lip and nodded. Ilya knew what the expression on his face meant. “Do you need help to relax before bed?”
Shane nodded again. “Please.”
Ilya rummaged through his suitcase with one hand until he found his folding tripod. “Get started. I will join you in a minute.”
Ottawa shut the Montreal crowd up by winning the second game, then both teams headed to Ottawa for games three and four. Ottawa made their home crowd roar by winning game three, then Montreal won the fourth game, tying the series at two wins apiece. They went back to Montreal, and the Voyageurs absolutely trounced the Centaurs 6–1 and put them on the ropes. Ottawa had to win the next game, back home in Ottawa, or they were out.
The Ottawa arena was packed for game six. It had been sold out for most of the past three months, but that night Ilya thought the noise rivaled the crowd back in Montreal. The Centaurs charged out onto the ice to an earsplitting roar from their hometown fans.
“Does the noise scare you?” Shane asked as they got ready for the puck drop. “I know you’re not used to it.”
Ilya snorted. “This is nothing. Wait until I score.”
“Oh yeah? When’s that happening?”
