“Heisbeautiful,” Ilya said plainly. “And, like, sexy. You know what I mean.”
“I guess,” Shane said, as if he didn’t know exactly what Ilya was talking about. “But if I was staring at him it was only because I couldn’t figure out how he and Ryan are together.”
“Ryan is not ugly.”
“No,” Shane agreed. “Especially now that his hair and beard are all trimmed up. But I spent so many years being terrified of the guy, it’s still hard to see him as handsome, y’know?”
“He is a sweetheart. I am glad Fabian loves him.”
“How did they even meet?”
“Ryan lived with Fabian’s family when he played junior hockey.”
“What?Fabian’s parents billeted hockey players?”
“Yes. Big hockey family, I guess. Ryan told me he and Fabian, um...met again?”
“Reunited?”
“Yes. In Toronto when Ryan played there. Cute, right?”
It was really fucking cute. “Wow. So it was, like, destiny.”
“Maybe.”
Shane still couldn’t get over howdifferentRyan and Fabian were. Ryan was so huge and shy, often hunched to make himself appear smaller. Fabian was possibly a full foot shorter than him, but made himself impossible to ignore with his beauty and the unapologetic way he decorated himself with makeup, feminine clothing, and sparkly jewelry. “I’ll bet their sex life is wild.”
Ilya grinned. “Pervert.”
“As if you’ve never thought about it.” Shane waited for Ilya to merge from the off-ramp before he asked, “Do you think we looked like that to them?”
“What, sexy? I probably did.”
“No, like...in love?”
Ilya seemed to consider the question before answering. “We are very good at pretending to not be in love. Maybe we are bad at showing it when we are allowed.”
Ilya’s words felt like a lead vest. Shane slid down in his seat and stared out the window, frowning. Neither man said a word for the rest of the drive.
Chapter Four
“I fucking love hockey,” Max said with a big grin. He tossed his camp-issued bagged lunch on the coaches’ table and slid energetically into the seat opposite Ilya.
“It shows,” Ilya said, because Max had absolutely thrown himself into coaching this camp.
“I just—” Max glanced at the tables of kids all around them. “This is seriously the best. I’ve been mad at the game for a while, and I needed this.”
“I get that,” Ryan said quietly. “I mean, not for the same reason. Your situation is unfair and awful, but I kind of hated hockey until I, y’know, quit.”
Unlike Ryan, Max always spoke loudly and confidently. He pointed a finger at Ryan and said, “The NHL did you dirty, Ryan. I never liked how you were treated, and I like it even less now that I’ve met you and know what a sweetheart you are.”
Leah dropped into the seat next to her husband. “Are we talking about how much we love Ryan?”
“No,” Ryan mumbled to his sandwich.
“We’re talking about how fucked up hockey is. And how we love it anyway,” Max said.
Leah smiled. “Yep. That’s the problem right there.”
