Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

Gen, M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationships:

Shane Hollander & Rose Landry, Rose Landry & Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Rose Landry, Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

POV Outsider, Breaking Up & Making Up, Getting Back Together, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, the cottage, AU - no cup kiss, Relationship Reveal, Minor Rose Landry/Svetlana Vetrova, Compulsory Heterosexuality

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of From the Sidelines

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-11 Completed: 2026-03-11 Words: 12,219 Chapters: 2/2

Supporting Role

Summary

Shane Hollander is drunk. 

Rose has never seen him drunk before, and she suspects it's a rare occurrence based on how quickly he's getting sloppy and how little control he seems to have on his emotions. Despite being large and beefy enough to play professional hockey, Shane is kind of a lightweight.

"I'm never gonna get laid again," Shane mumbles, face buried in a pillow on Rose's lap.

Shane's injury is much more minor, so Ilya goes through with the breakup. Luckily, Rose is there to help him through it.

Notes

In this story, Ilya's dad is still alive, and Shane was only minorly injured by the hit from Marlow. The breakup happened as Ilya planned. Scott and Kip's cup kiss also did not happen (maybe next year!) Instead of these plot conveniences moving the romance forward, we have Rose ❤️

Chapter 1

Chapter Notes

Shane Hollander is drunk. 

Rose has never seen him drunk before, and she suspects it's a rare occurrence based on how quickly he's getting sloppy and how little control he seems to have on his emotions. Despite being large and beefy enough to play professional hockey, Shane is kind of a lightweight.

"I'm never gonna get laid again," Shane mumbles, face buried in a pillow on Rose's lap.

She strokes his hair in a effort to be soothing. "Babe, you're being dramatic. You're hot, rich, and young, not to mention super nice. You could have guys falling at your feet if you wanted to."

"No, I can't," he whines. "You know I can't. I can't let anybody"—he drags the word out dramatically—"know my secret."

She sighs. "There are tons of gay men in Hollywood in happy relationships who aren't publicly out. I know it's hard, and it's not fair, but it's not impossible."

He's quiet for a moment as if thinking. "It doesn't matter, anyway," he groans. "Because I only want him."

Her hand stills in his hair. "Who?"

"Him." He sits up and reaches for the wine, downing the rest of his glass. "But he dumped me."

"Who is him?" she repeats. Shane said he'd been with a guy before, but he never mentioned seeing anyone seriously.

"It's a secret," he says in an exaggerated whisper. "Not allowed to talk about it. Not allowed to be together. Which is why he dumped me, and it makes sense—there's no future—but I miss him so fucking much."

He falls back into her lap with a dramatic sigh. It's an uncharacteristic action for him—she kind of likes drunk Shane, and then feels bad for thinking so because he's clearly miserable. 

"Okay, you don't have to tell me who it is," she says calmly, though her curiosity is killing her. "But maybe you want to talk about it anyway, like vaguely? We only broke up a few months ago—when did you even meet him?"

"A long time ago," he says with a sigh, and then looks up with her with wide, wet eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to date you when I was still so hung up on him. Are you mad at me?"

"Mad at you? Babe, I don't even know what you're talking about." It would make a lot of sense, though, if Shane was messed up over some guy when they started dating. He tried so hard with her when it was so obviously never going to work.

"It started to get too serious," he explains. "It was supposed to be casual and then all of the sudden it wasn't. And I freaked out and ran away. And then I met you and I really, really liked you and I thought it would be so much easier if—" He sucks in a shuddering breath. "But I'm gay and I miss him so much." His voice breaks. "It's so stupid how much I miss him. I didn't think it would hurt this bad."

"Wow," she says, brushing his hair again. There are tears welling up in his eyes, but they are't quite falling down his cheeks. "Why isn't it 'allowed?'" she asks. "Is it... another player?"

He wipes his eyes with his palm. "Maybe," he says with a sniff. "But it's not just that, it's—" He cuts himself off.

She probably shouldn't press when he's drunk like this. She doubts Shane would ever confide this much to her sober. But she wants to help, and he clearly needs to talk to somebody about it, and she knows how to keep a secret. "It's what?"

"It's..." He looks like he's going to elaborate and then stops himself.

"It's not Hayden Pike, is it? Because he's married and—"

"No, ew!" Shane interjects, scrunching his nose. "No, I wouldn't—Oh my god. No."

"He's cute! But okay, not a married guy?"

"No, oh my god. No, he's single. Or he's not in a relationship. He fucks other people, though."

Her mind flips through possible options, but she doesn't know Shane's type and doesn't have much to go off of. Someone slutty and single, but that doesn't narrow things down too much, and it's not like she pays much attention to the personal lives of players in general.

Shane groans loudly. "Stop trying to figure out who it is! I can see you thinking."

"Okay," she says, putting up a hand. "I won't guess. But... he's hot, right?"

"God, yes," he says, sounding almost pained. "He's so hot. And fun. Funny. And nice to me."

"He's nice to you?" That's important. Shane's sweet—he deserves someone who would treat him right.

"He's so nice to me," he says dreamily. "I mean, he's an asshole, too, but... it's kind of an act. He always takes good care of me."

Kind of an asshole is a clue to this mystery man's identity, but she tries to respect Shane's wishes and not think about it. "But you're not exclusive?"

"No." He frowns. "We're not anything now."

"But when—"

"It was casual. But..."

When he doesn't elaborate, she asks, "You think he has feelings for you, too?"

Shane sits up on the couch, but he doesn't look at her as he traces patterns on the cushion. "I know he has feelings for me. He said that's why he had to call things off, because it was getting too complicated. His... home life situation, it's not good for him to be gay, let alone with hockey and everything. Well, I think he's bisexual actually, but you know what I mean." 

Damn. What could she even say to that? She pulls him in for a hug and feels him shudder against her as he starts to cry. 

"Sorry," he mumbles into her shoulder.

"It's okay," she says, rubbing his back. "Breakups are hard."

And isn't she the most magnanimous ex-girlfriend in the world, comforting her distraught ex after he was dumped by somebody else. She tries not to think too hard about what that says about her.

"Can you even break up with someone if you weren't ever together?" he says, voice cracking over the words.

"Well... you were together, in some capacity, right? And for a long time it sounds like?"

He nods. "Since we were teenagers."

Holy shit. Rose can't imagine being casual with a guy she'd been fucking for, what, seven or more years? Certainly Shane doesn't seem like the type who could manage it, either. "Is he the only guy you've been with?"

He pulls away from her, wiping the tears awkwardly from his face. "Mostly. I tried hooking up with a guy a gay bar once, but I was so nervous, I couldn't enjoy it. And once with a guy in Mexico, but it was... it wasn't the same." He lets out another groan that's half whine. "It's only ever been good with him."

She reaches out to rub his shoulder. "I promise there are other men out there who you can have good sex with it." 

But she isn't sure how true that was, actually. It feels like it has to be, but Rose's own sexual history is not exactly a promising example. Men always show a lot of interest in her, but so often they are into the idea of her, or of what it says about them that they get to be with her. Even with her definitely straight boyfriends, she isn't sure she's ever had sex that was so mind-blowing that she'd get drunk and bemoan the loss of it like Shane is doing. Isn't that a depressing thought? Maybe it isn't fair, either—Shane would have legitimate difficulties even finding a partner he could feel safe to be with, so he has more reason for the bemoaning.

"I just don't know why this hurts so bad," Shane says through a sob. "I'm so miserable. I miss him so much even though we hardly even got to see each other."

"Are you... in love with him?" she asks gently.

"What? No."

She raises her eyebrows at him.

"No, I can't—" A look of confusion and then horror crosses his face. "Shit, maybe?" He buries his head in his hands. "Oh, fuck."

"Sorry," she says, rubbing his back again. "Should I not have brought it up?"

"I guess I should know my own feelings," he mutters, sounding unhappy about it. "Fuck. You really think I'm in love with him?"

"I don't know, but if I had been hooking up with the same guy for that long and he was the only one who I ever enjoyed myself with, well... it'd be hard not to develop some pretty serious feelings."

"Oh my god." 

Rose pours herself more wine. Shane has probably had enough, but she doesn't deny him when he puts out his glass in front of her.

"Not judging, but I thought you said you didn't drink during the season," she says, aiming for a subject change. 

"Playoffs are bust this year, anyway," Shane says, taking a long drink of the wine. "Too many injuries. We're on our third string goalie and I'm still messed up from that bad check from Marlow."

"Your back is still bothering you? Should you even be playing?"

"I'm cleared to play, but I'm not at my best. Won't be our year."

"Who do you think's gonna win?" Maybe steering the conversation toward hockey would get Shane's mind off his breakup.

He thinks for a moment. "Admirals have been on fire lately. My mom thinks it's Scott Hunter's year, and she knows her hockey."

"Not Boston? I think the bookies have them taking it."

He swallows, something flickering briefly across his face that she can't recognize. "Rozanov is injured. Bruised ribs."

"I hadn't heard that."

Shane shrugs and then asks, "When do you start filming that new superhero movie?"

"Two months. It was supposed to start last week, but apparently they're doing a bunch of last minute rewrites, so now I get to take some personal time. God, I hope the rewrites are good—that script is a mess."

"But it's a fun project, right?"

"It'll pay well, at least," she says with a rueful laugh. Truthfully, she wants to be released from the franchise, maybe have her character killed off. The scripts get worse and worse and there are so many other projects she'd rather be doing. What had once felt like such a huge opportunity now makes her feel a bit like a sellout, embarrassed to be acting in something so meaningless.

"Do you have plans for your time off?"

She sighs. "My agent has a bunch of things she wants me to do, but I told her not to book anything yet. I was kinda hoping for a break, to be honest. Maybe take a trip or something, but I haven't figured out where."

Shane is quiet for a moment. "Do you wanna come to my cottage for a few weeks? It's on a lake and there are lots of trails and stuff nearby. It's private. I usually go there for a bit during the off season." He pauses. "I guess it's not super exciting, but—"

"No, it sounds nice," she says before he can backtrack. "Lovely, actually. I could use something lowkey to just unwind. Do you usually go by yourself?"

"Mostly. My parents have a house nearby." He sounds a bit pained. "I was going to invite him the night he broke up with me. So, uh. I dunno, I guess I'm still a little sad about that."

"Ah, so I'm the consolation prize?"

"No!" he says quickly. "I really would like to spend time more time with you, and it could be fun. Only if you want, though." 

It does sound fun. "Okay," she agrees. "Yeah, that would be nice, I think."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah."

The cottage is kind of boring.

Okay, that's probably rude, and she definitely wouldn't let Shane know she's thinking it, but there just... isn't a lot to do. Rose has gotten so used to the fast-paced lifestyle of being a star in demand that she's sort of forgotten how to sit around doing nothing. There's a certain aesthetic appeal to doing yoga out on the dock in front of a lake at dawn, but she likes the idea of it more than actually doing it.

Also, Shane is definitely sulking. He warned her, and she gets it—he'd rather have the guy he's in love with here than her—but she's a little pissed off anyway. She loves Shane, he's one of the nicest and most earnest men she's ever met, but he's not much of an entertainer, especially when he's in a grumpy mood. It's clear that when he normally comes here, he spends his time training and reading, neither of which are really her thing. So sue her, she's an actress—she wouldn't have gone into the field if she didn't thrive on drama and attention.

It's fine. It's enjoyable enough to lounge out by the lake with a podcast and go on her little hikes. Kayaking had been kind of fun, even if her arms got tired. Still, she can't help itching for a bit more excitement.

She gets her wish a week into the trip when a phone on the coffee table buzzes with a notification and she instinctively glances at the screen before realizing it's not hers.

I miss you

The text is from 'Lily.' Shane's never mentioned a Lily. Her eyes are still on the phone when another one comes through.

I wish I said yes

Holy shit, wait, is this Shane's guy? She should respect Shane's privacy, but she can't help looking at the screen while Shane is in the other room preparing brunch for them both.

I hate it here

No other messages come through, and she doesn't know how to interpret the last message. Obviously, it's not for her, but she's buzzing with curiosity.

"Your phone's been vibrating," she says casually as she comes into the kitchen. "I can finish up brunch if you want to check on it."

"My mom was supposed to get back to me with some updates from my agent. I guess I should see what she wants. Uh, the omelets are almost done, just need to be flipped again in a minute or so."

"I got it."

She tends to the stove while Shane goes to retrieve his phone. When he comes back, he looks shell-shocked.

"What'd your mom say? Something bad?"

"Um." His eyes are welled up with tears and she suddenly regrets being nosy.

"Are you okay?"

"He texted. Uh, the guy I almost invited here." His voice trembles. "I don't—Fuck."

"Oh, babe, it's okay." She comes to the other side of the island and wraps him in a hug.

"Don't let the omelets burn," he says into her shoulder.

"I got it." She releases him to turn off the stove and plates up the food, serving them both at the bar. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I don't know," he says, sounding miserable. "I don't know how to talk about it. But he, uh, said he misses me."

"That's good, right?"

"I don't know! Nothing's changed. He said he regrets not coming here, but... we still can't be together, so I don't know what he wants. Maybe he's drunk."

"Maybe you should call him." Is this good advice? Rose is so curious about Shane's mystery man, she can't help but wonder if her thirst for gossip is overriding her ability to offer reasonable friend advice.

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I don't know," she says honestly. "You haven't really told me enough about the situation to be able to tell. Is it really so impossible for you to be together?"

"Yes," he says, sounding utterly convinced.

She gives him a sad shrug. "Maybe you need to get closure then?"

An honest to god whimper slips out of Shane's mouth.

"Or... maybe not? You want to call him, though, I think."

"Yeah," he says, voice thick with emotion.

"You won't be a bad person if you call. Even if it's 'impossible.'"

He takes a slow, stuttering breath at that, something seeming to settle within him. "Yeah, I'm just gonna... I'm gonna call."

He leaves his omelet untouched as he goes into the bedroom and closes the door. Rose is absolutely dying to eavesdrop, but that feels like a step too far, and she instead tries to focus on her meal as she browses Twitter. After she finishes eating, Shane still isn't back, so she puts his food in the fridge and grabs an iced coffee to drink on the patio.

Shane looks shaken when he comes out to join her. She has no idea how to read his expression or whether it's good or bad.

"Did it go okay?" she asks.

"Uh, yeah? I think?" A smile starts to break through his nervous expression. "It's still... we didn't figure anything out, really, but... I don't know. Maybe someday, I guess."

She nods, trying to be encouraging. "Someday? Like..."

"It's... hard to talk about without getting into personal details. Sorry. But, uh... I don't know. He wants to go back to how things were, at least. Like, when we were hooking up."

Her eyebrows raise. "And is that what you want?"

"Maybe? I know that's pathetic, but I feel like I'll never find anyone I like like I like him, so..."

It is a little pathetic, but she's also jealous that Shane's found someone he likes well enough to be that pathetic for. There's a tragic kind of romance to it that she finds weirdly appealing, even if actually being in a situation like that must suck.

"He, uh, he wanted to come here," Shane says, a hint of optimism in his voice that he doesn't quite seem to trust. "I told him no, obviously, since you're here, but—"

"What?! Shane, babe, you don't have to turn him down on my behalf."

"I'm not going to kick you out, though," he says, sounding perplexed that she would even offer. "You're here for another week and a half." 

She actually wouldn't mind the excuse to leave, which makes her feel like a horrible friend. "Do you want him to come here?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Then you should invite him. I can head back early."

"R-really? You wouldn't mind? I don't want you to think I don't want to spend time you, I do! It's been really fun hanging out with you here."

He sounds so genuine that it makes her feel like a bitch for finding it boring. "I wouldn't mind. Although..."

"What?"

She shrugs. "I'm kind of curious to meet him."

His eyes go wide.

"You don't need to freak out! I don't have to. It's just a thought. It seems like maybe you'd like to have someone you can talk to about him with? Like, really talk to? I can keep a secret—I am an actress. And I have plenty of closeted friends, believe me. Haven't outed anyone yet."

Shane mulls it over. "I guess I wouldn't mind if you knew. But it's risky for him. I don't know if he'd agree."

"If he doesn't, then I'll leave. If I leave early, it'd be most practical for me to leave Saturday, since I'm having my place deep cleaned on Friday and I don't want to be there for it. So either he could come then or come a few days early and we can overlap a bit."

A conflicted look crosses Shane's face. "Okay," he says, letting out a breath. "Let me, uh, call him."

With the potential of meeting Shane's secret NHL paramour, she lets herself indulge in trying to guess who it is. Her clues so far are: single, kind of slutty, kind of an asshole. She tries to imagine Shane's type. He likes her and wanted to date her, so maybe someone with a similar personality? Except she doesn't think many players are much like actors—the majority tend to be pretty conventional and kind of bland. Nobody really comes to mind because it's not a lot to go off of, but there are certain players who she's wondered about, whether they could be gay. She ranks the hottest ones in her head and makes up a list of the most likely candidates.

When Shane finally comes back outside, he looks lighter, happy and a little overwhelmed. She's glad for him.

"Go okay?"

"Yeah," he says with a bashful smile. "Well, it's not so great for him that he's having a miserable time with his family. It sounds complicated. I'm not happy about that, but, uh, he wants to get out of there as soon as possible, so he's gonna fly out tomorrow."

Her eyes go wide as a smile creeps across her face. "So I get to meet your mystery man! Ooh, I'm so excited!"

He laughs nervously, rubbing his hand in his hair. "Yeah. That is going to be weird. We've never told anyone. Nobody knows. At least, I don't think anyone knows."

"So I get to know who it is?"

Shane hesitates. "Yes. But, uh, I'm still a little nervous he might change his mind? So I want to wait to tell you until he's already on his way, if that's okay."

It's reasonable but she's absolutely dying to know. She doesn't even know why she cares so much—it's not like she knows every player, let alone any of them personally, except for a few players on Shane's team. It could be some fourth stringer she's never heard of. 

"That's fair," she agrees. "This is exciting! I know you said it's still 'impossible,' but I really think you guys can figure something out. I'm rooting for you."

He swallows. "Yeah, uh. Maybe."

The reminder of the reality of the situation has dampened his good mood and she feels guilty for it, so she spends the rest of the day trying to cheer him up and enjoy their last day of time together just the two of them. She really does enjoy Shane's company, even if his choice of activities is not exactly her speed.

Over dinner, she tries to brainstorm solutions for their relationship problem. Shane is still hesitant to give details, but she gathers that it would be really bad for the other guy to come out publicly because of his home life situation, which complicates things. There are also some subtle hints that who it is in particular is part of the problem, in terms of their careers.

"What if you played for the same team? I know you don't always have control over it, but if you could, would that make it easier?"

"Not possible," he answers quickly. "No team would have the cap space."

Interesting. "You don't do things by halves, huh? Had to secure a star player?"

He flushes. "I-I mean..."

Maybe it's Scott Hunter. She always kinda got vibes from him, and he's never been attached to anyone as far as she knows. His wholesome image seems compatible with Shane.

"You don't have to elaborate. But okay, not the same team. Maybe if you were close by, at least? Some teams aren't very far from each other."

"I don't think I could leave Montreal and he... he's in a similar boat—he's played for his team forever. I mean, the only team close to Montreal is Ottawa, and they're terrible. I don't think he would go there."

She hums. "Maybe they wouldn't be so terrible with a star center. Is he a center?"

"I'm not answering that. You'll find out soon, anyway."

"So you're just going to do the long distance, secret thing until retirement, or... even longer, maybe, if he can't come out for personal reasons?"

"I don't know," Shane whines. "I don't know."

She decides to leave it be. If the other guy can't come out for personal reasons, and they can't move closer to each other, then it does seem to be a bit of a dead end for their relationship. But it means something that the guy is flying out here anyway, and she hopes that there's some angle to solving their situation that will reveal itself when she has more details.

The next morning over brunch, Shane's mouth hands over as he stares at his phone. 

"So, uh, he's at the airport," he says, looking a bit bewildered, like he can't quite believe it. "I guess he's really coming here."

"Shane! That's great. I know it's hard, but I'm happy you'll get to see your man."

"Yeah," he says with a tentative smile. "Um, I appreciate you not trying to figure out who it is. But... well, since you'll know soon anyway..." He chews his lip. "Who do you think?"

"You're not going to be offended by my guesses, right?"

"What? No! Or, I'll try not to be. I guess I want to know how... obvious it is. If it's guessable."

Finally she gets to guess. "Maybe Scott Hunter? I always got kinda gay vibes from him. He's been single a long time, and he's an expensive player who has played on the same team for a long time."

Shane's face contorts into a mix of surprise and distaste. "Hunter? Uh, no. Wait, you think he's gay?"

She shrugs. "Well, not a lot of players that old that have never been attached to anyone. He fits the clues, and he's hot."

He grimaces. "I guess. It's not Hunter, though."

Damn, she was so sure she was right. "It's not Dallas Kent, is it? You said it was someone who sleeps around a lot, and I've heard he has that reputation."

"Jesus Christ, no! That guy is an asshole."

"Well, you said your guy is an asshole!"

"Not... not like that. He can be a antagonistic but he's not a terrible person. He's a really good person, actually."

She huffs a breath. "Maybe... Larson? No, wait, he hasn't been with the Orcas that long. Um..." She starts running through the roster in her head, but none of them quite fit with all of the clues.

"It's Rozanov," Shane blurts.

She blinks, her brain stuttering over the name for a second. "Damn, really? Holy shit."

"I know. He's, like, the worst person I could have picked, not to mention that if he's outed, he wouldn't ever be able to go home to Russia."

"Wow, yeah. That sucks." She punches him lightly in the shoulder. "But good for you! He's hot. I should have known you wouldn't settle for any less than the second best player in the league." He blushes, biting back a smile. "I'm surprised he's into men, though. I guess I shouldn't stereotype, but he gives very hetero vibes."

"I guess. He likes women, too, so it makes it... easier, maybe, for him to hide it."

That surprises her. Not that Rozanov would be into women—that she can believe—but that he would risk being with a man at all if he had the choice, given the circumstances. 

It must show on her face, because Shane asks, "What?"

She purses her lip, not sure how much she should say when the relationship feels so fragile. "Just... he must be really into you. It's this huge risk to be with a man, right, like it's bad enough he could get kicked out of his home country permanently?" She shrugs. "It would be a lot easier to just stick to women, you know?"

"Oh." Shane looks contemplative. "Yeah, I guess."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he's in love with you, too," she says, deciding to be bold. "It sounds like serious shit."

Shane tried so hard to make things work with her, even though they were never going to. She can't help but think that he wouldn't be taking the same risks if he had the choice, and he's not in any danger of losing his citizenship or ability to go home. It's sweet that someone would risk so much for him—she can't help but feel a little jealous at the devotion—but there's something unbalanced about it that gives her pause.

But whatever is happening between Shane and Rozanov is precarious enough already and she decides not to push it. 

"I'm excited to meet him tomorrow," she says instead, when it's clear Shane is too lost in his thoughts to respond to her.

"Oh, about that," he says, a little nervous. "He's flying into Ottawa, and I know it's kind of far, but I was wondering if you might... pick him up? I know it's a big ask, but there's a high chance someone will recognize him at the airport and I... I don't want to ruin this before we even have a chance to really talk about it, you know? I would owe you big time."

Driving to Ottawa doesn't sound particularly fun, but she is intrigued by the prospect of grilling Rozanov about this whole situationship. "Sure, I can do that."

"Thank you," he says, sounding relieved.

"If we do get spotted, though, your rivalry rumors are going to get worse. If he's making moves on your famous ex."

"Better than the alternative," he says ruefully.

"Well, I'll try to stay hidden, anyway. You wanna give me his number so we can coordinate?"

Shane hesitates only briefly before giving it to her. She shoots off a text.

Hey, it's Rose! Hear you'll be flying in tomorrow and I've been assigned to pick you up 😇 Wanted you to have my number so you can text me when you land.

hello Rose

thank you for picking me up. Jane has flight details. 

"Jane," she says aloud.

"Oh, yeah," Shane says with a flush. "We don't ever use our real names in text, just in case anybody ever sees the text threads. Teammates can be... nosy."

"Wait, do your teammates think you've got a girl in Boston? That's hilarious. What's her name?"

Shane clears his throat. "Lily."

She smiles. "Unbreakable code names."

"Nobody should be seeing these names, anyway!" he says, face red. "And it's not like people are going to assume the girl I'm texting is my hockey rival, right?" It's phrased as an actual question. 

"No, babe, they're not going to assume that," she reassures him gently. "But your team does know about her? What do they know?"

"Not much. They know I'm, you know, private." He pauses, a small, nervous smile emerging on his face. "Hayden says I play better after I see her, though."

She laughs. "And do you?"

"I guess." Shane looks down at his plate. "It's kind of stressful, though. He keeps telling me I should bring her to a game sometime, which I obviously can't do. He doesn't understand why we're still casual and I can't, like, explain myself. And everyone always talks shit about him, and I get it—professionally, he's the enemy—but it's still hard to hear people say terrible things about him, especially from Hayden."

"Okay, so tell me about him. What's he actually like? Because the public-facing Rozanov is..." she searches for a diplomatic word.

"Yeah," Shane agrees.

"So what's the real version?"

Shane thinks about it for a moment, turning his mug in his hands. "He's funny. Kind of an asshole, but he's never really mean, at least not to me. He's thoughtful, really, and smarter than people think he is. I think it bothers him that he can't express himself fully in English."

She smiles encouragingly. "He sounds sweet. I'm excited to meet him." She purses her lips. "And he's good in bed?"

Shane's ears go pink and he ducks his head. "Yeah," he mumbles into his coffee. "It's—I've tried to call it off a dozen times by now, but... I don't know, it is good. It's really hard to say to no to it."

He's so cute. She's sure Shane has never been able to talk about this sort of thing before, and it's endearing to watch him navigate it now.

"You must be good in bed if his slutty reputation is to be believed and he keeps coming back to you."

Shane makes a strangled sound, but there's something pleased in his expression too. Then it wavers slightly. "I mean—I wasn't—with you, I—"

"Shane." She reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. "I know. It's fine." 

He nods, still looking a little mortified, and she lets it drop.

She leans back in her chair, cradling her mug. Shane looks happy and it's a good look on him. Tomorrow she'll drive to Ottawa to pick up the person responsible for that.

She's looking forward to it.

Chapter End Notes

Second fandom where I am writing no cup kiss AUs...

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

She sees Ilya approach through the side mirror wearing a backwards snapback, sunglasses and a sleeveless tank. It's not much of a disguise, but nobody seems to be following him, and she allows herself a moment to acknowledge that he looks hot. A jock in a more traditional sense than Shane, which isn't exactly her type, but she can see the appeal.

She gestures to the back of the car and pops open the trunk for him to store his suitcase.

"Hi," he says, curt and clipped, as he slides into the front seat and closes the door.

"Hey, nice to meet you," she replies, aiming to keep her tone light and friendly as she pulls out of the lot. "How was your flight?"

"Long," he answers, his tone giving nothing away. "But it was okay. No problems."

"Good, glad to hear it."

There's a beat of silence where neither of them say anything. Rose has always found it easy to socialize with anyone, but there's no roadmap for interacting with your gay ex-boyfriend's secret lover, she supposes. It had seemed fun, initially, the idea of getting to interrogate Ilya for details of their relationship, but the reality is a lot more awkward than she envisioned.

"This is your car?" he asks eventually. He's nervous, she realizes.

"Hah, no. I barely ever drive. It's Shane's."

"Ah. Very... practical."

"Shane's a practical guy."

It's an opening of sorts for them to talk about Shane, but Ilya doesn't take it. "You don't like driving?" he asks instead.

"I usually get driven around instead. I'm not a big car girl, anyway."

He clears his throat. "I am sorry you have been made to drive to Ottawa. Thank you for doing it."

"Oh, no worries! I don't mind." They've made their way away from the airport and are headed toward town, passing by a few restaurants and coffee shops. "Did you eat already? We could stop and get something if you want."

"I can wait until we are at the cottage."

"Are you sure? I'm kinda hungry myself. No offense to Shane, but the man is strict about his diet. I mean, I diet, too, but I cheat more than he does, and I'm not obsessed with boiled veggies and chicken."

Ilya lets out a sound that is almost a laugh. "Yes, he has bird diet. Or maybe rabbit." There's a brief pause, and then something almost teasing creeps into his tone as he adds, "But I appreciate."

For a moment, she doesn't understand what he means, and then—Jesus, is Ilya really making jokes about having anal sex with her ex-boyfriend? It's so absurd that she half laughs, not quite sure what to say to ease the tension in the car as she can tell he regrets the comment. She contemplates whether embarrassing Shane is worth it to make things easier. It's a long drive, after all. "You know, when we broke up, we were talking about why things weren't working and he told me, and I quote, he'd 'rather be the hole.'"

Rozanov snorts beside her, seeming to relax a bit. "You are serious? I have a hard time believing. He is very, ah, nervous, talking about sex."

"Yeah, but he's honest, too. I think he was trying to clarify exactly why we weren't compatible. Probably the funniest thing a gay boyfriend has ever told me."

"This has happened to you before?"

"Oh yeah. Theater school, you know? I thought branching out and dating a hockey player might spare me this time, but I seem to have a gift."

He hums quietly and takes a moment before saying, "He told you he is gay?"

"More like I told him he's gay."

"This sounds more believable," he says, amused, and Rose thinks it was worth it to throw Shane under the bus to break the tension. "You could tell?"

"Like I said, I have experience with gay boyfriends. He tried really hard, and he was super nice, but it was clear he wasn't really into me, so..."

"It is good to be confident. Cannot be your fault, right? Only explanation is your boyfriend is gay." His tone wavers slightly, like he's second-guessing whether he has the right to tease her.

"Well, I am a movie star," she says easily. "Guys tend to be pretty excited to sleep with me, but he kind of acted like he would rather be getting a root canal any time we had sex."

He clicks his tongue. "He has never told me. That he is gay."

"Oh, shit. I didn't mean to out him or anything, I just assumed..."

"It's okay. I had a guess."

"Right." She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. "Wait, did you say you wanted food or no?"

"I do not need to stop. But if you want a break from bird food, I understand."

She smiles and puts on her turn signal.

Shane is standing just outside the front door, rocking on the balls of his feet, when they pull up.

"Hey," he says with a shaky wave as they get out of the car. He's so nervous, it's adorable.

"Hi," Ilya replies, and the way they're tentatively smiling at each other is so sappy she almost can't stand it.

Rose goes to retrieve Ilya's suitcase from the trunk and allows them a moment to greet each other, but they're still just staring, as if unsure what's allowed.

"I assume he'll be staying in your room?" Rose says, gesturing at the suitcase.

Shane's eyes dart questioningly to Ilya.

"Yes, I think?" Ilya says, glancing back at her. "I can carry."

He reaches for the bag, but Shane stops him. "Your ribs are still bruised, right? You should be careful."

"You will make the lady carry my bag?"

"Not very feminist of you, Ilya," Rose says, taking it inside. "I got it."

She deposits the suitcase in Shane's room as Shane starts giving him a tour of the cottage. She wants to watch how this plays out, but the tension between them is so palpable she's worried they might fuck right in front of her, so she decides to be kind and bow out.

"I'm pretty tired from the drive," she says, stretching her arms. "So I think I'm gonna take a nap. I'll be in my room downstairs for the next few hours. With earplugs in."

Shane clears his throat. "You don't have to—"

"I'm good! Have fun," she says, throwing them a wink.

"Thank you again for picking me up," Ilya says as she leaves, and she appreciates it, that he's polite.

When she gets to her room, she falls onto the bed with a heavy sigh. Fuck.

She's happy for them, really, but there's something sad about it too, watching their situation unfold. A week of privacy to be together is not much, and she feels bad that she's intruding on it at all, but whatever, she's leaving soon.

As she settles onto the bed, she debates between earplugs and headphones, eventually deciding to go with headphones. She blasts music and scrolls Instagram for a while before she starts to get restless. A nap would be nice, but she's too wired, so she pulls her pocket vibrator out from her bag. It's quiet, so they probably won't hear her. They're definitely distracted anyway.

She gets herself off imagining what they're doing up there. There must be such relief in finally being together after so long apart, in satisfying that ache and longing. It makes her feel a little guilty, but she figures Shane owes her an orgasm or two. Although Shane's lack of enthusiasm for her in bed was a big turnoff, he has a fantastic body. She pictures them together, the image of him ass up on the edge of the bed, moaning shamelessly into the sheets as he takes Ilya's cock. It's hot, but it doesn't quite get her there, and she retreats back to familiar memory of a favorite porn video, some simple amateur porn of a woman riding her boyfriend's cock to orgasm. It's easiest for her to get off to other people coming, and of course she only knows what it feels like to orgasm as a woman, so that's usually what does it for her. 

As soon as she catches her breath, she's left feeling hollow and lonely, but at least she's tired enough to fall asleep.

It's late afternoon by the time she wakes up. She'll probably regret sleeping so long and ruining her sleep schedule for later, but at least she's not on any particular schedule.

Through the glass door, she sees Shane cooking dinner on the grill, Ilya behind him pressing kisses into his neck. It's so romantic and domestic that she feels a little sick. She's never had that kind of ease with a partner, always a hint of discomfort in her relationships. Being with men puts her on edge, like they always want something from her and can never quite be equals. She's seen healthy relationships and believes they can exist, but she's never been in one, and she wonders if she'll ever have the chance to experience it.

She slides the door open and steps outside. "What's for dinner?"

"Burgers," Shane says, glancing over at her.

Ilya peers over his shoulder at the grill. "He is making too many burgers."

"We might eat them all! There are three of us."

Ilya presses another kiss to the back of his neck and then steps back to address Rose. "I hope you like too many burgers. Will be a good change from bird food."

She laughs. "Yeah, Shane, what gives? You've been feeding me boiled chicken and veggies, but it's burgers now that your boyfriend is here?"

The word 'boyfriend' is out of her mouth before she can think better of it, and both of them freeze slightly in response. Ah, so there has been no define-the-relationship talk. She shouldn't have assumed.

Shane clears his throat. "There's salad, too," he offers weakly. "If somebody would make it..."

"I told you I am not making salad. I will prepare food that is good, but—"

"I can make the salad," Rose interjects. "I'm always on these annoying diets, believe me I know the tricks to making them taste as good as possible."

Shane nods and lets her go into the kitchen. She knows her way around enough by now and finds the ingredients to make a passable salad and dressing. She watches them through the windows as she works, and it's cute, the hesitant but eager way they are around each other.

When they sit down to dinner outside, the conversation starts off a bit stilted, but Shane looks so genuinely thrilled that Ilya is there and she's happy for them. Jealous, maybe, but happy. Ilya asks about Shane's parents and it hits her that they've probably rarely had casual conversations like this by what basic information they don't seem to know about each other. It make her heart hurt.

She feels a little guilty for being here at all, for intruding onto this moment that was never meant to have an audience, yet here she is, and it's not an altogether unfamiliar position. Somehow she always seems to be the one watching. It's funny, really, given that being looked at is basically her profession, yet her own life always seems to be happening at a slight remove from her.

She shakes the thought off and reaches for her wine just as Shane abruptly says, "I'm just gonna, uh—" and scurries into the house before either of them can respond.

"I'll be right back, too," Rose says, needing to pee.

When she comes out of the restroom, Shane is in the hallway with his head against the wall.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Hm?" he says, startled. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

He lets out a breath. "Yeah. It's just..."—he hesitates—"a lot, you know? Ilya and I haven't really spent a lot of time together casually, just hanging out. And it's great but it's also weird and stressful? I don't know."

She can tell he's kind of on the verge of panicking, and shit, is she making this situation worse by being here? "Oh, fuck—I should have realized what a big step this is for you guys. I can totally go stay at a hotel or something—you don't need to entertain me."

"No!" he says quickly. "No, I like having you here. I agreed to it and so did he and it's... nice that someone knows. But nobody has ever known, so it's never been, like, real before, especially not in a way that anyone else could notice."

"Babe—"

Tears are pooling in his eyes. "But it is real, isn't it? Like—"

He cuts himself off with a choked sob and she pulls him in for a hug.

"It's okay," she soothes, rubbing his back.

"Fuck, sorry," he says, looking at the floor and rubbing his eyes as he pulls away. "I don't even know what I'm crying about."

"Don't be sorry. It's a lot."

"Yeah." He sniffs and shakes himself. "Sorry you keep catching me crying. I'm not usually such a mess."

"You're good, I promise." She squeezes his arm before they head back outside.

The rest of the evening winds down quietly as they clear the dishes and finish up the wine. She can tell Ilya is itching for some privacy, so she bids them an early goodnight and slips downstairs before either of them can protest.

After browsing mindlessly on her phone for a few hours, she lies in the dark and stares at the ceiling and thinks about Shane's pained face in the hallway. It must be awful for him to hide away the parts of himself that don't fit the image he thinks he needs to have, and she doesn't know if he even realizes what sacrifices he's making. At what point does it stop being worth it? It's hard to know, from the outside, whether he actually loves it—the hockey, the career—or whether it's just become the thing his whole life is organized around. Does he even knows the difference anymore between loving it and needing it? Does she, when it comes to her own career?

Her mind drifts to the short films she used to make with her friends, back before she was famous, made with no budget on borrowed equipment. They were mostly terrible, but they felt like they had something to say, even if they were saying it badly. She misses that feeling of making something just for the expression of it and not because a studio has done the math on her marketability.

The thing is, she doesn't have to hide like Shane does, and yet she can feel herself performing even when there's no camera on her, editing herself in real time, always so aware of how she's coming across. Her every move is available for public consumption and interpretation, so she can never quite be fully herself. She's not even sure she knows what that would look like anymore.

She doesn't know where that thought is going, and she's too tired to follow it. Eventually, somewhere between one restless thought and the next, she falls asleep.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Shane asks. It's early evening on the last day of Rose's visit and Shane has failed to weasel out of an obligatory dinner with his parents.

"I'm good," she says with an easy wave. "I think I might stay here, keep your boyfriend company. He needs someone here to protect him from the loons."

She half-expects Ilya to say something rude in his own defense, but what he says instead is, "You are a big superhero, right? Can save me definitely."

"Loons aren't dangerous," Shane says with a roll of his eyes. "But whatever. You don't have to come. They were excited to meet you, but I can tell them you wanted some alone time."

"Tell them I'm meditating."

"Good idea," Ilya adds, "otherwise sounds like she wants to be alone to jerk off."

She slaps him in the arm, but she's quietly glad he's become relaxed enough to tease her.

"Don't listen to him—they're not going to assume you're jerking off," Shane says with a blush. "I'll try to keep the visit short."

"Bring me leftovers!"

"Ah, yes, tell them you need double portion because Rose is starving from bird food."

Shane looks annoyed as he says, "I'll see what I can do."

When he's gone, Rose and Ilya set up lounge chairs overlooking the lake, her with a glass of wine and him with a glass of the chilled vodka Shane keeps stocked for his dad. The idyllic setting is peaceful, but she can sense some tension still in Ilya. He's been polite, but she can't quite get a read on him and his undercurrent of discomfort around her that's not quite hostile. Is he jealous? Nervous?

"I'm glad you were able to come," she says, swirling the wine in her glass. "Shane is really happy that you're here."

There's a beat as he sips his vodka. "I should be thanking you," he says, serious. "You convinced him to let me intrude on your holiday."

She drinks her wine, not sure if she wants to admit that his presence has made her trip more exciting. "Very generous of me," she says instead. "Especially after I graciously consoled him after you dumped him."

He stiffens beside her. She's been kind, so far, but there's a sense of best friend duty that compels her to press a little.

"Yes," he agrees. "Very generous."

She waits for him to continue, not offering him an out.

"I am... sorry for hurting him. I did not see another option."

"And do you now?"

He lets out a rueful half-laugh. "Not really," he says, rubbing his chin. "But I am weak. For seven years, I have been very bad at resisting him. Cannot seem to start now."

She takes pity. "I suppose I can forgive you because that's very romantic."

He drinks more of his vodka and then asks, "What was your plan, if you kept dating him? You do not live in Montreal."

The question surprises her. "Wasn't really thinking that far ahead, honestly. I'm in Montreal a lot for work with these stupid movies. I guess I thought if it got serious, we could figure something out, but..."

"You did not think it would get serious?"

She shrugs, feeling unexpectedly caught out. "I-I don't know. I guess not. Never really been serious enough with a guy to get to that kind of talk, so why worry about it this time?"

He hums like he's thinking and she bristles at the judgment. What does he know about it?

"Are you seeing anyone now?" he asks.

"I love Shane as a friend, but I probably wouldn't be spending precious time off at my ex-boyfriend's cottage if I was seeing someone new."

"Fair."

She sighs, folding her arms against the evening chill. "Men can be... difficult. It's a lot of work, you know? Like, a lot of guys need training in bed and still manage to be selfish. Sometimes it's too much effort just to be disappointed."

He looks over at her, something contemplative in his expression before he shakes his head. "This is crazy. You are beautiful; why is it difficult? Giving women orgasms is not that hard." She sputters out a laugh. "I understand maybe your gay boyfriends have trouble, but—"

"Hey!" she says, indignant. "Cut my gay boyfriends some slack. At least Shane went down on me, even if he was terrible at it. More than I can say for some guys."

"Your straight boyfriends are not going down on you?" He tsks. "This is great tragedy."

"Tell me about it," she mutters into her wine.

"Sometimes I hear this in locker room talk, too. Other men talk like they are only doing so their girls give head back. I don't understand this. Giving partner good orgasms is the best part of sex."

She flushes and clicks her tongue. "Wow. Kinda jealous of Shane."

"Oh, he comes very easily," he says with a smirk. "Bigger challenge is making him last."

She clears her throat. "Not in my experience."

A loud laugh bursts out of him at that and she finds herself laughing too. It's not that funny, but she can't help herself—this whole situation is absurd. It's the kind of laughter that feeds on itself until they're both gasping. When they finally calm down, she wipes her eyes and finds Ilya watching her with an oddly thoughtful expression.

"What?"

He tilts his head. "So you don't like sex with opposite sex partners... sounds like somebody I know."

"What?" she sputters. "Men being bad in bed isn't my fault!"

He gives a gesture that's half nod, half shrug. "Sure. Okay."

"I'm not gay just because your gay boyfriend couldn't give me an orgasm."

He puts his hands up in a gesture of appeasement. "Okay. You're not gay." He pauses. "Is it so bad to be gay?"

"No, there's nothing—there's nothing wrong with being gay—that's not what I'm saying!"

"Mm."

She narrows her eyes. "Stop psychoanalyzing me!" It comes out sounding defensive, but she's not sure why the accusation bothers her so much.

"Would be a problem, if you were?"

"I'm not, but yes, sort of. Most successful leading actors are straight."

"Most hockey players, too."

At that, she deflates, rubbing her head. Her wine glass is empty. "Ugh, I want a cigarette."

"You smoke?" He sounds surprised.

"Not often, but sometimes. You?"

"Sometimes, but Shane does not like. And I am trying to be on my best behavior."

"He's so thrilled that you're here. I think it would take a lot more than a cigarette to put him off."

Ilya looks pleased by this, a smile gracing his lips. "Would take a lot to put me off, too. I know he can be... worried about things. If he ever is doubting, you can remind him of that."

It's such a romantic thing to say that she kind of wants to cry. God, what is wrong with her? The lack of stimulation out here is making her way too reflective and emotional.

"You kinda dodged my question earlier about what your plans are for your relationship," she said, trying to keep her tone light.

"Noticed that, hm?" He sighs. "I don't know. We cannot be together, but it seems we are going to be anyway."

"What, like hiding forever?"

He makes a dismissive gesture. "Maybe. I could not go back to Russia if we are public. But I will be miserable forever if I do not risk it, so."

"Damn."

"I will try to make arrangements in case we are found out. Make sure assets are secured if I cannot return, this sort of thing. Maybe find a new agent who would not drop me immediately." He sniffs, hesitating. "My father is sick. Already I cannot care for him as I should, but I need to be here to make money to pay for care. I need to go home, as long as he is alive."

"Oh, shit." The words feel flat and useless even as she says them, but what else can you say to something like that? "Could you not bring him here? Like, are there not visa options to bring over ailing family?"

Surprisingly, he laughs at that. "God, do not wish me such a misery. No, my father is terrible. He does not approve of anything I do. And it would be too much for him. He is... confused often."

She hums, trying to think of anything helpful to say. "Have you talked to Shane about all this?"

He nods. "A little. But I do not want to burden him. Already he feels very guilty about it."

"Sounds like him." She remembers her earlier, somewhat uncharitable thoughts that Ilya would have a much easier time of it if he just pursued women. "He would blame himself for putting you in this position."

"Yes. All his fault for being hot and nice and talented, with all his freckles and muscles. I am helpless."

This is probably the only opportunity Ilya has ever had to talk about Shane like this, and she appreciates that he's comfortable enough with her to speak openly. "You guys are gonna make it," she proclaims. "This is some true love kinda shit. It would be too depressing if it didn't work out."

A grin tugs at his mouth. "Well, if Rose Landry is sure."

They go to refill their drinks before settling back into the Adirondack chairs. The conversation shifts to lighter territory: terrible teammates, worse co-stars, the peculiar indignities of being recognizable.

The sun has almost set, now but a thin line of orange on the horizon, and the lake has gone dark and still. Rose is about to ask Ilya something when the sliding door opens behind them. They turn to see Shane emerging, looking completely wrung out. He's changed out of the nice outfit he wore to his parents and into sweats. His face is red and his eyes are a little puffy.

He doesn't say anything, just walks directly to Ilya's chair and flops down on top of him like a rag doll.

Ilya makes an 'oof' sound but immediately wraps his arms around him, one hand coming up to stroke his hair. "Okay?"

Shane makes a muffled noise into Ilya's shoulder that could mean anything.

"What was that?" Ilya asks.

Shane pulls away just enough to say, "I came out to my parents."

"Wow!"

"Oh, shit." Ilya's arm wraps tighter around him. "Did it go badly? They were not okay?"

"They were fine," Shane says through a sniffle. "It wasn't bad, it was just—a lot."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Rose asks.

"I'm all talked out, I think."

"Wine, then? There's some inside. And vodka."

"Wine, please."

"I'll grab you some."

She pats his back lightly as she leaves to refill all of their drinks. When she comes back, Shane has settled into Ilya's lap with his back against his chest, looking more relaxed than he did when he arrived. The chair is still definitely too small for the two of them, but they don't look uncomfortable.

She hands him the wine. "Do you guys want some alone time? I don't mind hanging out inside."

Ilya looks to Shane who shakes his head. "No, I would like a distraction. What were you two talking about while I was gone?"

They give him an abbreviated recap, leaving out some of the more sensitive details. Rose can tell Ilya is trying to keep the mood light and easy, gently offering the requested distraction. It's sweet of him.

"Wait, there are really straight guys who don't like going down on women?" Shane interrupts, genuine confusion in his tone.

"Well, it wasn't your favorite place to be," Rose teases.

He flushes. "That's different, obviously. But if they're into you, I really don't get why they wouldn't want to."

Ilya smiles brightly. "Shane cannot imagine anyone dislikes giving head. His favorite activity."

Shane gets embarrassed again, and Rose tries to save him with, "Ilya, please, you said the exact same thing."

Ilya just shrugs and then says, all nonchalance, "You know, my friend Sveta is very good at giving head. I can give her your number if you are looking for better experience."

"Can you please not talk about other people giving you head?" Shane complains. And then, "Wait, Svetlana's bisexual?"

"What is bisexual?" Ilya asks.

"Someone who likes people of any gender, like men and women," Rose clarifies. "That's like you, right?"

"Ah, yes," Ilya replies with an amused nod. "This is a good word, bisexual. For Sveta, I am not supposed to know about her, just like she is not supposed to know about me. But we both know."

"Rose, are you bisexual?"

"No!"

"But have you ever tried with women?" Ilya presses. "Maybe you need hot Russian to tell you to get them off. Worked on Shane. He did not know men were an option before I told him."

"That is not true," but it's a weak protest.

"Hm, and if I did not come onto you, you would not be having terrible sex with women forever?"

"I mean, maybe," Shane allows with a slightly horrified look in his eyes. "I hope not."

Rose can see it, though. Shane needed her to spell it out for him to accept that he was gay, and without her and Ilya pushing him along, she imagines he could have deluded himself for a long time. But that certainly doesn't apply to her. She's kissed her girlfriends before, but it's nothing—she definitely likes men better.

Right?

Over the next few months, Rose becomes something of a confidante to both Shane and Ilya. Her first loyalty is to Shane, but she remains the only person in the loop about their relationship, so she offers a sounding board to Ilya, as well. They rarely complain about each other, anyway, although sometimes she wonders if she'll be put in the middle of domestic issues once the honeymoon phase is over. If it'll ever be over. As much as their situation sucks, there seems to be never-ending adoration flowing between the two of them. She's gotten over the jealousy. Mostly.

Rose has a break from shooting in Montreal and is back in LA for a few events in the fall, coincidentally overlapping with Boston's first game of the season against the Royals. It's the first time she's seen Ilya without Shane since the cottage.

"Any paparazzi catch you on the way here?" Rose asks as she pours him a glass of vodka on her balcony.

"No," he says, taking it with a nod of thanks and settling onto one of the lounge chairs. "But would be funny if internet thinks I am fucking Shane Hollander's ex-girlfriend."

"Like psychological warfare? I don't think Shane would appreciate that."

"No, he would have a panic attack," Ilya replies with a soft laugh. "So I am careful."

"How considerate." She sips her own cocktail. "Good game, by the way. I only caught the end of it, but that assist in the third period was pretty."

They talk about hockey for awhile, the conversation light and easy, but she senses Ilya has something else on his mind. It doesn't seem like he's going to bring it up himself, so she offers him an opening.

"You seem a little tense. Something else going on you want to talk about?"

"I forget you are perceptive," he says. "I am too used to hanging out with dense hockey players."

She raises her eyebrows expectantly.

He clears his throat, looking away from her. "My father. He is not doing well."

"Oh." She's not sure what she expected him to bring up, but it wasn't that. "That's hard." She remembers him saying his relationship with his father was bad, so she isn't sure what kind of consolation to offer.

"His quality of life is bad. He does not know what is happening anymore." He swallows. "Next time I go home will probably be the last time I see him."

"You still haven't talked to Shane about all this, I'm guessing?"

He stares down at his drink. "No. He feels very guilty, thinking he is keeping me from home. I try to talk, but he panics."

Rose thinks she'll say something to him about that. It doesn't seem right that Shane's guilt is making things worse for Ilya.

"Once he is gone, there will be very little reason to return," Ilya continues. "My mothers' grave is there. But very little else I care about."

The weight of the statement hits her hard, and it's shitty that Ilya is talking to her about this. That he has no one else. Gently, she offers, "Would your mother not want you to be happy?"

His face crumples at that, just for a moment, and she sees him swipe roughly at his cheek with the back of his hand to brush away a tear. She reaches over and grabs his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Sorry," he says, embarrassed. "I do not usually—"

"It's fine," she reassures him, giving his hand another squeeze before releasing him. "So you want to stay here. Have you started the Green Card process? You're a star athlete—you could probably get it easily. You've already been a resident for years."

"I could," he says slowly, "but I would rather end up in Canada, I think." He sniffs. "Better politics."

She smiles. "Right. The politics."

"I should not be thinking about... other reasons. It is very far away."

"I think it would actually be pretty normal to consider what country your boyfriend lives in, since you've been seeing him for almost a decade."

"But the boyfriend thing is... new."

"Maybe the label is, but you remember I saw you together, right? You can lie to yourselves all you want, but I know what I saw. It's serious, serious."

He rolls his eyes, but there's something charmed in his expression, like he's pleased that someone else saw it too. "Fine. It's serious, serious. I want to end up in Canada."

"Could you play for a Canadian team?"

He hesitates for a moment, as if not sure what to disclose to her. "I have thought about it," he admits. "Ottawa needs strong center. They have plenty of cap space to afford me because team is shit. Close to Montreal."

"The team is shit," she says, surprised. "You'd really consider going there?"

"Yes," he says with a definitive nod.

"He didn't think you would do it." At his look of confusion, she explains, "We talked about it. He brought up Ottawa as the only team that you could go to that would make sense for your relationship, if he didn't want to move. He said you wouldn't want to either, though."

Maybe it's not her place to expose Shane like that, but it's prudent to give Ilya all the information, right?

Ilya is thoughtful for a moment. "I do not take hockey as seriously as him," he says finally. "I am good at it, and I want to be the best, but I am not so concerned with... legacies." He shrugs, the motion coming off a bit forced. "Boston was shit team before me. I can do it again."

She lets out a breath, mulling that over. "Does that bother him?"

"Does what bother him?"

"That you don't take it as seriously. He takes it so seriously."

For whatever reason, Ilya smiles at that. "Maybe it pisses him off a little," he allows. "But if it really bothered him, I he would not like me so much."

That certainly seems true. "Ugh, you guys are so romantic."

He laughs lightly and again she feels bad that she's the one he's confiding him. Surely he has other friends.

"Do any of your friends know about you two?"

Some his lightness fades. "Shane is very paranoid."

"I'm sure you both are."

He tilts his head. "His parents know now."

"What?! He didn't tell me that."

"It was a little traumatic for him. We did not mean to tell, but they found out."

Rose is curious for details, but she doesn't press. "Well, shit. Are they okay about it?"

"Yes. Better than I expected."

That's a relief, at least. "So, I know and Shane's parents know, but none of your friends or family know?"

He doesn't answer. 

"You can talk to me, obviously, but it doesn't really seem balanced."

"As I said, he is paranoid."

"Well, he can deal with it. Shane's a reasonable person, he would understand that you need people, too. I can talk to him about it if you want." She pauses. "Unless you don't want to tell anyone? I'm not, like, trying to pressure you."

"No, no pressure." He rubs his chin. "I would like to tell Sveta," he admits. "She is an old friend. Trustworthy."

"Oh, yeah, you mentioned her. Your bisexual friend." The one who's good at giving head, her brain supplies. She doesn't say this part out loud, but Ilya seems to register that she's thinking it.

"You remember. Perhaps you have been thinking about giving her your number?"

She flushes. "I just have a good memory! It's, like, my job to memorize shit."

"Mm. Well, she is a big fan of yours. Even if you do not want to fuck her, she would like to meet you. As friends."

It feels a little like a trap, but she would love to have someone to talk to about Shane and Ilya's relationship. She hopes he does decide to confide in her.

"Fine, give her my number."

He grins into his vodka. "How is your orgasm quest going, by the way?"

"There's no quest," she assures him. "I'm taking some me time."

"So, bad, then."

"Shut up," she mutters, trying not to smile.

They continue chatting and drinking for another hour or two before Ilya decides to head back to his hotel. Before he leaves, he embraces her with a warm hug. They've never done that before, but it's a welcome gesture.

"I am sorry that I used to hate you, Rose Landry," he says, giving her a squeeze. "Thank you for telling your boyfriend he is gay so that he will date me."

She laughs as she pulls away. "I am the most magnanimous ex-girlfriend in the world."

"I do not know this word."

"Magnanimous. It means, like, generous."

"Ah, yes. Magnanimous Rose Landry." He grins broadly at her. "We will see you in March, yes?"

"Sure, I'll be back in Montreal for the Boston game. Shane already got me tickets. I'll try not to intrude too much on your private time, though. I know it's precious."

"Sveta will call you," Ilya says, pointing at her as he backs toward the door. "She is very excited to meet you."

"You're not giving this up, huh?"

"I want my friends to be friends, what is wrong with this?" He grins and ducks out before she can finish protesting.

Rose shakes her head at the closed door, biting back a smile.

When Rose arrives at a cafe three weeks later, she spots Svetlana immediately, recognizing her by Ilya's description. She's sitting under a tree with two cups already on the table, her curls catching the dappled afternoon light. Rose's chest feels traitorously hot.

Svetlana looks up and smiles, standing to greet her. "Rose, hello. I have been eager to meet you."

"Is that so?" Rose extends her hand, aiming for casual and professional.

Svetlana takes it, her grip warm and firm, and Rose has to fight a ridiculous urge to bring it to her lips.

"Sit, please," Svetlana says, gesturing to the chair across from her. "I got you a latte. Ilya said you like them."

"He talks about me, huh?"

"Of course." Svetlana's smile turns a little knowing. "He is invested in us becoming friends."

"He has been very insistent." She flushes. "Sorry, that sounded rude. It's lovely to meet you, it's just—well, he seems to be setting us up, even though I told him I'm just looking for friends."

Svetlana tilts her head, considering. "Just friends?"

"Yeah," Rose says, though the word feels less certain with Svetlana looking at her like that.

"Okay." Svetlana leans back in her chair. "I can do friends."

"Good. Great."

"Although," Svetlana says, her eyes glinting with amusement, "Ilya did say you were terrible at knowing what you want."

Rose nearly chokes on her latte. "He said what?"

"He said you are very smart and very successful and very bad at listening to yourself. Like Shane. He says this is why you are such good friends." Svetlana shrugs, but she's smiling. "So maybe you want friends. Or maybe you will figure out you want something else?"

Rose stares at her, disarmed. "That's—not exactly—"

"He cares about you," Svetlana says simply. "And he is annoyingly right about these things, usually."

Rose doesn't have a response to that.

"Don't worry, I am used to not listening to him," Svetlana says with a wave her hand. "So, tell me about yourself, friend Rose."

Rose sets down her latte, steadies herself, and starts talking.

Chapter End Notes

Not sure why this chapter was such a struggle to finish, but we made it!

Comments always appreciated ❤️