Summary:

Hollander watched him through the screen, face flushed and dark eyes half-lidded, heavy from the powerful orgasm that had just rocked him on the other side of the country. “I guess I won’t see you until next season, then.”

Ilya snorted, dropping the towel onto the floor. “I don’t have seasons. At least not the same ones you do.”

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Ilya didn't regret leaving hockey behind. His life was his own now, inconsistent, frustrating, and difficult as it was.

His fascination with Shane Hollander, then, was just that—a fascination, a curiosity about the world that could have been, a glimpse of the life that he might have had. But fascination could grow, when there was somewhere to take root.

Shane Hollander was a garden.