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Ilya has loved Boston from the start, don’t get him wrong. He’s had an amazing career with the Raiders, and he’s cared about most of the teammates he’s had while playing there. If it wasn’t for Shane—if it wasn’t because Ilya can’t stand to spend anymore time this far away from him, almost never getting to see him, not when this last year has been the longest of his life—then Ilya would have been more than fine with staying in Boston for the rest of his career.
Mostly Ilya will be sad to say goodbye to Svetlana and to Marleau. He knows that with the secret keeping it’s unlikely that his relationship with the two of them won’t take a hit. It saddens him a lot, and he hopes very much that it won’t be so, but he knows that he’s prepared to leave anyways. He’s prepared to lose a lot to have a future with Shane.
Still, even being very sure about what’s going to happen, then Ilya still isn’t looking forwards to having to tell anyone that he’s not resigning with the Raiders after this season.
The first part is over. He and his agent has already talked with the Raiders management, and had feelers out with Ottawa. Though no official contract until the free agency period starts in July, Boston now knows he won’t resign with them once his contract expires and Ottawa is already very excited for the move.
Now they’re getting closer and closer to the end of the regular season, and Ilya still has yet to tell Svetlana, Marleau and his team.
Speaking of…
“I’m telling you, they’re opening this new hot-spot of a club over the summer, and I know you’re usually busy but when you come back from Russia we just has to go there,” Marleau says. He bumps their shoulders together as they walk towards the parking space. Ilya winces at the words. He needs to tell him.
They’re the last to leave for the day. Practice had ended a while back, but the coach had wanted a word with them before they left. Maybe it’s not the ideal time to drop the bomb of him not returning after the summer, but he supposes that maybe it isn’t the worst time either. At least there’s no one else to hear it if Cliff decides to yell at him about it.
He takes a deep breath, and stops before they reach their cars.
“Marly…”
Marleau gets a few steps further, before he notices that Ilya is no longer keeping up with him.
“Roz?”
“Cliff, I won’t come back next season. I’m not resigning with the Raiders once my contract is up.”
They stare at each other, not blinking. For a long moment, Marleau’s expression is blank, then it starts rapidly changing. Confusion, betrayal, sadness, anger.
“The fuck you mean you aren’t coming back. What fucking team could possibly be better than ours that could also afford you?”
And Ilya can only grimace. Because it’s not like Marleau is wrong. There are other top teams of course, but very few that would be able to pay his salary without hitting their cap space. Ottawa can, but they’re also the worst team in the league, so Ilya somehow doubts that Marleau will be impressed with the answer.
“I’m going to Ottawa,” he grumbles.
“You’re betraying us for the fucking Centaurs of all goddamn teams?!”
“Marly, I—”
“No, Marly is for my teammates, not traitors. Save the nicknames for your new team,” Marleau snarls, turning on his heels and stalking away towards his car.
Fuck, this is not going how Ilya wanted it to. He considers letting him be. Letting him cool off on his own, and then hopefully come back when he’s ready to talk. Marly is good down to the bone, but he’s also a bit of a hothead sometimes and he holds a grudge like a champ. If Ilya doesn’t get a chance to explain now, he’s not sure he will get another before he leaves Boston.
Marleau is almost to his car when Ilya starts running towards him.
“Cliff you fucker, slow down!” he yells after him. When Marleau hastens his steps, Ilya does too. Tackling him so he faceplants into the driver’s side’s window is not Ilya’s proudest moment, and the stink eye Marleau sends his way when he straightens up only confirms it. “Sorry. Let me explain, please.”
“There’s something deeply wrong with you.”
“I said sorry!” Ilya cries out and it’s worth it to see the shadow of a smile on his friend’s face.
“You’re shit at apologies,” Cliff just says and crosses his arms. He doesn’t move to get into the car though, so Ilya takes the small win.
“I am sorry about leaving Boston. This team means a lot to me. You’re one of my best friends. Playing with you has been one of the greatest feelings in the world. I wish I didn’t have to leave you behind, but—” Ilya swears under his breath in Russian, as he tries to gather his thoughts enough to give a good explanation that won’t reveal too much about him and Shane. “You keep asking about Montreal Jane, да? All of you tease constantly. It was never serious—or maybe I convinced myself that it couldn’t be—but it is now. And I just can’t be this far away from Jane all the time, is killing me. Montreal is out for obvious reasons—” and thank the stupid rivalry for not making him explain that more in dept, “—and yes Ottawa is bad team and is not ideal, but Cliff, it’s so much closer. It’s the possibility of Canadian citizenship and it’s a future. For me and Jane. I want it so much.”
“Well shit, Roz.” Marleau takes a deep breath. “Fuck, okay.”
“Can you forgive me?”
“I don’t think it’s a matter of forgiveness. Crap. I’m happy for you, okay? You and Jane? That’s amazing, Ilya. I just might need a bit of time to wrap my head around this. Can we just let this sit for now? Get back to it another time, yeah? Too many feelings right now, and that’s not your fault.”
That is most definitely Ilya’s fault, but okay. If Cliff needs space, then Ilya can give it to him. If he needs to never talk to Ilya again, then it would hurt, but Ilya can give him that too.
Ilya nods, so Marleau nods back. He then gets into his car and with only a short ‘bye’ drives away. That’s how Ilya knows he’s really fucked this up. No soft fist bump or shoulder bump. No touch at all, when Marleau is usually a pretty physical person with the people he likes. No ‘love you’s despite Ilya’s tough conditioning of his teammates to throw the words around all the time—Marleau especially.
Ilya is ready to give up a lot for Shane, but deep down he had hoped he wouldn’t have to give up everything. That he would be able to keep his friendships even if they suddenly would have to be long distance. It hurts more than he thought it would to watch Marleau drive away.
***
He doesn’t tell Shane, when they text or talk over facetime, he pretends everything is just fine. He doesn’t say anything about having told Marleau. He doesn’t say that he’s barely talked to either of his best friends for days already. He doesn't say that he fears that Svetlana will react as poorly, or how lonely he is even surrounded by people.
He doesn’t let himself sink into a hole. Tries so very hard not to. Instead he pushes his misery down and forces a smile.
It’s fine. Everything is fine.
***
A couple of weeks after their talk, Marleau corners him after a game. Playoffs always takes a lot of energy out of everyone. Ilya wants to win this last one for his team, even if the mood has been a little frostier after he told them he’s leaving. So yeah, Ilya doesn’t really have the energy to have Cliff yell at him about the move, but he will if he has to.
Before he can say anything, though, Marleau is already talking. “It’s done,” he declares, and Ilya is so fucking confused.
“What is done?”
“The Ottawa move?” Marleau says equally confused. They just stare at each other for a long moment.
“The English is not Englishing I don’t think. You have to spell it out for me,” Ilya ends up saying.
“I talked to my agent about Ottawa. He did not understand it at all, and Boston was less than pleased with losing both of us, but the Centaurs will be happy to sign me when the free agency period starts. I’m coming with you.”
“Marleau, you can’t do that,” Ilya says, teary eyed at the loyalty of one of this best friends. “You can’t just fuck up your entire life for me. That’s not fair. You like Boston. This is your home. I can’t ask you to give that up to move to the worst team in the division in a boring city. You will be miserable.”
Marleau huffs. “You aren’t asking. I decided. I want to continue playing hockey with you, and if that means moving then I’m okay with that. We will whip Ottawa into shape like we did Boston, and we will win some more cups together. You’ll just have to put up with me. I’m coming with.”
“Marly,” Ilya just says, lost for words, but so fucking touched. He never imagined that this would be the outcome.
“Besides, I can’t wait to meet Montreal Jane! You will have to introduce us now!”
Oh shit! Oh no. Oh no oh no oh fucking no. How the fuck is Ilya going to get out of doing exactly that? Oh no, Shane is going to kill him.
“Yeah, ha,” Ilya gulps.
***
“Shaaaaaaane,” Ilya says as soon as he picks up. The other side of the call grows disconcertingly quiet. Oh no, Shane is onto him already.
“What happened?” Shane finally asks, just when Ilya was getting prepared to start babbling nervously.
“Nothing! Nothing happened, I don’t know what you mean. Everything is fiiiiine.” Yeah, okay Ilya is not selling this one very well. He winces as Shane takes a deep breath.
“Wanna try again?”
“Okay, so remember when I told you about telling Marleau? And about how I did not think it had gone very well at all?” Because eventually Ilya had to fess up. Shane had finally called him out on his bullshit a couple of days ago, and he had needled him until Ilya had confessed everything that had been on his mind. It had been a bit of a raw phone call.
“Did he do something,” Shane asks, clearly growing more concerned. “Am I going to find pictures of you with a shiner tomorrow? If so I will kill him myself.”
“Marly would snap you in half, котик,” Ilya can’t help but chirp.
It does distract Shane long enough to ask, “Kitten?”
“Yes, you would look like angry small kitten trying to fight a lion. It would not end well for you.”
“Shut up, I would hold my own,” Shane grumbles. “I might not fight a lot, but I will if he hurt you.”
No hypotheticals; Shane sounds like he means it. Like he would fight the whole world if it was mean to Ilya. Fuck. Ilya loves him so much. He barely knows where to put it some days.
“He didn’t hurt me, promise,” Ilya ends up saying, sounding way too fond. “But you won’t like it, I don’t think.” Shane hums, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. “So I think maybe, conversation went too well.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, so maybe friendship is a bit, err, codependent you might say. Marly is very insistent that he is going with me to Ottawa.”
“That doesn't sound too b—”
Ilya interrupts, needing to get the bad part out before Shane is too forgiving about this. “Marly is also very, very excited to meet Jane now that it is serious enough to move team for her.”
Shane becomes so silent that Ilya has to check the phone to make sure he hasn’t hung up. He should have done this over facetime. Why didn’t he do this over facetime? Being able to see Shane’s face right now would most definitely be an advantage. What if his boyfriend is having a panic attack? Ilya curses the fact that they’re so far apart that he couldn’t have this conversation in person. “Shane?” he prompts.
“I’m sorry. That’s a lot.”
“I know. Sorry. I don’t know what to say to him, but I will think of something. Or tell him he can’t come with. If I tell him I don’t want him to come with, he will stay in Boston.” And it will ruin their friendship, but Ilya doesn’t add that, even as he winces.
“No, Ilya, that’s… I don’t want you to destroy your friendships for me. I know Marleau means a lot to you. If he wants to come with you to Ottawa, then that’s good. You deserve people. I—you trust him, right? If you think he would be good about it, then okay.”
“Okay?” Ilya asks, not sure he understands correctly.
“Okay you can tell him, or I will meet him as your boyfriend or, or I don’t know, I think I’m panicking a little bit right now. You’re not wrong, I don’t love this. It’s big and it’s scary, but okay. If being able to keep your friend means letting him know, then okay that’s what we will do. If you trust him with this secret, then I will learn to do the same.”
Ilya can’t help himself, so he blurts out, “Я тебя люблю.”
”I love you too,” Shane says with a shaky breath.
***
They lose the playoffs. They take it all the way to game seven in the semifinals, fighting tooth and nail. But no matter how much Ilya wanted it, sometimes want isn’t enough. So they go home early with no cup. And it’s fine, because in the end it just means Ilya is that step closer to starting his new life with Shane.
Shane who had promised to meet Ilya in Boston to help him pack his things as soon as the Raiders were out of the playoffs. Ilya can’t wait to see him again.
“Good fight,” Marleau says, slinging and arm over Ilya’s shoulder.
“Too bad we couldn’t give Boston another cup,” Ilya replies, but he knocks his head against Marleau’s helmet.
The two of them stand on Boston home ice for the last time.
“They will win others on their own. This team has more good players than the two of us.”
“I will miss them,” Ilya says, choking up a little bit. The team, the city. The first place to give him a home after his mama.
“Me too. One last time for the road, cap,” Marly says, gesturing to the rest of the team who has yet to leave the ice. Who won’t leave the ice until their usual little ritual has been fulfilled.
Ilya skates to the exit, and his team lines up for the last time. One by one they come to him, and he gives out fist-bumps, head-pats and so many love you’s that gets echoed back at him as his team leave the ice.
As his last teammate skates through the exit, Ilya takes a moment longer to just take it all in. ‘Love you,’ he mouths to the crowd, before he too exits the ice.
The mood in the locker room is somber. Everyone watches him as he comes in.
“Yes I know, losing is very sad. But there will be others. We will win more cups even if it won’t be together. I promise to give you all at least one season of easy winning before I’m coming for you and the cup again, so you all better give it your all next season!”
If anything the mood turn even sadder, and Ilya is getting too many puppy-dog eyes turned at him right now. “Okay, you big cry-babies, bring it in then. I will only accept one big sweaty group hug, and you will be timed so don’t linger too long.”
“What will you do? You can no longer threaten with bag skates,” Hammersmith calls out, making the other laugh and yell in agreement.
“I am Russian, you do not want to find out!”
Ilya smiles and throws his arms out. He’s quickly very grateful for doing this before getting changed, when he gets tackled by the whole Boston Raiders team. When he goes down, someone is kind enough to put a hand behind his head so he doesn’t bang it against the floor. The whole team is dogpiling on top of him.
“This is not group hug!” Ilya protests, breathless with laughter and the weight of too many grown men on top of him.
“It’s what you deserve for being a Jane-loving traitor and for stealing Marly too,” Conners cries out which is followed by the very loud agreement of the rest of the team.
Later after they are done wrestling on the floor and after showering and getting changed, Ilya does end up getting a proper group hug. Him and Marly squeezed together in the middle. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
***
After too many tearful goodbyes, Ilya walks towards the parking lot with Marleau. It’s oddly reminiscent of the day he told him about the move. This time Marleau is talking about his extensive research on Ottawa’s nightlife (almost nonexistent compared to Boston), when Ilya stops. His phone is in his pocket, but Ilya doesn’t need to have it in hand to clearly see Shane’s last text in his mind. Just ordered the first plane ticket to Boston. ETA 1 AM. Dinner for three tomorrow?
“Ilya?” Marleau asks when he notices that Ilya isn’t walking with him anymore.
“My Jane is arriving in Boston tonight to help me pack. We wanted to know if you want to come to dinner tomorrow and meet Jane.”
Marleau cheers. “Abso-fucking-lutely! I’ve been waiting years for this moment, of course I’m coming to meet lovely Jane!”
“You’re way too excited about this.”
“You have been making heart-eyes at your phone for ages now; you’re absolutely gooey about Jane. Of course I’m excited!”
“Gooey?!” Ilya says outraged, “I am not gooey!”
“Keep telling yourself that, Roz,” Marleau just laughs. Cliff keeps chirping at him all the way out to the car, using one phrase after the other to describe just how soft Ilya is for Jane. Ilya pretends to be insulted, but they both know that it’s true. Has been for far longer than even Shane knows. Probably since the very day they met in Regina, and Shane shook his hand twice.
Marleau gets into his car after shoulder-bumping Ilya one last time.
“Jane might…” Ilya hesitates. “Jane might not be what you expect. And if you change your mind about Ottawa after, then I will understand.”
“Ilya. Hey. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, brother. I promise to love you even after seeing you be soft with your lady. You know I never believed your whole big, scary Russian act anyways.”
“But if you do change your mind,” Ilya presses on, “I just need you to promise to be kind about it in front of Jane.”
“Okay. I won’t change my mind, but I promise to be the utmost gentleman in front of Jane. Well, I will try my best, but you know if she’s used to your ugly mug then she probably will be able to handle another hockey player.”
“Okay. Tomorrow then. I will text you the details.”
***
Ilya wakes up the next morning with his boyfriend curled around him. It’s the most wonderful feeling. Ilya doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of waking up with Shane’s head resting on his chest. He hopes he gets to experience it a lot more once he lives in Ottawa.
“What time is it?” Shane grumbles into his chest, not yet fully awake.
Ilya reaches out to look at his phone. “Almost noon.”
They’d come in late last night. Ilya had picked him up at the airport, and then when they came home, Ilya hadn’t been able to keep his hands away any longer. Not that Shane had been any better. It had been early morning before they had finally fallen asleep.
“We’ve slept most of the day away,” Shane complains, but Ilya can feel the smile pressed against his chest.
“Is okay, don’t worry I will kick Marleau out early enough for your old person bedtime tonight, so you can be up with the birds tomorrow.”
“Asshole.”
“No, no, I am good boyfriend that will make sure to follow retirement home bedtimes.”
Shane laughs and shoves at him. Ilya pulls him in for a kiss that has Shane melting into it. He flips them, and presses Shane into the bed. Peppering him with kisses, before teasingly saying, “Perhaps now that we’ve already spend most of the day in bed, we can use a bit more time here. Won’t make big difference.”
“Yeah,” Shane agrees breathlessly. Ilya smiles wickedly.
***
When they finally do get out of bed, they use the rest of the day getting ready for Marleau to arrive. They go grocery shopping, clean up a bit and prepare the food. With the food in the oven, Ilya finally convinces Shane to come relax on the couch. There’s not long until Cliff gets there, but Ilya is determined to cuddle his boyfriend until the moment he arrives.
The doorbell finally rings, and Ilya gets up to let Marly in. He barely even opens the door before Marleau is barging in, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, singsonging, “Jaaaaaaaane!”
“Hello, Marleau, please do come in,” Ilya grumbles even though Marleau is long gone down the hall.
When Marleau reaches Shane, it’s like all sound cuts off. Ilya hastens after him, and gets to the living room in time to see Shane sitting on the couch looking like a deer caught in headlights, and Marleau with his jaw dropped to the floor completely frozen. He then reanimates, gesturing awkwardly with the flowers. After a moment he almost throws the flowers in Shane’s face, before he turns around and drags Ilya with him back out of the living room. Ilya’s stomach drops and from the last glimpse he gets of Shane before leaving the room then his boyfriend is bordering on a panic attack.
“Ilya,” Marleau hisses, trying to keep his voice down once they’re back at the front door. “Ilya, you have Shane Hollander in your living room! Shane Motherfucking Hollander is in your house!”
“Yes,” Ilya says as deadpan as he can manage at the moment. He just wants to get back so he can comfort Shane. He wants to delete this whole disaster of an evening already. He’s never telling anyone about them ever again.
“Ilya,” Marleau cries out, no longer able to keep his voice down, though he tries once more as he continues, “He’s like the best hockey player in the world. I almost killed him last year. And now I’m supposed to just be cool after that entrance I just made? You could have warned me you have Shane Hollander in your house!” Every word he says gets a little louder, and Ilya is sure Shane can hear him from the living room. Then as if just realizing why he’s here, Marleau’s eyes become wide. “Wait, wait, WAIT! Shane Hollander is Jane? I didn’t only almost kill Shane Hollander, I almost killed your Jane?!” Marleau makes a sound that is dangerously close to a wail. “You must hate me! He must hate me!”
“Marly, we do not hate you. I would say we have forgiven you, but nothing to forgive. Was accident, yes? And Shane is just hockey player. You have played against him many times before. No problem, okay? Ask him about hockey and you will have topic for whole evening.”
“Ilya, you don’t understand. Shane Hollander is like the whole league’s hall pass and guy exception. I don’t know a single hockey player that doesn’t have a crush on Shane Hollander. I can’t just talk about hockey with him; I’ve already embarrassed myself enough!”
“You have crush on my Shane?” Ilya asks darkly, eyes narrowing.
“He’s Shane Hollander,” Cliff tries to defend.
They end up squabbling in the hallway until someone clears their throat. They both freeze, Ilya with his hand shoved in Marleau’s face. Shane is standing there, the now mangled flowers in his hand, looking at them both concerned.
“Everything good?”
Ilya and Cliff exchange looks. “Yes,” they both say, letting go of each other.
Stepping over to Shane and giving him a soft kiss, Ilya adds quietly, “Everything is just fine, моя любовь.”
“I will fight him if not,” Shane reminds him under his breath.
“Pull your claws back. No need for angry kitten, I do not think. Besides I think maybe Marly would enjoy too much.” Shane just laughs, and Ilya knows he’s heard too much of their conversation. Shane does not need to know he has options. Ilya is supposed to be the only option there is.
“Hello, Marleau,” Shane finally greets. “Your flowers got a bit…”
“No, no! Those are for you! I can’t believe I threw flowers at Shane Hollander.”
“Oh, thank you then. And it’s fine, I get that it’s a surprise. Just Shane is fine, though!”
Marleau brightens. “Of course! And you can call me Marly or Cliff or Marleau if you want! Whatever you want!”
Ilya turns to look at him in disbelief. ‘Be cool,’ he mouths at him, and Cliff deflates a little and pulls a face that most definitely says, ‘you could have warned me.’
“Also shoes off please, we are not cavemen,” Ilya says, pointedly looking at the shoes still on Marly’s feet that he has already dragged through the house.
“Since when?” Cliff asks in disbelief, but he does the polite thing and toes of his shoes.
“Since always,” Ilya sniffs, glancing at Shane who looks pleased enough to make it worth it.
“Whipped,” Marleau coughs under his breath.
“Thank you, Cliff,” Shane adds. “I know it’s a change, but the feeling of stepping on dirt really bothers me, so Ilya has been kind enough to accommodate.”
“It’s no problem at all, Shane!” Marly says sunnily.
“Whipped,” Ilya coughs back, not trying to hide it at all.
Shane just sighs, and tries to hide a laugh when they start squabbling once more.
Dinner goes well, Ilya thinks. Marleau is a little too eager to get on Shane’s good side, but crush or no crush, then Ilya knows he would have been just as eager to meet a ‘Jane’ that was anyone other than Shane. Marleau has always been exceptionally sweet with any girlfriend that his friends has had. Always just so pleased to see the people he cares about be loved.
Despite his protests from the hallway, Marly does end up following Ilya’s advice and talks to Shane about hockey. He even takes it in stride and listens intensely when Shane comes with corrections to his play and starts making suggestions for him to improve as a player. Ilya doesn’t hide his fond smile as he watches them. Two of his favorite people getting along.
After dinner they move to the living room, just talking and swapping stories. Marly prods a bit about their relationship, and Ilya is more than happy to share even when Shane turns bright red when Ilya gives a little too many details.
Ilya can’t even be mad when Marly in return tells the most embarrassing stories about Ilya he can think of. Most of them Ilya can smirk away, but his ears does turn a little warm when Cliff starts talking about all of the times he’s seen Ilya give his phone heart eyes or tell the team about ‘his Jane’. Ilya thinks he must be exasperating, but he can’t prove anything and Shane seems pleased so he doesn’t even try. He can be a person that is soft for his boyfriend. There’s far worse things to be than stupidly in love with Shane Hollander.
Despite the early rocky start it’s a good evening.
“I can’t believe you pulled Shane Hollander,” Marleau whisper shouts when Shane excuses himself to the bathroom.
“I can’t believe you and whole league has a crush on my boyfriend and you never said anything!”
“You’ve always been weird about him! What was I supposed to do? Say ‘hey Roz, I know you have this weird love hate relationship with your archrival, but omg I would hit that’?”
“You are not allowed to hit that. He is mine.”
“Of course he is, who other than you would ever stand a chance to pull Shane Hollander? Not even Rose Landry could keep him.”
Ilya pulls a face. “Do not mention Rose Landry to me,” he grumbles.
“Oh my god! 2016! That explains so much,” Cliff exclaims, then groans as he continues, “So many bag skates those months.”
“Careful, I can still make you suffer bag skates,” Ilya threatens.
“Yeah, yeah, big scary Russian. Good for you, though. The two of you make so much sense together. It was always the two of you on the top. Always pitted together and against each other. If anyone gets you, it will be him. Who else will be able to rise to the challenge really? You deserve it so much.”
“Marly,” Ilya says, a little choked up.
“Don’t get mushy on me as well, Rozanov, you have a boyfriend for that.”
“I do,” he agrees, just as Shane comes back. He pulls said boyfriend down on his lap just because he can. Cliff just looks at them softly, so clearly just happy for them. It’s everything Ilya never thought he would be able to have. Acceptance. Love. It means more to him than he will ever be able to express.
Eventually Ilya makes good on his earlier promise to Shane and ends the evening. They follow Cliff to the door and says their goodbyes.
Marleau pulls him in for a hug. “Hey, just for the record, Roz, then I still haven’t changed my mind. Even after seeing how gooey you are for Shane Hollander,” he whispers in his ear. Ilya has to swallow a lump in his throat.
“See you in Ottawa then,” he says, gently knocking their heads together.
***
“Can I tell Sveta too?” Ilya blurts out as soon as Cliff is out the door. Fuck, Ilya wants to hit himself. Apparently he can’t help but be greedy. Can’t help but long for more and more and more.
Shane looks at him wide-eyed, and Ilya can already see the panic building up. Too greedy. Bad. Too much at once when Shane hadn’t even wanted to tell Marleau in the first place. Of course he isn’t going to want Ilya to tell Svetlana too. Too many people knowing is asking for their secret to get out.
“Sorry, of course not. I—”
“Okay,” Shane interrupts him before he really can get going. Ilya pulls him in for a deep kiss, before he closes his eyes and hides his face in Shane’s neck. A little overwhelmed, maybe, but mostly he’s so happy.
Life is good. Ilya can’t wait to live it.