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They had talked about telling close friends. Shane was thinking about telling Hayden, and Ilya had tossed out Cliff’s name to have someone to consider, but he hadn’t actually been planning to tell anyone. It felt like too much to admit and, as much as he tried to hide it, Ilya was scared of the reaction. He only had the rest of this year left in Boston, why could he not just finish strong with the same lies he’d started with?
Marlow was in Ilya’s hotel room after an away game. They had practice the next morning before their flight, so most of the older players had headed to the hotel instead of out on the town. Ilya had the tv turned to a movie channel, paying only vague attention to the Star Wars movie that flickered by as he waited for Shane’s text that he was back at home from his game that evening. At the commercial break, Ilya turned the tv to mute and let his head loll back against the head board, analyzing the aches left over from the game.
Marlow’s voice was low like a confession in the quiet room but it still surprised Ilya, “What if I’m not cut out for a real relationship?”
Ilya’s head turned to see Marlow’s expression, ready to laugh, but he found a look of true concern on his friend’s face and recalibrated. “What do you mean, Marley? Have you tried?”
Marlow sighed, sounding more defeated than Ilya had ever heard. “I mean— yeah? I think so? But I don’t even know, man. This is the third girl I’ve tried to get serious with in the last six months. And it’s only been a couple weeks but I can feel it slipping away again. I just don’t know how to fix it. We’re always on the road and I guess I’m a shit texter but even if I wasn’t— who wants to deal with a schedule this fucked?? But I’m 30 and I keep going to clubs like my dream girl will stumble drunk into my arms and surprise me with a happy ever after. I just don’t think it works that way.”
Ilya wasn’t sure what to say, or even if he was meant to say anything at all. Clearly this had been eating at Cliff for a while, and Ilya wasn’t even sure this was something he was qualified to discuss.
“Being 30 is not the end of the world, Marley. Your dick has not fallen off, and your face has not gotten any stupider.” Marlow huffed a little, but he had a smile on his lips. “There are lots of nice girls who would love to date a hockey player. Even St. Vic has had a girlfriend for several years! Clearly there is someone for everyone.” This actually drew a laugh, but Ilya was not done. “But maybe you should ask one of the guys who is married about how they got there? I’m not sure I’m the person to ask in this department.”
“I just thought…” Cliff started, but then paused, seeming to parse through a decision. “Well, you have been seeing that Montreal girl for all these years—“ Ilya tensed and started to defend himself, but Cliff waved him off. “I know, I know. But it seems serious with you two now, right? You aren’t taking girls home any more, and you’re always smiling when you check your phone. And I know I’m not supposed to know about her, but I just thought that if you had finally made it out of the hook up stage you might have some tips for me. I always figured you met her at a club or something, but you were always different about her than other girls.”
And suddenly, Ilya is torn. He had gotten permission from Shane to tell Marlow about them. Marlow clearly thinks that Ilya is in a committed, if secret and long distance, relationship and wants to know how he’s made it work. He tries to come up with a lie. A convincing one, not just a cheeky deflection, because his friend is being vulnerable and he doesn’t want to reject that show of trust. But then he lets himself imagine for a moment telling the truth. The relief of lying to one less person.
Before he has even really decided the words are out of his mouth, quiet but sure. “He is different from the girls I met in clubs.”
Ilya stops then, letting the words hang in the air as he can almost hear the gears turning in Cliff’s brain. He will start small, though it feels ridiculous to call coming out to an NHL player small. But Cliff had just explained how he saw Ilya’s joy about Shane. They were friends. Best friends, maybe. Could he really not accept that Ilya was happy with a man?
“How did you meet him?”
So it was that simple. There was a timid lilt to his tone that Ilya could recognize as unsteadiness. But he had acknowledged and continued. So here was the harder part.
“We met through the league.”
Cliff’s eyebrows scrunched as though trying to do complex arithmetic. When he didn’t add anything, Ilya pushed further.
“Did you ever notice that my Montreal girl was always in town when we played against Montreal?”
This was an admission, spoken with the hushed fear of a man on his deathbed. This was how the pieces clicked into place. All the smiles at his phone and the staring from the bench and the excuses to leave the hotel whenever they were in Montreal.
Cliff huffed in disbelief, “You’re in love with a staff member for the Voyageurs? Is he a trainer or something? A coach?”
Oh. Ilya hadn’t even considered a different conclusion, but it was true, there were actually lots of people who traveled with the team every game. Coaching staff, medical staff, media managers… and players.
“Something like that… He gets the schedule thing. Though I will admit, the only thing worse than one NHL schedule is two. I would not recommend this if you’re as bad at texting as you say. But when you find the right person, you figure out eventually that you have to make it work because not having them is worse than any compromise.”
Ilya can see that Cliff is looking at him now, really looking, as though seeing him for the first time.
“Do you think maybe he could come work for Boston instead? Cutting the scheduling down to half would at least help, and if he travels with the team in Montreal, he should be able to do so here too.”
Ilya smiled wryly, relaxing at Cliff’s obvious support. “I don’t know that he’d like Boston. Besides, there’s no way the pay cap would let us both pl—“
Cliff stiffened beside him and Ilya froze. He had not really planned on explaining further, but he had been so ready to joke about it that it had just slipped out. He wasn’t going to deny it though, so he just sat and waited.
Quietly, as though trying not to spook a bear, Cliff breathed “I thought you had a huge crush on Rose Landry. I was just sure that you two had secretly dated or something. I wouldn’t have ever thought…” he paused for a moment of consideration before continuing, “wait, was he fucking cheating on you???” There was a sudden measure of outrage in his voice as he spun to face Ilya.
The tension fell from Ilya’s shoulders for a final time and he started to laugh. It built and built until he was doubled over, laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. He only stopped when he saw Cliff’s face slide into hurt.
“Are you punking me, Rozy? I thought you were being serious about being with Hollander!” Marlow was upset for seemingly the first time in this crazy conversation and Ilya couldn’t allow that.
“No, no. I am not punking you. And he did not cheat on me. I was going to ask him out and he freaked out, ran off, and then started dating Rose Landry. I was furious and hurt, but it was not cheating. Not like that at least.” The hurt had slid back off his face, but Marley still seemed confused.
“I just appreciate you being willing to defend my honor, though I think you did enough when you laid him out last year.”
He went chalk white, “Oh fuck, Roz. I could have killed your boyfriend! I wouldn’t have ever known!!! Holy fuck you would have killed me in my sleep!! I’m so fucking sorry holy shit please forgive me it was supposed to be a clean hit, we were just playing like normal!!”
Ilya laid a hand on his arm, “It’s okay, Marley. Shane’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was shit luck. It happens. It’s not like I don’t check him during games too, and he seems to like me just fine.”
Cliff seemed to relax a little, though he still looked stricken with guilt. Ilya was distracted as his phone buzzed with a text.
Jane <3 : Home! Shower then snack then bed. Can you call in like twenty?
He smiled as he read it. When he looks up, Cliff has a peculiar look on his face.
“I’m glad you’re happy, Roz.”
Sincerity.
Ilya doesn’t see that from Cliff often, but that’s clearly what it is.
Ilya’s smile stays on his face. “Thank you, Cliff.” He pauses for a moment, deciding there’s been enough seriousness for the night. “Now get out of my room I have hot NHL super star to talk to about very sexy hot NHL super star things you wouldn’t know about.”
Marlow chuckles as Ilya starts to shove him off the bed. As he grabs his phone and his shoes he tosses back, “Should have known it wasn’t a trainer. You always shoot for as hot as they come, and no one is as hot as Hollander.”
“No!! I am! I am hottest NHL star! He is second hottest, so I must aim below my level because no one is above me. Do not forget!! And do not tell anyone. This is secret only for friends and you will keep it so that one day I can set you up with third hottest NHL star!” Ilya gestures wildly at Cliff as he follows him.
“Isn’t Scott Hunter already taken?” Cliff asks, grinning as he opens the door.
Ilya makes a sound of disgust, ready to fling another comment, but Cliff is already slipping down the hallway, leaving him alone with a smile on his face and a weight off his shoulders.