Page 140 of Heated Rivalry 1
Shane nodded. “It might. It will be awkward as hell, but... I’d like you to be there, I think.”
“Okay.”
“We should probably get dressed first.”
“Yes.”
They got dressed quickly. Shane put on a T-shirt from a charity hockey camp he helped coach last summer, just to remind his parents that he was a good and normal person.
Ilya was wearing a Boston Bears T-shirt. Shane made a face. “That’snot going to help.”
“Oh, do they not know I play for Boston?”
Shane rolled his eyes. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
The drive to Shane’s parents’ cottage took about ten minutes, but it seemed way, way longer this time.
“Okay,” Shane said as he parked behind his father’s car. “Just...let me do the talking.”
“No problem.”
“Fuck, maybe you should wait in the car.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow at him.
“No,” Shane said. “No, never mind. Come on.”
He exited the car and Ilya followed. Shane wondered if his parents were watching them through a window.
He didn’t bother to knock. He never did, with them. He opened the door and said, as calmly as he could, “Hello? It’s me. It’s... Shane.”
His parents stood from where they had both been sitting on the couch. It was clear that his dad had told his mom what he’d seen.
“Shane?” his mother said. She said it like she’d never heard the word before.
“Mom. Dad. I... I think we should talk.”
“We forgot to buy dishwasher tablets,” Dad said. He sounded shell shocked. “I just wanted to see if I could borrow some. I didn’t know you had...company.”
“Dad, it’s okay. I’m sorry. You...shouldn’t have found out that way.”
“Found out what, exactly?” Mom asked. Her eyes were locked on Ilya, just over Shane’s shoulder.
“Well, I... I’m gay. Which I was going to tell you. Soon. I just...sorry. I wish I’d told you.”
His parents didn’t say anything. They were both looking at Ilya like he was a mountain lion that was about to attack.
“Um, and this is... Ilya. Rozanov. You probably know that.”
“Hi,” Ilya said.
“And he’s been...visiting. He’s...we’re, um...”
Whatwerethey, exactly? It occurred to Shane that he and Ilya hadn’t even figured out what label they were comfortable with.
“Lovers,” Ilya offered.
Fuck, way to choose the grossest possible word, Ilya.
