Reading Time: 145 Minutes

Title: The Voice Inside Sings a Different Song
Author: Bythia
Fandom: Heated Rivalry, Game Changer Series
Genre: Established Relationship, Slash
Relationship(s): Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov
Content Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Hate Speech, homophobia, homophobic language
Author Note: Back in December, I told myself I would not fall into this fandom. Because I don’t do sports fandoms. That resolution lasted until Christmas Day. Then I rushed through reading the books, and promptly got so lost in a new fandom, I sat down and wrote a whole story for QB additional to the two I was already writing. So here we are, with a story that’s nearly double as long as I expected it to be.
Beta: starlitenite
Word Count: 87,663
Summary: The emergency landing of Ilya’s plane makes Shane realize that he needs to shift his priorities. While he and Ilya scramble to come up with a new plan about how to come out this following summer instead of ten years down the line, Shane sees some of his worst fears coming true while at the same time finding support he had never dared to even dream of.
Artist: CorgiQueen14

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Chapter 07

Shane didn’t bother to show up to either of the two games he was benched for. Instead, he took a flight home while the Voyageurs were playing the Admirals, and then drove to Ottawa. There he stayed at Ilya’s house—their house, Shane reminded himself regularly, because he had every intention of moving here in the summer, even if he ended up on a different team and had to get a second place to live in during the season—and watched the next two Centaurs games with his parents and the second Voyageurs game he was benched alone by himself.

He even picked up Anya from her pet hotel, because Ilya had promised him the place would be discreet and wouldn’t out them before they were public. While Shane had told Ilya he knew he had already lost the battle about getting a dog after he met Chiron for the first time, he hadn’t expected Harris and Troy to stab him into the back and present Ilya with a dog looking for a new home just a couple of weeks later.

For a couple days, Shane managed not to tell his parents or Ilya much about the reason why he was benched for two games. He even told Farah only the most basic facts, and she had promised to prepare anything they needed should the Voyageurs escalate.

They had also finally talked very openly about his preferences for a new team for the next season. He had explicitly listed the Centaurs as his number one choice on that phone call, but Shane still kept reminding himself that he would take any team—and that he couldn’t afford to hope for anything more than that, because he wouldn’t be able to deal with having his hopes of joining Ilya’s team be crushed.

He had never talked much with his parents about the inner workings of the Voyageurs. As a teenager, his mother had tended to be completely involved in his training, always making sure his coaches knew she was there watching and judging and guarding. Shane had hated it, had often felt more ostracized for his mother’s behavior than for the things she feared he would be ostracized for—not that there had been any less of that because of her hovering. Though, to be fair, being older and having coached children himself, he understood his mother’s behavior a little better.

The first time Yuna hadn’t been so involved in his team and his training had been for the World Junior Championships, and Shane had found that very refreshing. So, he had made sure that his mother understood she couldn’t pester his new coach once he was drafted to the NHL, that he needed to stand on his own there, even though she had felt that he wasn’t really an adult yet at 18, no matter what the law said. To keep her away from his training and his team, Shane had quickly started to only share very select tales with his parents, those that were funny or embarrassing in a good way.

Breaking that habit was surprisingly more difficult than breaking the habit of taking Theriault’s unwarranted critique in silence and with a smile.

It was really no surprise that when he finally managed to tell his parents about what had happened in New York, Yuna and David lost it a little bit. They didn’t say anything Shane hadn’t thought over and over again—and thought much more frequently lately—but they said it a lot louder and with harsher words. Then Yuna vanished into a phone call with Farah, and Shane was pretty sure they were making plans about that discrimination lawsuit Scott had suggested. He told them it was the last thing he wanted, but he knew they would still prepare everything so that, if the worst happened, the necessary paperwork would be ready to be filed at a moment’s notice.

“Don’t look at me that way, Dad,” Shane said and rolled his eyes.

David cocked his head and stared some more. Then he sighed. “We’re worried about you, son. For years, we thought you were living your dream with everything you wanted in life. And now, every few years we learn something more about how that’s not really true.”

“I am living my dream,” Shane said. “I’m one of the best hockey players of my generation. I’m nearly halfway to the seven Stanley Cups I want to have before I retire. I’m going to marry the love of my life. With some luck and hard work from Farah, I might even be able to play together with the love of my life and get those last four Stanley Cups with him. Maybe we’ll even be good enough to get an extra two to get him to seven cups, too.”

David laughed. “Seven cups? Where does that number come from?”

Shane just shrugged. He could explain his thought process to his father: he had put together a very well-thought-out argument at 15 about all the reasons why it was unrealistic to try to get more Stanley Cups than any player had ever gotten before, and should instead settle for the aforementioned seven. But he suspected the lecture would be interrupted because his father really didn’t want to talk about that part right now.

“You said the situation with the Voyageurs isn’t new,” David said.

“It’s not,” Shane agreed. “But I’m a grown ass adult, Dad. I made the decision to live with that situation, to accept it as what it is. I could’ve changed teams the last time I became a free agent. I decided not to. Overall, it wasn’t something that bothered me for the longest time.”

“When did that change?”

Shane sighed. “Hell, Dad, when did you think it changed? When no one talked badly about Scott Hunter in front of me, I thought that was a good sign they were accepting. Instead of a sign that part of the team had been doing a lot of things together while deliberately not including me. Lesson learned. At least they waited to really freeze me out until after I had given them another Cup. Or maybe that somehow made them angry.”

David frowned. “Why would they be angry about another cup?”

“Half the time they’re trying to insult me it doesn’t make much sense,” Shane shrugged. “Maybe they truly think the fag on the team doesn’t deserve another cup, even if that means they wouldn’t have gotten one either. Maybe they’re just spouting bullshit and hope it will somehow hurt me. You know, like the kids at school used to do back in primary. Some people clearly don’t grow out of that.”

“You might be in the wrong sport to find people who grow out of that,” David said with raised brows. “Chirping is part of the game, after all.”

Shane laughed. “Thanks, Dad, I feel very appreciated and loved being told I haven’t grown up since I was eight!”

David chuckled, but he sobered up soon enough. “Don’t try to distract me, son.”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“I’d like to know if you’re safe,” David said.

“With the kind of sport I play?” Shane asked with raised brows.

“You know exactly what I mean. This goes beyond the statistics you asked for. This is happening during practice. And it’s pressure from every side. Mental and physical. I … Is your diet part of it?”

Shane wanted to deny because, after a year of being questioned over and over again about it, he was really annoyed about everyone bringing it up all the time. Instead, Shane closed his eyes and took a couple of measured breaths.

“Maybe a little bit,” he admitted quietly. “But it’s a fact that I need to be healthy to keep my career. And I’m working with a private doctor, not my team doctor, and a nutritionist whom said doctor recommended to me. It’s not unhealthy to have this diet. And it is tailored for my exercise regimen. I need to make sure I get all the calories I need, otherwise I’d just lose muscle mass.”

“It is a little bit extreme,” David said carefully. “I’m sure your nutritionist has told you that a treat now and then is okay.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “I’m getting a treat now and then. Actually, pretty regularly. I just try not to share that with anyone but Ilya because his mocking isn’t … He is exasperated by the whole thing, yeah. But his mocking isn’t mean.”

His father flinched and Shane frowned. He hadn’t meant it as an insult to his parents, though their comments about his diet had been uncomfortable more than once.

“Needing to prove I’m the best on the ice has always been part of hockey for me, Dad,” Shane said. “It’s become more intense since I came out to the team, but it’s not new. Hell, I don’t think there was a single coach who took my ambition seriously before I was drafted for Team Canada for the World Juniors. They eventually relented to give me the time on the ice I wanted because I didn’t stop pushing, and Mom was breathing down their necks, but I bet you every single one of them would’ve sworn up and down that the scrawny Asian kid they couldn’t get rid of would never be drafted to the NHL. But now they’re all slapping themselves on the back and telling the parents of the kids they coach about how they made the great Shane Hollander what he is with their outstanding coaching.”

David winced and nodded. None of this was new to his father, Shane knew that. He had been there listening to Yuna and Shane rage about it throughout Shane’s whole childhood, but Shane knew there were aspects of this that his father still wouldn’t ever be able to fully understand.

“I’m by far not the only elite athlete with this kind of diet, Dad,” Shane said with raised brows. “Did I change my diet a year ago? Yeah. Does feeling that I need to prove myself to the Voyageurs more than before play into it? Probably. Am I only doing it because I feel I have to prove something to my team? No. Did I go to a different doctor and a different nutritionist than the team would’ve provided because of their behavior? Yes. Because I don’t trust them a lot right now, and my diet is something they could easily take advantage of to mess with my performance.”

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone other than the team doctor.”

Shane turned to look at his mother, who somehow looked just as devastated as she had that moment nearly four years ago when Shane had tried to explain to her how hard he had tried not to be gay.

“Since summer before last,” Shane said. “You remember Dr. Fuentes, who you arranged to come by for the camp in Montreal to talk with the kids about the importance of listening to their body and knowing what goes on with their body?”

Yuna nodded.

“I started talking with her the second day. I don’t remember what I said, but something made her ask questions about my doctor and how comfortable I was with him. She told me a second opinion could never hurt and left her card. I got in contact with her a couple of weeks later, and it’s been working out pretty great.”

He had also been seeing a separate physical therapist for a second opinion for nearly as long. None of his private, second opinion professionals had ever said anything bad about the advice he got from the Voyageur’s team doctors, but at least half the time, they had different options they offered him. Shane tended to follow their advice over what the team doctors had suggested.

Yuna blew out a breath and slowly walked over to where David was sitting. She took the seat to his left, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I wish I knew more about all the things you’re struggling with. But I know why you don’t share. Do you think we could find some compromise there?”

Shane shrugged. “I didn’t … Honestly, Mom. I didn’t think it was as bad as it is for a long time.”

His mother stared at him for a long while, then she nodded once. “Farah will have a very long conversation with you soon. Theriault already told you that we have to expect backlash from them. So, we need to know everything. Especially everything we can use to push back.”

“I don’t want to drag my team’s dirty laundry out into the open,” Shane protested.

Yuna smiled sadly. “And we won’t. Most of the pushback won’t happen in a public way. But Farah can sit down with a Voyageurs representative and explain exactly what damage we could do with complaints to the Players Association or even a discrimination lawsuit. The Voyageurs will want that even less than you.”

Shane fell back against his seat with a heavy sigh and rolled his head back to stare up at the ceiling. He hated how much everything was falling apart, and he knew it would only get worse before it got better. This was exactly what he had feared all along whenever he and Ilya had discussed coming out. Half of the life he had built was crumbling around him, and he couldn’t help but wonder how little it would take to tear the other half down with it.

***

Ilya was exhausted after coming home from the Centaurs’ latest road trip. Even after a full night of sleeping with Shane in his arms, because Shane had been waiting for him when he should’ve been on his way home with his own team. But he had been benched for two games, and the anger Ilya felt about it felt impotent with no place to go. He didn’t even have another game against Montreal this season where he could maybe be a little harsher than necessary with everyone but Shane, Pike, and Boiziau.

Shane had left early in the morning, not to go back to Montreal yet, where his team had training in the afternoon. But the training wasn’t mandatory, so Shane wouldn’t return to Montreal until tomorrow morning, when he had a mandatory practice. Ilya didn’t even know if Shane had ever skipped training before this season, before the Voyageurs had decided they’d rather push Shane out of hockey altogether than resign him or let him sign with another team. Ilya couldn’t wait to make them pay for it next season.

Shane had left after breakfast to go to his second appointment with the therapist he had found here in Ottawa. He’d had a first appointment with three different people: one of them had gone really badly while the other two had been okay. Shane had eventually decided on one of them, and Ilya wasn’t quite sure what the deciding factor had been. But he was glad Shane had found someone to talk to whom he seemed to be comfortable with.

Ilya had another appointment with Galina in a couple of days himself. He knew how this worked. He knew there were things he discussed with Galina that Shane would never learn about. He knew there were things Galina discussed with him that she would always encourage him to share with Shane. And very, very slowly, Ilya was getting better at sharing. It would be the same for Shane, eventually, he was sure.

They had made a promise to each other back in January when Ilya had come back from the road trip of hell. They were both working on following through on that promise.

But that didn’t mean Ilya wasn’t worried. That a part of him didn’t want to listen in on Shane’s appointment with his therapist to learn about all the things Shane was keeping from him, like how bad his locker room really was. The slow implosion he was witnessing from the outside didn’t come out of nowhere; it had to have been building for years. And he hadn’t known about it, hadn’t even guessed it, despite seeing how Shane went from making plans about how they could be seen together in public without causing suspicion to being afraid of being seen with him at all.

Ilya was angry at himself that he had been so focused on how much Shane’s insistence on additional secrecy had hurt him that he hadn’t wondered where the change in Shane had come from.

As soon as he heard the front door unlock, Ilya jumped from his place on the couch, where he had been listlessly scrolling through Instagram with Anya snuggled up against his side. She followed him out into the hall and then tried to greet Shane enthusiastically as soon as she saw him. Shane looked even more tired than Ilya had felt when he stumbled into the house, and he fell right into Ilya’s arms without a word.

“I’ve got you,” Ilya murmured in Russian and pressed a kiss to Shane’s hair. He remembered how lost he had felt after his first and second appointments with Galina, and he was glad Shane had chosen to come home instead of taking a walk as Ilya had done back then.

Ilya somehow managed to coax Shane through the process of taking off his shoes—leaving them lying disorderly in front of the door even though that would bother Shane later on—and getting him out of his jacket. Then he pulled Shane to the couch and held him in silence, swallowing down all the questions burning on his tongue.

“You warned me,” Shane murmured eventually.

Ilya frowned. “Warned you about what?”

“That it would be hard. That it wouldn’t feel like helping at first.”

Ilya exhaled slowly. “Yes. We knew that from Foundation, too. Is like broken bone. Doctors need to go in and make injury worse first, to set bone. Then flesh and bone have to heal, and there is pain. Then PT to rebuild muscles, and that’s more pain. Is just that we don’t see the wounds like with broken bones.”

Shane nodded against his chest.

“Will be worth it when we start noticing the healing, yes?” Ilya asked quietly. That’s what he told himself over and over again, and he fully believed it. But sometimes it was difficult to remember right after an appointment with Galina.

“It will,” Shane murmured. “And we’ve both gone through healing from injuries that sucked before. We’ve pushed through so we could play again. It’s the same now. I know that. I’m reminding myself of that. But right now, I feel so … exhausted. And ripped open.”

Ilya hummed, and Anya laid her head down on the couch beside Shane and whined lowly. She knew not to get on the couch when Shane was here, but Ilya was sure he’d someday convince Shane that it was okay for her to be on the couch with them. Shane reached out a hand and scratched her head.

“One more road trip, two more homestands,” Shane murmured. “There will be no playoffs for me this year. Season is nearly over.”

“Especially if you get benched for more games,” Ilya said darkly. The only explanation he had gotten from Shane over the phone was that he had clashed with his coach, argued with him in front of the team. Ilya had had a lot of arguments both with the coaches in Boston and in Ottawa over the years, and he had never been benched for that.

Shane shrugged. “So I’ll have a bad end to the season. I don’t think that really takes away my chances for a good contract with another team.”

“I’m ahead in points now,” Ilya murmured. “No fun if you aren’t keeping up. At this pace, Hunter will catch you before the season is over.”

There hadn’t been a single season where they hadn’t competed for the number of goals and total points against each other. It wasn’t a coincidence that their rookie season had ended with them tied in goals, and a ridiculous number of goals for two rookies. By now, ten years down the line, that competition was something of an institution, something that the sports news and podcasts and whatever else kept track of just as closely as Shane and Ilya did. It would very much be Ilya’s first rebuttal to anyone suggesting they had thrown games for each other once they made their relationship public.

“Just look at it like in 2017 when I was out early because Marlow injured me,” Shane suggested with a chuckle.

“No, is different,” Ilya said darkly. “It’s your team’s fault now. And I can’t even beat their asses on the ice again this season. Have to wait until September or October for that.”

Shane was silent for a moment. Then he whispered, “Maybe we can beat their asses together then.”

Ilya grinned. “Yeah, we will!”

It was the first time that he had heard Shane admit he was hoping to end up in Ottawa, to make any kind of plans for the future based on that. He knew Shane didn’t want to hope because he feared that hope would be shattered, but Ilya had been convinced for a while that they’d manage to get Shane to the Centaurs. He had put a bug in Wiebe’s ear, after all, pointing out his and Shane’s chemistry on the ice during the few All-Star games where they had been allowed to play on the same team.

Shane slid his hand under Ilya’s shirt until his fingers pressed against Ilya’s bare chest. For Ilya, it felt as if Shane was holding onto him as tightly as he could.

“At this point, I know I have to take any team I can get,” Shane whispered. “I’m sure Theriault and the Voyageurs’ front office are already … doing the work to blacklist me with as much of the rest of the League as they can. And I have no way to know what they’re telling anyone about me. But I want the Centaurs, Ilyusha.”

Ilya swallowed against the sudden tears at the endearment. It was new, though he had been waiting for it because he knew Shane had been reading about Russian names and endearments lately. Shane had been very invested lately in pushing forward his knowledge of Russian, and he wasn’t relenting, no matter how often Ilya reassured him that he was already pretty good with the language.

“You’re going to get it,” Ilya promised eventually, when he felt he could keep his voice steady enough. “We’ll be on the same team, and the whole league will hate the Voyageurs for pushing you out. We’ll build a dynasty together.”

“We better,” Shane murmured. “We still have to get you six cups.”

Ilya laughed. “Six? Where does that number come from?”

Shane huffed and fell into a whole lecture about the players with the most cups and what was realistic with the changes to the League since that time. It very much sounded like something he had rehearsed in the privacy of his own mind for years, and never gotten a chance to talk about. Ilya grinned widely and carded his fingers through Shane’s hair while listening to his reasoning. Maybe, if Shane’s goal was for Ilya to get seven cups in total, Ilya’s goal should be to push Shane as much towards the eleven cups record as he could.

***

Shane stared at his phone, wondering if he was doing something utterly foolish. He’d had Svetlana’s number saved for years, in case there was ever a reason he needed to reach out to her. In case Ilya was ever hurt, mostly. But he had never met her, had never talked to her. Because Shane had been so worried about keeping their secret to themselves that he had somehow managed to convince Ilya not to tell his oldest friend who his boyfriend really was.

But he needed something that only Svetlana had a chance to provide. So he pushed the button to dial her number while he watched the Centaurs on his muted TV start the second period of their game.

“Shane Hollander,” Svetlana said slowly. Her accent was much less prominent than Ilya’s, and it took Shane a moment to remember that she had been born in the US and that she had probably grown up with both languages. “I’m watching Ilya play on my TV right now, so I know you aren’t calling for any reason why you have my number.”

Shane bit his lip. “Hi. I … It’s great to finally meet you. Kind of.”

Svetlana was silent for a moment, then she laughed. “Is that why you’re calling? I’ve promised Ilya to come to Ottawa more often. I’m sure we can arrange for a meeting before the big day in July.”

Shane blinked, feeling his mind thrown off track. He hadn’t even thought about meeting Svetlana, if he was honest. Mostly because Boston was so much farther away than Ottawa, and he was preoccupied with mentally preparing himself to meet the rest of Ilya’s team sometime soon. By now, Ilya had come out to half of his team, one at a time, and told most of them about Shane, even. So far, Shane hadn’t met anyone but Troy, Harris, and, of course, Wyatt during All-Star Weekend.

“Uhm,” Shane cleared his throat. “Not exactly. I … need to ask a favor.”

“A favor?” Svetlana asked, and thankfully sounded amused.

Shane exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Because … Ilya won’t be able to go back home. And he doesn’t have anything here to remind him of his mom. I don’t know why, but he doesn’t even have a picture. And I know not being able to visit her grave again is the worst part for him about not going back.”

“He doesn’t have pictures because his father took them all away and stored them in a safe,” Svetlana said, her voice heavy and sad.

“I didn’t know that,” Shane murmured. “I asked for a picture once. He said there aren’t any.”

“And you think he would want some?” Svetlana asked.

Shane wet his lip and watched the Centaurs’ rookie score a goal, putting them up one. Ilya’s team had risen through the ranks ever since January in a spectacular fashion, and by now, barely anyone doubted anymore that they’d make the playoffs this year. Just as much as it was already pretty clear to anyone that the Voyageurs wouldn’t make it.

“I think he should have something here to remember her,” Shane whispered. “He misses her.”

Ilya had told him not that long ago that he had been constantly dreaming for months about his mother. He had shared the dream with Shane where they were at the cottage and Ilya found his mother lying outside in the hammock while Shane was inside, how he waited for Shane to come out and meet her, but in the dream, Shane never came out. And Shane would never be able to accompany Ilya to Irina Rozanova’s grave, they would never be able to visit Moscow together.

“He does,” Svetlana agreed.

“Your families were friends, right?” Shane asked. “I thought, maybe your parents might have some pictures of her, and you could get copies of them. And maybe you know a place that’s not her grave that would remind Ilya of her. Something we could try to recreate somewhere by the cottage where he can go to feel closer to her.”

Svetlana sighed deeply. “We probably have pictures of her, yes. I will ask my mother to find them and send me digital copies. But I’m not sure Ilya will want them.”

“Maybe not now, when the pain of leaving Russia behind for good will be so fresh,” Shane agreed quietly. “But eventually. I think he will be grateful eventually. When … when our children ask for pictures.”

“Oh,” Svetlana gasped and then was silent for a moment. “Is that something you talk about?”

“For after our retirement,” Shane said softly. “There are a lot of other things that have to happen beforehand. I think … Ilya won’t feel secure about that as long as he isn’t a Canadian citizen. But that will happen soon, hopefully. Long before we retire.”

“We really need to meet someday soon,” Svetlana said.

Shane smiled hesitantly. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“No maybe about that,” Svetlana said. “I’ve let Ilyusha take a step back from our friendship for far too long. The distance between Boston and Ottawa isn’t so great that I can’t visit regularly if he doesn’t want to come visit Boston for some reason. I allowed the distance of the past couple of years as much as he did.”

Shane didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet.

“I’ll get you the pictures,” Svetlana promised. “And I’ll think about that other idea. But I can’t make any promises.”

“Thank you,” Shane said quietly.

“No—” Svetlana huffed at the same time as Shane gritted his teeth about Ilya being pushed into the boards by a move that was so clearly against the regs. “What the fuck are those refs doing?” Svetlana snapped in Russian.

“They’re clearly blind,” Shane answered without thinking, and watched as Ilya shook his limbs out and then got back into the play while none of the refs even looked at him.

There was a pause, then Svetlana asked, still in Russian, “You speak Russian?”

“I think I understand more than I speak,” Shane said carefully, trying not to stumble over any of the Russian words. “Ilyusha says it is fine. But I feel very slow and bad.”

Svetlana laughed. “It’s not so bad. Maybe you just need more practice.”

“I have asked him to speak more Russian with me,” Shane said. “Sometimes he does. But we still speak mostly English.”

“How is your writing?” Svetlana asked.

Shane groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Worse than speaking.”

“I can help you practice,” Svetlana said, and it sounded more like she was making a decision than offering a suggestion. “We will text. That’s easy to do every day. And the next time you call, I will only speak Russian with you.”

“There will be a next time?” Shane asked with a reluctant smile.

“There will be a next time!” Svetlana said. “You need to practice, after all.” There was a pause, then she said something that was clearly a curse, even though Shane didn’t catch the words. “Oh, now you see a foul for what it is?”

Shane agreed with her and stared at his TV with a frown. Somehow, that led to them staying on the phone for the rest of the game, commenting on it and the shit referees the whole time. They kept speaking Russian, and more often than not, Shane was so distracted by complaining about the game that he forgot to be self-conscious about how much he was mangling most of the words he said.

Chapter 08

Ilya caught Shane’s wrist just as he was coming out of the bathroom and then crowded him against the nearest flat surface, which happened to be Shane’s closet. Shane laughed into the kiss but shoved Ilya away.

“Stop that. We’re invited to dinner with the Pikes!” Shane said, though he still chased after Ilya’s lips for another kiss.

“We’ve got two hours until we have to leave,” Ilya said. “We’ve managed with less time in the past.”

“It’s been a couple of years since we had to make do with less time regularly,” Shane said with a cocky grin. “I’m not sure you still know how to deliver on the promise you’re making here.”

“Oh, really?” Ilya looked at him with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. He grabbed Shane by the waist and turned them around, pushing him in the direction of the bed. “Maybe it’s been too long since we tested out how often I can make you come in an hour.”

It had been a month, at most, but Shane would never say no to that challenge.

“That hour starts now,” Shane said, and fell back onto the bed when Ilya pushed him. He braced his arms on the bed and looked up at him, not bothering at all to help Ilya get rid of their clothes.

Ilya pulled his shirt over his head and then grabbed the waistband of Shane’s sweatpants, the only thing he was wearing anyway. “Hour starts with your first orgasm, as always.”

Shane raised his hips so Ilya could pull away his pants. “Maybe it’s time for a change of rules there to make you work harder.”

“I’ll show you hard work!” Ilya said with a huff and pushed down his own pants. “Turn around. On your knees.”

Shane tilted his head to the side and contemplated for a moment challenging Ilya into making him turn around. But then he followed the instructions; they really didn’t have much time after all.

“Always so eager,” Ilya said, and Shane could practically hear his smug smile.

Before Shane could say anything, though, Ilya grabbed his ass with both hands and pressed a kiss against the small of Shane’s back. Then he licked over Shane’s hole, and Shane dropped his head onto the bed with a groan.

Ilya didn’t waste any time. He knew how to drive Shane crazy, and he was clearly taking the challenge to heart. Shane was a quivering mess in a matter of minutes while Ilya ate out his ass, and he hadn’t even touched Shane’s cock. Shane curled his toes as he tried to hold out, but he came with a shout much too early.

“Number one, my love,” Ilya said in Russian, smugly.

Shane tried to catch his breath and come up with a reply, but Ilya didn’t give him any time to recover. He was still caught up in the last shivers of his orgasm when Ilya pushed his cock inside Shane. He pressed his whole body against Shane and pushed him forward until Shane dropped to the bed, Ilya covering him fully.

Shane whimpered. The pressure of Ilya inside him and the friction of his half-hard cock against the bedsheets was too much and at the same time exactly right. Ilya bit the lobe of Shane’s ear and started to fuck him slowly but deeply without ever lifting up fully from Shane.

“I’m going to make you come at least once more before I touch your cock,” Ilya murmured against his ear.

“Ilya,” Shane murmured breathlessly.

He fisted his hands in the sheets and tried to thrust his ass up to meet Ilya, but Ilya stilled immediately and bit his ear again.

“No,” Ilya said. “Let me do all the work. You just lie here and take it.”

Shane grunted, though the command made his whole body relax without a conscious choice on his part. His cock twitched, trapped between his belly and the bed.

“Yes, just like this,” Ilya whispered. “I love how you just let me play with your body however I like. You’re so good for me, my love.”

Shane whimpered, beyond words now. Ilya kept murmuring praise against Shane’s ear, making all kinds of promises of what he would do to Shane next. Every time Shane moved, Ilya stopped, reprimanding him softly.

The second orgasm came more slowly than the first, and Shane wasn’t sure if the slow fucking and the friction from the bedsheets would be enough. But then Ilya’s murmured promises cut off abruptly, and he pressed open-mouthed kisses against Shane’s neck, groaning loudly. Shane followed Ilya over the edge just moments later.

Ilya rested on top of him, his hot breath blowing over Shane’s neck, his fingers curled around Shane’s wrists. Shane was too exhausted to even care about the wet spot beneath him, and he whimpered at the loss of warmth when Ilya eventually moved away.

“I’m right here,” Ilya murmured and kissed Shane’s shoulder.

Then he carefully rolled him to the side, and Shane blinked, looking up at his fiancé through hooded eyes. Ilya smiled softly and captured his lips in a deep kiss. He scratched his nails over Shane’s chest, not enough to leave marks but enough to make it sting briefly.

“Ready for number three?”

Shane shuddered in discomfort and shook his head. “No. I…” He huffed and cupped Ilya’s neck with one hand.

“Enough?” Ilya asked softly.

Shane nodded reluctantly. Sometimes, they could push each other for much more than the promised hour, but sometimes the overstimulation got to be too much too fast.

“Okay,” Ilya whispered and placed a soft kiss on Shane’s jaw.

Then he grabbed a couple of tissues from the nightstand and haphazardly wiped Shane clean, while at the same time scooting Shane a little farther away from the wet spot. In the end, he lay mostly on top of Shane, resting his head on Shane’s pec.

Shane carded his fingers through Ilya’s hair and basked in the warmth, eyes closed and with a big smile on his face. “You’re a menace.”

“You love it.”

Shane chuckled. “I love you, yeah. Your antics? Not so much sometimes. You’re changing the sheets before we leave!”

“You always love sex,” Ilya declared, full of confidence. “Anywhere and anytime.” He turned his head just enough to press a kiss against Shane’s chest and murmured in Russian, “I love you, too.”

Shane sighed, just happy to have this moment. He wished it could always be like this, but Ilya would leave after dinner with the Pikes because the Centaurs had an early morning flight to get on the road for the last couple of games in the regular season. They had a realistic chance for a wildcard spot in the playoffs for the first time in a very long time, and Shane hoped they’d make it. So he had insisted Ilya drive home that evening so he could get a full night’s rest instead of spending the night in Montreal and driving back to Ottawa too early in the morning.

“In four days, I’ll play my last game as a Montreal Voyageur,” Shane murmured.

For the past couple of months, that thought had been terrifying. He hadn’t known if he wanted to still reach the playoffs with his team to have some more games before the change came, or if he hoped they wouldn’t make the playoffs so it was over faster. In the end, the team had started to crumble so badly that it had been clear for weeks now that the Voyageurs wouldn’t get into the playoffs. The team was falling apart from the inside, and there was much more than the one conflict around Shane brewing now. Every sports media outlet was speculating about what was going on inside the Voyageur’s locker room, but so far, no rumors of the truth had surfaced.

“Three games,” Ilya murmured. “All home games.”

“I’m not sure that makes it better,” Shane admitted. The weeks since his two games benched had been tense, and half the hockey world was talking about it even though they had no idea what was really going on. Thankfully, no one had so far decided to out Shane and point a finger at him. But it made him anxious about what would happen once he had played his final game for them. “But at least I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed. And my parents will be there for all three games.”

“You will be careful.” It wasn’t a question but rather a demand.

“I’ll be careful,” Shane promised. “I won’t take any risks. But I do want to get a couple more points in. Can’t let you get too far ahead.”

“I will be gracious, and we’ll strike this season out of the overall statistics for both of us,” Ilya said. He raised his head and rested his chin on Shane’s chest to look at him. “Shitty team shouldn’t ruin all your stats. But I’ll still come out with more points in the end. Will reach 1000th point before you.”

Shane raised his brows. “You won’t. I’ll beat you to that. I’ll get there next season, and you won’t!”

“Never!” There wasn’t the usual heat of their competition in Ilya’s gaze, though, as he watched Shane. “Pike and Boiziau will protect you, yes?”

Shane wanted to protest, wanted to argue that he didn’t need anyone protecting him. But the mood on the team had turned too volatile for that. “Yes. They’ve been glued to my side for a while now, glaring at everyone who dares to try start an argument. I’ll be leaving them in a pretty bad situation because they haven’t made any friends lately.”

He really worried about his friends, but maybe the team would crumble so badly that Hayden and JJ would just vanish into the background. There had been some guys who had grown surprisingly quiet who had been all too happy until recently to freeze Shane out of team activities at Comeau’s side. There had been a very noticeable shift after Shane had stopped being quiet when Theriault blamed him for other players’ mistakes. For the longest time, Shane had felt that the rest of the team was pretty united against him. Since he had stopped playing by Theriault’s rules, though, it had become clear that the team was divided into more than two camps.

There was still the group centered around Comeau and Drapeau, who weren’t even trying to hide their hatred anymore. Their slurs had grown worse, now aimed at JJ and at Hayden as much as at him, just as Shane had expected after Hayden had tried to call them out. But there were other smaller groups—most of the rookies and some veteran players—who were much more neutral. Some of them had even joined Shane in protesting the way Theriault conducted post-game analyses. They still didn’t speak up about the more and more blatant and targeted homophobia the way Hayden and JJ had started to do, but they also didn’t join in on it anymore, and Shane took that as a step forward, no matter how much he wished for more.

“I wish I could be there,” Ilya murmured.

Shane chuckled. “I hope you want to be here because you want to see me play live. I can take care of myself, Ilyusha.”

“I know.” Ilya huffed. “And I do want to see you play live. It’s been too long since I could do that. I did not appreciate in Sochi chance to watch your games. These games, especially, I would like to be there to support you, though.”

Shane smiled sadly and played with a strand of Ilya’s hair. There were so many reasons beyond Ilya needing to be with his own team that would prevent him from watching any of Shane’s games at the moment. But the fantasy was still nice.

“I’m going to be fine,” Shane promised. “And we need to get up now. We’ll need to take a shower before we can go over to Hayden. And you need to change the sheets because it’s your fault they’re a mess again!”

Ilya huffed and rubbed his face against Shane’s chest. “Hayden is unimportant.”

Shane raised his brows. “And Jackie and the kids?”

“They are very important!” Ilya declared. He pushed himself up on his arms, pressed a quick kiss against Shane’s lips, and then jumped off the bed. “Come on, Hollander! Shower together to save water and time. We have important appointment with the important Pikes!”

Shane laughed and followed Ilya into the bathroom. Showering together never saved water or time, and it wouldn’t this time either. But he enjoyed showering with Ilya too much to point that out, and they did have enough time to enjoy the shower together.

***

The buzzer went off, and the game ended.

Shane felt his whole body ache as he let his momentum carry him. He made half a lap around the ice, his gaze fixed on the crowd. They were celebrating, but it was a very subdued celebration. They had won the game against Buffalo, but it was also their last game for this season as they had fallen short of the playoffs. But it had still been important for Shane to win this last game he would ever play in the Bell Center as a Montreal Voyageur.

JJ caught up to him and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “That was a great goal there in the last two minutes.”

Shane shook his head. “One last goodbye to the fans before they start hating me.”

He’d have loved to have a last hat trick even, but he didn’t have enough support for that anymore. His points had dropped significantly since he had come back from the All-Star game, and he knew everyone analyzing NHL games had taken notice of that.

JJ shoved him to the side. “Half of them will turn around and abandon us to follow you.”

Shane laughed. “Yeah, in your dreams. If Mom didn’t know exactly what was going on, not even she would abandon the Voyageurs to follow me wherever I ended up.”

“I think your Mom is first and foremost your fan, Hollzy,” JJ said.

Hayden closed in on them, wrapping his arm around Shane’s shoulders from the other side. “You two good?”

Shane just nodded. There was no real celebration on the ice. He’d had a couple of games like that, mostly early on in his career with the NHL, where the last game of the regular season had felt pointless no matter how it ended, because they had already known long before that the playoffs weren’t part of their future. Being in this position when they were the defending champions was especially sobering.

The ice cleared out pretty quickly, with only the three of them remaining. It was Shane’s personal goodbye, and he was glad the fans had no idea about it. Not even their opposing team knew about it. He hadn’t spelled it out in those exact words for his own team, but the reaction to his announcement about coming out publicly from Theriault, Comeau, and Drapeau should be telling enough for everyone who hadn’t been told by those three directly.

“You gonna miss it?” Hayden asked.

“I don’t think so,” Shane admitted. “Not after this last season. But I’m going to be back here to beat your ass, no matter where I end up.”

“There’s something Jackie and I kept to ourselves,” Hayden said softly. “You most likely won’t be back to beat my ass here. I waved my no-trade clause a week ago.”

“What?” Shane stopped and grabbed the back of Hayden’s jersey to turn him around and look at him. “What are you talking about?”

Hayden shrugged. “The grandparents will step in a lot for the next year. We agreed we can manage one season with me not being home much. It will suck, but we’ll manage. At this point, I expect to be traded pretty early on in July when trades open again. And next year, after I can sign a new contract with whoever has the best offer, we might just move the whole family for the rest of my career.”

“Why would you do that?” Shane asked, aghast.

“Because this team will fall apart spectacularly,” JJ said from behind Shane.

When Shane turned around, JJ was looking up into the audience. A few fans still lingered around, but most had already left.

JJ sighed and turned to Shane. “You’ve seen it. I don’t think Theriault thought it through when he started antagonizing you more and more, especially after you started to push back. It will backfire on him. You won’t be the only one leaving this team over the next little while. We’ll just have to wait to see how it will all turn out.”

“This is crazy,” Shane murmured.

“It’s what happens when the head coach and management suck,” Hayden said. Then he shoved Shane’s shoulder. “Come on, one last chase on this ice as our home ice!”

JJ chased after Hayden right away, but Shane watched them for a moment, feeling lost like he had never before felt while on the ice. Then JJ turned around and shouted “Loser!” from the red line, and Shane gave chase. It didn’t take him much time at all to catch up to his friends, and they made three more laps around the ice, always keeping near the boards while chasing and shoving each other before they stopped and left the ice. The last few fans still in the stands had to wonder at their behavior, but Shane didn’t doubt they would learn soon what this had been about.

The locker room was nearly empty, and Shane was glad that especially Comeau and Drapeau were already gone. Those two definitely knew that this had been his last game, and he wouldn’t have wanted to listen to their mocking. He had heard enough of that for the rest of his life, though he probably wouldn’t escape it next season when he faced them as opponents on the ice. And he would face them, even though they were clearly convinced he was on his way out of the League.

Shane ignored everyone and concentrated on taking his gear off. This was another thing he was doing for the last time with this gear, in this stall, in this locker room that had been his home for a decade, and he suddenly had to fight against the tears gathering in his eyes. This locker room had been the center of his life for a decade, and he hated that he wasn’t getting a proper end to it. He was pretty sure his jersey would never hang in the rafters like he had dreamed about for such a long time.

“Hey, Hollzy,” James Morin, a rookie defenseman, said.

Shane paused in unlacing his second skate and raised his head, fingers lingering on the laces. He didn’t say anything, just looked at the rookie who had just ended his first season in a way he surely hadn’t expected when he had been drafted to the Voyageurs.

“Are you really leaving?”

Shane noticed that everyone who was still there was looking at him now. He abandoned his skate and sat up, taking his time to look at everyone. There were some things he hoped he would never have to discuss publicly, but maybe the guys in this room deserved more than PR approved answers.

“I informed Theriault in February that I would come out publicly this summer,” Shane said. “You’ve known that, too, for a couple of weeks now. He told me, if I insisted on doing that, I would not have a place on this team anymore.”

Morin stared at him with his mouth hanging open, and everyone else avoided his gaze. The discomfort was like another person in the room, but Shane wasn’t sure if that was about his plans or about Theriault’s actions. Most likely, it was a mixture of both.

“He has the backing of management,” Shane said. “So, yes. This was my last game as a Voyageur.”

“This isn’t right,” Morin murmured with a frown.

Shane raised his brows. “That I’m not content anymore with hiding things about my life no straight player needs to hide?”

“No. The way you’re treated. The way you’re being pushed out,” Morin said. “I know I was … For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for how I joined some of their behavior at first.”

Shane just stared for a moment, and then a couple of the other guys still hanging around joined in with their own apologies. It felt like far too little far too late, and Shane didn’t know what to do with it. Chances were he wouldn’t play with any of them on the same team ever again.

Then Shane pulled his shoulders back. “I think the real worth of any of this will come up in the summer. I’m going to follow Scott Hunter’s lead, even though I’ve been told that no one wants a second Scott Hunter. Third now, I guess, with Troy Barrett.”

Shane couldn’t remember what any of their reactions had been to Troy coming out just hours before the Centaurs’ Pride game against the Toronto Guardians. He had only noticed those who had loudly opposed Barrett coming out, most of them mocking him for only doing it for clout because otherwise his betrayal of Dallas Kent would have cost him everything he had. They had claimed it was a ploy to prevent the NHL from firing him at the end of the season. Shane hadn’t looked then at the people saying anything against Barrett, and he hadn’t heard a single person speaking up for him. But he had thought it was telling that no one had bothered to hide their reactions this time, like they so clearly had done with Scott Hunter, luring Shane into a false sense of security that had never been there.

The looks exchanged between the rest were sheepish. Shane took that in for a moment before he returned to ignoring them. He changed as quickly as he could and decided that taking one last shower here didn’t hold any sentimental value, so he would wait until he was home, no matter how much it made his skin itch.

Shane left the locker room with Hayden and JJ beside him, as had become their habit these last few weeks. It had been another target for the other players’ mocking, but neither Shane nor his friends had cared. Shane would be forever grateful for the support his friends had given him over these past few months, and he could only hope that both of them would land somewhere where they could be successful for the rest of their careers.

Theriault was waiting for him near the player’s entrance, Comeau and Drapeau at his back. Shane gritted his teeth and tried not to show any outward reaction. Of course, they had to get one last dig in before he could leave for good. They were the kind of people who needed to have the last word.

“Was it worth it, throwing away your career, Hollander?” Theriault asked.

“Today wasn’t my last game for the NHL,” Shane said, and he had no doubt about that. “No matter how much pull you think you have, or what you think management or the owners can do or have already done, my name is worth more than any of that.”

Farah was ready to throw herself into negotiations with any team except for a very short list of definite no-goes. Shane had seen the drafted email just waiting for July 1st, when he would be free of his contract with the Voyageurs and able to openly say that he was looking for a new team.

“They’ll drop you soon enough when they learn the truth about you,” Theriault said with an angry frown. “There isn’t a single coach who doesn’t already know that you plan to jeopardize any franchise you might join.”

“We’ll see,” Shane said.

He pushed his way past Theriault and ignored Comeau as he tried to grab his arm. He had come this far without physically fighting any of them, despite how much especially Comeau had tried to push for a fight every single practice. He wouldn’t let them drag him into one now. And he had made sure neither JJ nor Hayden would fall for that kind of trap either. They couldn’t give the Voyageurs that kind of leverage.

Drapeau blocked the door with his body before Shane reached it, his arms crossed over his chest. “They should’ve never allowed you on the ice. And now you haven’t just ruined your own career. Your two friends have no place in the League either.”

“Get out of my way,” Shane said.

Drapeau smiled coldly. “You aren’t my captain anymore. I don’t have to pretend to listen to you now.”

JJ huffed. “And what do you think you can accomplish with this? Nothing is going to change just because you try to keep us here.”

Before anyone could answer JJ’s question, the rest of the guys from the locker room came spilling out into the hallway, talking loudly in what appeared to be a not very happy conversation. Drapeau frowned and glared at them, then he stepped aside. Whatever those three had planned for an escalation, they clearly didn’t want any other witnesses.

Shane pushed his way past Drapeau, deliberately avoiding more than the briefest contact with him. Comeau shouted some slurs after him, and Shane heard Hayden growl lowly, but his friends thankfully just followed him outside.

“What a loser,” Hayden murmured under his breath as soon as they were outside and the door closed behind them.

“Any plans for the evening?” JJ asked.

“I’d like to just go home and do nothing,” Shane said. “But my parents insisted we go out for dinner. I’ll have barely half an hour at home before I need to leave to meet them. Just enough time to grab a shower.”

“Ah, yeah. Makes sense.” JJ clapped his hand on Shane’s back. “I’ll see you soon. Don’t try to avoid me.”

“Jackie expects you for dinner tomorrow,” Hayden said. He carefully looked around before he added quietly, “Both of you, if he comes here for his break before the first series.”

Shane smiled tiredly. “Yeah, okay. Tell her we’ll be there.”

***

The mood in the locker room was more excited than Ilya had ever seen since he had joined the Centaurs. They had just finished their last game of the regular season with another win and were heading into the playoffs, where they would meet the Boston Bears in the first series. Most of the guys on the team didn’t have any experience with the playoffs, and that made reaching that level even more exciting.

“What the fuck?” Luca said suddenly, staring at his phone.

“What?” Ilya asked, irritated that the rookie let himself be distracted from the party going on in the locker room.

It was his first season, and no one had expected their team to reach the playoffs, so Luca especially should be overwhelmed with excitement at making it this far in the season. Ilya remembered his first season well. Boston hadn’t been a good team back in 2009, which was why they’d had first pick during the draft. Boston hadn’t made it to the playoffs his first season, and it had been a huge disappointment for Ilya. He was glad that Luca didn’t have to deal with the same disappointment.

Luca looked up from his phone, eyes wide. “Hollander is retiring?”

Ilya frowned in confusion. “What? Why do you say that?”

Luca turned his phone to him, and Ilya saw the official Twitter account of the Montreal Voyageurs. There was one tweet about winning the final game of the season, then one thanking the fans for their support, and a promise to come back with better energy next season. Practically an apology for not reaching the playoffs without apologizing. As always, all their Tweets came in two versions, one in English and one in French.

Then, the latest tweet, barely fifteen minutes old, read:

Today, we also say goodbye to our number 24, Shane Hollander. He was an outstanding asset to our team and celebrated many losses, wins, and successes with us for his ten seasons with the NHL. We wish him luck for his future.

Ilya let out a string of harsh curses in Russian and grabbed Luca’s phone. He wanted to flay those assholes alive. They needed to counteract this bullshit as soon as possible.

“Harris!” he called out, barely able to contain his anger.

Somehow, the whole locker room suddenly fell silent, but Ilya didn’t have the mental capacity to concentrate on anything but the shit the Voyageurs had just pulled. Their last game had ended three hours ago. He couldn’t believe they had reacted this fast and this underhandedly vicious.

“I just saw,” Harris said. “Is he home?”

Ilya shook his head and grabbed his own phone from the bag in his locker, dialing Yuna’s number while scrolling through the replies to the tweet. There weren’t a lot yet, and most of them were highly confused fans.

“Ilya,” Yuna answered the call, laughing. “How are you?”

“Look at Voyageur’s Twitter,” Ilya snapped. He could apologize later for his tone.

Yuna paused, then she said, “David, give me your phone.” There was a moment of silence, followed by some very colorful curses in English, French, and, at the end, Ilya suspected even in Japanese.

“I’ve put you on speaker, Ilya,” Yuna said. “We are in a private room in the restaurant because there were some fans lingering around who aren’t very happy about how this season went.”

“Shane,” Ilya murmured. Then he slipped into Russian, “Sweetheart, those fuckers don’t deserve your loyalty. I’m so sorry.”

Shane answered in English, his voice shaking, “They’re fast. I didn’t think … They severed my contract.”

Ilya frowned, asking in Russian, “What?”

“An hour after the game ended, Farah got an email,” Shane said softly. “I have no obligations left to them, and they don’t have any to me. There are just over two months left on the contract. And still, they took the fucking fine to sever my contract early, stating insurmountable differences. I didn’t expect them to do something like this.”

Ilya looked to Harris and switched back to English, so Harris could understand him. He was aware that the rest of the room was listening as well, but he would swear his whole team into secrecy for the next couple of weeks until everything else would start to come together. He would make sure they’d know how much they would regret breaking his trust.

“Let’s publish your first video now. I know you wanted to do it in June. But let’s make sure the world knows exactly why you aren’t a Voyageur anymore.”

Harris frowned and bobbled his head from side to side. “That could go both ways.”

“We should talk with Farah first,” Yuna said on the other side of the call.

Ilya shook his head. “If we give them time, they start their narrative. They know Shane wants to come out. Maybe they think he is not ready. So, they want to put their story out before he can. Blame him for team falling apart, da? Spin their tale of the ‘insurmountable differences’. But they’re wrong. We are ready. This is why we made first couple of videos to be Plan B. This is not what we thought Plan B would be for, but it will still work.”

“Ilya is right, Mom,” Shane said, and Ilya couldn’t tell through the phone if he was angry or dejected. Probably a little bit of both. “They’ve made it sound as if I’m leaving the NHL, not just the Voyageurs. And the tone is clear. The things they haven’t said in that tweet are glaring, especially after the team’s performance these past couple of months. I need to react to this. And the videos are done. We can start with the first one. And even the second and the third.”

“We won’t be able to control any of it this way,” Yuna said.

David sighed. “We would never have been able to control any of it, my love.”

“Ilya, is Harris there?” Shane asked.

“Right at my side.”

“Put me on speaker.”

Ilya hesitated, then he took a moment to glare at everyone in the room before he followed Shane’s demand. “You are on speaker. In locker room.”

Shane inhaled sharply. “Oh. Hello, Centaurs. Congrats on reaching the playoffs. And sorry for crashing your party. Harris?”

“I’m here.”

“I know this isn’t your job,” Shane said. “But … I’m not sure I trust your friend you set us up with yet. I do trust you.”

Harris had given them several names for people they could hire as their social media manager, and they had eventually settled on a young woman just out of college. But her contract didn’t start until June, and she didn’t know the full scope of what they planned to do over the summer yet. It had been Harris who had helped them with the videos they had prepared so far, starting with a couple of videos they could’ve used as statements if they had been outed by accident or malice ahead of their own timeline.

“I had a very interesting call with our management, Hollander,” Wiebe said from his place at the other end of the room. “I hear your manager reached out for contract negotiations around two hours ago.”

Shane was silent for a moment. “Yes. The Voyageurs canceled my contract after our game earlier. There was no reason to wait for July 1st anymore. And the Centaurs are my number one choice.”

Wiebe nodded, face grim and arms crossed over his chest. “Then consider this Harris’ job already.”

There was a collective gasp in the locker room, and Ilya glared his teammates into silence.

Shane chuckled sadly. “Your front office could still pull back, considering the chaos we’re heading into. Please post the first three videos on the schedule we agreed on, Harris. Just starting today instead of at the end of June.”

“I’ll take care of it right away,” Harris promised. “But call Jess and adjust her contract so she starts working for you now. I won’t be able to monitor the reactions; we’ll need her for that.”

Shane hesitated. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Harris.”

Ilya took the call off speaker. “Shane, I … I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, love,” Shane said with a sigh. “When will you be home?”

“Flight goes in the morning. I should be home for lunch.”

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Shane murmured. “Hayden and Jackie want us over for dinner.”

“I love you,” Ilya whispered in Russian and turned around to face the locker room. “We are going to be okay. We are prepared. Those assholes won’t take any more from you. Pike’s kids will be a great distraction for you tomorrow.”

Shane chuckled and answered in Russian as well, “Go take care your team. You outed us to all who didn’t before know. And I hope Wiebe is right about my contract.”

“Yuna, David, you’ll take care of Shane, yes?” Ilya asked.

David chuckled. “He is in good hands with us, son. Don’t worry. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ilya closed his eyes, but then he ended the call. There wasn’t anything else he could do for Shane from here. But he did have to take care of his team now.

When Ilya turned back to the rest, they were all staring silently at him. Except for Harris, who was sitting on the bench in front of Troy’s locker with his laptop in his lap. Troy was hovering beside him, but he was watching Ilya just as intently as the rest were.

“So.” Ilya cleared his throat. “Some explanations and some threats. I’m bisexual. I am engaged to Shane Hollander. You are all invited to wedding on July 6th. Is a Tuesday. Will happen at my house. I don’t accept any excuse not to be there. And if anything you just heard leaves this room before Harris is done with the great work he has been doing to help Shane and me to come out on our own terms, your corpses will provide nutrients for Harris’ family’s apple yard.”

“I don’t think that would be good for the apples,” Troy said with raised brows.

Ilya crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. “Then I will find other place, but point stands. Voyageurs are all the assholes we can deal with.”

“No one here is going to blurt out your secrets to anyone, Cap,” Bood said quietly. “Is Hollander okay?”

Ilya shrugged. “Last weeks have been hard. But I think he still did not expect this.”

“Is he really going to join our team?” Holmberg asked, awed.

Ilya looked at Wiebe.

“The negotiations have just started,” Wiebe said. “But I’m sure with this situation evolving, our front office will be very interested in wrapping that up as soon as possible before another team offers Hollander something better.”

“Something better than playing with his husband?” Luca asked skeptically.

Ilya grinned and patted his shoulder. “You’re right. No other team has anything better to offer!”

“Congratulations on your engagement, Cap,” Bood said, as if he hadn’t already congratulated Ilya weeks ago. But it set off a whole chorus of congratulations around the room, and maybe that had been the whole point.

Everyone chimed in. Ilya wouldn’t be ashamed to admit that he was counting and keeping track, trying to figure out if there was anyone who only did it out of peer pressure. Learning more about how Shane’s team had reacted had made him more cautious, and telling at least Wyatt, Troy, Harris, Bood, and Wiebe about Shane had taken some of the pressure away he had felt over keeping the secret. So Ilya had been slow to come out to anyone else until today.

There was no one who seemed to fake their joy, and Ilya couldn’t put into words how relieved he was about that. Some were a little hesitant—Tanner Dillon among them, who already wasn’t happy about being pushed off the first line by Troy and who might have more of a problem with Shane joining their team than anyone else. But no one looked or sounded as if they were biting back slurs, and between Wyatt and Ilya, they’d managed to drive a lot of the harsher language out of their locker room over the past couple of years anyway.

Ilya would make sure that by next season Shane would find the safe haven here he’d never had in the Voyageur’s locker room.

Chapter 09

Shane’s parents had insisted that they would stay with him for the night, no matter that his father had to be at the office the next day and would have a very long commute in the morning. But they hadn’t let Shane argue against it and had kept him from looking at his phone or any social media for the whole evening.

Yuna had called Farah, while Shane had called Harris’ friend, who had already signed a contract with Ilya and Shane to start working as their social media manager on June 1st. Jess hadn’t hesitated to agree to amending her contract to start working for them right away. Shane wasn’t sure what other job she had been doing, but she had told him he didn’t need to worry about it. She had been at his house by the time Shane and his parents had come back from dinner, and they had adjusted her contract and then gone through Shane’s social media accounts to give Jess all the access she needed to do her job.

Now Shane was finally alone, his parents retired to the guest room, and he couldn’t stop himself from opening Instagram. His first video, the one where he came out, had been online for a little over two hours now. He hadn’t watched the video since they’d made it, so Shane let the video play before he scrolled down to the comments.

It was strange seeing himself on the small screen, even though Shane had seen thousands of clips of himself taken during all kinds of things. But this was different. He usually didn’t make videos of himself for social media. He had social media accounts because that was just part of being more or less a celebrity, but he really couldn’t be bothered to use them for much.

In the video, Shane was sitting on the couch in Ilya’s house. They had shot all their videos there, and for the first three videos, they had made sure there was nothing in the frame that could give it away that Shane was at Ilya’s house. Ilya’s first video had him in the kitchen, and Shane remembered how difficult it had been to just watch Ilya talk about what coming out meant for him.

Shane looked at himself in the video, seeing how tense his whole body was, remembering how nervous he had been about this. The second time he had filmed the first video, when he had repeated everything in French that he had already said in English, he had been more relaxed. Saying all of it a second time in a different language hadn’t seemed like such a big burden anymore. It hadn’t been the same with all the videos. Sometimes it had been harder to find the right words for the French version.

“I’ll make this one short,” Video-Shane said and took a deep breath, his chest rising visibly. “I honestly wish I didn’t need to sit here and make a statement about it. Didn’t need to prepare for the attention it will gather. But that’s not the world we live in. At least not when you’re a semi-public figure and an elite athlete. Especially not if you’re part of the NHL.”

Another deep sigh, and video-Shane lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked back up at the camera. “I’m gay. And I have been in a committed relationship for several years. I am going to get married this summer. My partner and I will publish a statement together after the wedding.”

A pause, again, then video-Shane exhaled loudly. “I’ve known I am attracted to men since I was a teenager. But that was always the worst insult that could be thrown at you on the ice. Worse even than the racist slurs I’ve had to endure on and off the ice in this sport. But I wanted to play hockey. And I wanted to play hockey with the best, wanted to prove I’m one of the best of the best since before I was even a teenager. And this was a part of myself I could hide, so I did. Pushed it down until I could convince myself it wasn’t true for a little while so that I wouldn’t have another hurdle standing between me and the NHL.

“I met my partner for the first time when I was 17. And that very carefully erected wall crumbled down around me. I still managed to convince myself that it wasn’t just men, that I could be normal, that I could date women if I wasn’t oh so focused on hockey. The one time I actually tried that was pretty public, and I was pretty lucky to find a very understanding and supportive friend in her instead. She might have kicked my ass a little bit about my partner.”

Video-Shane ran his tongue over his lips, and his gaze darted somewhere off camera. Shane remembered Ilya making funny faces, and video-Shane chuckled before biting his lip and shaking his head. “Then Scott Hunter took away the burden of there being no active and out players in the League. That was a moment that gave me hope. It didn’t fix everything, of course. Especially not my fear of coming out and of the consequences of that. But it convinced me that I could have a relationship with my partner.”

Video-Shane paused again, his gaze flicking to the person out of view of the camera again, rolling his eyes this time. He turned back to the camera, “My partner is an idiot half of the time, by the way. And the other half he is a menace. But I love him. He is the only person I’ve ever been in love with. We have been hiding for years. And we have reached a point where we can’t do that anymore. Where the burden of hiding is much bigger than any threat of what might happen if we come out. So here I am, telling you a truth about myself I wish I would’ve never felt forced to hide.

“I hope the season is over already, that whoever won the cup this year is deep in their celebrations. Because that’s the plan. If no one else forces my hand. Preparing a wedding isn’t exactly something you can do quietly, so we figured the risk of being outed against our will on this last stretch might be pretty high. But I hope we can do this on our terms, because we already don’t have a choice about doing it at all. No one would care if I were marrying a woman in the summer. I really wish marrying a man wouldn’t be such a big difference here.”

Shane blew out a breath as the video ended. For a moment, he wished Harris had cut out those last few seconds. Technically, no one had outed them. But their hands had been forced nonetheless because they couldn’t let the Voyageurs put out whatever rumours they planned to about Shane. If they had waited to post this video, it would’ve looked like a cop-out, like something to distract from whatever the Voyageurs had chosen their narrative to be.

In the video, the sun was shining through the windows behind Shane. They had recorded it in the early afternoon, when the sun had just begun to reach those windows. The Voyageurs had posted their tweet around dusk; it would be clear to everyone who watched that the video had to have been recorded a while ago, much earlier than the tweet had been posted. No one could legitimately question that this hadn’t been planned for a while, so no one could argue with any kind of seriousness that it was used as some kind of distraction from other impending drama.

Shane rubbed a hand over his eyes, then he scrolled down. He skimmed some of the comments. Most were supportive, there were some asking if this was the reason he had left the Voyageurs and why the announcement about that had been so strange. There were some hateful comments as well, but Shane suspected whatever filters Jess had put in place were already hard at work because half the comments were flagged as not visible and waiting to be reviewed.

Scott had reposted the video less than ten minutes after it had been posted and had added, “Proud of you. This is a big step, but you aren’t alone. Can’t wait for the wedding.”

There were a lot of other players who had reposted the video as well, adding comments with their support and congratulating him. Many of them were of the group Scott and Carter Vaughan had gathered around them. But there were other players, too, some whom Shane only knew by name. Somewhere in the middle of all that, Ilya had reposted the video as well without any further comment. It wasn’t what they had planned, but then their plans had once again just been thrown out the window.

***

The Centaurs had five days between the regular season and the first game of their series against the Bears. Ilya came to Montreal the day after the last game of the regular season, and they went to the Pikes to have dinner with them. As long as they were with their friends, it was easy for them to ignore whatever was happening on social media.

Shane knew the Voyageurs hadn’t made another post yet about his departure. The reactions to Shane’s coming out were mixed, but overall, more positive than they had been for Troy, and even a little more than they had been for Scott. Jess sent them a short update every hour and otherwise reminded them to stay off social media for their own sake.

Ilya made it his goal to thoroughly distract Shane for the rest of the evening after they left the Pikes, and then the next morning, he let Shane drive when they headed back to Ottawa. Ilya had practice in the afternoon and then a team meeting in the evening to prepare everyone who hadn’t ever been in the playoffs before for what was to come. Ilya invited Shane to the meeting—all his team knew about Shane after all, and also knew that if nothing major happened Shane would be a Centaur once this season was over.

The second video dropped while Ilya was at practice. This time there was no one to keep Shane away from his phone, and he hit play as probably one of the first viewers right after it had been posted. He remembered that he had been much calmer for this second video, despite baring his soul in it in a way he had never thought he would ever willingly do publicly. But he had also spent a lot of time thinking very thoroughly about what to say in this video.

It was recorded in the same location as the first one, and the sun had barely moved compared to the first video. They had filmed those first three—or rather six, if Shane counted the French versions separately—all in one afternoon. Shane had wanted them done in case they were needed. At first, they had just planned two videos, but while discussing the content of the second video with Harris, they had come to the conclusion that there were too many things to say in one.

This second video had been intended as part of their contingency plan, and Shane had hoped it would never need to be published. In the third video, Shane would talk about his experiences with homophobia and racism in every single locker room he had ever been in, and in every single arena he had ever played at. It would break a taboo to talk about a lot of things that happened behind the scenes, but sometime between talking to Scott and making the video, Shane had come to the decision that it was important to drag this out in the open—because that was the only way anything would ever change.

This second video, though, broke another kind of taboo. And would point fingers much more directly than the third one. It had been a relief to just get it all off his chest, but Shane had told Harris he wouldn’t want to post it as long as the Voyageurs behaved, at least publicly, decently towards him. But they had made the first move and shown there wouldn’t be any decency. Shane just hoped this wouldn’t damage Farah’s negotiations with the Centaurs, even though she had seen the video and given her okay to post it.

Video-Shane was sitting on Ilya’s couch again, this time with his legs pulled up in a tailor’s seat on the couch and his feet crossed. His hands rested on his shins, and his shoulders were much less tense than in the first video. His face, though, had lost the smile Ilya had put on there with his antics behind the camera in the second half of the first video.

“Hi, again,” Video-Shane said, looking straight at the camera with an intensity that even made Shane a little uncomfortable watching it now. “Second video for today. Though we aren’t going to post them on the same day. I think everyone will need some time to digest in between. And I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to lecture anyone. But as I said in the first video, I don’t have the luxury … or maybe privilege, to just live my life as I see fit. Because my partner doesn’t fit the mould that most of society expects. I don’t fit the mould they expect. Twice over now, as I’ve been reminded.”

Video-Shane smiled, and it looked tired and wary. “It would be great to live in a world where everyone would’ve just shrugged about Scott Hunter calling his boyfriend down to the ice in 2017. A world where his boyfriend wouldn’t even have been in the stands, one where Kip would’ve been sitting with all the other spouses of the Admirals during that game. In that world, I could just go out on dates with my partner without fear of being spotted and outed against our will. Because no one would care, and coming out might not even be a term that existed.

“But that’s not the world we live in. We live in a world where I’m accused of being a liar and a fraud when coming out to people I thought I could trust. We live in a world where I’m told both directly and indirectly by several people that the NHL doesn’t need a second Scott Hunter.” A pause, and Video-Shane cocked his head. “Though, of course, there have been others since Scott who came out. But Lundin and Baldwin both left the NHL. And I haven’t had a chance to talk with them, but from my own experience, I don’t think it was solely their choice. Bennett and Price both retired just after coming out. And good for them. I have talked with both. They’re helping with Ilya and my summer camps, after all. And they’re both happy with the decision to retire.”

Video-Shane frowned. “Gonna have to cut this out if things don’t go as planned, but I guess by now Troy Barrett should be out, too. And hopefully still an active player. So, I’m really far from being the second or even third. And I wish that would mean I could just be and live my life. But I know that’s not going to happen.”

Vidoe-Shane lowered his head, and Shane made a face about the way Video-Shane’s fingers drummed against his shin. He hoped no one else would notice that tell, and especially that they wouldn’t watch for it in the future. He remembered being teased for the habit as a teenager whenever he had felt overwhelmed, and he had worked to hide it. This video was turning out more exposing than he had expected based on the things he had said.

“Back right after Scott came out, I had so much hope,” Shane said. “I made a whole ten-year plan that summer with my partner. I mean, sure, I was still convinced I’d have to hide until the end of my career. Scott was so open in his speech at the 2017 awards about how much keeping a secret like this weighs on you; I honestly cried a little when I watched the speech on the broadcast. Because I felt the truth and weight of it. But I still thought I could make it, I could hide for the rest of my career because … even though Scott hadn’t been fired, I didn’t think I would be as lucky.

“But I still made plans. And those plans included coming out to some people I thought I could trust. My partner coming out to people he trusts. So that we wouldn’t have to hide completely anymore. And my parents were great, though my dad walking in on us in my own cottage while we were making out wasn’t exactly how I had planned to come out to them.”

Video-Shane grinned and ducked his head. “Dad said that they were deprived of the experience when I was a teenager because I was too focused on hockey, so it’s only fair that it happened eventually. I could’ve very well lived without ever having that experience. But, anyway. I had hope, I had a plan, and the first couple of experiences with coming out hadn’t been even nearly as horrible as I had come to expect after spending practically all my life in hockey locker rooms and on the ice.”

Video-Shane’s smile fell. “I’ve decided to make a separate video about that experience. About how it shaped me. About how it hurt me, and how I think it’s hurting even players who are straight. That topic needs its own space, I think. So there will be another video in a couple of days.

“I came out to close friends, and it was pretty good, too. Then I came out to others I thought I could trust, and … the experience turned. It could’ve been worse, I guess. No one got violent with me, at least. Physically, that is.”

Shane winced. When they had made this video, he had thought that was true. Even after JJ and Hayden’s intervention where they told him outright that they suspected Theriault was aiming to get him injured on the ice in a way he wouldn’t come back from, he had believed that. His perspective had shifted a little now when he thought about the hits he had taken on the ice, both at practice and during games after he had come out to the team.

Video-Shane cleared his throat. “But suddenly, there were rumours practically everywhere in the league that I was gay. And I guess it won’t be difficult for anyone looking closely at game statistics to figure out when I came out to my team. I know that, because I’ve had several people do the math. But this experience taught me that I had been too hopeful.

“I mean, of course, I hadn’t expected that everyone would be happy about it or would accept me with open arms. I had expected that there would be things going forward that I wouldn’t be included in anymore, and that came true. But it also taught me there were things I had been deliberately excluded from all along. And that included probably all honest conversations anyone ever had about Scott Hunter after 2017.

“I’m honestly surprised no one outed me publicly afterwards. But maybe they didn’t want to embarrass the franchise or the League. Because I have been told, again from several people in the League, that coming out publicly would be exactly that. An embarrassment. And I have to admit that I let myself be cowed for a while. I pulled back from some of the plans my partner and I had made. All the fears I had had about coming out were suddenly doubled, and I … convinced my partner he shouldn’t come out to anyone. Because I was afraid he would have to deal with the same negative reaction I was facing.”

Video-Shane’s gaze flicked to the side, and Shane remembered Ilya making a comment that Harris clearly had cut out from the audio feed. But Video-Shane’s reaction was there, the sad smile, the whispered “I’m sorry,” the shoulders drawing up to his ears.

Then Video-Shane drew his shoulders back and turned back to the camera. “Hiding like this has made us both sick. And I didn’t notice for the longest time. Which is a little embarrassing, considering Ilya Rozanov and I have spent the last couple of years advocating for mental health with our foundation.”

Shane bit his lip and wondered how many people would start to speculate about his partner being Ilya. For him, it was all over everything he said in the video, but maybe people would miss it. Hopefully, enough people would miss it that Ilya could end his season without being forced to come out. They had made these videos assuming it would only be two weeks or a little more between posting them and their wedding in the best case, or they would both already be outed in the worst case. Now it would be nearly three months before they would announce their relationship on their wedding day.

“The pressure of hiding, of pretending that the most important person in my life doesn’t exist is horrendous,” Video-Shane continued, his face set into a motionless mask, though Shane could still see the pain he had been trying to hide in that moment. “Other players talked about taking their girlfriends or wives on dates. Talked about celebrating anniversaries. Brought them to team events. Had them right at their side when they were hurt. Celebrated our championships with them. And every single time I had to bite my tongue, I had to pretend there was no one in my life, had to endure their teasing about eventually finding the right girl, even though I never wanted to look at any woman for that.

“Even after coming out, I couldn’t say anything about having a partner. Because it wouldn’t have been welcome. And I couldn’t go out on dates because that would have caused the wrong kind of scrutiny. We have been out together a couple of times in groups. Even a couple of double dates with couples who knew. But I don’t think any of that ever counted as a true date.”

Video-Shane inhaled deeply, and for a moment, his gaze flicked to Ilya off-camera again. Everyone watching this had to realize that Shane’s unnamed partner was in the room with him. There had been a little break between filming this video and the French version because Ilya had pulled Shane aside and they’d needed some time to reassure each other.

“We’ll be married before we’ll ever be able to go on a proper first date. Because I’m too afraid to be discovered. We have been in a committed relationship for years. We’ve been sneaking around and pretending every stolen hour we could get didn’t mean as much as it honestly always did for even more years. And that sucks.

“Last Christmas, that pressure nearly broke us. For a little while, I really feared he’d break up with me. And he is the love of my life, so I really can’t see going on without him being a part of it. Thankfully, he clearly can’t imagine life without me in it either, so we figured things out eventually. And changed that plan we came up with back in 2017.

“The new plan is to come out this summer. And to marry, of course. And to live our lives as we see fit without hiding, no matter what anyone has to say about it. We know from Scott’s experiences, from our own experiences so far, that there will be backlash. A lot of people will be unhappy, will claim we’re distracting from hockey, will pretend we betrayed them for some reason by not baring our souls to them from the very beginning, from the moment when we were both 17 and stupidly overwhelmed by the things we felt for each other.”

Video-Shane paused and flexed his jaw. “The thing is, we don’t owe anyone anything. I don’t owe the NHL and my team anything more than doing my best during training and during games, by showing up and being the player they pay me to be. I don’t owe the fans anything more. I have given them all of that for more than a decade. What’s going on in my private life should be no one’s business. My friend Hayden got married and has children, and no one cared to ask him about it or demand that he explain himself. My friend JJ is known to enjoy his life and any woman who’ll give him the time of day. No one ever asks him to explain himself.

“My friend Scott has been asked repeatedly to talk about his sexuality when the media should be there to ask him about the game he is heading into or coming out of. He has been asked to explain himself. He has been told to leave his boyfriend at home for certain events. And I’ve congratulated him every time Kip and he ignored that instruction when everyone else was allowed to bring their partner to the same event.

“I know I’ll be treated like Scott. And I already hate it. I hope my partner and I will be able to bear that situation with even just half as much composure and grace as Scott and Kip do.” Video-Shane paused and glared at Ilya off-camera. Once again, Harris had cut out Ilya’s comment from the audio feed. “I’m not making any promises about my partner, though. He isn’t exactly media-trained and doesn’t care what people think about him.”

Video-Shane inhaled deeply. “What I want to say is this: It’s not us who distract from hockey. When we are training, when we are on the ice for a game, we are focused on doing our job, on giving the best that we can give. It’s the media, who ask us questions they’d never dare to ask any of the straight players, who are distracting from hockey. It’s the players who are so threatened and insecure by our mere existence, who focus more on hurting us or alternatively avoiding us than they focus on their game, who are distracting from hockey. It’s fans, who think they have a right to have any more of an opinion about our private life than they have about any straight player’s life, who are distracting from hockey. It’s the kind of management that thinks players are only allowed to stand up for previously approved topics, even on their own platforms in their own time, who are distracting from hockey.”

That’s where the video ended, and Shane was a little amazed by himself. He hadn’t thought he had that kind of presentation in himself. When they had prepared for the videos, he had agonized for days about what to say, how to say it, how much he could share. He’d had a list of major points he wanted to address, and it had been that list that had made Harris suggest making two videos instead of one. But then during filming Shane hadn’t needed to look at the list a single time because there had been a very clear copy of it in his head.

He had bared his soul even more than he had remembered, but he didn’t feel half as exposed as he had expected for most of this day while waiting for the video to be posted. He felt a little bit of dread about the reaction since he hadn’t held back on pointing fingers, even though he hadn’t dropped any names. Shane didn’t want to go for scorched earth with the Voyageurs, but he agreed with Ilya that after the sendoff he had gotten, they didn’t deserve his loyalty anymore.

***

Shane didn’t watch the third video. That one went into greater detail about what form both the homophobia and racism had taken on over his years playing hockey. Starting with boys barely able to stay upright on their skates, repeating their parents’ words without even knowing what they were saying to a boy who understood those things were meant to hurt him, even if half the time he didn’t yet understand the true meaning of those words. Going all the way up to a team where casual and not-so-casual homophobia had become so much more prevalent than it had previously been once they learned one of those hated gay men was right among them, had been part of their group for years without any of them being the wiser.

Shane didn’t ever want to watch that video, if he was honest. He had chosen every anecdote he had shared very deliberately, very carefully. The goal had been to point out why he had hidden himself away for such a long time, why it had taken him so long to accept his sexuality. They had decided to share their story so that no one else would try to tell it for them, and Shane had decided to go all-in on that.

The main reason that Shane wasn’t waiting for the third video to drop like he had with the second video was that he was sitting in New York beside Farah, waiting for Roger Crowell to join them in the conference room he had ordered Shane to two hours after the second video had been posted. They had expected a reaction from the League and the Voyageurs, and they were prepared.

The Voyageurs had posted a very generic statement on Twitter, claiming that their team stood for inclusion and diversity, and that any claim against that was without foundation or proof. They had thrown some shade at Shane without ever mentioning his name by saying something about players taking it with grace when their time to leave the League had come.

Crowell left Farah and Shane waiting for nearly half an hour after the time he had ordered Shane to be at his office, and by mutual agreement beforehand, they spent that time in silence. Farah was reading something on her tablet, and Shane had brought a book to read because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away from social media if he had been scrolling on his phone. Letting them wait was a pretty obvious power play on Crowell’s side, and they had come prepared to show him that they really weren’t intimidated by it.

“Shane,” Crowell said as he came into the room. He didn’t offer his hand in greeting, and Shane and Farah didn’t stand to greet him, because that had been Farah’s instruction when they had prepared for this meeting during breakfast. “I asked you for a private conversation.”

Farah ostentatiously put a handheld recorder on the table, and Shane said, “This is my manager, Farah Jalali, Commissioner. After the conversations I’ve had with the Voyageurs and others, we’ve made the decision that there won’t be any private conversations for the time being. It remains to be seen if I bring a lawyer to any future meetings, as well.”

Crowell glowered at him.

Before he could say anything, Farah said, “We are going to record this meeting.”

“You are not,” Crowell said through gritted teeth.

Farah smiled coldly. “This is a one-party consent state, Mr. Crowell. Consider it a sign of our goodwill that we are even informing you about recording the meeting. You should consider every meeting going forward as being recorded.”

Crowell glared at Shane, and Shane met his gaze calmly for nearly a minute—he actually counted off the seconds in his head—until Crowell huffed and sat down on the opposite end of the table.

“Fine. Let’s skip any pleasantries and cut right to the core of the situation you have created. I really thought we had an agreement, Hollander.”

“You mean the agreement where you told my client he wasn’t allowed to come out?” Farah said.

“I said no such thing,” Crowell snapped.

“It is the message that was received,” Farah said. “Of course, there is no recording of that meeting and no witnesses, so it is very much a ‘he said, she said’ situation.”

Crowell raised his chin. He hadn’t looked at Farah even once yet, but Shane had learned a very long time ago how to hold someone’s gaze. It was uncomfortable, but he knew from experience that he had the power to make the other person just as uncomfortable, if not more so, the longer he kept staring back at someone. Sometimes it was the best way to make someone back off.

“I didn’t think you were so intent on ending your career, Hollander,” Crowell said. “You’re a good player. You’ve been valuable to your franchise in the past. Your … antics online, and your attempts to appear as some kind of whistleblower, hiding behind some woke cause, won’t protect you from the consequences of your actions with the Voyageurs, though.”

Shane kept his face stoic, forcing himself not to show his confusion. “The consequences of my actions?”

“You attacked your coach and two other players!” Crowell nearly shouted in anger. “And the Voyageurs were prepared to let you get away with it, to let you go quietly so your actions wouldn’t besmirch everything the team has stood for over the past decade!”

Shane bit his tongue. When Theriault, Drapeau and Comeau had blocked his way out of the arena after that last game, Shane had expected they were aiming for exactly this kind of incriminating material. They had tried to break him for months, and maybe under different circumstances they might have managed to make him snap, make him throw the first punch. If anyone knew that he was very well capable of fighting despite barely indulging in that on the ice, it was the team he had spent a decade with. And still, they thankfully didn’t know him well enough to know his actual breaking point.

“Really?” Farah asked sweetly. “I’d like to have a copy of any proof of that accusation. I’m sure there is documentation of the injuries? A security video? Witness statements?”

“Thankfully Patrice Drapeau and Gilbert Comeau were there to interrupt the attack before Coach Theriault suffered any injuries,” Crowell said, and for the first time, he turned his glare to Farah for a moment.

“And when did this alleged attack happen?” Farah asked.

“After the Voyageurs’ last game of the season four days ago. Your client didn’t inform you? How forgetful of him.”

“My client has provided me with an audio recording of his exit from the Bell Center that day,” Farah said.

Crowell frowned, and Shane wondered whether Theriault or the Voyageurs’ management had lied to him and Crowell really didn’t know what had happened. But even if they had lied, he should have asked for more proof than the statement of two players.

“I’ll forward the recording to your office,” Farah said with an easy smile, and started taping on her tablet. “I’m sure you’ll reconsider the tale the Voyageurs have spun once you listen to it. There was a short stand-off because, for some reason, Coach Theriault and the two aforementioned players blocked my client’s path out of the Bell Center. But there was no physical altercation or even the threat of violence from my client. There are a number of players who will be able to attest to that, too, because they came out of the locker room and interrupted the standoff. I have a list of the ten players in question.”

“Is that really how you want to play this?” Crowell asked, turning back to Shane. “Your coach hasn’t contacted the police as a courtesy to you—”

“If he does, we’ll answer with a defamation lawsuit,” Farah interrupted Crowell coldly. “I understand that neither you nor the Voyageurs management supports my client in coming out. It is your prerogative to have whatever opinion you want to have about that in private. But you do not have the right to try to dictate this decision for my client, or to discriminate against him based on that decision.”

“No other team will sign you after the spectacle you’ve made, Hollander!”

“You’re wrong,” Farah said. “And your empty posturing is boring me. I am in contact with five different teams about a possible contract for my client. I’m positive we’ll come to an agreement with one of them and sign a new contract before the month is over. And there is nothing you can do about it.”

“You’re underestimating my reach, Miss Jalali.”

“It’s Mrs. And I don’t underestimate anything. My client hasn’t broken a single rule laid down by the NHL. He hasn’t violated a single clause laid out in his contract with the Montreal Voyageurs. There is no reason why the NHL or you personally should try to blacklist my client. All he wants to do is play hockey and live his life openly. As he said in his second video published the day before yesterday, it’s not him who is distracting from hockey right now at this very moment.”

Crowell turned a concerning shade of red, but Farah didn’t give him a chance to say anything.

“I think we’re done here for today,” Farah said and stood.

Shane followed her example quickly.

“It’s clear that for our next conversation with you or anyone from your office, we will bring a lawyer,” Farah continued. “If any of the teams that I’ve been in contact with pull out of our discussions at this time, a discrimination lawsuit against the NHL will follow. And we will include all the evidence we have gathered over the past several years. You should also warn your friends at the Voyageurs that we will not hesitate to file a defamation lawsuit should it be necessary.”

Shane cleared his throat as Farah turned on her heels. “Have a good day, Commissioner Crowell.”

Chapter 10

The first two games for series one of the playoffs took place in Boston, of course. Ilya always enjoyed being back in Boston, especially now that he had finally pushed past the secret that had made him avoid his friends in Boston. He spent the evening after the first game with Marlow, and then the afternoon of the next day after his team’s training session with Svetlana. They were good days, even though the Centaurs went home with two losses.

Both had been hard-won games for Boston, though, and Ilya was pushing his team hard not to give up yet. They had every chance to still take this series, and had an advantage because Ilya still knew enough about how his old team worked that they could work on some very pointed strategies. He didn’t know if they could take the series from Boston, but he wanted to force them at least into game 7. And next year, everyone on the team except for the new rookies would have the experience with the playoffs they were lacking this year.

They flew home right away after the second game because Wiebe wanted to give them one more night in their own beds. When Ilya came home much too late that night, he found Shane waiting for him. Anya was the first one to greet him, of course, jumping on him excitedly after he had been gone for a little over three days. But Shane wasn’t far behind her, a tired smile on his face and the glow in his cheeks belying the sleep Ilya’s arrival had interrupted.

“Hey,” Shane murmured and kissed Ilya. Then he leaned against him, resting his head on Ilya’s shoulder. “Welcome home.”

“Hello,” Ilya murmured in Russian. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Not wasting time we can have together,” Shane murmured sleepily, but in Russian.

Ilya wrapped his arms around Shane and held him, feeling amazed and overwhelmed.

“Did you have dinner?”

“Coach arranged that there was takeout for everyone at the plane when we arrived,” Ilya said. “We ate during the flight. I’m sure the flight crew will curse Wiebe out long into next season.”

Shane chuckled. “That happened with Voyageurs never. Can not wait to work with Wiebe. I cooked. But it is now in fridge. Can be reheated.”

Ilya smiled and kissed the top of Shane’s head. “Let me shower, and then we can sleep.”

Shane shook his head and leaned a little more heavily against Ilya. “Have news to share. Do not distract with shower.”

“You’re barely awake,” Ilya murmured. “Whatever it is, you can tell me tomorrow. Or rather, later today.”

“No,” Shane said. He inhaled deeply, then grabbed Ilya’s shirt with both hands and leaned back until he could look at Ilya. “Signed today contract.” He frowned, then huffed and continued in English, “As of July 1st, I am officially a Centaur. They’ll announce it tomorrow. I don’t want you to learn about it from Twitter.”

Ilya laughed. “Really? You signed?”

“Yes,” Shane said with a wide grin. “The ink is dry, there are no take-backs. For the next four years, nothing will get me out of Ottawa.”

Ilya grabbed the back of Shane’s head and pulled him into a bruising kiss. He pushed against Shane until Shane’s back hit the wall, then he grabbed his boyfriend’s leg and hoisted him up. Shane protested in laughter, much more awake now than a moment earlier, but he wrapped his legs around Ilya’s waist and his arms around Ilya’s neck. He did break the kiss, though, when Ilya reached the stairs, and wouldn’t let Ilya kiss him again until they were upstairs.

Shane got busy with the buttons of Ilya’s shirt as soon as they were at the top of the stairs, trusting him to carry him securely to their bedroom.

“I still need a shower,” Ilya said.

“You need to be naked for a shower.”

Ilya laughed. “Fair.”

He lowered Shane to the ground as soon as they reached the bedroom, and they kept kissing while they got rid of their clothes as quickly as they could. They were naked in no time, and Shane pulled him into the shower. Then he pushed Ilya against the cold tiles and sank to his knees unceremoniously.

“Shane,” Ilya groaned and placed his hand on top of Shane’s head when his fiancé kissed his hipbone, then the spot right above his still soft cock.

“God, I missed you,” Shane murmured just before he took Ilya’s cock in his mouth. He sucked just a little and pressed his tongue against and around the tip.

“Last time we’re separated by roadie,” Ilya murmured and watched Shane, carding his fingers through his hair. “Next time I go on a roadie, you’ll come with me. We’ll share hotel rooms.”

Shane hummed and adjusted to Ilya’s cock growing hard. He started to suck in earnest and rubbed his hands up Ilya’s thighs.

“Fuck.” Ilya dropped his head back against the tile with a groan. “I won’t last long, sweetheart.”

Shane hummed again and grabbed Ilya’s ass with one hand while the other went to Ilya’s balls, fondling them in just the way that would bring Ilya right to the edge but keep him right there if Shane wanted to. The longest Shane had once managed to keep Ilya right on the brink, with Ilya convinced he would come any moment, had been just over 40 minutes. Ilya really hoped that wasn’t Shane’s goal now.

Thankfully, Shane did seem to have other plans. A moment later, he pulled back until only the tip of Ilya’s cock remained in his mouth. He sucked hard and moved his hand from Ilya’s ass to wrap his fingers around his cock.

“Shane!” Ilya grabbed Shane’s hair and pressed one hand against the tiles to steady himself.

Shane looked up at him, eyes shining with mischief.

“I’m gonna…”

Shane nodded and ran his tongue around Ilya’s cock, which was, to his embarrassment, all it took to come. Ilya pulled on Shane’s hair involuntarily, and Shane groaned softly. He made a show of swallowing and then licking Ilya’s cock clean.

“That was just to take the edge off,” Shane said.

Ilya reached for Shane’s hard cock, but Shane pushed his hand away.

“No,” Shane said with a wide grin. “We’re showering now, and I’ll make sure you’re hard again when we’re done. Then, we’re going to have round two.”

“What are your plans for round two?” Ilya asked and watched Shane turn on the shower.

Shane grinned and took Ilya’s hand again, guiding it to his ass. When he pressed Ilya’s fingers between his cheeks, they brushed over the end of a plug. Ilya licked his lips, fingers twitching to start round two right here. But Shane just shook his head and pushed his hand away again.

“You’ll have to be patient,” Shane said and pulled Ilya under the shower spray.

They showered together, washing each other—or rather taking that as an excuse to touch each other everywhere. But every time Ilya tried to turn his attention to Shane’s cock or the plug in Shane’s ass, his fiancé pushed his hands away.

It took less time than usual to shower together, and Ilya tried to hurry through drying off, but Shane just smiled and rubbed the towel deliberately slowly over his skin.

“Lie down,” Shane instructed when he was finally done drying up and walked back into the bedroom.

Ilya followed the instructions without pause and eagerly grabbed Shane’s waist when he crawled on top of him. Shane took his wrists and placed Ilya’s arms beside his head while kissing him.

“Just watch,” Shane murmured. “No touching.”

Ilya inhaled sharply, and it took all his willpower to leave his hands where Shane had put them. Shane sat up and trailed his hands over Ilya’s chest, scratching his nails over the nipples. As he had promised at the beginning of the shower, Ilya was achingly hard again.

“This is torture,” Ilya protested.

Shane chuckled. “Is it?”

He licked his lips and grabbed the plug. Ilya couldn’t see what he was doing with it, but it was pretty clear from the way his arm moved that Shane was fucking himself with it. At the same time, he grabbed Ilya’s cock with his other hand.

“You’re going to ride me,” Ilya said with a slow grin.

“And you’re going to just lie there and let me play, Captain.”

Ilya sucked in air through his teeth and thrust up into Shane’s fist. He grabbed the pillow with both hands so he wouldn’t grab Shane, flip him over, and fuck him into the mattress until he was a whimpering mess.

Shane grinned. “You like that, huh?”

“You can never call me that at the rink now!” Ilya protested weakly. He’d be hard in an instant, and he couldn’t play any game like that.

“You’ll be Cap at the rink,” Shane said confidently, as if this wasn’t just a spontaneous idea but something he had thought about for a while. He probably had thought about it for the whole time he had been waiting for Ilya to come home. “But here…” Shane leaned forward, his breath ghosting over Ilya’s lips. “Here, you’re my captain.”

Ilya raised his hands to grab Shane’s head or his hips, to touch him anywhere—but Shane grabbed his wrists right away and pushed them back.

“Not fair,” Ilya complained with a whine.

“I’m not here to be fair,” Shane murmured and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. “I’ve been waiting to ride you for hours, Captain. All alone, just me and that buttplug and the knowledge that we’ll be on the same team now.”

“Then ride me!” Ilya said impatiently.

Shane laughed. “Will you behave?”

Ilya nodded and swallowed.

Shane grinned and sat up again. He reached for the condom and lube lying ready on the nightstand and rolled the condom over Ilya’s cock without much fuss, followed by some lube. This time, when he reached behind him, he pulled out the buttplug and dropped it on the bed beside him. Then he finally positioned himself over Ilya and slowly sank down on his cock.

“Fuck.” It took all of Ilya’s willpower to keep still and to not reach for Shane, but he did let Shane dictate the pace without protest. “You’re so beautiful,” Ilya said instead.

Shane blushed.

Ilya smiled and stretched his arms over his head, grabbing his own wrists to lower the temptation to grab Shane’s knees or thighs instead. He’d break eventually, he knew that, but he could enjoy Shane taking what he wanted for a little while.

“I love how you look on top of me,” Ilya said, and ran his tongue over his lips, trailing his gaze over Shane’s whole body.

“I love to take your cock,” Shane said with a groan as he rocked down and started to slowly fuck himself. “Thought about it the whole evening, Captain.”

“While fucking yourself with the plug,” Ilya said. “And you didn’t let me watch. You could’ve sent a video.”

Shane glared at him for a moment, but it was chased away quickly by pleasure. “And what would you have done with that while on the plane with your team?”

“There is a bathroom on the plane,” Ilya said without missing a beat.

Shane huffed. “No.”

Ilya laughed. He moved his arms and grabbed Shane’s knees as he started to thrust up just slightly, matching Shane’s rhythm.

“Fuck,” Shane murmured and rolled his head forward.

“Kiss me,” Ilya demanded in Russian.

Shane followed the demand immediately, bracing his hands on Ilya’s shoulders and kissing him messily. Ilya cupped Shane’s neck with one hand and grabbed his ass with the other.

“Did you come, waiting for me?” Ilya asked.

Shane shook his head.

“Good boy,” Ilya grinned into the next kiss.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Shane murmured in Russian as well, and Ilya couldn’t stop himself anymore.

He wrapped his arms around Shane’s back and rolled them over. Shane groaned and wrapped his legs around Ilya as Ilya started to fuck him with everything he had. He kissed down Shane’s throat and then bit the spot right over his shoulder, making Shane keen and scratch his nails down his back.

“Was not the plan!” Shane protested. “Wanted to ride you until I come at least twice!”

“We can have a repeat in the morning,” Ilya promised breathlessly. “I need you to come for me now, my love.”

Shane shook his head and pulled on Ilya’s hair, but it didn’t take much longer for Shane to fly over the edge, and Ilya followed him just a couple of thrusts later. Ilya groaned and kept fucking Shane through his own orgasm until his cock grew too soft. Then, he just slumped down on top of Shane, face pressed against the crook of his neck.

It was Shane who moved first, some undetermined time later. He carefully pushed Ilya to the side and discarded the condom, then wiped them clean a little bit. In the end, he snuggled up against Ilya and pulled the blanket over them

“We are on same team,” Ilya murmured and curled his arm around Shane’s shoulders, carding his fingers through Shane’s hair.

“Yes,” Shane said. “And they’ll announce it tomorrow. That means no one will question it if I show up to the rest of your games this season.”

“You’ll wear my jersey,” Ilya demanded.

Shane laughed and pinched Ilya’s side. “I can’t! That would be too obvious. But I’ll be there to watch and cheer you on.”

“Next year, then,” Ilya said. “Any game you have to miss, you’ll wear my jersey.”

“I won’t miss any games!” Shane protested. “I need to catch up on points. You are not getting to a thousand points before me. If anyone’s missing games, it’s you!”

Ilya grinned. “We’ll see.”

Maybe he would need to sit out at least one game at some point for whatever reason, so he could wear Shane’s new Centaurs’ jersey while watching the game live at the arena. One game wouldn’t give Shane enough time to catch up to Ilya’s current lead in the race to the 1000th point, which he’d surely reach early next season. It would happen to both of them next season, Ilya was sure of it, and he’d make sure he would be the first. But more importantly, they’d both be on the ice together now when those two events happened.

Shane shook his head and sighed. “I’m just glad the waiting is over. I was just waiting for something bad to happen every moment.”

“Did they say anything about Crowell?” Ilya asked.

“The commissioner reached out and voiced some concerns, apparently,” Shane murmured. “They didn’t tell Farah or me any details. But they thanked Crowell for his concern, and then they proceeded to ignore him. And that’s exactly how the GM said it.”

Ilya frowned. “Did they say anything about Voyageurs?”

The Voyageurs’ plan had become clear through Roger Crowell, and they had followed it up while Shane had been in that meeting with him. Ilya wondered if Crowell and the powers that be at the Voyageurs had coordinated on that, or if they really thought there wasn’t someone watching social media for Shane at this point, despite the comments under his videos being obviously tightly curated. They couldn’t make people stop saying hateful things on the internet, but Jess made sure those kinds of comments weren’t anywhere in the comment section on Shane’s videos for long. She was doing an excellent job there.

So while Shane and Farah had been in a meeting with Crowell, where he had unsuccessfully tried to threaten Shane—and Ilya had gleefully listened to Farah put Crowell in his place in the recording later on—the Voyageurs had published a short statement. In that statement, they had voiced disappointment at a former team member spreading lies about the team and the inner workings. Then they had accused Shane by name of attacking Theriault after the final game, and that that was the reason why all contract negotiations for the next season had been stopped and that, additionally, his current contract had been severed, effective immediately.

The post had been online for less than an hour before Farah’s cease and desist letter had hit a desk somewhere in the Voyageur’s management, but the damage had been done. To both Shane and the Voyageurs. The screenshots of the post kept circling, and the speculation in the news and on social media was still going strong.

“They asked me what happened,” Shane said quietly. “They let me speak and explain and didn’t interrupt.”

Ilya frowned because Shane sounded kind of amazed at that. Every time he saw another snippet about how Shane had been treated by his old team, Ilya grew a little angrier at them. But now, he reminded himself, Shane was away from that situation. And also, finally part of a much better team.

“I had a written statement from Hayden and JJ, too.” Shane paused. “And from James Morin. I’m still so surprised about that.”

To their surprise, some players from the Voyageurs had contested the official statement of their own franchise. Hayden and JJ had done so loudly, mere minutes after the statement had been posted. They were the only ones from the Voyageurs who had reacted in a supportive way to Shane coming out publicly, so Ilya hadn’t expected any other players to speak up for Shane in this instance either. But there had also been posts from Morin and Miitka, who had reposted the Voyageurs’ official statement and very openly called out the lie, sharing their perspective on what had happened after the last game, telling the world that there had been no physical altercation between their former captain and anyone from the Voyageurs.

Shane continued, “There was some argument from Farah, that technically, we could’ve signed a contract starting right now because the Voyageurs severed my contract. That I could be playing for the Centaurs through the playoffs already.”

“Yes!” Ilya shouted excitedly. “That’s brilliant idea!”

Shane chuckled and shook his head. “The GM didn’t think so. It might turn into a pretty big scandal for the Centaurs. Distract from the scandal the Voyageurs are currently creating for themselves. And … let’s be honest, Ilyusha, this team isn’t ready for a run for the cup. You, Barrett and me, we could carry the team far, but not far enough. And the rest is lacking the experience to get through a whole playoff run.”

Ilya made a face and huffed.

“So we agreed to sign my contract with a start date of July, 1st. Just as it would’ve happened had the Voyageurs not lost their minds. Then we have training camp and pre season to gel as a team so we can take over the whole league next season.”

Shane sighed. “Then, after that part was done, they assured me they’d have my back in whatever campaign the Voyageurs would start to cover up their own fuck-up. They also told us that Theriault has been badmouthing me to other coaches since the middle of last season, while I was leading the fucking team to another cup and anyone could see that. Most teams didn’t take him seriously, and thought it was a very transparent strategy to try to make it so that no one would offer me a contract when I became a free agent this year.”

“That’s probably exactly what it was,” Ilya murmured. “Asshole couldn’t bother make the team be decent without you. So he tried to make you think you had no other option. Is laughable. And now he is even more stupid because that plan failed.”

“I just don’t understand,” Shane whispered. “It’s as much bad PR for them as it is for me. Of course, there are people who are happy to believe their version and are loud about their hate for me now. But there are just as many people who’ve done the math. Who see the support I get from players all across the league, if not about coming out, then about opening up the conversation about how toxic some locker rooms are. And those people see the Voyageurs’ behaviour as the defamation it is and are calling it out even louder than the people throwing hate at me.”

Ilya hummed. Some of the support Shane got was a coordinated effort on Scott Hunter and Carter Vaughan’s part. But there were a lot of people who didn’t have anything to do with their group, who no one had even thought to invite to that group.

The biggest surprise for Ilya was a video Ryan Price had published. Not because he hadn’t expected support from Ryan, but because Ryan had made a very deliberate decision to turn his back on online spaces as much as on the NHL. And still he had published a ten-minute-long video, weighing in on his own experiences with very targeted homophobia in most of the locker rooms he had ever been in—which were a lot considering he had been with a different team practically every single season—as a man who had never been loud but always been open about being gay.

“They’ll reap what they’ve sown,” Ilya said.

Shane laughed and turned his head to look at him. “That’s a new one!”

Ilya grinned. “Can’t let your Russian get better than my English. I know Sveta is helping you cheat. I’ve seen you text with her!”

He still didn’t know how those two had started talking without Ilya properly introducing them. He played up his outrage and jealousy over it, but secretly, he was so utterly pleased by it. He didn’t know how to connect these parts of his life after he had kept them separate for such a long time, but somehow Shane and Svetlana had solved that problem for Ilya without even involving him.

“If that’s cheating, what are you doing with practically everyone around you?” Shane rolled his eyes.

Ilya kissed him and then demonstratively closed his eyes. “Let’s sleep. I have training tomorrow. And you meet new team tomorrow for the first time as their new teammate. Very important appointments. We need to be rested.”

***

Shane did wear a Centaur jersey when he found himself sitting in the audience for an NHL game for the first time since he had been drafted. It was a generic one without a number or name on it, but it did make a statement. And that was exactly why Shane was here, cheering for his new team in their third game against Boston. It was definitely a slight against the Voyageurs, but Shane didn’t care about that anymore.

He had already met the team and the coach, and it had been more overwhelming than stepping into the Bell Center as a Voyageur for the first time nearly eleven years ago had been. Back then, he had been both excited and awed, and people had regarded him with careful distance. They had been happy to have him there, but also wary if he would meet the expectations they were holding him to.

With the Centaurs, there was only overbearing joy and excitement, not only about the Shane Hollander joining their team, but also about meeting their captain’s fiancé. And that last part wasn’t something Shane had expected. Suddenly, he stood in a room full of people who knew about him and Ilya, and not a single one of them had questions or doubts or anything bad to say. They just accepted him, every single one of the 21 men currently on the Centaurs roster.

During the game, Shane sat in the box with the rest of the WAGs who had been able to make it to the game. Which was nearly all of them, because for most it was the first time their men were in the playoffs. They were just as excited as the players themselves. Shane was there so he wouldn’t have to deal with the regular fans, and he learned very quickly that not a single one of Ilya’s teammates had shared Shane and Ilya’s secret with their spouses.

For the first period, Shane sat among them, dazzled by that fact. He knew without a doubt that most of the wives and girlfriends of the Voyageurs had known he was gay mere hours after he had come out to his team. It was such a great shock that they needed someone to talk about it, after all, or at least that had been the explanation he had gotten from his old teammates at the time.

The Centaurs won the game, causing the fans in the arena to celebrate in a way they hadn’t for decades. The team had a good foundation, and they had finally found a rhythm over the past three months. Enough to get the wildcard spot for their division for this season, but Shane agreed with Ilya. Next season they would be serious contenders for the cup. This year, every playoff game was a win regardless of score and an experience learned, but it would end sooner rather than later. Shane would make sure to do his part to give the team the push needed to propel them all the way to the finals in the next season.

The game had been over for nearly half an hour when Shane was picked up by a staff member working at the arena to be led to the locker room. Wiebe had invited him to join the players after the game, arguing that everyone on the team already saw him as part of it, even though that wouldn’t be true for the public until the start of the next season.

“Hollander!”

Shane put on his media smile before he turned around. He had hoped the media had already left, but of course, he couldn’t have that much luck. In Montreal, reporters were staking out his house. Shane knew that because some of the neighbours he was friendly with had texted him about it, not to complain but to warn him. Shane hadn’t been to his home in Montreal since the day he had come back from New York after his meeting with Roger Crowell, and at this point, he didn’t plan to go back for anything more than to pack his stuff once they had scheduled his move to Ottawa. They would only do that after the wedding, though, because neither Ilya nor Shane believed they could keep the move a secret.

“Do you have anything to say about the accusations of Coach Theriault against you?” the first reporter asked before Shane had even fully turned around.

“Are there truly any accusations?” Shane asked. “The Voyageurs deleted their … statement less than an hour after posting it. And the police in Montreal have assured my lawyer that there is no investigation against me pending. We reached out to them to make sure they knew we would cooperate fully with any of their inquiries, you see. I assume the statement in question was a mistake by someone in the PR department.”

“So you deny that you attacked Theriault, and that’s the reason you are changing teams?” another reporter asked.

“I didn’t attack anyone,” Shane said with a dismissive smile. “I informed my coach and the Voyageurs’ management back in February that I would come out this summer. The negotiations with my manager about a new contract tapered off very quickly afterwards. I wish they would’ve let me go with more grace, but if you want to know what’s going on with the Voyageurs, you’ll have to ask one of them. Maybe Theriault personally.”

“Would you have taken a new contract with the Voyageurs?” a third reporter asked, and this one sounded a lot more sympathetic than the first two.

Shane looked at her for a moment, then straightened his shoulders. “There was a time when I was convinced I would spend my whole career playing for the Voyageurs. That I would eventually retire as a Montreal Voyageur. For many years, it was my dream to play my last game on home ice, in a perfect world, of course, lifting the Stanley Cup in the Bell Center. And then to see my number retired with the Voyageurs.”

Shane sighed. “There have been difficulties on the team over the past couple of years. But I did hope we would weather them together eventually. My manager had been in negotiations with the Voyageurs since the beginning of the season. I would not have made her waste her time like that if I had already known that my time with the Voyageurs was over.”

“Some fans that watched your last game in Montreal live have mentioned online that you, Pike, and Boiziau stayed back on the ice for quite some time after everyone left,” the third reporter said. “Do you have any comments about that?”

Shane nodded. “We did. As I said, for the past eleven years, I was convinced the Bell Center would be the only home ice I ever knew. But by that game, I knew it was my last game on that ice as a part of the Voyageurs. It’s not an easy goodbye. Stepping off that ice that day meant taking my first step into an unknown future. My friends stayed at my side while I prepared myself mentally to take that step.”

“You signed a contract with the Centaurs very fast,” the first reporter said.

Shane raised his brows. “That’s not a question.”

“It’s a little bit suspicious, don’t you think?” the reporter pressed.

“Suspicious how exactly?” Shane asked. “It was made clear in February to me that my time with the Voyageurs was at an end. My manager reacted accordingly. I’m sure you’ll be able to find out what other teams offered me after the Voyageurs’ sole statement of me leaving the team. I chose Ottawa to be near my family. And I chose Ottawa because this team has already proven that they won’t hold who I am against me.”

“Hollander!” Suddenly, Ilya was beside him, still sweaty but at least wearing a shirt. He wrapped an arm around Shane’s shoulders with a wide grin. “Are vultures haunting you?”

Shane exhaled slowly and barely refrained from rolling his eyes. There were cameras pointed at them, all of this was probably broadcast live. But Ilya had never cared about the things he said to the media.

“They have questions,” Shane said. “And me not coming home to my house in Montreal that is besieged by their colleagues didn’t get the point across.”

There were some chuckles from the reporters.

Ilya turned to the gathered media. “What is there to ask? Is very clear, yes? Voyageurs are stupid, nothing new. Coach Wiebe is building team for dynasty and snagged up second best player in league when he saw the chance. Because he is exact opposite of Voyageurs.”

This time, Shane couldn’t contain the eyeroll. “Roz…”

Ilya shrugged. “Just the truth. Next season, we will be most feared team in League.”

“You don’t worry about bad press with this move?” the second journalist asked.

Ilya laughed. “Do I fear bad press? You know who I am, yes? You know my reputation in Boston? Or did you just finish journalist school and forgot to do research?”

The journalist flushed in anger. “I meant about Hollander dragging team internal dynamics into the public eye to distract from his own failures. And his game these last couple of months hasn’t been great. Have you considered that Hollander’s whole … theatrics is to cover up the fact that he has lost his edge?”

The grin dropped from Ilya’s face in an instant. “The Centaurs do not think being gay is a failure. Not a single player, not a single coach, or doctor or person in management. I know because I asked. Every person in this franchise has had Troy Barrett’s back. And even before, we already had very valued members of staff who are part of LGBTQ+ community and did not have to hide that here. We will have Hollzy’s back. Both Hollzy and Barrett are outstanding players, and your questions are … not okay.”

“Inappropriate,” Shane supplied on instinct.

Ilya nodded. “Yes, this. And for the other thing, look at the statistics. From this season. From last season. From every season Hollander has played. They will tell you exactly who lost their edge. Next year, gayest team in NHL will win cup. That’s promise. We will make sure Voyageurs and Guardians will cry after every game for throwing away their best players.”

Shane sighed again. “Why did I think it was a good idea to have you as my captain?”

A couple of the journalists chuckled, and Shane took that as a win.

“So far, I always kept every promise you called insane in eleven years in League,” Ilya said, grinning widely again. “Only difference this time is you will help me keep it.”

“I’ll tell Coach Wiebe he needs to get you some media training,” Shane muttered under his breath, though still loud enough to make sure the cameras caught it.

Ilya laughed. “Every coach has tried. Just wasted time. Do you have any more meaningless questions?” He didn’t give anyone a chance to answer before he continued, “No? Good. We have win to celebrate. And we will celebrate with new teammate. You should go and bother Voyageurs about why they lie. Bye.”

With that, Ilya turned them both and practically dragged Shane with him all the way to the locker room. Shane followed him, biting his tongue until they were in the locker room and the door closed behind them.

“You are a menace!” Shane said, shaking his head.

Ilya grinned. “Menace you love.”

“Sometimes I wonder why,” Shane murmured.

Ilya laughed and pressed a quick kiss against his lips.

“I learned at least a year and a half ago that Ilya will be responsible for turning me gray long before my time,” Harris said with a long-suffering sigh.

“You will look handsome with gray hair,” Ilya promised.

“Flirt with your own boyfriend,” Troy said with a wide grin. “Half of social media will be speculating about you two now!”

“They can have fun with that,” Ilya said.

Shane nodded. “Let them speculate.”

They’d had a very long conversation over several days after Shane’s meeting with Roger Crowell. Getting outed as a couple was a bigger risk now than it had been before Shane had come out, but they were past the point where they wanted to be overly careful. Or maybe beyond the point where they could muster the energy to be overly careful. So they had decided that any speculation that arose from them being seen together would just not be addressed at all. It was only a little more than two months until their wedding now, after all.

“We will drop our next video on our wedding day,” Shane said. “They can speculate all they want until then. They already are. And there are just as many people arguing against it.” He looked around the room, at all these men he didn’t know at all, who had still rallied behind him so easily. Shane cleared his throat. “You can tell your wives and girlfriend, by the way.”

“Didn’t want to assume,” Bood said.

Dykstra nodded. “Not our secret to share, Hollzy.”

“I’m grateful, really,” Shane said and lowered his gaze. “But tell them. Don’t keep secrets from your spouses on our behalf.”

Ilya nodded. “Yes, tell them. None of you is stupid about people you date. Which is very unusual for hockey players.”

Troy grinned. “You’re speaking from personal experience, huh?”

Ilya pulled Shane into a one-armed hug. “I have no idea what you are talking about. From everyone here, I have found the best person to marry.”

***

Shane kept going to the Centaurs’ games, both home and away. The media’s interest in talking to him didn’t lessen, but Shane learned to avoid them very fast. Ilya’s team pushed Boston to game 7 in the series, and then Ilya pulled out a miracle thirty seconds before the end of the third period and scored the winning goal, kicking his old team out of the playoffs and pushing his new team forward into round two.

In round two, the Centaurs faced off against the Admirals, and that was a very different mood. The first two games of the series were in New York, and the entire team, including Shane, went to the Kingfisher on the free day between those two games. It was the first time Shane went to a queer space where he wasn’t paralyzed by the fear of being outed just by being in that place. It didn’t change that he didn’t like bars very much and felt exhausted much earlier than anyone else, but he still had fun at least for a little while.

The Centaurs managed to win games two and three, but by game six, it was clear that the inexperience most of the players had with the strain of the playoffs was overwhelming them. They lost game 6 and the series on home ice in Ottawa, but the team’s spirits remained much higher than Shane had ever experienced with the Voyageurs, even right in the beginning when he had joined a team that hadn’t been in the playoffs for years either.

The last game for the Centaurs happened to take place just two days before Shane’s birthday. So Shane wasn’t very surprised when Ilya told him that the Centaurs were having a party to end the season the evening of his birthday. He had planned to just have a quiet evening with Ilya, but their fight from Boxing Day was burning in the back of his mind. So he swallowed down his protest and pretended to think about it only long enough to get a blowjob out of it before he agreed that they could spend his birthday evening celebrating with his new team their best season in nearly two decades.

Ilya made a big deal out of dressing up, and while Shane was a little bemused about it, he followed Ilya’s lead. Shane still had his stylist and had a whole list of what things to wear together, because most of the time he couldn’t be bothered to care about what he wore as long as it was comfortable. But there were some days when he put in some effort and tried to figure out what to wear to impress, and Shane wasn’t ashamed to admit, at least to himself, that ever since he had been 18, those occasions all revolved around Ilya.

Ilya drove them to a restaurant that Shane had heard his parents mention a couple of times as being really good, but one he hadn’t ever been to before. When he stepped inside, Ilya following him so closely that Shane could feel the heat radiating from him, Shane stopped abruptly, confused about the situation he found.

“What is this?” Shane asked with a frown.

The whole team was there, just like Ilya had told him. Everyone had brought their wife or girlfriend and children, if they had any. The players who didn’t have a partner were grouped together at a slightly bigger table in the center of the room. Shane spotted Rose and another woman at that table, whom he assumed was Svetlana. Coach Wiebe was there as well, with his wife and children. There was some other support staff there that Shane had met recently, too. And the Pikes were there, sitting at a table on the other side of the room, and the twins jumped up excitedly and waved at them as soon as they saw Shane. But everyone was sitting at their own table with their family, clearly engaged in their own little bubble. And there was no one else in the restaurant, though everyone was spaced out in such a way that it was barely noticeable. Mostly, it just looked like a decently busy evening in any restaurant.

“They’re all strangers today,” Ilya murmured in Shane’s ear. He put his hand on the small of Shane’s back and pushed him in the direction of a table set for two, a candle already lit in the middle and a bouquet of red roses with those white little flowers in between in a vase on one end of the table. “Restaurant is booked out, so no strangers will come by. Staff all signed NDA. It’s a first proper date before our wedding.”

Shane couldn’t breathe for a moment. He turned on his heels, grabbed Ilya by his neck and kissed him deeply, completely forgetting about the many people in the room watching them. Ilya chuckled and pulled Shane tight against him, one hand ending up grabbing Shane’s ass while the other pressed against his back.

“You’re insane,” Shane murmured into the kiss.

“Insanely in love with my soon-to-be husband.”

“I love you, too,” Shane whispered, feeling giddy in that way that only Ilya had ever been able to make him feel.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” Ilya said softly.

“You know, you’ll never be able to outdo yourself after this for any birthday or anniversary in the future.”

Ilya laughed and pulled his head back far enough to look at Shane. “Challenge accepted, my love.”

Chapter 11

“The internet thinks you have no more than half a brain cell, and it got lost with your latest hookup,” Svetlana said with a grin, scrolling on her phone and not even looking at Ilya. “Which they think is me, right now. Clearly, the women in Ottawa got boring.”

Ilya sighed. “Why are you still here again instead of visiting your parents?”

“My parents are coming to visit me this year in July,” Svetlana said.

Ilya winced at that and was glad she was so focused on her phone that she didn’t see it. Svetlana had decided not to visit Russia this summer to be here when Ilya came out officially. He knew it was as much about concerns that she might not be safe because of her association with him as it was to be here to support him.

Sveta continued, “And I’m staying here because Yuna clearly needs help preparing your wedding. Because neither Shane nor you can be bothered to help with that.”

“What is there to help with?” Ilya asked. “We have invited everyone we want to invite. We have ordered food. We have booked an officiant who will come by just after lunch to lead the ceremony. That’s all we need.”

“What about chairs?” Sveta asked and looked up from her phone with raised brows.

Ilya shrugged. “We have enough chairs for everyone important. Everyone else can sit on the ground or stand.”

Svetlana rolled her eyes with a huff and turned back to her phone.

Despite her promise when he had visited her in Boston, Svetlana hadn’t come to visit him in Ottawa until the Centaurs’ last game against the Admirals. Then she had just shown up and decided to stay, for some reason. Ilya was glad that she was around, that he got a chance to go out with her here in Ottawa, that she got along with Shane really well—though he still hadn’t figured out yet why she wouldn’t speak English with Shane—and got along with Yuna Hollander like a house on fire. Which was also the reason that after staying in a hotel for her first week, she was now staying in Yuna and David’s guestroom and joining them for family dinner.

Ilya loved Sveta, truly, but he felt she was invading his life a little too much at the moment.

“Yuna and I are making sure everyone has chairs,” Svetlana said dismissively. “And we’ll make sure you have a proper wedding cake.”

“One Shane will eat?” Ilya asked with a frown.

Sveta sent him a look. “You could have a little more trust in Yuna and me.”

“I do!” Ilya said hurriedly and decided to change the subject. “So, this thing with the internet. That’s about the bi flag on my profiles on Instagram and Twitter?”

Svetlana grinned. “Yes. And about us being spotted at that club we went to last week. One time being spotted together after four years, and suddenly people are convinced again we’ve been secretly dating all this time.”

“It’s not me with only half a brain cell!”

Svetlana laughed. “You were definitely right when you thought most people would assume you are confused about the meaning of the flag. Though there are a couple who are celebrating that you came out and who won’t let anyone shut them up. There are also a handful of people speculating about the timing of Shane and you coming out and Shane moving to the Centaurs. Curiously, they all go by handles that include ‘Hollanov’.”

“Hollanov?” Ilya asked slowly.

“You know, like Brangelina.”

Ilya made a face and threw a pillow at Sveta—thankfully, David was in the kitchen and didn’t see it to lecture Ilya about it. “We’re nothing like Brangelina!”

Svetlana laughed. “Oh, yeah? I think it’s cute.”

“First of all, Brangelina broke up,” Ilya said. “That’s not going to happen to Shane and me! And they had problems. That’s not going to happen to Shane and me either. But I like the name Hollanov.”

That was the moment Shane came into the room, and he stopped with a confused frown, holding plates in his hands. “Hollanov? I thought we agree hyphenate but keep our own names on ice.”

Ilya laughed. “No. It’s the name five people on the internet decided to give us as a couple. In case they’re right about their speculation that we’re secretly in love.”

Shane stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, then he shook his head. “Five people, huh?”

“Maybe a little more than five,” Sveta said. “But not a lot at the moment. Most people interested enough in hockey to know your names are focused on the Voyageurs anyway.”

Shane made a face and turned to continue on into the dining room. Ilya jumped from the couch to follow him and trailed his hand down Shane’s back before he took the cutlery lying on the plates Shane was carrying to help him set the table. They didn’t talk about what was going on with the Voyageurs, but Ilya knew Shane was keeping up on the news as much as he was.

Ilya’s very deliberately placed comment to the journalist about looking up the statistics for the Voyageurs—which hadn’t been planned, but he couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste—had started to turn the conversation concerning Shane’s departure from the team. Until that moment, most people had assumed Shane was somehow the bad guy in the situation. But once people had started analyzing the statistics, it had become clear and visible to anyone that Shane had been lacking support from his team on the ice for a while.

Then, a week ago, security footage from the Bell Center had been leaked. Ilya didn’t know who had leaked it, but if he ever found out, he would send them a dozen huge gift baskets. The footage showed the confrontation between Theriault, Comeau, and Drapeau on one side and Shane, Pike, and Boiziau on the other side. The timestamp in the corner made sure that everyone knew this was the confrontation the Voyageurs had briefly claimed had turned violent on Shane’s side, proving that claim wrong for everyone to see. It had also proven at least in part Shane’s claims about how he was treated by the team. Especially as the footage didn’t end with Shane and his two friends leaving, but also included a very unfortunate conversation between Theriault and his two thugs after they were alone again.

The public outcry was huge. The Players Association had stepped in, and their demand that the NHL investigate the situation with the Voyageurs had been met post haste. There were no other official statements from the NHL yet, other than that the investigation was underway, but Ilya hoped that eventually Crowell would be exposed as much as Theriault, Drapeau and Comeau already were. For the moment, those three were on administrative leave—not that that did much with the season already being over for the Voyageurs—and Ilya could only hope they’d be booted out of the League before the next season began.

“After the wedding,” Ilya said, before Svetlana could start talking about the Voyageurs or the fallout in any detail, “I’ll go on Instagram and Twitter and like all the posts of everyone who has Hollanov in their handle.”

Shane sighed. “Please don’t.”

“You’ve been fucking this guy for how long?” Svetlana asked. “And you still don’t know that you just offered a challenge to him?”

“That’s what Shane likes about me!” Ilya protested. “That I only do what he asks of me when I feel like it.”

Shane grinned. “You do a lot of things I ask you.”

“Like what?” Svetlana asked eagerly, putting her phone down and watching Shane curiously. “Maybe we can share stories—”

“Mind your own business,” Ilya said with a glare at his friend.

Maybe it had been a mistake to ever wish Shane and Svetlana would meet and get along, because they both knew him entirely too well. There wasn’t anyone else in the world who knew him as well as those two, and suddenly, that started to draw some very horrible pictures in his minds. He really didn’t need them to swap stories.

Thankfully, Yuna came into the room at that moment and interrupted the conversation. “I’m too old to learn Russian,” she said in English. “And I’d appreciate understanding the conversations going on in my home.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Shane said.

“You aren’t too old for anything, Yuna!” Ilya protested.

Yuna shook her head with a smile. “That is very sweet of you to say, but I’m not going to learn Russian. Sveta already offered to teach me, and I haven’t changed my mind since.”

“Can you believe Ilya honestly plans to have his wedding guests sit on the floor?” Svetlana said.

“Not everyone!” Ilya protested over Shane’s laughter and Yuna’s affronted look. “There are enough chairs for you and David and probably most of the non-hockey players.”

Yuna shared a look full of suffering with Sveta. “Men,” she muttered. “It’s a good thing you’re here, Svetlana, to help me put together a halfway decent party.”

***

In the second week of June, Shane finally made a trip back to Montreal for the first time since Crowell had ordered him into a meeting in New York back in April. He dropped by his house just shortly—thankfully, the horde of reporters which had staked out the house for most of May was gone now, having given up on him returning—to pick up some more clothes to take back home to Ottawa with him. Then he drove to the Pikes, where he spent a couple of hours entertaining Hayden’s children, who all asked after Uncle Ilya and were highly disappointed about him having stayed back in Ottawa.

Then Shane spent a couple of hours hanging out with JJ and Hayden, which was the reason he was in Montreal at all. The situation with the Voyageurs was shifting rapidly, and while that was very satisfying in some aspects, Shane worried about his two friends. At least there was no training or other obligations for the team until training camp started in September. But JJ and Hayden told him how everyone from the team—players, coaches, doctors, support staff—was being questioned at the moment. There were barely any rumours about what was going to happen, but JJ and Hayden were carefully optimistic that maybe they wouldn’t be traded away come July 1st. Instead, they were hopeful that maybe Theriault, Drapeau, and Comeau would be gone once training started again, and that the rest of the team would be beaten into shape by a very thorough PR intervention.

Shane made the drive back home to Ottawa—he didn’t even remember when he had started thinking of Ilya’s house as home so easily—late in the afternoon and arrived home just in time for a late dinner. Ilya had promised to cook when Shane had left that morning. Over the past couple of weeks, they had started to cook together again like they used to do pretty regularly whenever they had gotten a chance until early the previous year when Shane had changed his diet. Shane hadn’t even noticed how much he had missed it until he had gotten it back, and that was something he had put on the list to talk about with his therapist.

There was no dinner waiting for him, though, when Shane came home.

The kitchen was empty, and it was clear Ilya hadn’t even started dinner. Shane checked his phone first for any messages from Ilya and found nothing. Then he found Ilya in the living room, lying on the couch and staring vacantly out through the window to the backyard.

“Ilyusha?” Shane asked softly and didn’t get any reply.

Shane squatted down in front of Ilya with a frown and carefully carded one hand through Ilya’s hair. That made Ilya inhale deeply, and he blinked, slowly turning his gaze from the window to Shane. His eyes were red as if he had cried, but his face was dry.

“Hey,” Shane said quietly.

“What time is it?” Ilya asked in Russian.

“Evening. Just after 8.”

Ilya closed his eyes and rubbed his knuckles over them roughly. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Shane said, in English because he didn’t think he had the right words in Russian. He prodded Ilya to sit up a little, then sat down on the couch and pulled Ilya back to his chest. “Want to talk about it?”

Ilya shrugged. “Got lost in my head. Is stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Shane murmured, one hand stroking through Ilya’s hair again and the other rubbing his back.

“I have everything I want,” Ilya said, switching back to Russian again. “A great team that finally wins again. We are better. We’re going to get married in less than four weeks. I don’t need to lie to everyone in my life anymore. I shouldn’t be like this anymore.”

Shane hummed. “You remember how you told me about the broken bone when I came home from my second therapy appointment.”

Ilya huffed.

“It’s like that again, isn’t it?” Shane said. “Sometimes we do everything right for the bone to heal, and it feels like it’s all good again. And then we make one wrong move, and all the pain of that injury comes back because it’s not completely healed yet. Or it is all healed up, has been for years, but then the same place is hit again, and the bone is broken again because it’s weaker in that place now than it was before the first break.”

Ilya groaned and turned his head to press his face against Shane’s chest. “Stop being logical.”

Shane chuckled and dropped a kiss on top of Ilya’s head.

“I just feel so sad sometimes,” Ilya whispered. “Sometimes I know why. After Halloween, when you had to leave again? I knew why I was sad. I knew it was … more than it should’ve been, but I knew the reason. I don’t know why I was sad today. It just was suddenly there.”

“That’s okay,” Shane said. “I’m going to be here no matter what, okay?”

Ilya nodded.

“Can you tell me what you need?” Shane asked.

“I don’t know.” Ilya sighed and pushed his hands under Shane’s shirt. It was something he did sometimes, not to tease or to start anything, but just so he could press his palms against Shane’s bare skin. “Can we go to the cottage?”

Shane frowned and tried to remember if there was anything on either of their schedules that would prevent them from driving to the cottage.

“I think … Maybe everything is too much. I love Sveta. I love your parents. But they’ve been all over us. And there hasn’t been a day when someone from our team hasn’t come knocking to hang out. And all I want is to be alone with you for a while.”

“We can drive to the cottage tomorrow,” Shane said, and decided that anything on their schedules that might clash with that plan could just be postponed. “We can go for a week. Or maybe a little longer.”

“Until after my birthday?” Ilya suggested. “Everyone will be here soon for the wedding. And it will be a much bigger party than we wanted because Sveta and your mom insist on chairs.”

Shane chuckled. He, for one, was happy to let his mother and Svetlana run amok with those preparations. All he wanted to do was to have that piece of paper that would tell the government and everyone who doubted it that he had claimed Ilya as his. A pretty distant second to that came the desire to celebrate with their friends that he and Ilya were finally able to truly build a life together, to live together, to not feel every time they saw each other during the season like they were stealing time. He would’ve been happy with an easy and informal gathering for that, but his mother had been very unhappy about that idea.

“No one needs to show up for my birthday,” Ilya murmured. “I want to celebrate something this summer just with you. Just you and me and creepy wolf birds with demon eyes.”

“I’ll make it happen,” Shane promised. “That might mean we don’t leave until around lunch time tomorrow because we’ll have to reschedule some things first. But I think the plan is great.”

“Thank you.”

Shane pressed another kiss to Ilya’s hair instead of telling him there was nothing to thank him for. It wasn’t the first time they were weathering a bad day for Ilya together, though twice Shane had only been able to be there for Ilya over the phone. He didn’t always manage to do or say the right things, but they were both slowly learning to manage this, Shane thought.

***

Going to the cottage had been the best idea of the whole summer so far, and Shane didn’t get tired of telling Ilya that. They couldn’t put off all their appointments, but for everything except one photoshoot Shane had to do, they managed to make alternate arrangements. That meant they had to take video calls at the cottage regularly, among them online appointments with each of their therapists. But for the most part, they got two weeks of nearly uninterrupted time together, where they didn’t have to worry every time they left the house together that they’d be spotted by someone on the last stretch before their wedding.

It was a bit of a fight to convince Shane’s parents not to come to the cottage for Ilya’s birthday, but eventually they relented. Shane managed to sneak a cake into the cottage without Ilya knowing—or at least Ilya pretended he hadn’t noticed it after Shane’s last grocery run—and they just enjoyed being together and undisturbed by anything or anyone that day. They went for a short hike and later a swim, and in between never managed to keep their hands to themselves very long. When they were sitting by the bonfire that evening, Shane was pretty sure that the only day this year that would be better would be their wedding day.

There was one present Shane held back until the day after Ilya’s birthday. Because he didn’t know how Ilya would react, and if he had made a huge mistake, Shane didn’t want to ruin Ilya’s birthday. So after their morning run and breakfast the next day, Shane pulled Ilya to the patio and instructed him to sit down while he went and grabbed the present from its hiding spot. When he returned, Ilya sat on the edge of the patio couch and watched him with a frown.

“Sveta helped me with this,” Shane said quietly, not able to meet Ilya’s gaze. “I hope it’s okay. If not, that’s fine, yeah?”

“I’m sure it will be okay,” Ilya said, confused.

Shane shrugged and held out the book. He had gone back and forth about wrapping it like a proper present, but had decided against it in case Ilya hated it. If it didn’t look so much like a present, then maybe it would be easier to deal with the fallout if Ilya hated it. Shane just really hoped that Ilya wouldn’t hate it.

Ilya took the book, but didn’t turn his gaze away from Shane. “Come sit down?”

Shane bit his lip and inhaled deeply before he followed the request.

“You are very nervous,” Ilya said, still without looking at the book.

Shane shrugged. “When I asked Sveta for help, I thought it was a good idea. I still hope it was. But if it wasn’t … then I’m sorry.”

Ilya stared at him for a moment longer, then he nodded and turned to the book in his hand. Shane had chosen a cover that wouldn’t make it clear right away what it was. He hoped it would find a place in their home in Ottawa, and he wanted that any of their curious friends snooping around would dismiss it. He felt it was something that Ilya needed to decide who to share it with.

That was also the reason why Shane hadn’t printed the pictures out old school to put together a traditional photo album, though maybe that would’ve been better given the age of the pictures. Instead, he had spent a whole day going through the options to have photo books printed and then spent another two days very carefully organizing every single page with the pictures Svetlana had been able to provide. She had told him her mother had gone through their old photo albums, scanned every picture herself, and provided a spreadsheet with information about when every picture had been taken and some details about the events of the day.

When Ilya opened the book, he inhaled sharply. Shane squeezed his hands between his thighs so he wouldn’t reach for Ilya while his boyfriend stared at the first page, which didn’t even have any pictures yet, only his mother’s name. Sometimes, when Ilya dealt with the demons from his childhood, he didn’t like to be touched. That had been a painful lesson for Shane early on, who was very familiar with moments where anyone touching him was too much, but who’d never ever felt like that with Ilya.

“Shane,” Ilya whispered, his voice shaking as much as the fingers that trailed over his mother’s name.

Ilya turned a page, and Shane stared at the picture of Irina Rozanova. Though when this picture had been taken, she had still been Irina Medvedeva. Svetlana had been surprised herself that her family was somehow in possession of photos from before her marriage to Ilya’s father. At that time, Svetlana’s father had lived in the US after defecting from the Soviet Union. The Vetrovs had only returned to Russia in 1995, after Irina and Grigori had already been married for over ten years. The friendship between the Rozanovs and Vetrovs hadn’t started for another year, but now Svetlana suspected that the friendship between Ilya’s mother and her own mother had been much deeper than they had ever suspected.

Irina was smiling in this first picture, beautiful and wide, the sun reflecting in her hair and her eyes shining brightly. There were other pictures later on where that joy had completely vanished. Only in the later pictures with either of her sons had there still been a ghost of this unadulterated joy from the first picture. Shane had still included them all in the book; it wasn’t like Ilya didn’t know about his mother’s struggles. There was no point in trying to hide it when all it would’ve done was to take away from the little pieces of Irina that Shane could give back to Ilya.

Ilya closed the book abruptly and put it on the empty seat on his other side. Shane winced, his mind racing to find any way to apologize for the mistake he had clearly made. But then Ilya turned to him, straddled his lap and wrapped his arms around Shane’s neck tightly. Shane wrapped his own arms around Ilya’s waist as Ilya started to rock them back and forth.

“I’m sorry,” Shane murmured forlornly.

“No,” Ilya said, voice heavy with tears. “No. Is perfect. Thank you.”

He took a deep breath and pressed his face against Shane’s throat. For a while, he didn’t say anything, crying quietly and rocking them slowly, and Shane didn’t know what to do other than hold him.

“Thank you, thank you,” Ilya started to repeat in Russian over and over again eventually. Then he murmured, “It’s perfect, but I can’t look. I can’t look at more than one at a time. I didn’t … I didn’t remember her face outside of my dreams. I dream of her face, and then I wake up and don’t remember it. Now I can look.”

Shane rubbed his hands over Ilya’s back silently.

“How did you know?”

Shane sighed. “You said years ago that you didn’t have anything left of her except for your cross.”

Ilya nodded. “Father took everything of hers after she died. He was so angry that she had … shamed our family. I had some pictures of her hidden in my closet. He ripped them apart when he found them. Said I couldn’t disrespect his new wife like that.”

Shane gasped and held onto Ilya a little tighter. Every time he learned something new about Ilya’s father, Shane was a little more relieved that the man was already dead.

“The only picture I had left was the one embedded on her gravestone,” Ilya whispered.

“Not anymore,” Shane murmured. “Sveta asked her parents for these pictures. All the comments are from Sveta’s mother. I have digital copies, too. On an external hard drive and in the cloud. So we won’t lose them.”

“Thank you,” Ilya said again.

“I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.”

“It’s perfect,” Ilya repeated quietly. “But I can’t look at more than one picture at a time, I think. It’s … Maybe one day. When it’s easier to see her again.”

“That’s okay,” Shane whispered.

“Can we get a second copy of the book? Leave this one here and have one at home.”

“That’s no problem at all,” Shane promised. “I’ll order a second one right away. The place where I ordered it keeps the file for half a year after the order. I can just email them and ask for a second copy.”

Ilya nodded.

Shane sighed and bit his lip. There was a second part to this present, but after Ilya’s reaction to the photo book, he wasn’t so sure if now was the best time to bring it up. At the same time, maybe going through the ordeal of confronting how little Ilya had left of his mother only once might be better than going through it a second time later on.

“I had another idea,” Shane murmured. “But it’s only an idea so far. It’s about your mother, too.”

Ilya exhaled slowly, the hot air blowing against Shane’s throat. “Okay.”

“You said that you always went to visit your mother’s grave when you went home,” Shane whispered. “And you haven’t been home in years, but the option was still there. It won’t be now anymore. Not as long as things don’t change in Russia.”

Ilya made a sound halfway between a hiss and a groan. “Moscow is not home anymore. Has not been in long time. This is home. Our house in Ottawa is home, now that you’re there all the time.”

Shane bit his lip and kissed the spot over Ilya’s ear, which was the only place he could reach with the way Ilya was still wrapped around him.

“You are home,” Ilya added after a moment.

“You’re my home, too,” Shane murmured.

When Ilya had moved to Ottawa, Shane had moved to a house in Montreal instead of the condo he had lived in before. With Ilya coming by much more frequently, he had needed that additional privacy. But the house had never even started to feel like his, to feel like home, while he had missed Ilya’s house sometimes like a missing limb. Shane hadn’t started to put those dots together until a couple of weeks ago, though, when he had started to spend most of his time in Ottawa.

“I thought that maybe we could create a place here,” Shane said after a moment. “A place that’s just yours and your mother’s. A place where you can go to remember her, that she’d have loved to visit, too. So you have someplace where you can feel connected to her.”

“You just want to see how much you can make me cry today.”

Shane chuckled. “That’s not true.”

For a while, Ilya was silent. Then he asked, “What kind of place?”

“Svetlana said there was a park you used to go to,” Shane said. “She remembered a playground near some water. And that your mom would sit on a specific bench facing the water rather than the playground while you, Sveta and another friend of yours were playing on the playground.”

“Yes,” Ilya whispered. “I remember.”

“I thought about a bench facing the water. Somewhere that’s a little secluded. It shouldn’t be difficult to find a good place here. Maybe when we come back in August, we can look for a good place. Or you can look alone.”

Ilya didn’t react at first, other than the rocking stopped. “I don’t know. Can I think about this?”

“Yeah, of course,” Shane assured. “It’s just an idea. If you don’t like it, we leave it. If you decide you’d like to look for a place … even if it’s in a year or two or ten, we’ll go look then.”

Ilya nodded, and they fell silent again. Shane glanced at the book on the couch. He had spent hours looking at all the pictures, agonizing about where to place every single one in the book. The only emotional connection he’d had to these pictures in the beginning had been his love for Ilya, but he felt like he had gotten to know Irina in some way while preparing the book. But it had also felt a little bit like betraying Ilya. He was so relieved that this whole project hadn’t been one big mistake.

Shane had lost track of time when Ilya’s hold on him eventually lost some of its tension. Then they moved and somehow ended up lying on the couch, the book poking against Shane’s calf where he had shoved it against the backrest with his foot, Ilya still wrapped around him, but now also lying on top of him.

“My dreams have changed,” Ilya whispered.

“Dreams?” Shane asked, confused.

Ilya nodded. “About Mama.”

“Oh.” Shane exhaled slowly and curled his fingers into the fabric of Ilya’s shirt. He had been so heartbroken to learn about Ilya’s dreams of Shane somehow never leaving the cottage soon enough to meet Irina. He wished nothing more than that he could have met Ilya’s mother.

“Sometimes she is sitting inside with us,” Ilya murmured. “Sometimes we’re sitting here outside with her.”

“I’m there now,” Shane said with a smile.

He knew Ilya’s dreams weren’t representative of what was going on in their lives. But it was about what was going on in Ilya’s head, though not in a way that could really be trusted. Shane had read a lot about dreams since Ilya had first told him about the one where Shane never met his mother. So he knew now that Ilya was dreaming those things because the dreams were mashing up the things that preoccupied his mind while he was awake. It was still nice to hear that Ilya’s mind had granted him his wish to see Shane and his mother together.

“Sometimes Yuna and David are there, too,” Ilya said, and Shane could hear the smile. “I like those dreams the best.”

“What are we doing when my parents are there?” Shane asked with a warm smile.

He carded one hand through Ilya’s curls as he listened to everything Ilya was willing to share about his dreams. What he shared was full of warmth and joy and love, and Shane was eternally grateful that Ilya was so willing to share all of that with him.

Chapter 12

Ilya hadn’t thought much about his wedding, other than the fact that he would finally be married to Shane once that day came. He still didn’t understand why Yuna and Svetlana were so invested in having chairs for everyone, but he had stopped arguing with them about it eventually. So when Ilya finally stood in their backyard facing Shane and listening intently to the officiant so he wouldn’t miss the moment when he was asked for his vows, he was surprised by how emotional he was about all the people who had arrived.

Everyone from the Centaurs was here with their families. The Pikes were here with JJ, as the only people from Montreal. Besides Cliff, there were five other old teammates from Boston that Ilya had very carefully invited without outright telling them he was marrying Shane. Cliff had to have told them because none of them had been surprised upon their arrival. Yuna and David were there, of course, as was Svetlana. Rose had managed to come, too. And then there was everyone who had ever helped with their hockey camps during the summer.

Then, Ilya was finally asked the only important question of the day—which wasn’t a question at all, of course, but he did understand that asking it was just part of the whole procedure—and everything around them ceased to exist. The only thing he later remembered with any kind of clarity about this moment, aside from Shane’s smile and the ring on Shane’s finger, was that he had switched to Russian at some point. Shane’s smile had only grown wider with that, thankfully, so Ilya decided not to worry about it.

Ilya was grateful when they had a moment to themselves while they signed all the necessary paperwork to make everything legal. And then Harris pulled them aside before they could join their guests, who were mingling in the backyard and in the living room.

“You want to do that thing now?” Harris asked with a smile. “Any thoughts about where?”

“What thing?” David asked with a frown.

“There is one video we didn’t prepare in advance,” Shane said. “There are too many people everywhere, we should’ve thought about this earlier!”

“The Trophy Room,” Ilya said immediately.

Shane laughed. “What? Really?”

“I did not ask we bring your trophy room here and mix it with mine for no reason, sweetheart,” Ilya said with raised brows. “This was always my plan. Remind the world of who we are while we tell them we were never who they made us out to be.”

Shane lowered his gaze at him. “I remember very well that one video where you proposed giving me my own individual trophy room!”

Ilya grinned. “And you changed my mind. You were right about mixing them being better!”

David shook his head with a fond smile. “I’ll make sure no one will miss you for a little while. But please hurry. I can just imagine what all these hockey players will assume you’re getting up to if you’re gone for too long.”

Shane blushed, and Ilya hoped a little bit that it was in memory of the sex they had occasionally had in either of their trophy rooms. When they had gone to Montreal to pack up Shane’s trophy room, Ilya had caused a delay of over an hour before they had actually started packing because he had felt Shane needed a reminder of who he was.

They ended up standing in the middle of the room, Ilya half behind Shane with one arm wrapped around Shane’s waist, Shane’s back pressing against his chest. Harris moved around the room for a couple of minutes trying to find the best angle, and then he just held his phone up. This video was a lot less professional than all the others they would be publishing over the following two weeks, but that wasn’t the point of this one anyway.

“Hi everyone,” Shane said after Harris gave the signal that he was filming.

Ilya grinned and waved at the camera, then he made sure his wedding ring was very visible when he placed his hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Hello, everyone. We’re going to keep this short. We have a party to get back to.”

“But we still want to take a moment to share our news with you,” Shane said. “I mean, you’ve known for months that this video would be coming sometime during the summer. And there is even a surprising number of people who’ve already assumed the partner I wouldn’t name before is Ilya Rozanov.”

“Hollander-Rozanov now,” Ilya said proudly. “For thirty minutes now, and for the rest of our lives. You’ll have opinions, we know. The only opinions we want to hear are the happy ones. Everyone else can shut up.”

“Ilya!” Shane sighed deeply, and Ilya knew he was rolling his eyes even without seeing it.

“What? Is true! And you already warned everyone I’m not media trained,” Ilya said with a pout. “People knew that about me before anyway.”

“We did,” Harris agreed from behind the camera with a grin.

“We have prepared some more videos because we know you’ll have questions,” Shane said. “We’ll post them over the next little while. There will be a whole YouTube channel for it to make it easier for everyone to find them. But the most important thing you need to know is that we’ve been waiting for this day for a really long time.”

“We fell in love a long time ago,” Ilya cut in. “And we had to hide for too long. It is best thing to happen that we don’t have to hide anymore. That I can tell the whole world to stop looking at my man.”

Shane chuckled and turned his head to look at Ilya. “I’m not the one with the long and detailed reputation!”

Ilya pressed a short kiss against his lips. “Only because you don’t notice when people flirt with you. I had to arrange a whole shared photoshoot to make you notice!”

Shane shoved his elbow into his side, laughing loudly. “Lies and slander!” Then he turned back to the camera. “Anyway. We just wanted to let you know we are married. I hope you are having even just half as perfect a day as Ilya and I are.”

Ilya didn’t know what else to say, so he grabbed Shane’s chin and turned his head to kiss him again. Harris called out “Cut” and they both ignored it. Shane turned around and grabbed the back of Ilya’s neck. It felt like the greatest triumph of all that Shane just didn’t care about the audience they had.

“I’m just gonna tell the rest you’ll need a while, shall I?” Harris said with a laugh and closed the door on his way out loud enough that they couldn’t miss it.

“I love you,” Shane said with a wide grin. “And now the whole world knows it.”

“I love you, too,” Ilya answered in Russian. “When will be a good time to throw everyone out so I can have you to myself?”

Shane laughed and slapped his chest. “Not for many hours. That’s the downside of marrying at home.” He bit his lip and looked at Ilya through hooded eyes. “But maybe we can sneak away for a little bit after the first dance for first blowjobs as husbands.”

“With everyone in the house, really?” Ilya asked delightedly.

Shane shrugged. “Our bedroom and the bathrooms have locks. That will do.”

“I’ll remember this idea,” Ilya promised.

He stole another quick kiss before he took Shane’s hand and pulled him out of the room. They returned to a lot of light teasing, even though Harris came back just after they did and announced loudly that the video had been posted. There would be other posts throughout the afternoon and evening from the party, and Ilya was grateful that Harris seemed genuinely happy to take care of all of that. Ilya also trusted Harris as the only one in the room to follow the guidelines they had set down that none of the children would be posted with their faces visible, and no videos or pictures at all would be posted with Svetlana in them.

Ilya had been to many parties, and not a single one had been better than his own wedding party.

Ilya was glued to Shane’s side, but at one point, Yuna demanded a dance with her son, and so Ilya found himself without his husband at his side. He turned to the buffet because everyone he would like to dance with was already busy. He prepared plates both for Shane and himself because they hadn’t found a moment to sit down and eat even a little.

“Great party,” Scott said with a warm smile as he joined Ilya at the buffet.

“Better than yours?”

Scott laughed. “Never. But I don’t expect us to agree about that. Though I have to ask, was the song for your first dance really a Disney song?”

Ilya nodded and looked around, but he couldn’t find any of the Pike children to call them over and sic them on Scott with the story. “This is our second wedding, you know. You should ask Ruby and Jade Pike about our real wedding. I’m sure they’re happy to share. Arthur Pike chose the music for that one. Shane doesn’t know any music at all, and I decided that we should honour our first wedding.”

“That’s cute,” Scott said. “Who’d have thought you had that in you?”

“Jealous, old man?” Ilya asked.

“This old man has one more Stanley Cup than you now!”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Ilya said gleefully. “No one but the Centaurs will ever get another Stanley Cup for the rest of your career.”

“With you and Hollzy on the same team?” Scott shook his head. “I don’t even know how to argue against that. How are…” He shook his head. “No, forget it. That’s not a topic for today.”

“Not with Shane,” Ilya agreed with a shrug. “Voyageurs are the past for him. Someone from the Player Association talked to him. He had to answer some questions. But other than that, no one bothered him about situation of Voyageurs. And your support helped a lot with the public attention. Your group was a good idea.”

“And I had the idea at the right time,” Scott said with a sigh. “Though I didn’t expect that we’d get so much support.”

Ilya grinned and shrugged. “You would not have for other reason. But most people like Shane. So it was easy for them to speak up and support him.”

Scott nodded slowly. “Right. If we had been organized as a group in November to have Barrett’s back, we probably wouldn’t have grown this quickly and gotten so much support right away. I hear Crowell is in hot water, by the way.”

“Really?” Ilya asked gleefully.

“Nothing official, of course. And that’s not even about Shane’s situation. Yet, probably. It’s about unduly influencing witnesses in the Dallas Kent situation. The way I heard it, he tried to tell some players in Toronto that they couldn’t make any statements to the police. I’m pretty sure we’re going to have a new commissioner before pre-season.”

Ilya raised his chin. “Maybe NHL will give us wedding present and announce they fired him today.”

Scott laughed and patted his shoulder. “I think if they had planned that for today, they’re going to hold off for a couple of days now. But I honestly don’t think we’ll know anything for a couple more weeks.”

“Maybe the whole mess will finally bring some of the change we thought might come after you came out,” Ilya said. “Would be good to make some first steps there.”

“And it won’t be more than a first step,” Scott said with a sad smile.

“Yeah,” Ilya agreed. But a first step was still more than the NHL had seen in too many years. Hopefully, they would have less to worry about next season if Crowell were really gone. A first step was something that everyone who wanted changes in the League could build on.

***

Shane’s parents left sometime between everyone with children leaving and those without children being thrown out as politely as Shane could manage, far too late in the night. Ilya hugged Yuna especially tightly, and Shane wished not for the first time that Ilya’s mother could have been here as well.

“It was much more than halfway decent party,” Ilya said softly, and Shane chuckled.

Yuna laughed and rubbed a hand over his back. “I’m glad to hear that. I think it was a great day.”

“It was,” Shane said as he got his own hug from his mother, just as tightly as she had hugged Ilya.

Ilya nodded and said with a shaky voice as Shane’s dad hugged him, “Thank you for being here. Thank you for being so great parents for Shane. Thank you for helping with everything.”

Shane was pretty sure he hadn’t been supposed to hear that, so he kept quiet about his own thoughts on that. He didn’t hear his father’s answer, and then he was distracted by his mother telling him, “Enjoy the rest of the night.”

Shane felt himself blush. He would’ve preferred his parents not to say that as he was heading into his wedding night. He preferred believing that they had no idea he had a sex life at all, even though that was probably a lost cause as Ilya and he both had a difficult time keeping their hands off each other when they were someplace they felt secure—and his parents’ house had been one of those places for years.

Shane grabbed Ilya’s hand while waving after his parents, and as soon as the door closed, he turned around to Ilya with a little frown. “You okay?”

Ilya sighed deeply. “Yes. I love your parents. I love how they have accepted me.”

“Ah.” Shane smiled sadly. He put his hand on Ilya’s chest, finding the cross under Ilya’s dress shirt without having to try. “Your mom is here in both our hearts, love,” Shane promised in Russian.

In moments like this, Shane was relieved about how much easier it had become to speak Russian since Svetlana had appointed herself as his learning buddy and kept texting and calling him every other day.

Ilya nodded and answered in English. “I know. I’m grateful for your parents, is all.”

“Want to throw everyone else out?” Shane asked.

Ilya chuckled and shook his head. “Let’s give them another hour or two. I need to grab Harris and make a new start to my video. But first—” He grabbed Shane’s waist and pushed him into the half-bath that was right beside the entrance to the house.

Shane laughed when Ilya closed and locked the bathroom door behind them. “Ilya!”

“You made a promise earlier!” Ilya sank to his knees without pause and opened Shane’s dress pants swiftly.

Shane inhaled deeply and leaned back against the wall behind him. Despite the promises he had made after they had recorded the video for their wedding announcement, they hadn’t snuck away to exchange blowjobs before now.

He was already half hard when Ilya pulled down his pants and boxer briefs just enough to pull Shane’s cock out. Shane had been half hard for most of the day, because he finally could call Ilya his husband, because Ilya hadn’t stopped touching him ever since the first guests had arrived—his hand lingering on the small of his back or his shoulder or holding his hand—and because Shane had more often than not overcome his own apprehension about so many people seeing them and had kept his hands on Ilya just as much.

Ilya looked up at him with a wide, excited grin. “First blowjob as husbands is mine!” Then he took the cock in his mouth completely, closing his lips tightly around the base and pressing his tongue against the underside.

“Fuck, Ilyusha!” Shane murmured and watched mesmerized. Even after eleven years, he never got tired of watching Ilya like this, and he knew he would never get tired of it for the rest of his life.

Shane fisted his hands so he wouldn’t grab Ilya’s hair. He didn’t want to mess it up and make it obvious to everyone what they were up to right now, though that was probably a lost cause.

The blowjob turned fast and messy when Ilya started bobbing his head up and down as soon as Shane was fully hard. Ilya knew how to push his buttons, how to swallow around Shane’s cock and hum at just the right moments to either draw a blowjob out as long as he could or to make Shane come in less than a minute.

Shane remembered the first blowjobs they had exchanged so many years ago. How insecure he had felt then about his own abilities, while he had at the same time been excited to go down on someone for the first time in his life. And he had learned long ago how mistaken he had been about Ilya’s confidence and knowledge. Sometimes he was still astonished by how they had managed to come from then to now.

Shane grabbed the waistband of his pants because he needed to hold onto something. Ilya looked up at him and raised his eyebrows questioningly. After a moment, he grabbed Shane’s hands—without ever letting go of Shane’s cock—and pulled them to his head.

“I’ll mess up your hair,” Shane murmured.

Ilya huffed and rubbed his own hand over his head, messing up his hair as if making a point. Shane laughed breathlessly and grabbed Ilya’s hair without further protest. He pulled on it to direct Ilya’s pace, staring into Ilya’s eyes the whole time.

It didn’t take much more for Shane to come, and Ilya swallowed and kept sucking on his cock until it was completely soft. Then he tucked it back into the boxer briefs and pulled up Shane’s pants, carefully closing them before he stood up.

Shane, fingers still tangled in Ilya’s hair, pulled his husband into a bruising kiss. Then he sank to his knees, fumbling a little with Ilya’s pants.

“My turn,” Shane murmured, breathless and excited.

“Won’t take long,” Ilya warned. He braced one hand on the wall and carded his other hand through Shane’s hair. “Blowing my husband is very hot. Nearly came in pants.”

Shane grinned smugly and impatiently tugged on Ilya’s pants and underwear, closing his fingers around Ilya’s hard cock as soon as he managed to get him out. “We’ll need to work on your endurance if that’s going to be an ongoing problem.”

Ilya huffed. “You just want excuse to get on your knees for me.”

Shane really didn’t need an excuse for that. Ilya never stopped him from doing that whenever Shane felt like it. Instead of pointing that out, Shane took him in his mouth. Ilya groaned and dropped his forehead against the wall, thrusting his hips forward, and Shane relaxed his throat. He put both hands on Ilya’s ass and let Ilya do most of the work, let him fuck his mouth.

“Can’t wait to be alone with you,” Ilya murmured in Russian. “I want to fuck you the whole night. Want you to fuck me tonight. There is a very long list of firsts we need to work through again now.”

Shane hummed in agreement, and Ilya’s knees wobbled for a moment. Then he came without warning, and Shane watched him blush deeply.

Shane licked his lips after he released Ilya’s cock. “Definitely working on your endurance tomorrow,” he said with a wink as he helped Ilya put his clothes back together to make him look halfway decent again.

***

Shane was lying awake far too late that night—or more accurately, very early the next morning—after they had finally managed to throw everyone out, and after they tired each other out with a lot of sex while striking a couple more things off the “first time as husbands” list. Ilya had fallen asleep long ago, but Shane’s mind just wouldn’t settle.

It felt a little surreal that this day had finally arrived, that they were finally married, that no one would be able to doubt anymore that Ilya was his now. He had been waiting for this day for much longer than January, and despite all their preparations over the past six months, part of Shane’s mind had still been stuck in the old plan where they would have had to have waited ten more years for this day. He didn’t know anymore how he had ever thought they would actually make it until the end of their hockey careers without shouting to the world that they belonged together.

Eventually, Shane grabbed his phone and headphones from the nightstand, careful not to move too much so he wouldn’t wake up Ilya, who was lying pressed against his back, his nose against Shane’s neck. It was how they fell asleep most of the time when they could share a bed—and it hadn’t quite sunk in yet for Shane that there wouldn’t be weeks on end anymore where they would have to sleep alone—even though more often than not they woke up in a tangle of limbs and facing each other.

Shane dimmed the light of his phone as much as he could and then still put it under the blanket, so hopefully Ilya wouldn’t wake from the light either. Finding Ilya’s video—posted by Harris shortly after Harris and Troy had left the party to go home—took only a couple of clicks. For a moment, Shane just scrolled through the comments, noting with some relief that the filters Jess had put in place for them were hard at work even while Jess was hopefully asleep. A lot of the really bad comments were marked for moderation and hidden. There were a lot of those comments, but many more seemed to be genuinely supportive and happy for them.

Shane pushed play and smiled stupidly as he saw Ilya in their kitchen, the jacket of his suit long gone and the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone. His hair was all messed up, and Shane blushed, wondering how many people would recognize the reason for that.

It was already dark outside in the video, the fairy lights illuminating the backyard in a way that made any figure out there indistinguishable. Shane had been outside trying to convince the rest of their friends to leave while Harris and Ilya had recorded a new beginning for this video, now that it wasn’t being posted as part of a contingency plan for being outed too early anymore.

“Hi,” Video-Ilya said with a wide grin. His face was flushed, and Shane would have to remember later to tease Ilya about that. “Everyone saw our earlier announcement, I know. And everyone is happy for us. Because everyone who isn’t can just shut up.”

There was a deep sigh from Harris from behind the camera, and it could even be seen by the camera jostling for a moment.

Video-Ilya waved his hand. “Anyway. Now that the big secret is … out of sack?”

“Out of the bag,” Harris supplied, amused.

“Yes, that. Out of the bag.” Video-Ilya nodded. “So, now that that’s done, it’s time to explain some things that, for some stupid reason, need explaining. I put bisexual flag on my profiles in June, and half the internet thinks I’m stupid and made mistake. I didn’t. I am bisexual. But I had reasons to be very careful about coming out. Reasons will be explained here in a little while.

“But first I want to say that it was very funny watching everyone go crazy about flag in my profile. Was one of the funniest things to happen this year. The best was, of course, watching all the Hollanovs out there knowing the truth and no one believing them. I guess now everyone else is feeling very ashamed and needs to apologize to the Hollanovs. I would love to hear from you what made you see truth about Shane and me, by the way.”

Shane bit his lip, silently cursing out Ilya while at the same time barely able to contain his laughter. This was such an Ilya-thing to do, issuing such a silly challenge to a bunch of people online. Ilya would probably even enjoy reading and watching whatever their fans came up with, but they’d surely have to give Jess a raise.

“And look out,” Ilya said with a wide grin. “Because we know everyone will have questions, we have prepared some more videos. Sharing what we’re comfortable with about our relationship and the road to get to this point, where I can finally tell the world that Shane is mine. We will post those videos over the next few days. Or weeks, maybe.”

Video-Ilya paused and inhaled deeply as he turned a little more serious. “I made video months ago, same day as Shane did his videos. This way they were there in case we were outed. Shane did his in English and French, I did mine in English and Russian. I said a lot of important and true things in video. So we’re only changing out the beginning because it’s not about being outed before we’re ready anymore. It was not easy to say some of the things in the video. But they’re important things.”

The change in the video was a little startling, despite Shane knowing it was coming. Video-Ilya was still in the kitchen, but it was light outside now, and he was wearing jeans and a plain shirt. Shane remembered with a grin how Ilya had argued that he should wear a Centaurs jersey for at least half an hour before he had relented and agreed to the clothes Harris and Troy had recommended. Ilya had wanted to show his loyalty, and Shane suspected it had also been about feeling comfortable and wearing a kind of shield, but Harris had convinced him it might create the wrong impression because this was a video about Ilya the Person and not about Rozanov the Hockey Player.

Video-Ilya smiled into the camera, though it looked much more reserved than the wide and free smile from the new beginning of the video. “I am bisexual. And I have known that since I was … fourteen, I think. That was not easy time in my life. I missed my mother, but I could not share that with family. There weren’t a lot of friends I dared to share it with. But being with other people helped, and a good way to enjoy time with each other was sex. I did not care if it was boy or girl I spent time with. But I was always more careful with the boys.”

Video-Ilya lowered his gaze for a moment, and his pose shifted. His shoulders grew tense, and Shane saw his hand twitch as if he wanted to fist it and forced himself not to. He had missed that when he had watched Ilya record this video. “Some of you maybe know there are very hateful laws in Russia now about people like me. Very vague laws, too, so they can be as harsh in executing the laws as they want to be. But those laws weren’t there always. When I was teenager, it was … easy to explore myself in Moscow. Easy to find queer places. I had to hide from my father and my brother. And from my teammates and coaches, because hockey is not so different here and back home in Russia in that. But I had a lot of places where I could just be me and explore without that much fear.

“It is different now. There are consequences for coming out now that were not there when I was a teenager. Consequences for this video. Especially for doing it in English and in Russian. Because now there are laws that forbid me to be open about who I am. Law that try to tell me I am corrupting children just by sitting here and talking about the boy I was infatuated with since I met him the first time at 17, and who I love very much now, and who I am going to marry this summer. Laws that might mean I’m going to get huge fines if I ever go home to Russia now. Or they might mean I end up in prison because I could be labelled extremist, too.”

Video-Ilya fell silent for several seconds. “Coming out now means I can’t go home. I have not been home in long time, and that was my choice. That was the goal when I worked so hard to be drafted to NHL. I needed to get away from my father and my brother as far as I could. And I could not imagine having more space between us than when I went to America. So that’s what I worked for. And for many years, I went home in summer. Because I still felt I owed my family. And my father was growing old, and he was sick. So I went home and cared for him as much as I could.

“But I did not enjoy going home. It was exhausting, and over time, it grew dangerous. Because my father was police and military and very connected. My brother is police. I know they both welcomed new laws. And they would see laws executed on me as harshly as they could. Because being who I am is not just crime for them, it is also shame on family. I have not seen or heard from my brother since my father’s funeral in 2017, and now there is no chance that will ever change. My niece will grow up learning I’m criminal and extremist. A dangerous man. Because I’m in love with another man.”

Video-Ilya pursed his lips and raised his chin defiantly. “Sometimes I miss home. And there are things I regret. I can’t ever show Shane the places of my childhood. I can’t take him to my mother’s grave. I can’t take him to the arena where I learned to skate. Behind which I first kissed a girl. I can’t take him to the woods where I had summer camp. Where I first kissed a boy. It would not be safe for us to go there, and I hate it. Even though I don’t really want to go back anyway because I have built life and new home here.”

Shane smiled sadly. Until he had watched Ilya while he had recorded this video, he hadn’t even known those were things Ilya would want to do.

Video-Ilya shrugged. “Maybe someday things will change at home. Maybe someday I can show Shane Moscow. I know there are people who will say I should fight for that future. They will say I owe the people who can’t leave Russia as easily as I could. They will call me coward. Maybe they’re right. But I know it is not something I can do. It is not a fight I can take on. If it were, I would not have run away from my family when I was a teenager to build life on other side of world.”

Shane put his hand over Ilya’s, which was lying on his chest. He remembered how he had pulled Ilya into a tight hug as soon as the recording had ended, and how difficult it had been not to do so while Harris had still been recording. There was really nothing he could do to make Ilya feel better about this, and Shane hated not having a solution available.

Video-Ilya sighed deeply. “Russia is big reason why we did not come out earlier. I moved to Ottawa for Shane. Russia is not good for Russians like me. But I hope Canada will be good for Canadians like Shane and me. We want to build life together. And I have been working on citizenship because having Russian passport when marrying another man might be dangerous.

“And then there is NHL who might not like that Shane and I never were what they … advertised? Is that right word? Do not misunderstand, competing with Shane is one of best parts of hockey. Because until now, there is no one else who can keep up with us. But that is competition, that is respect. That is not hate that media so often claims. We could not control what media said. We can not control what fans think. But truth is, there was never hate. And now we’re done with going along with other people’s narrative. Now we won’t hide who we are anymore.”

It was a good end to the video. Less emotional than Shane felt his own had been, but still very hopeful. Someday in the future, he’d watch the Russian version of the video, where he knew Ilya had put the focus on a couple of different things. He had watched that one being recorded as well, of course, but there had been parts he hadn’t understood then. Shane felt that after the many conversations he’d had with Svetlana and even Ilya over the past few months, maybe now he would be able to understand all of it, even if he would still be missing a couple of words here and there.

Behind Shane, Ilya stirred. “What are you doing?” he asked sleepily.

Shane turned off his phone and turned his head to look at his husband. “Watching your video. Harris posted it a couple of hours ago.”

“That’s what we agreed, right?” Ilya took Shane’s phone and carefully pulled the headphones away as well. He dropped both on the nightstand on his side of the bed. “There will be many more videos he posts for us for the next few weeks. What I see is that I didn’t tire you out enough.”

Shane grinned and turned over, straddling Ilya’s thighs as he pushed him on his back. “You fell asleep, old man, after promising me to keep me awake all night!”

“Am not old!” Ilya protested with a grin. “You’re a month older!”

Shane just laughed and kissed Ilya without any hurry. They had the rest of their lives now, after all. And everyone knew it. There was no rush anymore to use the stolen moments they got as much as they could. There would be no stolen moments anymore.

“I love you,” Shane whispered in Russian against Ilya’s lips.

“I love you, too,” Ilya answered in English, the fingers of one hand tangled in Shane’s hair, the other hand resting on Shane’s hip. “My husband,” he added, first in English, then repeating it in Russian and French.

Shane just grinned and rested their foreheads together. Ilya hadn’t been getting tired of repeating that word as if he were proving something. It hadn’t taken long for their friends to start teasing Ilya about it, and they had to know that would only encourage Ilya to double down on it. Shane honestly couldn’t wait for their first encounter with the media—he bet that Ilya would only call him “husband” every time Shane’s name came up for the entire interview.

“We did it,” Shane murmured.

Ilya nodded and angled his head for another kiss. “We did.“

 

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