I.
@mattthekiller07: [VIDEO: Shane Hollander on the phone with someone. He's wearing a black t-shirt and black sweatpants. He looks upset.
Audio transcription:
@mattthekiller07 (off-camera): It’s Shane fucking Hollander, dude.
Man 2 (off-camera): Holy shit. Can we get a picture, man?
Shane Hollander: Sorry. Not right now.
@mattthekiller07 (off-camera): Please, man. It’ll just take a second.
SH: I said no. Fuck off. Jesus Christ.
Man 2 (off-camera): Whoa. What’s the big deal?
SH: Get that out of my face or I’ll throw it in the fucking river.
Man 2 (off-camera): That was fucking rude.
@mattthekiller07 (off-camera): There he goes. All we did was ask for a picture, man.]
5,987 views
@montreal4life: bruh did u just interrupt the man's phone call and then acted like you didn't do anything?
@hockeyfan98: hmm and what is Mr. Hollander doing in Boston in the off-season?
@mrsrozanova: that's actually friendly Boston behavior
@shanesfreckles: LEAVE SHANE ALONEEEE
Yuna scrolled further down as more comments appeared under the video showing Shane's reaction to being asked for a picture. She frowned at the paused video on the screen as she took in Shane's stiff posture, the downturn of his mouth, the tension behind the words. Shane was certainly not doing okay, but whatever happened on the call he took could not have been bad enough to merit this reaction.
Then again, what did Yuna really know? Ever since the video hit her notifications, she had been trying to contact Shane but she had no luck at all. Her calls rang and rang and kept ringing, but Shane hadn't picked up once. He wasn't answering her texts either, so Yuna was at a loss.
They had spoken over the phone the night before and Shane hadn't mentioned anything out of the ordinary. Considering the newness of 'the ordinary' including the name 'Ilya Rozanov', Yuna thought nothing had been out of place. In fact, Shane had sounded almost… relaxed. As if he was relaxing in Boston in the off-season. By helping out Ilya Rozanov with his niece. Because they were friends apparently. Good friends. Friends that helped each other during difficult times.
Yuna was still trying to connect the dots in a way that made sense, but kept coming up empty. She couldn't help feeling like she was missing an important part of the story.
[Shane 21:37]
Mom I'm beat. I'll call you tomorrow
[Yuna 21:38]
Are you okay?
[Shane 21:38]
Just tired. Long day. Olya just fell asleep
She considered her next words carefully, not wanting to spook her son into going silent on the other side of the line.
[Yuna 21:39]
We need to talk about the video of you in Boston
Her phone rang immediately.
"What video?" Shane asked, skipping the small talk. His voice was careful enough that Yuna could not get a read on him from those words alone.
"The two guys whose phone you threatened to throw in the river," said Yuna, calmly.
After a beat of silence that stretched too long for her liking, Shane said, "ah, that video."
When Shane didn't continue, Yuna prompted, "well?"
"I'm surprised it took this long to get out," Shane mumbled, it sounded muffled, as if he was half covering the receiver, or perhaps just talking to himself.
"What do you mean? When did this happen?" she asked.
"Couple of weeks ago.” Shane took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m sorry, I know how this looks and—”
“Shane, why didn’t you tell me this happened?” Without thinking it over, she took the chance to ask what was on her mind. “What happened? You looked very upset taking that call.”
“Nothing, mom, it’s been dealt with,” he said, his voice softening.
“Shane—”
“Mom, I’m fine. I swear. Tell me what to do to fix this,” he said, earnest.
Yuna shook her head even if Shane couldn’t see her. She wanted to know what could possibly be serious enough, but she didn’t think pushing the topic would do anything right now. Still, she had some damage control to do, and for that, she would need to make a few calls first. She told Shane as much.
“After I’ve contacted the brands, I’ll have a better picture of what we’re dealing with. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Pick up your phone, Shane,” she warned.
"I will. Love you. Goodnight."
"Love you," she said, but Shane had already hung up.
II.
It was early enough that Yuna was not sure why Shane was calling her. She picked up as worry tightened in her chest. "Hello?"
"Mom. Hey," greeted Shane, relief palpable in his voice.
Still, Yuna could only think of what they talked about the previous night. There was no reason to feel relieved yet. "You should know that video is up to thirteen thousand—"
"I don’t care," Shane cut in. "Ilya’s here too. Listen, Olya’s been crying since she woke up. She slept in, and she won’t eat breakfast. She’s sniffling, too, and now she’s warm, Mom. She’s warm."
Yuna took note of the anxiety creeping in Shane's voice. That was unexpected. The rational part of her knew that Shane was helping Ilya Rozanov with his niece. She did not expect Shane to actually be staying with Rozanov during the whole ordeal as he apparently was, since he knew his niece slept in and didn't eat breakfast.
She considered her options. The first thing to do was ensure her boy did not have a panic attack, so she leveled her voice as she said, "Okay." After a moment, she added, "You said Ilya is there?"
Ilya cleared his throat. "Hello, Yuna."
Yuna hesitated. "Right. Hi. God, that's still weird."
"Mom," Shane's voice went colder, it was almost a hiss.
"Sorry," she mumbled automatically. She frowned, but she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. Should Shane even be watching a 3-year-old? He's still a kid himself. What about Roz—Ilya? Yuna knew enough about the tabloid rumors to know the man should not have been anyone's first choice to take care of a small child. Perhaps she should catch a flight to Boston to check on Shane.
She resolved looking up flights to Boston if it was anything worse than just a viral infection. That meant Ilya had to take her to the E.R.
"Is there an emergency room near your place, Ilya?" she asked.
"I think probably. This is emergency?" Ilya sounded, for lack of a better words, worried.
Perhaps Yuna should be on the next flight to Boston.
"No," she amended immediately, "I'm not saying this is an emergency. Kids get sick all the time. Shane couldn’t go three games without bringing home a new germ. But—" Yuna thought of Ilya's worry, of Shane's anxiety when he called her. Something wanted to click. Her voice relaxed as she added, "maybe you'd feel better getting a second opinion?"
Shane's voice trembled when he spoke. "Like a doctor?"
Ilya agreed that he should take his niece to the hospital, then Shane thanked her. Yuna tried to get a few words in, "the video, Shane—" but Shane had already hung up.
She stared at her phone as if it held the answers she was looking for. Yuna shook her head as a thought began to form, unbidden. Shane and Roz— Ilya?
No.
Shane was not gay. He would have said something by now. He dated Rose Landry! Though that didn't last, and Shane had not dated anyone since they broke up.
Besides, when would Shane even have time to have a relationship with someone from Boston? His friendship with Rozanov could be a byproduct of facing each other on the ice for so long. They did play on the same team for the last All-Stars game. Perhaps they had an opportunity to become friends in one of the many team outings during the All-Star weekend.
But in a romantic relationship? Shane? And Ilya Rozanov? Notorious womanizer Ilya Rozanov?
That was highly unlikely.
No, Shane was panicking because he was an anxiety-prone person who was worried about his friend. He was not raising a kid with Ilya Rozanov, for fuck's sake.
III.
A couple of hours later, as Yuna drafted a statement for Shane regarding the video, her phone started pinging with notifications. When it vibrated for five whole seconds before stopping, Yuna picked up the phone and unlocked it. She opened the first notification with Shane's name on it.
It was a tweet that read "Rozanov has a daughter? And is that Shane fucking Hollander?" attached to a picture of Ilya holding a tiny girl in his arms in a crowded E.R. She could see Shane sitting next to him with a small frown in his face as he looked up at an older woman. Yuna frowned when she realized this picture was taken inside the hospital waiting room. That was extremely inappropriate. Wasn't Shane entitled to a little privacy?
Yuna winced. She clicked on the search bar and typed her son's name, then she sorted the tweets by date. The latest two tweets were different angles of the same picture Yuna had already seen. One of them showed that Shane was clearly upset. She put her hand on her temple to stave off the headache that was forming there.
The third tweet was something new: a short video of Ilya's niece crawling from Ilya's lap to Shane's, and Shane scooped her up and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Yuna's heart tightened for a moment as the last pieces clicked into place.
Shane loved this little girl.
His eyes certainly softened when he looked at Ilya as if he loved Ilya as well.
Fuck.
"David!" she called. When her husband didn't reply immediately, Yuna realized she was alone at home still —David wouldn't even be on his lunch break yet. For some reason, that morning had felt eternal as she tried to make sense of Shane's place in Ilya Rozanov's life.
Yuna wasn't sure what Shane had gotten himself into, but she sure as hell knew that she was going to protect Shane's privacy for as long as she breathed.
IV.
When Shane called her to tell to tell her she had been right about it being a viral infection, Yuna gently asked Shane if he had been online that day at all.
"No, why?" he asked cautiously.
Yuna bit her lip to stop herself from spilling the questions she really wanted to ask what is going on exactly? Why did you go with Ilya to the E.R.? Why does his niece hug you as if your her something? Why didn't you tell me before?
Instead, she said, "how is she? Ilya's niece?"
"Olya's fine." Olya. Yuna committed the nickname to memory. "She slept most of the day on and off. She's not crying anymore."
"How's Ilya?" she asked next.
"We're fine, mom." After a moment of silence, Shane asked, "what are people saying?"
Yuna sighed, but went ahead and gave Shane a quick summary of the many questions and theories floating online. Shane listened in silence only occasionally interrupted by a little girl —Olya— babbling on the other side of the line.
When she was done, she asked, "are you still there, Shane?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
He didn't elaborate though, and Yuna's patience was starting to run thin.
"Shane, what is going on?"
Silence.
Wrong question then.
"Nothing, mom," Shane said. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
Yuna sighed. "Shane—"
"Love you, mom. Good night."
"Night," she said, expecting Shane to have hung up, however Yuna could hear his breathing on the line still. "Shane?"
"Good night, mom." He hung up.
V.
Yuna wasn't sure what compelled her to set notifications for Ilya Rozanov's Instagram page. She didn't remember when in the last few weeks exactly she had done it, but she was glad she did when she saw Ilya's latest picture.
[PHOTO: Shane with Olesya perched on his lap, tucked comfortably against his chest. Her face was mostly obscured by a wide sunhat; however, Shane's face was completely visible. They sat at a small café in what looked like a quiet neighborhood, sunlight spilling across the pavement, catching on the rim of Shane’s sunglasses and the easy curve of his soft smile.]
The caption read:
Today marks one month since my brother’s passing.
I am grateful to be able to give his daughter a safe place to call home after his tragic accident. Becoming guardian to my niece has not been an easy chapter to face, but it is one I take seriously.
I am thankful to have friends in my life, like Shane Hollander, who remind me that accepting help is not weakness.
Looking ahead to next season.
— ROZANOV
The nagging feeling that she had been missing something was replaced by the absolute certainty that Shane's protective hand on Olesya's back was the piece she hadn't seen clearly.
Yuna looked at Shane's content face on her screen and suddenly everything made sense.
Of course.
Without thinking it twice, she called him. Shane picked up on the second ring.
"Mom?" he asked, hesitant.
"Shane, can you talk?"
She heard faint steps in the background, then a door opening and closing. When Shane spoke up again, his voice was suddenly tense, as if bracing for something.
"Sure, mom. What's up?"
Yuna's heart hurt at the distance she heard from her boy. She wished he'd never been in a position where he felt he could not talk to her about something.
"It's about the photo Rozanov uploaded—"
"Ilya," Shane interrupted.
"Yes, Ilya," she amended.
"What about it?" Shane's words were strained even when he tried to pass it for something casual. If she didn't know better, she'd say Shane was… scared.
"You know you can tell me anything, right?" she ventured, uncomfortable with this uncharted territory where Shane did not trust her enough to tell her the truth, whatever it was.
"I know, mom," he said.
Shane didn't say anything else, and Yuna wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. At a loss for words, she just said, "if you need anything…"
"Mom, I'm fine. We're fine." Yuna could not see him, but she was sure Shane was chewing on the string of his hoodie, trying to soothe his own nerves. In the end, he seemed to settle for something. "It's… not a phone conversation, I think."
So there was a conversation to be had.
"Okay," Yuna breathed. "When are you coming home?"
Shane's hesitation was palpable through the phone.
"I was thinking of coming in a couple of weeks. For Dad's birthday."
Two weeks seemed like an awfully long time for Yuna to not have answers about whatever it was that Shane had been keeping to himself. Especially when Yuna was the one who would get the questions from the sponsors.
"Okay," said Yuna, trying not to push.
"I have to be back in Boston after. Until training camp starts, at least."
The gears in her head clicked into place, and Yuna saw the picture perfectly for the first time. Shane kept talking.
"It's just… we're still looking for a nanny for Olya. It's been kind of difficult to find someone who speaks Russian who's also a good fit, and I'd rather not leave Ilya alone while he's still adjusting, y'know?"
Yuna knew.
She understood now.
"Okay."
"It's just—"
"It's okay, Shane. You don't have to explain," she said. She would love some answers to her questions, but certainly this was not the time.
"I feel like I have to," Shane struggled to say.
Instead of answering that, Yuna said, "Ilya can come with. It'll be nice to meet him properly."
"Mom, I don't think—"
"Olya too, obviously."
After a silence much too long for Yuna's liking, Shane agreed. "Okay."
When they said goodbye, Yuna hung up and went to find her husband. By the time David's birthday rolled around, they'd be at their cottage. Yuna would need to drive up there earlier and baby-proof the place before the boys and Olya made it to Ottawa.
A plan started to form in her head, and, by the time she found David in the kitchen, she had a fairly good idea on where to start.
+I
David was browsing the sports channels absentmindedly as Yuna checked her phone for the hundredth time since Shane said they landed. She was so distracted, that when the car parked, she startled and stood up.
"Yuna," David tried again.
"It's fine. I'm fine."
"Please give Shane some room to breathe. Do not interrogate him as soon as he comes in," he warned.
"I won't."
"Yuna."
"I won't, David. I know this is important."
They had talked about little else for the last two weeks. For some reason, all of their conversations went from Shane to Ilya to Olesya, then back to Shane. There hadn't been more pictures from Ilya's Instagram, but Shane had shared a few pictures of Olesya playing with her dolls in the family group chat. Yuna made sure to heart-react to all of them as they came, without commenting on why Shane thought his parents would want to see Ilya Rozanov's niece on the daily.
Shane let himself in carrying Olesya in his arms. Yuna was glued to her spot as Ilya entered behind them carrying a black duffel bag and a plushie in his left hand. He looked about ready to bolt at the slightest indication that he was not welcomed in the Hollander residence.
"Hey, mom, dad. It's me," he added, as if his parents would forget.
"Hey, honey."
Yuna glanced at David and saw his eyes widen as he took in the scene. Shane holding Olesya in his arms, his shoulders set in a serious line, as if he was bracing for something terrible.
"So," Shane started, "this is Olya." Shane's hand tightened on her back. "And this is Ilya. Rozanov."
"Hi," said Ilya.
"But you already knew that."
Olesya —Olya, Shane called her— hid her face in Shane's neck. Shane mumbled something in soft Russian to her. Yuna's heart stopped beating as Olya shook her head at Shane.
"Didn't know you spoke Russian, son," said David.
"He doesn't," Ilya remarked.
Shane gave him a fond look as he said, "I'm still learning."
The silence that filled the room was slightly awkward, but Yuna would be damned if she made her son feel any more uncomfortable. She sprang to action, clapping her hands together before she said, "let me show you to Shane's room."
"You don't have to. We're staying at my cottage," Shane said. "Mom, Dad, we need to talk."
Ilya turned his gaze to Olya, talking to her in Russian. The girl nodded and stretched her arms towards Ilya, who easily took her from Shane in a hand-off that looked extremely well-practiced.
"Can we sit?" Shane asked, putting his hands in his pockets now that there wasn't a little girl hanging onto him.
Yuna nodded and went to the kitchen to grab a couple of glasses and a pitcher of cold water. When she came back to the living room, Shane was sitting next to Ilya, their knees touching. Yuna's heart clenched.
"Shane—" Yuna started.
"I'm gay," Shane blurted out.
David glanced between Shane and Ilya, before he cautiously said, "okay."
"And, uh, this is my boyfriend, Ilya."
Yuna looked at the boyfriend in question, but his eyes were focused on the girl in his lap, content to stay out of the conversation for now.
"I thought you guys were friends," said David.
Shane looked down at his hands before making eye contact with Yuna. If Yuna didn't know better, she'd say he was blushing.
"Yeah, uh, we're together now."
"Okay."
"And this is Olesya—Olya. She’s Ilya’s niece. I’ve told you about her."
At the sound of her name, Olesya turned in Shane’s direction. With a voice as sweet as wind chimes, the girl spoke up, “Shane.”
Then she stretched her arms in Shane’s direction and Shane’s entire posture changed: all sharp edges softened, his shoulders relaxed, and the corners of his mouth curled in a besotted smile. Ilya looked between Shane and Yuna before he softened his grasp on the little girl and she moved easily into Shane’s lap. Shane’s hand found a place on Olesya’s back as the girl settled. A moment later, she put a hand on Shane’s cheek and babbled something in Russian.
"You've told us a little," Yuna said, trying to get the bitterness out of her voice. Shane didn't owe them an explanation. He was an adult man.
Still—
It hurt.
Shane had a baby in his arms that he was looking at like she held the answers to the universe, like she was his.
Her baby had a baby.
Yuna's eyes prickled with tears.
She didn't know why she stood up, just that she did, wiping a stray tear that fell from her lashes on to her cheek. Shane looked up at her with a frown.
"Mom?"
"I'm sorry, I…"
"Yuna?" David asked.
She turned away from David and Shane but didn't walk away. She just stood there, blinking her tears away while she breathed deeply to stop the sobs that were threatening to bubble out of her throat.
Yuna heard some shuffling behind her, then Shane's voice next to her shoulder. "Mom, I'm sorry I didn't say anything before. I didn't really know… We're still not sure how this is going to work, but we'll make it work and—"
She turned to face Shane. He wasn't looking at her, but at some point above her shoulder.
"Oh, Shane… hey, hey, look at me, baby."
Shane looked anywhere before setting his eyes on Yuna. He was crying as well.
"I'm so sorry—"
"Honey, you have nothing to be apologize for." When it looked like Shane was going to say something, she added, "I'm sorry that I made you feel like you couldn't tell me.
"Please forgive me." She hugged Shane, loving the way he hid his face in her neck like when he was a baby. She softly ran her hands down his back, soothing his sobs until they subdued.
"I forgive you, Mom."
They were still hugging when a tiny hand touched her leg. She babbled something in Russian at her, and Yuna turned her eyes to Olya while still clutching her Shane close to her chest.
"What did she say?" she asked.
"She's asking if you want to play," Shane said, still holding on to her.
Yuna pulled away slightly and looked at Shane's tear-streaked face. She wiped his cheeks and said, "enough. Okay? Now, teach me how to say 'let's play' in Russian."
Shane smiled at her, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Okay, it's, uh, poydyom igrat."
"Pou…dyom igrat?" she repeated, feeling her forehead crease with the intonation.
"Yeah."
"Hello, Olya," Yuna said, kneeling to get on Olya's eye level. "Privet."
Olya looked at her with mild surprise written in her heart-shaped face. Yuna noticed her pigtails were uneven, but she looked adorable anyway, a loose curl falling down her forehead stubbornly. She reached for Yuna and repeated her question in Russian.
Yuna said, "pou…dyom i-graht?"
Olya nodded, then she turned around to ask Ilya for something in a sweet but commanding tone. Yuna watched as Ilya passed her the plushie he had been carrying when they came in. Olya took it and turned towards Yuna, passing her the toy with more babbled Russian.
"She's saying.. um, Ilya what's krovat again?"
"Bed," Ilya supplied.
"Right. She wants to put Ilya to bed."
"Ilya?" Yuna asked with a glance at the Russian man.
"The plushie," Shane pointed out.
"The plushie's name is Ilya?" Yuna asked.
"Olya named before she came to stay with me," Ilya said, and his words sounded round and soft around the edges in a way that Yuna would have never imagined possible.
She chanced a glance at David, but her husband was currently wiping the corner of his eyes as he looked at Yuna interact with Olya. She wondered if he had caught on the fact that they were meeting their first grandchild, but soon, she didn't have to wonder anymore. He stood up and walked until he was standing next to Yuna and Olya. He went down to one knee and repeated Yuna's words at Olya, his voice breaking only slightly at the end of the words.
Olya looked between both of them and then back at Shane, as if she was trying to understand how these people fit in with Shane. She passed Yuna her plushie, then she ran back to Ilya, who was still sitting on the sofa looking at the scene with a watery smile. He scooped Olya in his arms and said something in Russian to her. Her eyes widened and then she laughed, bubbly and happy and perfect.
Yuna stood up from her crouch and turned to Shane.
"So, what's the plan?"