Archive of Our Own

1.

July 2018, Ottawa

Is Ilya Rozanov really moving in next door?

On an early Sunday morning in July, Kate Stinson’s neighbor waved at her from the street. Kate politely waved back but went back to watching her children—Willa and Andrew—playing in the front yard.

Apparently, her wave was enough of an invitation for Trina Hendricks to engage.

It wasn’t that Kate didn’t like Trina. She just happened to be a bit of a gossip.

Trina walked over to the gate at the end of the driveway and beckoned to Kate, an eager look on her face. She sighed and made her way down.

“Hi Kate! Good to see you and the kids! Willow and Andy are getting so big!” Trina exclaimed in her high pitched, overly fake voice.

Kate sighed. She’d corrected Trina on at least ten different occasions about the kids’ names, but it never stuck.

“They are. Willa is entering pre-K this year, and Andrew has two more years of preschool.”

“That’s nice,” Trina said impatiently. “Did you hear who is moving into the house down the street?”

Clearly, Trina had an inside track on who it was. The house had been on the market a few months—unsurprising in their area, given the cost of real estate—and that particular house was the nicest on the street. It was easily double the size of Kate’s own home, with an enviable view of the river in the backyard.

After months of waiting to see if the house would sell, Kate had noticed just yesterday a “sold” sign on the property.

She just hoped the new owner wasn’t anyone famous. While the houses on their street cost a pretty penny, they’d been lucky so far with mostly doctors or lawyers, a few CEO / tech-type guys. One retired sports guy and his family—a former Toronto baseball player who was from Ottawa and had moved his family back to his hometown after his retirement. The street, though, was still relatively quiet, and she wanted it to stay that way.

It was a good street for raising kids, after all.

Kate shook her head, giving Trina the opening she wanted.

“Well, it’s not confirmed, of course, but I have it on good authority that the buyer is Ilya Rozanov,” she said triumphantly.

Kate’s heart skipped a beat. Of course, she knew who Ilya Rozanov was—her husband and by extension her kids were huge hockey fans. And it had been the talk of the town—of the NHL actually—when Boston’s superstar center had for some inexplicable reason left his very successful NHL team and signed with the Ottawa Centaurs just a few weeks ago.

It had befuddled the hockey world. And while her family was thrilled to be getting Rozanov as their new center, Kate had thought very little about it, figuring it wouldn’t affect her one way or another.

But if he was really moving here…

As if reading her thoughts, Trina laughed. “Can you believe it? Someone that famous, right here on our street? And have you seen him? I wouldn’t mind getting a closer look at him!”

Kate tried to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Trina was married to her third husband, who was easily three decades her senior, but she was only in her early thirties.

“He does have quite the reputation with the ladies,” Trina continued, a hungry look on her face.

“Why would he move here?” Kate wondered aloud. She, of course, had heard rumors about Rozanov as well. His reputation as a ladies’ man was well-known. Certainly, a family environment like this neighborhood wasn’t really the best place for a single playboy who loved to party, was it?

Kate barely listened as Trina prattled on for another few minutes before finally leaving when she spotted another one of their neighbors down the street. Kate had a feeling Trina couldn’t wait to tell everyone what she knew.

As her kids continued to play in the front yard, Kate sat down on the stoop of her porch and Googled Ilya Rozanov. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as everyone said.

While she knew he was a famous hockey player, Kate was still surprised at how many articles she found about him. Article after article about his career popped up, quite a few of which mentioned both him and another hockey player, Shane Hollander, comparing their careers.

Kate of course knew who Shane Hollander was. He was a hometown hero here in Ottawa, even if he did play for Montreal. But that was about all she knew about Shane Hollander.

Kate revised her search to “Ilya Rozanov” and “girlfriend,” and found quite a few different types of articles. There was photo after photo of the man with women in every city he played in. He clearly got around.

Although…interestingly enough, there were no recent articles about him. The most recent one was more than a year old. But that was probably just because his antics were old, and there were surely newer, fresher faces in the NHL for the tabloids to focus on. Like that kid from LA.

Still, her heart sank. Her kids were impressionable, and she had no doubt they’d be thrilled to learn that one of the best hockey players in the NHL was going to be living down the street from them. But she sure didn’t need her kids to see the man with a procession of women coming to and from his house.

How the heck would she explain that to her kids?

Kate sighed. She started mentally preparing herself for the worst—parties all nights of the week, woman after woman leaving the house at all hours of the day.

Oh god. Was Ilya Rozanov really moving in next door?

This had to be a joke.

As she settled in to watch her kids, she had one calming thought. Nothing was confirmed yet. Maybe Trina was wrong.

🌈        🌈      🌈

Trina was not wrong.

Three weeks later, the moving trucks arrived in front of what was now Ilya Rozanov’s house. Nearly every neighbor on the street could be seen either peeking out from their curtains, or for the bolder ones, openly watching from their driveways.

Kate, for her part, was on her porch like normal, watching her kids play. From her vantage point, she had a surprisingly good view of the front of Ilya Rozanov’s new home, even through the trees and gate. The angle was just right for her to catch a glimpse of everything that happened at the front door.

Not that she was staring, exactly. It was just that the front door was right there in her direct line of sight. But before today, there had never been anything worth looking at before. Still, she couldn’t help but notice when she saw an SUV—a Mercedes—pull in through the gates and up through the circular drive of the house. A man in his twenties exited the vehicle.

Even from a distance, she recognized the coppery curls that Rozanov was famous for. Honestly, she was a bit surprised at his choice of vehicle. Her prior Google search had revealed that Rozanov had quite the sports car collection. A Mercedes SUV was rather sensible for the area, but it didn’t scream Ilya Rozanov the way she’d expected.

The man didn’t glance around. Instead, he greeted the movers, then disappeared quickly inside without a glance around.

The rest of the morning was uneventful as the movers moved items into the house. After a while, the neighbors got bored, and Kate moved her kids inside to make lunch.

After naps, they made their way back outside. It was a warm, summer day, after all, and she wanted to keep the kids outside as long as she could. The moving truck was now long gone. Once again, Kate took up a place on the stoop of the porch, sitting on a swinging bench as the kids painted the driveway with sidewalk chalk. The afternoon passed quickly, and Kate didn’t give her new neighbor much more thought until a new truck stacked with cars appeared.

That got the neighbors outside again. Kate watched with interest as two luxury sports cars were delivered to Ilya Rozanov’s house: an orange Porsche 718 Cayman and a silver Aston Martin. And suddenly, there was Ilya Rozanov again, greeting the driver with an impish smile as they unloaded his cars and relocated them into the four-car garage.

That seemed more on par with the articles she’d read about him. She sighed. Seemed like Ilya Rozanov was already living up to his reputation.

It was right before she was ready to head inside to start dinner that a second car—a Jeep Cherokee—pulled up to the gate and was instantly buzzed inside.

The car parked at an awkward angle and was mostly hidden from the street, but with Kate’s view, she could see everything. She watched as a man in his mid-twenties with dark hair and a woman with an identical shade of hair and a slender build exited the car and headed toward the front door.

The woman looked older, maybe in her fifties, and was distinctly Asian, that much Kate could tell, but she couldn’t quite place the man. It didn’t help that he had his back to her the entire time, but she doubted she’d be able to identify him from here anyway.

It’s not like she’d know him.

Probably just a friend, she told herself. Maybe even one of his new teammates. It was unsurprising he had people visiting his new home, after all.

Right before they entered the house, the man turned just enough that Kate got a good look at his side profile. Like the woman next to him, he looked to be at least part-Asian.

Likely her son, Kate thought. But who were they to her famous new neighbor?

There was something familiar about the man…something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but he turned before her mind could place him.

Still, she swore she’d seen him before. Somewhere.

She decided it didn’t concern her. Yes, her new neighbor really was Ilya Rozanov, but she didn’t need to involve herself in his business. The less she thought about him, the better.

As she ushered the kids inside for baths, she resolved herself not to worry about her new neighbor, at least until she had something to worry about.

As peaceful as move-in day appeared to be, she was already bracing herself for the parties and the bachelor lifestyle she’d read about.

She wondered if her husband would consider moving if it got too much.

2.

August 2018

Is Ilya Rozanov really not a playboy after all?

Over the next few days after Ilya Rozanov moved in, the most exciting thing that happened was the number of deliveries made to his house. While Kate couldn’t say that she was purposely watching her new neighbor’s house, the sheer volume of deliveries was hard to ignore. Especially because she and her kids spent so much time outside.

Her entire family was practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect of meeting the star hockey player. Kate’s husband, Dan, was a huge hockey fan. Unlike Kate, who was from Vancouver, Dan had been born and raised in Ottawa, and despite the team’s lackluster performance…forever…he was a loyal and die-hard Centaurs fan. She’d kind of adopted the team by proxy, although she couldn’t say her heart was really into it.

Her children, however, had developed a love of the game thanks to their dad. The three of them watched every game they could during the season. Dan kept telling Kate it just took one player to turn things around for the team.

And Ilya Rozanov, Dan repeatedly told her since he’d signed with the team, was finally that player.

Dan had already been frothing with excitement when he learned the Centaurs signed Rozanov. One of the biggest stars in the league! Here in Ottawa! he’d told her. But when he’d heard that Ilya Rozanov was moving in across the street? Dan had been beside himself.

Do you think we’ll meet him? Do you think we’ll become friends with him? Do you think he’ll give us tickets? He’d asked her a million different questions over the past month.

Kate privately thought they’d be lucky to even meet the guy, but she kept her opinion to herself, not willing to burst her husband’s bubble.

Her kids were equally enthusiastic about the fact that a famous professional hockey player was moving in right down the street. They’d begged her to take them over there to meet him, even suggesting baking him cookies to welcome him to the neighborhood. She’d shot that down quickly (really, who would want to eat cookies made by a three and four-year old?).

She gentle explained to them that he was likely busy settling into his new home, and that training camp was just around the corner, so he was likely training hard. It would be rude to just show up. They should respect his privacy, after all.

It didn’t stop her kids from straining their necks every time they were outside to try to catch a glimpse of their new neighbor. And they were outside a lot, so it wasn’t entirely her fault that she was able to see so much of went on over there.

Which is why she knew that in the first few days after he moved in, he didn’t seem to have many visitors at all. That same Jeep had been parked at his house ever since move-in day, and there was a Toyota Rav4 that came and went a handful of times, but other than that, his house (aside from the many deliveries) was relatively quiet.

It confused her. She’d expected raging parties, loud music, a line of women visiting. Anything to prove signs of life.

So far, he seemed exactly the opposite of what she’d learned about him in the media.

She told herself it had only been a few days. Once he got settled—and once the season started—she was sure he’d be throwing parties and having women entering and exiting his house at all hours of the day.

Yes, Ilya Rozanov’s reputation was well known. She was sure he’d live up to that reputation in no time.

🌈        🌈      🌈

He didn’t.

After a few weeks, Kate had to admit that Ilya Rozanov was nothing like she’d expected. Her new neighbor practically seemed like a hermit. She rarely saw him, and the times that she did, he was usually leaving to go somewhere else.

The house was mostly quiet.

It was unsettling. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As the weeks passed and preseason crept closer, she noticed that her new neighbor often seemed to disappear for days on end. It was possible she missed him, of course, but because of the nature of her home (her backyard had little space for the kids to play in—one of the only things she hated about this house—so they were frequently in front) and the fact that they were outside nearly all day trying to soak in the last vestiges of summer, she was outside a lot.

When Ilya Rozanov was home, that same Jeep almost nearly always seemed to be there as well, but she hadn’t seen the owner of that Jeep again. She wondered again who it belonged to, then reminded herself it was not her business.

She realized how silly she’d been to assume he’d have a ton of people over during the offseason. He’d just moved, after all, to a new country where he likely knew absolutely no one.

Except whoever was visiting.

It would change once the season began. She was sure of it.

🌈        🌈      🌈

It didn’t.

Two months after he had moved in, Ilya Rozanov’s house was as quiet as ever. Sure, he was on the road a lot with his team, but when the Centaurs were in town? He seemed to come straight home after every game. And she’d never seen a single sign of a woman visiting his house.

It was…peculiar.

Granted, by the beginning of October, the air was crisp and the cold was creeping in. This was the time of year it was beginning to get harder and harder to get the kids outside as the air turned bitter and biting. Plus, her kids were back in school (preschool, but still), so she had fewer and fewer reasons to be outside.

But…she still had a pretty good view of his house from the living area where she spent most of her time, so she was pretty certain in her assessment.

Ilya Rozanov was quiet as a mouse. And it confused her.

Was Ilya Rozanov really not a playboy after all?

What was even more confusing was that she only ever saw that same Jeep at his house. She’d finally gotten a glimpse of the occupant again, once—and it was definitely a man—but she was too far away to get a good look at him. Plus, like that first day, he never fully turned around.

Still, that feeling that she ought to know him kept digging into her mind, like a splinter, refusing to be ignored.

She’d figure it out. Eventually.

3.

October 2018

Is Ilya Rozanov really dating someone (maybe even…a man)?

The first time Kate met Ilya Rozanov, she was getting the mail. He’d been her neighbor for two months now, and she’d barely seen him. Her kids were still begging her to take them over to say hi, but given he appeared to rarely ever be there, as well as the fact that it felt a little weird to show up at the doorstep of a twenty-six-year-old, single man’s home, she had decided against that.

Besides, she didn’t want to intrude. If he wanted to be a part of this neighborhood, surely, he’d make more of an effort. She’d run into him…eventually.

That day finally came in late October. Her kids were riding scooters on her large, circle driveway on an unseasonably warm day as she wandered down to the curb to the mailbox. Just as she stepped out of the gate at the end of her driveway, she ran into a very large, very solid, and very sweaty body. She practically bounced off the chiseled muscles. Massive hands reached out to steady her, and despite their size, they were surprisingly gently.

“Oh no,” Kate squeaked. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking!”

She was greeted by a thick, Russian accent. “No, no. Is my fault.”

Kate froze, instantly realizing who was in front of her.

Kate was by no means short, but the man in front of her towered over her, making her feel petite. He was wearing a cut off tank that showcased toned arms, which stuck to his body where it was soaked with sweat, along with athletic shorts and running shoes. Kate forced her eyes away from all of that and up to his face. It didn’t really help matters.

Ilya Rozanov looked exactly like the photos she’d seen of him online, but somehow, he was even better-looking in person, perhaps because his features lacked the usual cockiness that he was known for. His trademark curly brown hair was as unruly as in most of the pictures, although it was currently damp with sweat and glued to his forehead. His hazel eyes danced playfully as he stared down at her.

“You are the one with the kids, yes?” he asked in that same endearing accent, bringing Kate back down to earth.

She had no idea why, but she was surprised at his English. She’d listened to some of his earlier interviews, and he had clearly come a long way in the years he’d lived in Boston.

Kate nodded, glancing over her shoulder to where Willa and Andrew were still scooting. “Yes, they’re mine,” she confirmed.

He smiled. “I see them outside almost every day when I run. Is good, they play outside so much. Too many kids stuck on screens these days, no?”

Kate nodded absently, wondering how Rozanov knew anything about kids.

“They’re cute,” he continued. “What are their names?”

Kate tried not to let the shock show on her face. Was Ilya Rozanov—resident playboy of the NHL (or perhaps former resident playboy, if the past few months were any indication)—really talking to her about her kids?

It must not have worked because he looked slightly concerned. “Sorry, I am being rude. I am Ilya, your new neighbor.” He pointed over his shoulder at his house. “I moved into that house this summer.”

Kate blinked. “Oh, sorry, yes. I know who you are, of course. The whole neighborhood knows who moved into the Greggory’s old home.” She smiled apologetically. “We don’t get much turnover in this neighborhood, so people are always curious when someone new moves in.”

Ilya gave her that famous lopsided half smile, but where Kate had expected to hate him instantly, she found him almost…charming. “Yes, not unexpected.” He looked around. “Is good, this neighborhood. Very private,” he added, emphasizing the last word.

He looked back at her kids. “You are married, yes?” he asked bluntly.

Where Kate might have thought it was a come on, she found nothing but open curiosity in his eyes.

She nodded. “For eight years. And sorry, you asked before. My kids are Willa and Andrew, Willa is four and Andrew is three.”

Ilya nodded thoughtfully. “They like hockey?”

Kate’s eyes widened. “Oh, sure, they love hockey. My husband has been a fan all his life, he loves the Centaurs, and I guess it sort of rubbed off on them.”

Ilya smiled. “This is great! My neighbors in Boston did not care much about hockey. Red Sox fans.” He wrinkled his nose. “Gross, right?”

Kate found herself laughing. “Definitely gross.”

A ringing noise trilled and Ilya reached into his shorts, pulling out a phone. “I am sorry, I have to take this.”

Kate nodded. “Of course, no worries at all.”

“Was nice to meet you…Willa and Andrew’s mom who I have not yet learned your name.”

Kate felt herself blush—a rare occurrence. “Kate. Stinson. My husband is Dan.”

“Kate Stinson, with a husband named Dan and kids named Willa and Andrew. I will see you around, yes?”

“Yes, I suppose you will.”

He turned to answer the phone and she called out at the last moment, “Welcome to the neighborhood!”

He flashed her a crooked smile and started walking to his house. She just heard the beginning of the conversation as he walked away.

“I’m almost back. Was just talking to one of my new neighbors.” He paused, then laughed. “Relax. You are impatient, moya lyubov.”

His voice faded away, and Kate turned back to what she’d been doing. Mail, right.

She collected the mail and headed back up her driveway, thinking back through her interaction with her new neighbor. She couldn’t wait to share the experience with Dan, who would be incredibly disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to meet the famous Russian.

She was shocked to realize that Ilya Rozanov was nothing like she’d expected. She’d been prepared for a cocky, selfish, self-centered man, but he had been quite affable and polite.

Turns out, Ilya Rozanov was not quite what she’d expected after all.

She was halfway back up her driveway when she thought back to the way he spoke to whoever had been on the phone as he left. It had been soft and gentle, and the last word—although it had been in Russian—had seemed like a term of endearment.

She stopped in her tracks. Was Ilya Rozanov really dating someone?

That would explain so much. How he was the exact opposite of everything she’d read about. How he rarely seemed to go out, the reason his house was always quiet.

But the only person Kate had seen at that house had been the owner of the Jeep, the black-haired man she’d seen coming and going a few times.

Wait. Ilya Rozanov couldn’t be…dating a man…could he?

She thought about his words again.

Is good, this neighborhood. Very private.

Kate shook her head. That was ridiculous. Although Scott Hunter had famously become the first out gay male athlete in the NHL just a few years ago, no one else had come out in the sport.

The idea that legendary playboy Ilya Rozanov was dating a man was…unfathomable.

Still, her new neighbor was certainly full of surprises.

She’d just have to wait and see how things played out. Surely, eventually, if he was dating someone, she’d catch sight of this mystery woman who might have stolen Ilya Rozanov’s heart.

🌈        🌈      🌈

She didn’t.

After her encounter with Ilya Rozanov (she’d been right, Dan had been insanely jealous that she’d met him before Dan had), Kate surprisingly seemed to run into her neighbor more and more frequently. It was almost as if, now that he’d met her, he wasn’t going out of his way to avoid her any longer.

Okay, maybe the avoiding part was all in her imagination.

She’d seen him running a few more times, and he’d even stopped to meet her kids (Dan had been at work every time, and he was not handling it well). She’d been shocked to her core when Ilya had made an effort with her kids, introducing himself and asking them questions about themselves.

He had been surprisingly good with them.

He’d even spent an hour playing with the kids one afternoon not long after that first encounter when they’d been running around with their shinny sticks pretending to be Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander, trying to score against each other on the mini goals set up in the driveway.

He’d seemed particularly amused by their choice of players.

He’d patiently tried to teach them how to hold the stick properly and shoot, although, given Willa and Andrew were four and three, she wasn’t sure how much it had stuck.

His attentiveness to them, however, had.

After that encounter, her kids were obsessed with Ilya Rozanov, so she’d gone out and gotten the few Centaurs-branded Ilya Rozanov things she could find (the jerseys were, unsurprisingly, all sold out), including a bobblehead of their new neighbor. The kids adored it, and they argued nightly over whose room “Ilya Rozanov” would spend the night in.

During these encounters, there were a few other times he’d answered his phone in front of Kate, and she was absolutely certain after the second time she heard him talking to someone that the man everyone said would never settle down was dating someone.

His voice always had a softness when he answered the phone, and he often slipped into Russian when he was talking to whoever was on the other end.

And the look on the Russian’s face? It was tender and intimate, so much so that she often felt like she was intruding just watching him talk to the person.

She didn’t mean to be nosy (she wasn’t Trina after all), but she couldn’t cull her curiosity, so she’d finally given in and looked up one of the phrases she heard him say a few times.

Ya tebya lyublyu. I love you.

Sure, she supposed he could be talking to his mom, or another family member, but the way his face lit up when he answered the phone, she was certain that wasn’t it. She was certain he was dating someone.

The only confusing thing that remained, though, was that she’d never seen anyone at his house other than the man in the Jeep.

She finally thought she solved the mystery one Friday afternoon in mid-November when, to her surprise, Ilya knocked on her door, holding up a black gift bag with red tissue paper sticking out of it. “For kids,” he said with a shy smile.

“That’s sweet. Do you want to come in? They’re just finishing up lunch.”

“Oh, I couldn’t intrude. Game in a few hours. I should, you know, rest.” He gave her a coy, playful grin, almost as if he was smiling at some inside joke.

“I insist. They’ll be devastated if you don’t watch them open whatever you brought. Besides, my husband just got home from work early and he’ll never let me live it down if he misses another opportunity to meet you.”

Ilya chuckled softly, and followed her inside.

“Is nice house,” he said, looking around as he walked. “Good for family. Not like my house. My house is…empty.”

Her heart stuttered slightly in her chest at his words. She turned back to look at him, and he looked almost…wistful. But then he smiled and looked whole again, and she was sure she’d imagined it.

The kids squealed when he walked into the room, and to her continual amazement, Ilya greeted them exuberantly, even crouching down to their level to talk to them. The way he interacted with her kids was such an unexpectedly delightful surprise. It was obvious that he loved kids.

Kate introduced Ilya to her husband, and at first Dan looked a little amazed—and maybe even slightly suspicious—at the reason the handsome Russian was in their kitchen in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, but as she’d learned, Ilya had a way of charming everyone, and soon, her husband relaxed, as excited to meet the hockey player as he’d always been.

The kids practically clawed at Ilya when he offered them the gift bag. They tore at the paper and pulled it out, the red tissue paper flying through the air.

“Ahhh!” Willa screamed in excitement as she pulled out a mini Ottawa Centaurs jersey with Rozanov and 81 on the back.

Andrew hopped up and down, yelling at the top of his lungs, when he pulled out his own slightly smaller replica of Willa’s.

“That’s very kind of you,” Dan told Ilya.

He shrugged. “No big deal. Kate said they are hockey fans. Thought hockey fans might like jerseys. I guess at sizes for them.”

“They’ve been asking for one since they first met you,” Kate admitted. “But the jerseys have been sold out for weeks.”

“Oh have they?” Ilya grinned playfully, like he already knew that.

“How did you find them?” Kate asked, moved by the kind gesture.

“I know people,” he said cheekily with a wink. Kate couldn’t help but laugh at him, and even Dan smiled.

The man really was too charming, but there was nothing flirtatious about their interactions. She’d never gotten that vibe from him.

Soon, the kids were outfitted in their new jerseys, and they had their mini sticks and were running around pretending to be Ilya Rozanov. Ilya grinned delightedly as he watched them.

While the kids played, Dan drew Ilya’s attention, and the conversation devolved into a deep assessment of the Centaurs and the season and whether Ilya thought they’d stop losing anytime soon.

“Probably not,” Ilya said. “This team is terrible.”

“But you’re on it now,” Dan countered.

“Yes, I am not terrible, but I cannot win by myself.”

“If anyone could, it would be you,” Dan gushed.

Ilya shrugged, but he seemed pleased by the comment.

“Would you like a water, Ilya?” she’d asked him.

“You have Coke?” he said, glancing over from his conversation with Dan.

The answer surprised her, but she nodded. She retrieved one from the fridge and handed it to him.

She tried to listen to the conversation between her husband and the hockey player, but really, she didn’t have much to offer and she instantly got lost, so she went to check on the kids who were still pretending to be NHL players somewhere in the back of the house. She returned with them a half hour later, surprised to see Ilya still there with Dan.

“Yes, we need good goalie, though. Our goalie is terrible,” Ilya was saying.

“And a good right winger,” Dan added. “Someone who can keep up with you and Zane Boodram.”

 “Maybe. One day.”

Kate got the kids settled at the table and grabbed snacks—chocolate chip cookies she’d made the day before. “Would you like one, Ilya?”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” He paused. “What kind are they?”

“Chocolate chip.”

“Well…it’d be rude not to try them, yes?”

As he happily ate a cookie, and then a second, she figured she’d try to move the conversation off hockey, and really, she was curious about her neighbor who honestly reminded her more of a big kid than an adult.

“So, Ilya, you’ve been here a few months. Have you settled in well?”

He nodded. “Is good. Team is good. Not good at hockey, of course, but friendly. House is good. Good neighborhood. Big changes, but is nice so far.”

She wanted to ask what prompted his move, but she wasn’t sure that was an appropriate question, so she bit her tongue.

“It is a good neighborhood. Good for families. Do you want kids one day?” she asked instead.

He smiled softly. “Oh, yes. One day.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked, her cheeks suddenly warming when his gaze cut sharply to hers.

“No. No, I am not,” he said, his expression suddenly more guarded than she’d ever seen it. She couldn’t help but think he was lying.

“Oh, honey, don’t pressure the poor guy. He’s so young, in his prime. There’s plenty of time for him to settle down and have a family. Eventually,” Dan said, winking at him.

Ilya smiled easily, but he looked a little uncomfortable, so she let the conversation shift back to hockey.

When he got up a few minutes later to sit with Willa and Andrew—with his third cookie—he asked them if they’d be watching his game tonight and when they said yes, he promised to try to score a goal for them.

Kate didn’t mean to notice it, but he’d left his phone on the counter and it was right there in front of her when it lit up with a new notification.

She’d already read the preview of the text message before she realized how invasive and inappropriate it was of her to do so.

It was a text message from someone named Jane.

Two days. Can’t wait to feel your arms around me again. Miss you so much. Love y…

The message cut off.

She blinked, her heart racing, and she glanced quickly at Ilya to see if he’d caught her. Luckily, he was still busy with her kids. She breathed a sigh of relief and vowed to do better to respect his privacy.

But one thing was for certain. Ilya Roznaov definitely had someone who was excited to see him. Someone who loved him. And he was going to see her…in two days.

Ilya stayed a few minutes more, and after he left, Dan looked at her. “I like him. Nothing like I expected him to be.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Kate agreed.

“Can we make a sign for Ilya, Mommy?” Willa asked, her eyes huge. “For the game tonight. It’s his last home game before the Centaurs go out of town.”

“Pweasseeee, Mama,” Andrew begged, giving her those same puppy dog eyes. “We wuv Ilya.”

“Oh, fine. I’m sure we can scrounge up something to write on. I’ll go look for a posterboard while your dad grabs the markers.”

As the kids made the sign, Kate thought back to everything she’d learned today. Ilya Rozanov was definitely mysterious. He claimed he didn’t have anyone special, yet he was receiving text messages from a girl telling him she loved him. That wasn’t the type of casual language most people used with a fling.

Two days from now.

Willa’s comments about the Centaurs’ impending road trip popped into her mind. Kate pulled up Ottawa’s schedule and looked at the date two days from now. The team had a game.

In Montreal.

Huh. That was interesting.

4.

November 2018

Is Ilya Rozanov really friends with Shane Hollander?

Two days after Ilya Rozanov’s impromptu visit to her house, delivering jerseys to her kids, Kate’s thoughts had moved on from her enigmatic neighbor.

She was inside making lunch while her husband was outside with the kids, playing around. It was an unseasonably warm day for November in Ottawa, and the slushy snow had melted and the ground was wet, but Dan and the kids were having a blast in the circular driveway playing street hockey, with mini goals set up. The kids, of course, had been running around in their new Rozanov jerseys ever since they’d gotten them.

Ilya really did seem to be a nice guy. He’d even stopped at the end of the driveway when the kids had waited outside for him with their signs as he’d left for the arena the other day. He’d had the hugest smile on his face when he’d seen them and their (badly drawn) sign with a heart and a puck on it.

She turned on the television to keep her company, intending to put on some trashy reality show as background noise as she made sandwiches. There was some press conference on when the TV turned on—on the hockey channel, of course—and she was about to change the channel when she heard a familiar heavily accented voice come through the speakers.

She turned to see her neighbor, Ilya Rozanov, seated at a table in a conference room, with signs adorned with ‘The Irina Foundation’ in the background. She set the remote down out of curiosity.

She had no idea what The Irina Foundation was, but it was clearly a charity of some sort. She had no idea why she was so surprised to see Ilya at a press conference about a charity. The man continued to surprise her at every turn. He was so different from the man she’d read about in those tabloids.

As she watched someone fidgeting with a microphone in front of him, she recalled that he must be in Montreal, remembering the schedule she’d pulled up two days ago.

Perhaps then, it should not have come as a surprise to see who was sitting next to him when the camera angle panned out, but she was.

Because sitting next to Ilya Rozanov was the last man she expected to see.

Shane Hollander.

The rivalry between Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander was well known even to casual hockey fans. They’d never had a kind word to say about each other in the entire nearly decade-long career, and as far as she knew, they’d never interacted outside of games and press conferences.

That rivalry had only seemed to intensify—at least in the media—with Ilya coming to Ottawa. So close to Shane Hollander and Montreal. Close enough to reignite the famous rivalry and the comparisons of the two hockey players’ careers.

Kate listened attentively as the press conference finally started. Shane announced that he and Ilya were starting a charity together, focused on mental health issues, particularly depression and suicide. It was surprisingly touching, listening to Shane’s heartfelt speech about his and Ilya’s work together.

Even if it was a bit shocking that these two famous rivals were starting a charity. Together.

The most shocking thing of all—at least in Kate’s opinion, though—was that Shane announced that he and Ilya were friends and had been for years.

That…couldn’t be true. Then again, everything else she’d learned about Ilya Rozanov before he became her neighbor appeared to be untrue. Maybe the media didn’t know either man as well as they thought they did.

She went on to listen as Ilya spoke about his mother and losing her to suicide, and her heart broke. She’d had no idea, although she’d definitely thought she detected a bit of sadness in him the few times family had come up. She thought of her own children and the pain that must have been for him, and she couldn’t even imagine.

She didn’t want to imagine it.

Her thoughts flickered to the few times she’d heard Ilya speaking in Russian to someone. The softness in his voice. She’d wondered if he’d been talking to his mother. That clearly wasn’t the case.

Maybe Jane? It seemed even more unlikely, though, that Ilya’s…well, this Jane girl from Montreal would know Russian.

Dan and the kids came back in just as Shane was finishing up describing the hockey camps they’d be hosting in Montreal and Ottawa.

After sending Willa and Andrew to clean up before snacks, Dan turned toward the television and nodded toward it. “What’s going on with that? Why are Shane Hollander and our neighbor at a press conference together?”

Kate repeated the information they’d shared about their new charity and Dan too looked flabbergasted. “Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov? Friends?” Dan laughed. “No way.”

“Well, there is a way. They’re starting a charity together. And frankly, I think it’s nice. It sounds like it’s personal to Ilya.”

And Shane Hollander of all people knew about Ilya’s mother. How had that even come up between the two famously bitter rivals?

Dan waved her off. “Yeah, but it’s Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov we’re talking about. That’s just…I can’t believe it. I can’t. This is crazy.” He walked out of the room still mumbling to himself.

Kate turned back to the television just as the press conference was winding down. Shane and Ilya exchanged a fleeting look that was full of such profound affection, it shocked her. And in the profile of Shane’s face, suddenly, something clicked.

She let out a small gasp.

Because she realized that the man she’d seen visiting Ilya Rozanov’s house since he’d moved in…that man was Shane Hollander.

And suddenly, it did seem possible that Ilya Rozanov really was friends with Shane Hollander after all.

🌈        🌈      🌈

Following Ilya and Shane’s press conference, Kate paid a bit more attention whenever she saw the Jeep over at her neighbor’s house. The Jeep always seemed to appear at odd hours, and often stayed overnight—sometimes for a night, sometimes for two—but there seemed to be no pattern to when it was there.

It was infrequent enough that had she not been paying attention—and had she not had the suspicion that the man in the Jeep was Shane Hollander—she would have thought nothing about it.

Still, knowing they were apparently friends now, it wasn’t that surprising if Shane Hollander visited his friend Ilya Rozanov. Right?

He was from Ottawa, after all, but Shane lived in Montreal now. He likely didn’t own a home in Ottawa (why would he?), and she had no idea if his parents still lived in the area. For all she knew, they’d moved to Montreal to be closer to their son years ago.

It made sense that he visited his friend Ilya Rozanov (whom he’d started a charity with) and even stayed with him sometimes.

It didn’t mean anything. Ilya’s house, after all, was huge. It was sort of nice he had a friend. Especially considering she never saw anyone else visit him.

In the back of her mind, she did wonder why this girl—Jane—never made an appearance. But Ilya was gone so frequently that, for all Kate knew, he visited her when he was gone.

A few months after their press conference, she wasn’t, therefore, that surprised when she saw the Jeep the night before Montreal and Ottawa were set to play each other.

She’d heard stories often enough in the media that players from the visiting team would go to dinner at opposing players’ houses the night before big games when they were in town. And given these two were friends, she was not surprised they were making time to see each other.

They must be really good friends, she decided.

She did happen to be outside collecting the mail, though, when the Jeep pulled onto their street. She tried not to stare as it passed by, but also, she really wanted to stare to see if her theory was correct.

The glare of the afternoon sun against the windows made it hard to tell who was inside, but she was nearly certain that the man inside was none other than Shane Hollander. She recognized his distinctive profile and dark hair immediately. Because, okay, she’d become just a teensy bit obsessed with this idea, so she’d stared at his photo more times than she could count, making it pretty easy to recognize him.

When the Jeep pulled into Ilya’s driveway, the man entered the code at the gate, not waiting for Ilya to buzz him in. Kate tried not to make it obvious that she was waiting to see who would exit the Jeep.

She settled onto the swinging bench on the porch, sorting through the mail she’d collected as she covertly looked up from under her lashes. Usually, the man exited the vehicle and hurried inside, but today, to her surprise, Ilya walked out of the front door to greet the man.

They embraced each other—it wasn’t at all weird for two men who were friends to hug—but they seemed to linger just a heartbeat too long.

She was probably imagining things.

But…there was no question that the man in the Jeep was Shane Hollander.

Relieved to have finally, conclusively solved that mystery, Kate was about to stand to go inside when she noticed Ilya walk around to the trunk and open it. To her surprise, he grabbed Shane’s bag and threw it over his shoulder.

Shane appeared to argue with Ilya, gesturing toward the bag, but Ilya waved him off, then headed inside.

Shane seemed exasperated with Ilya, but to her surprise, he didn’t follow Ilya inside. Instead, he leaned against his Jeep and took out his phone, then typed away at it. Even from here, she had to admit, Shane Hollander was just as interesting to look at as his friend Ilya Rozanov.

They’d make a very attractive couple, she thought.

She froze. What a weird thought.

She laughed self-consciously.

Wasn’t it?

Ilya was back a few moments later, and the two headed over to Ilya’s garage and disappeared inside. A minute later, Ilya’s orange Porsche pulled out with the two men inside. Kate stared intently at the mail—mostly junk—like it was the most interesting thing in the world as the car passed, and it soon disappeared down the street out of sight.

She exhaled, then got to her feet.

One thing she’d definitively proven was that Ilya’s friend in the Jeep was Shane Hollander. So they were definitely friends.

Good friends, even.

Yeah. She was sure that was all it was.

But she couldn’t help but wonder about that girl named Jane who lived in Montreal who loved Ilya but she never saw.

It was sort of weird that Ilya never had her over. His Jane. Yet Shane, his friend, was there all the time.

She stopped, her hand on the doorknob to the front door.

Her pulse accelerated and a wild thought crossed her mind.

Hadn’t she thought once upon a time that Ilya Rozanov had a mystery man, not a mystery woman? That that was the reason the man seemed to value his privacy so much?

She’d dismissed the idea over the past few months, now that she knew about his friendship with Shane Hollander, and that Ilya had a mystery woman named Jane.

Jane who lived in Montreal. Shane lived in Montreal. Shane visited Ilya and spent the night. Jane never visited.

Jane…Shane…

Oh my god.

No. It couldn’t be.

It was a coincidence. That’s all it was.

Yeah. Definitely.

5.

January 2021

Is Ilya Rozanov really dating Shane Hollander?

In the two and a half years since Ilya Rozanov had moved into her neighborhood, Kate and her family had developed a kind of easy friendship with him. She knew he was mostly guarded with his neighbors and didn’t interact with them much, but for whatever reason, he seemed to have made an exception for her family. It probably didn’t hurt that Kate and her husband didn’t gossip about Ilya with the neighbors (Trina had unsurprisingly divorced her third husband and moved over a year ago).

She knew the most likely reason was her kids. They adored Ilya, and he seemed to adore them in return.

Every home game—illness or extreme weather excluded—Willa and Andrew made signs for Ilya and waited at the end of their driveway for him, waving wildly to him. He always stopped, every single time, to talk to them. It was the highlight of their day, and based on the way Ilya always seemed to light up when he saw them, she secretly suspected that it might be the highlight of his day too.

He also frequently stopped to chat when he was out for a run, and he’d even been inside again a few times, usually when he brought something over for the kids (and like the first time, he never seemed to turn down freshly baked cookies).

As her kids had grown, he’d replaced their jerseys several times, and he’d given the family tickets often enough that there was no doubt: Ilya Rozanov was her kids’ hero.

It wasn’t just Kate and her kids that had developed a friendship with Ilya. To Dan’s delight, he and Ilya had actually become friendly. They frequently had conversations about hockey, their goals completely aligned: they both dreamed of a day the Centaurs were a contender.

Dan had, for example, been thrilled when the Centaurs had acquired Wyatt Hayes as their new goalie, and he’d been eager to get Ilya’s thoughts on it.

Dan had been less enthusiastic, though, when they’d traded for right winger Troy Barrett just a few weeks ago, who had a reputation in the league for being a bit of a dick. To their surprise though, Ilya (after initially seeming less than enthusiastic about the trade), had quickly defended his new teammate.

In the years that had passed, Kate had always anticipated that at some point, she’d get more clarity about who her neighbor was. But despite the frequent conversations, she never learned much about Ilya Rozanov.

Nor did he ever materialize into the vapid, party boy she’d expected when he moved in. He remained quiet, with infrequent visitors, all save one person: Shane Hollander.

Over the years, and the longer the pattern had continued, the more she was certain than ever that there was something different about their friendship. Because Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander spent far more time together than anyone realized.

That first year, she’d been curious about the infrequent appearances of Shane, and finally, she’d pulled out her phone and compared Ottawa’s and Montreal’s schedules. It was then that she’d realized that Shane only visited when both he and Ilya’s teams were in their respective hometowns. Not always, but often enough that it was obvious the men were finding ways to spend time together in the midst of their busy hockey schedules.

The few times that their schedules overlapped and Shane was not there? Ilya disappeared for a few days at a time. And she had a sneaking suspicion that she knew where he was.

But still, all she had was speculation. Theories.  And a gut feeling.

Because she had never, not once, seen Ilya Rozanov with a woman.

She’d also heard (okay, she may have done some research on this) that Ilya and Shane’s hockey camps promoted inclusivity and were led by a diverse group of players. Players that had come out, either while playing or after they retired.

It had surprised her when she’d first learned that, but the more she’d thought about it, it had only further confirmed the theory floating in her mind.

This crazy idea that Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander were involved in a years-long illicit, secret love affair and hiding it from the world.

She knew the idea was crazy. Everyone would tell her that, which is why she’d never mentioned it to anyone. Not even Dan.

Not that she thought Dan would be bothered by it. He was surprisingly forward thinking about things like that. And she and Dan tried to do a good job with their kids and teach them inclusivity.

But the facts, once she’d put it all together, added up perfectly.

Up until three seasons ago, Ilya Rozanov had been one of the biggest playboys in hockey. Then Scott Hunter came out. Suddenly, all the tabloid articles about Ilya disappeared almost overnight.

Then, despite the promise of another Cup with Boston, Ilya had inexplicably declined to sign another contract with them, choosing instead to move to Ottawa and join one of the worst teams in the NHL. Ottawa, which was only two hours from Montreal.

And from Shane.

Since his move to Ottawa, Ilya had kept mostly to himself, buying himself a very large, very private house in a quiet neighborhood, where his only frequent visitor was Shane Hollander. The same man who knew about Ilya’s childhood. The same man with whom he had started a charity.

It all added up. Yes, it could be explained by friendship, but she knew in her gut it was more.

Her theory, though, remained just a theory for nearly two years until one wintery day in January during Ilya’s third season with the Centaurs.

The city of Ottawa was still reeling from the fact that the Centaurs had almost died on their most recent road trip due to a plane malfunction.

Kate had tried to shield Willa and Andrew from the news, but it had been all the talk at their school, and they’d been devastated at the idea of losing not just their favorite player, but also a man who had become their friend.

On the day the team returned to Ottawa, Kate wasn’t even a little surprised to see activity at Ilya’s house.

Nor was she that surprised when she saw who it was. Shane Hollander.

She hadn’t seen Ilya arrive home yet, but Shane grabbed a handful of things from his trunk and disappeared inside, clearly using his own key.

She wasn’t waiting for Ilya to return. Or spying. But she just so happened to be in the front room gathering her things to leave to pick up the kids from school when she saw Ilya’s car coming down the street.

Something about the sight made her pause. The idea of a man who seemed so much larger than life, a man who had become so important to her children over the last few years, disappearing from existence because of a freak accident, it seemed unfathomable.

And the gravity of that hit her.

She took a shaky breath and vowed to do something nice for Ilya with the kids to let him know they’d been thinking about him. That they were happy he was here.

It was why she still hadn’t moved, and was still staring listlessly out the front window, when she realized Ilya hadn’t pulled his car into the garage like normal. Instead, he parked next to the Jeep, and got out, heading straight to the front door. Jogging to the door, clearly anxious to get inside.

He’d just gotten to the door when it flew open, and there was Shane Hollander dressed in a pair of pants and a blue sweater staring at Ilya with a look of relief and adoration on his face, so raw and so vulnerable, and so unlike anything she’d ever seen on his face that she couldn’t look away, even as she felt like she was intruding on this moment.

Because sure enough, Shane opened his mouth, but whatever he was intending to say was cut off when Ilya Rozanov grabbed Shane Hollander’s face and hauled him toward him, kissing him full on the lips.

Kate let out a tiny squeal—even though she’d known, even though she’d expected it—and suddenly, she burst into tears.

🌈        🌈      🌈

That night, after her kids had made cards for Ilya, and after she’d tucked them into bed with promises that they could deliver them soon—not tonight (she had a feeling Ilya was very busy at the moment)—Kate settled into bed and pulled out her phone, going straight to her web browser.

She searched for Shane Hollander bobblehead.

The kids’ original Ilya Rozanov one had broken years before, but the kids had begged for a new one, calling it their lucky charm. They were on their fourth or fifth iteration of it by now, well loved, proudly displayed on the bookshelf in the family room, along with a few signed Centaurs memorabilia they’d collected from Ilya over the years.

She had a feeling that one day, they’d be adding a second one there.

She clicked on purchase, and then closed her phone, smiling softly as she leaned against her pillow and fell asleep.

+1

March 2021

We love you, Ilya!

That day came far sooner than Kate would ever have anticipated. Barely two months after she’d watched Shane Hollander welcome Ilya Rozanov home after that fateful near-death experience, after she’d watched Ilya Rozanov kiss the man who was clearly the love of his life, she woke up one morning in late March to her husband’s astonished gasp.

She sat up quickly. “Dan? Are you okay?”

To her surprise, Dan was staring at his phone with his mouth hanging open.

“Dan?” she repeated. “What’s going on?”

Finally, he seemed to come out of a trance. “Video…Ilya…he’s, he’s…and Shane Hollander.”

Her blood froze in her veins as a million possibilities crossed her mind. Had her neighbor finally decided to come out and announce his relationship with his rival?

She had serious doubts about that.

“You’re not making any sense. What happened? Is Ilya okay?”

Silently, he passed his phone to her. He clicked the replay icon and the video that was up on his screen started anew.

It was a video of a guy staring at the screen, but she didn’t recognize him. She did, however, recognize the FanMail icon in the corner.

“What am I watching?” she asked, bewildered as she saw a man with blondish hair and a wide smile start talking.

“FanMail video from Hayden Pike,” he said dismissively. “But that’s not important.”

“Who?”

“He plays on Montreal with Shane Hollander. Just…watch.”

She watched as Hayden apparently wished some guy named Brad a happy birthday. Hayden was, frankly, pretty awful, stumbling over his words and shifting nervously, but about two-thirds of the way through the message, Dan jumped next to her, pointing at the screen.

“There! Right there!”

In the background, in the reflection in the mirror over Hayden’s head, she could just make out two men. Two very recognizable men who were plainly visible through the window. Her heart sank as she had a feeling what was coming next.

Sure enough, the two men were soon caught in a passionate embrace, eerily similar to the one she’d witnessed just a few months ago on the front steps of Ilya’s home.

The kiss lasted far longer than she would have anticipated, and wow, was it a kiss. The men separated, then kissed softly again, the expression on their faces so tender and intimate, it was like slicing open their insides and getting a perfect glimpse of how they felt about each other. They turned and walked out of sight just as the video ended.

There was no questioning it:  Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander were in love.

And now, the world knew it too.

🌈        🌈      🌈

The day had been an unexpected whirlwind. Never in her life did Kate think that news of two professional athletes dating each other would affect her so much.

But the thing was, everyone in her life knew that Ilya Rozanov was her neighbor. It had led to various polite conversations over the years about what he was like, but now that the most viral video in the history of the entire nation was circulating about her neighbor, everyone wanted to talk to her.

This was Canada, after all, and hockey was a national obsession.

After watching the video, Kate had finally confessed to her husband that she’d known about their relationship for a few months—and had suspected it for even longer.

Dan had been rightfully shocked by her admission. He’d asked why she hadn’t shared her suspicions, and she’d explained that if she’d been wrong, it hadn’t felt right to speculate about something like that, but more importantly, if she was right, she knew the information not because Ilya had shared it with her, but because she’d pieced together thousands of tiny, intimate, private moments from over the years, moments she knew about only because Ilya happened to be their neighbor.

It had felt wrong to share something like that when it was clear that, if it was true, Ilya had gone to great lengths to protect.

Dan had begrudgingly agreed, and thankfully, other than being as surprised as the rest of the world to learn about the two men dating, he’d been unflinchingly supportive of their neighbor, calling the critics fools and bigots.

When Kate had taken Willa and Andrew to school (she’d purposely kept the TV and radio off so her kids didn’t hear about it), she’d quickly been surrounded by parents eager to see if she’d known anything about the two men.

She’d denied any knowledge, of course, stating that it was their private business and she knew nothing about her neighbor’s private life.

Kate then spent the day fielding calls from friends and family—even old acquaintances (she had no idea how this many people knew she lived next to Ilya Rozanov)—and she’d politely told them all the same thing:  Ilya’s private life was not up for discussion.

Around midday, weary and exhausted from the endless inquiries, she finally silenced her phone. She glanced over at Ilya Rozanov’s house, but she saw no movement. She had no idea if he was home, or if anyone was with him.

That thought made her inexplicably sad.

She had her answer an hour later, when she saw Ilya walking Anya, his new dog, down the street. He had a toque pulled low over his forehead, his curls tucked safely out of sight, and if she hadn’t seen him looking exactly the same on countless occasions, she never would have recognized him.

She resisted the impulse to run out there and hug him. Although she wanted him to know he was supported, she had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate being bombarded with questions right now.

Still, she was grateful, at least, that the media hadn’t seemed to locate his home address. Other than the usual cars, the street remained quiet.

When the kids came home from school, the first words out of their mouths were about Ilya and Shane.

“Is it true, Mom?” Willa asked.

Kate winced at the title. Willa was in first grade now, and she thought she was grown already, so she’d stopped using ‘Mama’ or “Mommy’ earlier this year. Kate hated it.

“Is what true, sweetie?” Kate asked, although she had a feeling she knew.

“Everyone at school said that Ilya is dating a boy. And not just any boy, but Shane Hollander! Shane Hollander, Mom!” Willa continued.

“And,” Andrew chimed in, “they said it’s di-gusted.”

“Disgusting,” Willa corrected.

“Right, that.”

They both looked at Kate. “Why would they say that, Mama?” Andrew asked. “You said two boys can love each other, right?”

“They can. Even if they are professional athletes. Remember when Scott Hunter announced he was dating a boy? And now he’s married to that boy!” Kate reminded them.

“I told them that,” Andrew said smugly. “And they said it’s not the same.”

“Of course it is, silly,” Kate said, even though she knew from people’s reactions today it was very much not the same thing. Apparently, a male professional athlete was allowed to date a regular man, but not a fellow athlete.

The indignity of it boiled her blood.

“Yeah, it is the same. Troy Barrett loves a boy,” Willa said sagely. “No one cared about him when he told everybody.”

“So why is it different for Ilya and Shane, Mama?” Andrew repeated.

“Well,” Kate started slowly. “I don’t think it is. I think two boys can love each other, no matter who they are to each other. But a lot of people don’t see it like that, because Ilya and Shane play against each other. Professionally, they’re rivals, so people think they shouldn’t ever get along. That their teams should come first and they shouldn’t be together.”

“Do you think that?” Andrew asked.

“Of course  not, sweetie. I think if they found each other and love each other, that’s the greatest gift in the world. And we should celebrate that. What do you two think?”

“We love Ilya,” Willa said immediately. Andrew nodded emphatically beside her.

“Then we should tell him,” Kate told her kids.

Kate’s heart swelled with pride as she watched her kids drag out their supplies and make a fresh sign for their beloved neighbor. She left them coloring in big letters as she made her way to her bedroom closet, retrieving the item she’d bought months ago, from where she’d tucked it away safely on the top shelf. Then she swung by the family room and grabbed a second item from the shelves there.

When she walked back into the kitchen, the poster board laying across the kitchen table, markers haphazardly strewn about, her kids concentrating furiously, Kate smiled at how big children’s hearts could be. At how easily they learned to love.

If only adults could do the same.

An hour later, Kate and her kids headed outside, the sun already setting, the air bitterly cold. They headed down the driveway, wading through the slushy snow, and they set to work.

She had no idea when Ilya might see it, but they hung the sign anyway, attaching it to the tree at the end of their driveway, for Ilya—and everyone—to see.

And underneath the sign, they propped up the children’s beloved bobblehead of their neighbor, as well as the brand new one of Shane Hollander.

Together, just like they belonged.

As they turned to walk back inside, hand in hand, Kate took one more look at the sign.

She hoped it made Ilya know he wasn’t alone.

We love you, Ilya.

She turned back to her home and walked back inside with her children, determined to make sure they, too, never doubted those words.

BONUS

October 2021

Ilya Rozanov + Shane Hollander = Stanley Cup

“They’re coming!” Andrew squealed, jumping up and down excitedly. “They’re almost here!”

“Get the sign, get the sign!” Willa yelled at her brother.

He dashed back to the porch and grabbed the sign, then sprinted back down to the end of the driveway where Kate was waiting with Willa and Dan.

Tonight was the home opener for the Centaurs, and her family couldn’t be more excited. They were even going to the game, with tickets gifted to them by Ilya and Shane. They’d be leaving in a few hours, but Ilya (and now Shane too) always left hours early to get ready.

The home opener was going to be electric. After a promising playoff run last year, where the Centaurs had been eliminated in the second round, after YEARS of missing out on the playoffs, the entire city was filled with renewed hope.

Because this year, in addition to the stars from last season (which of course included their captain, Ilya Rozanov), the team had Shane Hollander.

That’s right. Shane Hollander had left the Montreal Voyageurs after last season and come home. The city of Ottawa couldn’t be more thrilled to welcome their hero back.

The past six months had been like something out of a movie. Half the hockey fans had lost their mind when they learned of Ilya and Shane’s relationship, while the other half had thought it was no big deal.

That it was even…sweet.

Kate and her family, of course, had been in the latter camp. They’d even been invited to Ilya and Shane’s wedding over the summer, where she’d officially met the man her neighbor had been secretly in love with since he’d moved in (and probably before).

Now that their relationship was public, she saw a lot more of Ilya. The couple had been gone for most of the summer, but when they were in town, they were often seen outside together with their dog, running through the neighborhood, and like Ilya always used to do, they often stopped at the bottom of Kate’s driveway to talk to Willa and Andrew.

That sadness she’d always thought she’d seen in Ilya was gone now. He looked the happiest she’d ever seen him.

She knew it had been a rough go for the two of them, with having their relationship outed, but hopefully they were past that now. When they’d spoken to them both about the upcoming season, Shane had looked nervous, but Ilya had been practically vibrating with excitement.

Ilya slowed his Mercedes down and rolled down the window. “Hi guys!”

Shane waved too, shyer and more reserved than his gregarious husband. “Hi Willa. Hi Andrew. And, uh, Kate and Dan too.”

The kids immediately launched into their gameday pep talk, throwing out suggestions for how to win the game. Kate and Dan stood behind their kids, laughing at the things coming from their kids’ mouths.

Ilya and Shane looked delighted.

“And, you know, you should score more goals than the other team,” Andrew finished.

“Should we now? News to me. What about you, Shane?” Ilya said with a playful grin.

“Always a good idea, to score more goals than the other team,” Shane nodded seriously, biting his lip to stop from grinning.

“But,” Willa said in her grown up voice, “Ilya, you gotta learn to share this season. Shane’s here now, and he likes to score too. So don’t be a ball hog.”

“There’s not a ball in hockey, Willa,” Andrew chided.

“Well, puck hog sounds dumb.”

“Dumb’s not a nice word, right, Mom?” Andrew said.

“Yeah, let’s choose another word,” Kate agreed.

“Well,” Willa said dramatically, “anyway. Share, okay? You both can score tonight.”

Ilya and Shane exchanged a grin. “I like the sound of that,” Shane agreed.

“Me too, sweetheart.”

Shane’s face turned bright red. “We, um, should probably get going,” Shane finally said.

“Wait,” Ilya said. “Whose jersey are you both wearing tonight?”

“Yours!” Andrew said, and Ilya grinned.

“Shane’s!” Willa added.

Ilya grabbed his heart. “Willa, you wound me. You have known me longer than this guy.” He jerked his thumb at his husband.

“Yes, but we want to cheer for you both,” Willa explained. She elbowed her brother. “The sign, Andrew, the sign,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

Andrew yelped and grabbed the sign at his feet, then held it up proudly. “That’s right. We want to cheer for you both!”

“So you see,” Willa explained patiently, pointing to the sign, “we have to wear one of each of you because the Centaurs need you both. And with you both, the Centaurs are going to be unstoppable.”

Ilya and Shane stared at the sign, and Kate could have sworn their eyes grew a little misty.

“Well, that’s…” Shane trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

Ilya nodded, swallowing thickly. “We will try our best to win for you. Tonight, and for that too.” He pointed to the sign, and they waved, then slowly headed down the road.

Willa and Andrew whooped loudly, running around with pent up energy.

“I can’t wait to leave for the game!”

“Can we go now, Mom?”

“Can I have ice cream at the game?”

“Can we bring the sign?” Andrew asked.

She looked at the sign in her kid’s hand, and nodded. “Of course. Our boys just promised us a win, right? And we’re going to hold them to it.”

And when the kids held up the sign against the glass during warmups, nearly the entire Centaurs team skated over and banged on the glass, tapping the sign and shouting in agreement.

Ilya Rozanov + Shane Hollander = Stanley Cup

This was the Centaurs year. She could feel it.

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