Chapter Text
Shane Hollander knelt down beside the bench, reaching for the laces that he had tied countless times before, smiling as he took them into his hands.
“Leave your visor alone, Ollie,” he chided gently, pleased when the little boy in front of him did as he was told. “Remind me why you need your visor please?”
“Betection, Daddy,” came a small voice and Shane smiled, nodding as he tied the laces tightly.
“Protection, that’s right, we have to look after your face. Other foot, please.”
Oliver Hollander, or Ollie as he and his dad Shane preferred, nodded, stretching out his other foot so his father could tie his lace. There had been no practice with the Centaurs today, so Shane had taken advantage of a free day and had brought Ollie down to the rink with him. Being Captain had its advantages, and access to the rink out of hours was one of them that Shane was making the most out of.
“Okay, all done. Are you ready to go out and practice?”
Ollie nodded, and Shane grinned, holding his hand as they walked towards the ice together. There was a step to get onto the ice that Ollie, with his little four year old legs, still struggled to get over so Shane hoisted him up under the arms, carefully setting him down on the icy surface, waiting until he’d gotten his balance before joining him.
“Alright, I’m following you, off you go.”
Shane was glad that he’d had Ollie on the ice since he’d started walking. His son had a natural ability that Shane knew you just couldn’t teach, and although hockey was embedded in his DNA, Ollie's skills were still something Shane was incredibly proud of. He’d spent a small fortune making sure that Ollie had the best of everything, and as the boy’s love of being on the ice had grown, so had Shane’s enthusiasm for teaching him.
He’d promised his mom countless times that he wasn’t doing this just to push Ollie into a career in hockey, and he meant it. If Ollie made the decision that he wanted to play when he was older, then that was great, and Shane would do everything he could to support him. If not, though, if hockey was only destined to be something they could enjoy together around Shane’s own games, then that was fine too.
All Shane wanted was for his son to be happy, whatever that looked like for him in the future. As much as Shane couldn’t wait to find out, he also wanted time to slow down because it seemed inconceivable sometimes that this little boy of his was already four years old. His mom was right - time really did start to fly by when you least wanted it to.
“Right, let’s speed up a bit, Ol. I’ll try and catch you!”
Ollie’s resulting giggle put an enormous smile on Shane’s face, and he watched carefully as Ollie easily moved himself around, his technique so much like Shane’s own, it was almost uncanny.
“Go, kiddo!” came a familiar voice from the sidelines, and Shane glanced over, grinning and giving his mom a quick wave. He continued to weave around the ice, pretending to grab for Ollie’s jersey but just missing which made the little boy scream even louder, skating as fast as his little legs could propel him over the smooth surface. Eventually, he slammed rather ungracefully into the boards in front of Yuna and Shane slid to a stop opposite, making Ollie laugh yet again as he sprayed him with ice.
“Daddy, it’s cold!”
“Sorry, bud, you good?” Shane asked, getting closer and brushing the icy mess from Ollie’s hair and neck. “Hey, Mom. Didn’t expect you to be here so early, I thought I said come at two?”
“Oh, I know, but you know how much I love to watch my boys skate. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Never,” Shane replied easily, meaning it.
If he was being honest, there was no way he could live his life in the way he did without the support of his parents. Not only had they been the most supportive parents when Shane had come out as gay to them a few years ago, they’d also completely embraced the fact Shane was going to be a dad when he announced his ex-girlfriend was expecting their baby. He’d been honest with them, explaining that he was going to raise the baby alone, that he and Melissa weren’t going to stay together.
They’d been confused about why Shane would choose to do this until Shane had been brave, telling them that while he loved Melissa as the mother of his child, he would never be in love with her in the way that everyone expected. Yuna had put it into words for him, asking Shane outright if he was gay and he’d nodded, confirming it. His dad had taken Shane’s hand, promising that they didn’t care who Shane loved, as long as he was happy and that he was honest with himself. It had felt like a weight had been lifted from Shane’s shoulders.
As well as being amazing parents, Yuna and David were practically second parents to Shane’s son, and they adored Ollie just as much as he adored them. Watching the three of them together was one of the best things Shane did with his time, especially since he and Ollie lived a five minute drive away from their home. He’d transferred to Ottawa when Oliver was just three months old, a necessary move so that he could have the support of his parents while he took up the position as team Captain of the Centaurs.
They’d been a bottom-of-the-league team and Shane had honestly thought that maybe it was a sign he needed to retire, but after a stern talking to from his mom, he’d gone in and decided that the Centaurs were the next Stanley Cup winning team. It had taken him two seasons, but then Shane was lifting the Cup, his two year old clapping his hands in the stands where he was watching, defying everyone who had written him off with both the move to Ottawa and fatherhood.
“Baaba, wanna see me skate a lap?” Ollie asked, and Yuna grinned, nodding as the boy sped away, blades carving into the ice.
Shane had decided before Ollie was born that Grandma was too much of an old lady name for someone as glamorous as his mom was, and he’d made Yuna cry when he told her that he wanted the baby to call her Baaba, a nod to their Japanese heritage. Ollie had never known any different, and hearing it always made Shane smile.
“Gosh, he’s gotten really good,” Yuna said, the pair admiring Ollie’s form as he skated round, waving wildly as he passed them. “So much like you when you were his age.”
“No way, he’s much better than I was then,” Shane replied, smiling at her before looking back at his son. “I really do hope he wants to go into hockey, because I feel like he’s just going to be unstoppable when he’s older if he keeps improving at this rate.”
“Well, he does have a four-time Stanley Cup winner for a father, so I would hope he could hold his own on the ice.”
“True.”
“Daddy, come skate! Can we use the sticks?”
“Sure,” Shane called, and Yuna turned and grabbed the things Shane had left by the bench, passing over the custom stick Shane had been gifted by CCM for Ollie’s fourth birthday. He headed over and passed Ollie the stick, dropping the puck to the floor. “Okay, remember what we practiced on the weekend?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Ollie replied, his little face going serious as he listened carefully. Sometimes it really was like looking in a mirror. “Can we practice goals?”
“Shooting at the goal?” Shane asked. Ollie nodded. “Okay. I’ll go to the goal. Remember to strike hard, not giving away where you’re going to strike the puck. Think you can beat your record of 7 from Saturday?”
Ollie nodded frantically as his little cheeks reddened with excitement. “Yeah! Let’s go, Daddy!”
Shane smiled as he skated towards the goal, Ollie concentrating hard as he moved the puck along with his stick, getting himself into position. Shane watched intently as Ollie shifted the position of his gloved hands, little tongue sticking out between his lips he wobbled on his blades, pulling back his stick.
“Goal!” he shouted as the puck glided past Shane’s left skate, settling in the net. “Yes, I did!”
“Good job, let’s go again.” Shane hooked the puck with his blade and gently pushed it out, watching it stop just to the left of Ollie.
They carried on in this way until Shane could see Ollie’s arms beginning to ache. The stick wasn’t heavy, but the effort of holding himself steady on the ice was getting to him, and Shane let the last goal sink into the net, skating back to his son. He scooped him up into his arms, resting him on his hip as he skated slowly back to Yuna, who quickly finished up her phone call as they stopped in front of her.
“You done, honey?” she asked, and Ollie nodded, stretching out his arms for her. She took him with ease, and Shane watched on as she sat him down, unlacing his boots as she had done for him all those years ago. “You’re doing so great out there, Grandpa and I are so proud of how good you are!”
“Gonna be a Cen when I’m big like Daddy.”
“Oh, I know it,” Yuna said, winking and rustling the little boy’s curly hair. “You boys want to come over for dinner tonight? Grandpa is making your favourite pasta and meatballs!”
“Ooh yes! Daddy, can we go to Baaba’s for dinner, please?”
“Sure. I’m just going to go to my appointment and then I’ll come join you guys. Are you okay to go back with Baaba and see Grandpa?”
Ollie nodded, jumping down onto his socked feet and dashing off to where his rucksack was sitting next to Shane’s skate bag. He bent down, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for, running back to Shane with a cereal bar in his hand.
“Daddy, can I have this please? I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, that’s okay Ol. Mom, is it alright if I get changed and disappear now? I don’t want to be late.”
“No problem, Shane. Dinner will be ready around six, just try and make sure you’re back by then.”
Shane glanced at his watch, seeing it was only just gone four. “Yeah, I’ll be there in about an hour I hope. Give me a hug, kiddo. I love you.”
“Love you too, Daddy,” Ollie said, sinking into Shane’s tight hug. “Come on Baaba, wanna see Grandpa!”
Shane slipped on his skate guards before he grabbed his bags, heading for the empty locker room. It was odd, being in there without the rest of the team, but Shane quickly changed out of the sports gear he’d been wearing for his skate, pulling on his jeans and a clean sweatshirt. He left his skates in his stall, hoisting his bag over his shoulder as he headed out.
“Hollzy! Didn’t expect you here today.”
Shane grinned as the Centaur’s media manager Harris Drover approached, letting himself be pulled into a quick hug. Harris and his husband Troy Barrett, one of Shane’s fellow Centaurs, had become close friends of Shane’s since his move to Ottawa four years ago, and he very much cherished their friendship.
“Where’s my favourite kid?”
“How are you, Shane? Good to see you, Shane…”
Harris laughed, rolling his eyes. “Sorry, man. How are you?”
“I’m good. You and Troy okay?”
“Yep, as always. So. Where’s my favourite kid?”
“Gone home with my Mom, I have an appointment in the city,” Shane said, quickly slipping his phone from his pocket, checking his notifications before he put it away. “What are you doing here today?”
“Social media never sleeps,” Harris joked with an eye roll, but really, Shane knew how much he enjoyed his job. “I wanted to edit the video we shot the other day so that we can post it after the next match. I think it’s going to be a good one.”
“If by a good one, you mean an embarrassment, then yes, I agree,” Shane laughed. He wasn’t a massive fan of social media, preferring to keep his own accounts professional and focused on hockey, but he understood the importance of joining in with the Centaurs’ social media content, especially as Captain. “I’m really sorry to leave you hanging but I really need to head off if I’m going to make it back for dinner with Ol and my parents.”
“Sorry, course. I’ll see you on Thursday?”
Shane nodded, bidding his friend goodbye before he hurried out to his car, throwing his bag onto the backseat next to the car seat that lived permanently there for his son. He joined the traffic and focused on where he needed to be, already eager to get home and to his boy, where he belonged.
*****
“Daddy’s home!” David called out over his shoulder as Shane stepped in through the front door, shrugging off his jacket and putting it onto the hook next to Ollie’s bright yellow one. He toed off his shoes and hurried through to the kitchen, smiling at the sight of Ollie on a step stool next to Yuna, a bright green apron tied around his body.
“Wow, what are you making?” Shane asked, leaning down to kiss Ollie on the head before he walked to his mum, kissing her cheek. “Smells delicious.”
“I’m grating the cheese,” Ollie said with a big grin, holding up the grater and flinging bits of cheese everywhere. “Oops, sorry, Baaba!”
“No need to apologise, darling,” Yuna said, but Shane was already on it, the dustpan in his hand as he swept up the mess. “Dinner is in two minutes if you want to wash up, Shane.”
“Thanks, I will.”
He smiled at his dad as he headed upstairs, washing his hands in the bathroom. He took the opportunity to look at his reflection in the mirror, looking closely for any signs of wrinkles. He was thirty one now, and looked pretty good for it thanks to his healthy diet and strict exercise regime, not that he was scared of aging. He’d had a good life so far, and he viewed getting older as a privilege, especially with Ollie in his life now.
Shane took his seat at the table next to Ollie, reaching to help cut up his meatballs while Yuna fussed around, setting down Shane’s salmon and rice, knowing he didn’t like to eat pasta unless he could help it. Ollie’s diet, though, was as varied as Yuna could make it, and he loved what a great appetite his son had. He was a growing boy, after all.
“You fancy going to the movies tomorrow?” Shane asked, and Ollie nodded eagerly, shoving a spoonful of pasta into his mouth, smearing the tomato sauce around his mouth. “Cool. Well, I thought we could ask your friend Tyler from skate school to come with us? His mom said he was hoping you two could meet up while you’re out for your break.”
Even though Shane was an ice hockey superstar, he also recognised the importance of Ollie getting tuition from someone other than him. He also knew that Ollie needed the social aspect of it, and enjoyed watching him from rinkside if he ever had a chance. Usually, he let Yuna or David take him as it tended to cause a bit of a scene to have him there, but sometimes he went along, hiding as much as he could. Shane was just grateful that Ollie wasn’t yet at that age where he was embarrassed of his famous father.
Ollie nodded. “Yes, please. Can we have popcorn?”
“I think I could spring for some popcorn,” Shane grinned, reaching for the pot of grated cheese at the centre of the table. “You want some more cheese?”
Shane helped his dad to wash up after dinner while Yuna curled up with Ollie, reading him the story that they’d been working their way through. Shane had been concerned that Ollie was too young for a chapter book but as usual, Ollie had surprised him and had absorbed the story, listening carefully as Yuna read to him whenever he was at their house.
A few hours later, Ollie was asleep in the corner of the sofa tucked under one of the blankets from Shane’s childhood. His thumb was in his mouth, and Shane reached over, brushing his dark curls away from his forehead. Ollie shifted and curled more into the blanket and Shane sat up, turning his attention back to the hockey game playing on the television. The volume was low so Shane couldn’t really hear the commentary, but it didn’t matter.
He watched as players skated seamlessly around the ice, the puck a black blur from here but Shane had no trouble following it. He was impressed by some of the plays, and he smiled as one of the teams celebrated a goal, shots of children cheering in the crowd filling his heart with joy, remembering how excited Ollie was anytime he scored and skated over to him.
Yuna walked back into the room, smiling at the sight of her grandson sound asleep. “Who’s playing?”
“Anaheim Hammerheads and San Francisco Mission,” he answered as the players skated into position, ready for the next play. They weren’t in his league, but if there was one thing Shane knew well, it was hockey.
“That’s Rozanov’s team, right?”
Shane tried to react to the sound of that name from his mom’s lips. “Yeah. They’re pretty good.”
“Do you have time for a cup of tea? I’m making one for your father and I.”
Shane checked the time on his watch, seeing that he probably had just about enough time before he had to head back home. “Sure, that would be great, thank you.”
The camera panned around, and Shane froze as an all too familiar face filled the television screen. There he was: Ilya Rozanov. Once upon a time, he’d been Shane’s fiercest rival on the ice, but he’d also been far more than that, too. Ilya was the first and only man Shane had ever been with, the one who had awakened something in him that had quietly, irrevocably altered the course of his life.
It had started just before the start of their rookie season, Shane blissfully unaware of what was to come. One impulsive night had turned into another, and then another until they’d fallen into a rhythm that neither of them ever acknowledged out loud. Whenever their teams crossed paths, Shane and Ilya found their way back to each other - slipping quietly into anonymous hotel rooms after playing each other hard on the ice, chasing something intense, perfect and impossible to leave behind.
Things had ended mutually after a couple of years, the two of them realising that what they were doing was too much of a risk. Ilya was from Russia, a country renowned for being homophobic, and Shane knew that Ilya was terrified of what would happen to him if they were found out. Shane hadn’t felt comfortable with the idea of everyone knowing he was sleeping with men either, so they’d decided that as much fun as it had been, it was time to stop.
Shane refused to admit just how much it had hurt, saying goodbye to Ilya that final time, just after Ilya had won his first MVP award in Las Vegas. Shane had been so proud of him, and they’d fallen into bed one last time in Ilya’s penthouse suite, like they were trying to rewrite the inevitable, Ilya brokenly whispering ‘let me love you goodbye’ as he stepped into Shane’s space, kissing him with everything that was unsaid between them.
It wasn’t desperate or careless. It was soft. Careful. Almost reverent. Every touch lingered too long, every breath felt like something they were trying to memorize. It was the kind of tenderness that made it worse, because it proved there had always been something real there - something neither of them had been brave enough to name.
Afterwards, Ilya didn’t rush to leave. He stayed, talking about nothing, just small, meaningless things, his voice too light, like if he kept it there, it wouldn’t crack. Shane had watched him from the corner of his eye, memorizing the shape of him in the dim light, the way his fingers traced absent patterns on the sheets. Neither of them said what mattered. Neither of them asked the other to stay.
And then the goodbye. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. It wasn’t supposed to feel like that.
Their guards slipped without warning. The hug lasted too long. The kiss wasn’t casual - it was aching, clinging, almost desperate. For a moment, Shane had the terrifying thought that if he held on just a little tighter, he could stop it. That he could make Ilya stay.
But he didn’t. He let go, because that’s what they had agreed was best for both of them. He watched Ilya walk away.
And that was it. No fight. No dramatic ending. Shane would tell himself, over and over, that it hadn’t meant that much. That it was just something that happened, something that ended the way things sometimes do.
But sometimes, late at night, he could still feel it - that hollowed-out space inside his chest, like something had been carved out and never replaced. And he knew, no matter how much he tried to deny it, that a part of his heart had walked away that night too… and he didn’t think he’d ever be getting it back.
An injury a few years back had put an end to Ilya’s stellar hockey career, having led the Boston Raiders to three Stanley Cups under his tenure before playing with Anaheim for two seasons making playoffs both times, and always the thorn in Shane’s side. Shane had sat at home, feeding Ollie as he’d watched the press conference on TV, shocked as Ilya had announced his immediate retirement and new position as Assistant Coach to the Hammerheads.
It had felt strange, watching such an enormous career development happen for someone Shane had once been so close to. His hands had itched to pick up his phone, to text Ilya and find out how he really felt about it all, how he was coping with the reality of his playing career being over, but that wasn’t something they did. They hadn’t spoken or contacted each other since Las Vegas all those years ago, and he’d settled for just liking Ilya’s later Instagram post, as many of the MLH players did. It hadn’t felt like anywhere near enough.
He had wondered for a moment if this was how Ilya had felt when Shane had posted the news of Ollie’s birth, only sharing a photo of himself cradling his newborn son against his bare chest, smiling gently at Yuna’s camera. Ilya had liked that post, too.
Despite everything personal that had happened between them, Shane had always loved playing Ilya on the ice, and a little spark had gone from the game for him when he wasn’t an opponent anymore, even though he hadn’t played against him since he’d transferred away from the Raiders in 2019. Still, Ilya’s retirement was final in a way that him moving divisions hadn’t been. It took away the possibility of ever playing against him again. Ilya’s knee injury meant that playing hockey caused Ilya too much pain, and Shane knew it must’ve broken Ilya to step away from playing because of it.
But seeing Ilya standing rinkside, focusing hard on both his own team and the opposition, brought a flood of feelings back to Shane. He didn’t often watch this division, so it still always took him by surprise to see Ilya there, surrounded by the Hammerheads colours, looking just as fearsome as he ever had. If anything, age had just added to Ilya’s natural air of authority.
Shane had been shocked when he’d first learned that Ilya had accepted a coaching position with the Anaheim Hammerheads as a video coach. He knew that Ilya had always imagined getting into coaching after retiring, but the video coach position somehow made sense for him, allowing him to analyze game footage and managing in-game reviews for challenges, steering his team in the right direction all the way.
The camera quickly cut away to the action on the ice, and Shane let out a sigh, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his body always reacting viscerally to the sight of Ilya, even after all of the years they’d been apart, after all of the changes his life had been through since then. Ilya was a secret Shane would keep for the rest of his life, a chapter he would never speak aloud but could never truly close. And while there were nights he let himself wonder what might have become of them under different circumstances, he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it—not when it had led him here.
He looked to the right and smiled at the sight of his whole world, curled up and sound asleep, little eyelashes fluttering as he slept. Yuna walked back in and handed Shane a Ottawa Centaurs mug wordlessly, sitting next to him on the armchair, David off, probably doing a puzzle or something elsewhere in the house.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Shane said quietly as the second period of the game ended, giving him a chance to finally talk to his mom. She was always the person he went to for anything about his career; his biggest supporter, the person he could always rely on to play devil’s advocate for his sometimes too unsettled mind. But today, all he wanted was her understanding. “About hockey. My career.”
“Okay…” Yuna said, her hands wrapped around the mug she was holding. “Why does this feel ominous, Shane?”
“I mean, it is, but I’m not sure it’s a huge surprise,” Shane said, leaning forward and setting his own mug down on the table. “Ollie’s starting school next year. He’s growing up, and I feel like I’m missing a lot of his life. I don’t want to wake up one day when he’s turning 18 and realise that I’ve been absent for most of his life.”
“Shane-”
“No, please let me finish?”
Yuna nodded, and the look on her face told Shane she was already anticipating what he was going to say.
“I’ve been playing hockey since I could walk. It’s been my job since I was seventeen, and I’m going to be 32 next year. I’ve given nearly half of my entire life to this game, and while I don’t regret a single part of it, I feel like… maybe I’m ready to be done. I’ve won everything I ever dreamed of, more than I ever thought possible. Four Stanley Cups, every award I once chased… I have no regrets when it comes to the game. I love it. I always will.”
He paused, looking at Yuna who was nodding along, almost resigned to Shane’s decision.
“But, Mom, I love Ollie more. I want to be there for him, so he has memories of me being in his life, rather than going away every other week to play. Moments with him matter more to me now than anything I could do on the ice. I don’t want to think of it as me walking away from hockey, because I love the game,” he said, feeling surprisingly emotional about this as he spoke, “but that I’m choosing something that means more to me now. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and now I think I’m at peace with my decision. I’d-” he paused, gathering himself. “I’d really love it if you could support my decision, Mom.”
Yuna smiled gently, reaching out and taking Shane’s hand in her own. “Honey, I’m a mom. I understand wanting to be there for Ollie, for all those moments. I know how hard you find it when you leave him with us, that you’re missing so much. So of course I understand. I’m sad, because I know how much you love hockey, but it’s given you a brilliant life, and it’s entirely your choice to walk away from that for your son.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, quickly turning back to the television so she didn’t see the tears threatening to fall. It wasn’t that he was necessarily upset about the idea of walking away from hockey, but it was still a big decision, and a life-altering one in many ways. “It would be nice to have a life where I can stay in the same place for more than just a few days at a time. To put down some real roots with Ollie.”
“As long as those roots are in Ottawa,” Yuna joked, but Shane grinned, knowing he’d never move away. He loved his parents, and so did Ollie. There was no way he’d do anything to jeopardise the closeness they all had. “I’m kidding. Well, I’m not, but, you know. Maybe it’s time to think about meeting someone, Shane. Someone to share your life with.”
“Mom, we’ve talked about this,” Shane said, rolling his eyes as the third period began on the television. “I have Ollie, and he’s my priority. I’m really not looking for anything. I’m happy being on my own.”
“There’s probably a really nice man out there for you, Shane. Someone who can love both of you. You deserve that-”
“Mom.” Shane gave her a look, and Yuna held up her hands, surrendering. She knew when he wasn’t in the mood to be pushed. “I’m good. I promise.”
They finished the game, the Hammerheads winning 3-2. Ilya was shown briefly on the screen again as the coaches celebrated, but Shane didn’t react, wondering if Yuna would. She didn’t, and Shane stood up, deciding it was time to get home.
“I’ll bring your bags,” Yuna said as Shane lifted his son into his arms, the little boy barely stirring as he snuggled against Shane’s chest. He walked out of the house and put Ollie into his car seat, strapping him in before he covered him in the blanket again, closing the door as quietly as he could.
“Thanks for dinner,” Shane said, hugging Yuna quickly, then David, who had come out to say goodbye. “I’m going to hang out with Ollie at home tomorrow, but we’ll pop over at the weekend? Sort out next week when I have to get to New York?”
“Sure. Let us know when you’re home,” David said, even though Shane literally lived an eight minute drive away from their house. “Love you both.”
“We love you,” Shane called from behind the wheel, waving at them. He drove off, keeping the radio down so that Ollie would stay asleep. The roads were quiet so Shane was home in no time, taking Ollie inside and putting him into bed before he fetched their bags in, putting their skates away and tidying up before he headed up to bed himself.
As he laid in the darkness, Shane tossed and turned, unable to shut his mind off. He grabbed his phone and scrolled for a bit, liking a few hockey related posts on Instagram before he did something he rarely did. He searched for Ilya Rozanov’s account. It came up, showing that Shane followed him, as Ilya did to him. But they both followed many people from their hockey careers, so it didn’t feel like anything more than professional courtesy.
As usual, there were a few new posts on Ilya’s grid, but they were all professional, about the team and hockey. There were a few posts from brand deals that Ilya was clearly part of, but it didn’t give anything away about Ilya’s life at all. He used to be known for his womanising ways but photos of Ilya with anyone at all apart from people associated with the Hammerheads was rare. It meant that Shane really had no idea what was going on in Ilya’s life anymore, and it still felt strange to be so far removed from it, even though it had been almost a decade since they’d been anything to each other.
Shane’s own Instagram was mainly professional, but he posted the odd personal post when he felt like it. He was careful about what he posted, but was more active on social media these days. He posted lots of content about the Centaurs, short videos from their practices, fun photos that he took with his teammates, the best group of players he’d ever worked with.
Ollie was there, but in a way that allowed Shane to keep his privacy. He posted photos that never showed Ollie’s face, only the back of his head, or his silhouette as he skated or ran around in the garden. People loved seeing snippets of Shane’s family life, and he wanted to share what he could, but on his terms. Ollie would grow up with Shane’s surname and everything attached to it, whether he wanted it or not. The least Shane could do was give him as much normalcy as possible, which meant shielding him from the world for as long as he could.
Thankfully, Shane had earnt respect from both fans and the media, and everyone was more than happy to toe the line when it came to his son. They never pushed the limits in taking photos when Shane was out and about with him, even though Shane had had legal paperwork put in place preventing the media from sharing photos of his son. The MLH and stadiums had all been complicit in ensuring these were met, and Ollie was never featured on broadcasts either. For Shane, it was the best of both worlds, and he was glad his reputation meant that people were more than willing to work with him, rather than against him.
Shane scrolled through a few of Ilya’s latest posts, pausing as a rare selfie filled the screen. Ilya had left it without a caption, but he was clearly at the rink, probably watching the Hammerheads practice since the seats behind him were empty. Ilya hadn’t changed much, and if anything, had gotten more handsome with age. His curls were still as uncontrollable as ever, but he was beautiful in a way Shane was never able to fully put into words.
Before he could get lost in a spiral about the past, Shane clicked away from the photo and liked a few posts from the Centaurs’ account, then one from Hayden, celebrating his wedding anniversary. Shane tapped out a quick reply, ‘Happy anniversary to my favourite people! Can’t wait to see you all soon’ and locked his phone, turning over and closing his eyes.
Ollie would be awake at the crack of dawn, even though that wouldn’t be a hardship for Shane since he was an early riser too. It was spooky just how alike the two of them were, and with thoughts of his precious little boy in his mind, Shane finally allowed sleep to take over.