Chapter Text
CENTRE BELL – MONTREAL – DECEMBER 1st 2018
The photograph was in black and white and covered one of the temporary walls the event planners had decided would help fill the empty space. The men in the photograph wore dark jerseys with white lines going across the hems and the sleeves. Big white Ms were stitched on their chests. The design was refined, streamlined. Practical. They wore what seemed to be leather pads on their shins and similar looking gloves. Some held hockey sticks in their hands, all carried determination in their eyes. These eleven Montreal men had made the trip to Boston a hundred years ago to help introduce hockey to the United States of America. Their Raiders opponents were equally determined on another black and white picture on the opposite side of the room.
It wasn't a room. Not really. The Centre Bell rink had been hidden, ice and all, under a temporary floor on stilts. Shane had frowned when he had first stepped on it. He had tested it, like he had checked the ice a few hours before, shifting his weight, using it to figure out the soundness of the platform. Hayden had chuckled next to him, before showing Shane and Jackie the way to their table. They had had dinner on the rink Shane called home. He had barely eaten. No surprise there. He had started a new diet, one that would hopefully enhance his performance on the ice. The dinner had lasted too long. Speeches and history lessons had been sprinkled here and there, but most of the guests were not interested. Shane was, although he already knew the specifics. He had read about them in many different books about hockey.
December 1st 1918. Boston. First MLH game in America. First MLH game for the Raiders, on their home ice. The Metros had come with determination and experience, but the Raiders had been worthy adversaries. Rivals. They had won. Two to one. Herb Headley scoring just three minutes in and Smokey Harris six minutes later. Carson McKay had scored for Montreal immediately after. The rest of the game had been a constant succession of unsuccessful attempts and aggressive checks. 348 penalty minutes. Impressive.
One hundred years later the Metros and the Raiders had played the return match, in Montreal this time. An advantage Shane's team had used to win. Two to one. Perfect symmetry.
A few hours, a shower and a dinner later, Shane stood next to the temporary wall and the 1918 Metros team portrait. The picture had been enlarged to fit the panel and blown up as they were, his former teammates stood at the same height. He could look them straight in the eyes. Shane recognized in them the same drive that pushed him to win games and cups. He shivered. The cold of the ice underneath and its musty smell were still present in the massive hall. But Shane thrived in the freezing temperatures of the rink. He'd always had. What had made him shiver was the weight of history and the pressure of it.
Ottawa-born Shane Hollander was the picture perfect captain of the Montreal Metros and as such carried the legacy of a team that had existed for more than a hundred years. He was carrying the legacy of these men in the picture. He hoped they could be proud of him but knew that their disappointment would take precedent. He lowered his head and looked at the makeshift floor. He inhaled deeply and turned around. His eyes found comfort in another photograph across the rink. A colourful one. He sighed with a smile and walked towards it.
Barely hidden disappointment was a day-to-day occurrence these days in the Centre Bell. Shane had chosen a relatively happy day a month ago to talk to his teammates. Easy drills and friendly teasing had seemed to be enough preparation for what he had wanted to reveal. Three words. I. Am. Gay. He could have said more. In fact, there had been five more words on the tip of his tongue. As he reached the bright picture of the two men competing for control of a puck, he whispered them to himself.
“And I love Ilya Rozanov.”
Shane smiled tenderly looking at Ilya's face on the large panel. The smile that barely left his lips, whether he was fighting him on the ice or fucking him on a bed. The look in his eyes that he fixed on Shane as much as he could, without being too obvious. The picture showed them both as they were: equal, enraptured, passionate. In love for anyone who knew where to look. Even then.
People knew them as the biggest rivals in the centennial Boston vs Montreal rivalry, but they were making history in a different way. A way that the men in their dark jerseys and leather pads would certainly disapprove. A way Shane's teammates would never understand. If he had told the complete truth to them, then, in their smelly locker room, disapproval or disappointment wouldn't have been strong enough words to describe their reaction. As it stood, Shane being gay was weird enough. It was scorn worthy. It was 'Imma let you take that shower alone, Hollander.'
But the locker room was also, thankfully, where Hayden Pike moved. A constant friendly presence
“You're ok, buddy?”
Shane nodded but did not look at Hayden who now stood next to him, frowning at the picture.
“When was that?” Hayden asked.
“2016. In Boston.”
Shane smiled at the memories he couldn't share, wouldn't share. Hayden was a great friend, the best probably, but talking to him about Ilya was irritatingly pointless. Hayden disliked Ilya profoundly and had made it clear. So Shane had stopped mentioning him altogether. Unless Jackie, Hayden's wife, was nearby to steer Hayden away from the easy insults and chirps he planned on throwing at Ilya's head.
“Have you lost Jackie?” Shane asked.
“Nah. She sent me to see if you're ok.”
“Oh? So you, you don't give a fuck?”
Hayden smiled and shook his head. “You know I do, buddy. I just think she was worried you were about to lick the picture or something.”
Shane huffed a laugh and then, bit his lip.
“Maybe... I should ask if I can have it. Put it up on a wall at home.”
“Yeah. We could play darts on it. Try and avoid your face, of course.”
“Of course.”
“But 50 points for Rozanov's head, for sure.”
“Hayd...” Shane's voice was never threatening, really, but Hayden felt the irritation anyway. He pivoted.
“So... We're doing it again in a month, right? Us, you and him?”
Shane nodded.
“For Christmas? That's what Jackie said... I don't think my mom is going to be happy about that.” Hayden continued.
“It's... hm... It's Russian Christmas. It's in January. On the 7th.”
“Ok... Alright. Why the fuck not... Do I have to get him a gift?”
“Yep. He's cooking.” Shane smiled. “He's pretty excited about it. It's... It's nice.”
“Your parents will be there, too, right?”
“Yeah. They wouldn't miss it for the world. That's what Mom said.”
“They love him, huh?”
Shane nodded, happily and looked at Hayden with a smile. Hayden smiled back.
“He sent us invites, d'you know that? All the kids got one. Even Amber. Wanna know who he left out?”
Shane smiled and shook his head. “I'm guessing you didn't get one.”
“Ding ding, we have a winner! But I'm coming anyway. I wouldn't miss it for the world, bud.”
Shane smiled again at his mother's words on Hayden's lips and turned towards the room, the rink and its fancy tables. He noticed Jackie talking to one of their teammates. She smiled at Shane and he was about to go join her, Hayden in tow, when he heard Cliff Marleau's voice from a distance. He had a loud hearty voice that Shane knew from playing against him. He had played with Ilya for the Raiders and Shane knew Marleau to be attentive and kind. Sure, he had once sent him to the hospital, but he had apologized profusely in a well-formulated email the week after.
“You didn't fucking bring Rozy with you? Come on!” Marleau bellowed.
Shane looked in his direction. Ilya's former teammate was hugging someone. When Marleau stepped back, a woman smiled at the Raiders forward and shook her head, red curls moving along with it. Shane didn't hear her answer but when she turned her face and her crown of hair towards him, he took in a sharp breath and opened his mouth. His body was refusing any and all commands and he stood transfixed. Hayden bumped into him.
“Fuck,” Shane said before moving again. He hurried towards Jackie with a glance at the woman who was still looking at him with an amused smile.
He had seen so many pictures of her and yet nothing had truly prepared him to actually see her. She had usually been standing side by side with Ilya in these pictures and Shane half expected him to appear now. Next to her. He had once seen a photograph of them sitting together in a club. Him sprawled on a comfortable chair and her perched on his lap. It wasn't the worst picture. The one that had kept Shane awake for far too long, the one that had made the pit of his stomach freeze over, showed them dancing and kissing on a dancefloor. 'Ilya Rozanov from the Boston Raiders and his girlfriend on the dancefloor at SKY club.'
Shane had had no right to be jealous at the time. Ilya and him had been nothing to each other, really. Merely acquaintances that enjoyed fucking from time to time. But the word 'girlfriend' had stirred something in him, something he had not wanted to entertain. Something he had finally accepted when Rose, his bubblegum girlfriend like Ilya called her, had saved him from his own prejudices.
He felt a hand wrap around his bicep and frowned.
“Come back to us, Shane.”
He shook his head and breathed in. He glanced at Jackie who was stroking his arm, slowly, with a smile. Hayden was frowning next to her. Shane looked towards Marleau and the woman and lowered his eyes to the floor once more. His breath stuttered. You're having panic attack, Hollander. Ilya could always tell.
“Fuck... I can't breathe...”
“Of course, you can, hon'. Come with me.”
Jackie walked him to their table and he sat heavily on a chair. She took his hand while he loosened his tie.
“Why don't you tell me about Ottawa's latest stats?” Jackie ran her other hand over his forearm, grounding him.
He looked at her and managed to control the stutter in his breath. He breathed in deeply and bit his lip, shaking his head.
“Not good... It's not good. They... They...” Shane closed his eyes for a moment and started listing Ilya's games. “LA, two weeks ago, two to four. One to five in Tampa. Two to three against the Guardians. Detroit destroyed them... Ilya... He wasn't...” Shane shook his head. “Three to five against us. He scored a hat trick. He... He was pretty happy about that. But Boston was next and...”
Boston had been next and the Centaurs had lost. Miserably. Ilya had been invited to the Centennial anniversary event, too. Of course he had been. But he had refused the invitation, choosing instead to stay in Ottawa. Not hiding. Or so he had said. Shane was waiting for the end of the event to drive home. Not to his house, to Ilya. They could hide together. They were good at that.
Shane straightened in his chair and inhaled. The chill in the air wasn't as grounding as thinking about Ilya was, but it eased his anxiety further. Not completely.
“Are you okay?” Jackie asked with a smile.
Shane nodded.
“Who is she?”
Shane looked over Jackie's shoulder and saw her again. Svetlana. She was laughing at something someone was telling her. He bit his lip and brought his fingers to his eyelid. Pulling at his eyelashes wasn't ideal, but it was an anxious impulse Shane had never managed to quell. If Ilya had been there, he would have taken Shane's hand gently in his, and would have kissed his fingertips. He looked at Jackie, at her mouth, and frowned.
“Uh... Sergei Vetrov's daughter. He... He was a goalie for Boston.”
Jackie opened her mouth and touched Shane's hand. She had heard the stories about Sergei Vetrov's daughter, too. The stories about Svetlana Vetrova and her boyfriend, Ilya Rozanov.
She nodded. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to call-” Shane stopped for a second. Ilya's first name came too naturally now, and he had to force the professionally adequate name out into the rink air. “I want to call Rozanov... but he's... I don't want to bother him with that. I'm being immature,” Shane said with a fake smile. “I'm fine. I'm sorry I made you worry, Jackie.”
“I can text him, if you want.”
“No... It's dumb. I'm being fucking stupid. Don't worry about it.” Shane touched his lips, and then dropped his hand to his lap.
“Shane. It's normal to feel bad when you see your bo-, your partner's ex-girlfriend. I hate What's-her-name and Hayden has been married to me for years. I still hate her.”
“Her name is Mary.”
“Oh, I know her name! Believe me! I hate her. I'm just saying... You're not stupid. You're just normal.”
Shane nodded and bit his lip again. He didn't feel normal. He felt like he was going to die, and then, hopefully, magically, wake up in Ilya's arms. He closed his eyes and imagined Ilya was wrapping him into the tightest of hugs. Shane sighed and opened his eyes.
“I'm normal,” he said, nodding.
“Yep! Can I leave you alone? Hayden is going to...” She nodded towards Hayden who had three bottles of beer in his hands. “He's going to get so drunk he's going to want to call What's-her-name again.”
Shane chuckled.
“Jackie... I told you. He called her once to say he was happily married and he had the most beautiful wife and children. Word for word. And besides, I think she hung up, like, ten seconds in.”
“Right! Still... I need to leash the . Ok?”
Shane smiled and nodded. When she left, his smile disappeared as fast as it had been put on. He turned his head towards the picture he actually wouldn't mind having in his apartment. Ilya was so fucking happy on it. Shane was too. They both were. These days, the distance was sometimes unbearable, and Ilya's struggles with his team had turned a hopeful plan into a complicated reality. Ilya didn't talk about it. He never talked about things that were too difficult or too Russian for Shane to understand.
But in their beds, in Montreal or in Ottawa, Ilya was still happy. In their bed at the cottage, Ilya was happier. Shane smiled softly at the picture and Ilya smiled back.
Shane had to stay till the end of the event. The Metros management had made it compulsory, he knew, but he wondered if he could just lea-
Shane pinched his lips together and turned slowly towards the voice, towards the woman it belonged to. Svetlana.
Shane nodded, once. He gulped and she chuckled. He blinked and touched his lips again. She was sitting where Jackie had sat a minute ago and she looked like she owned the place.
Her Russian was different than Ilya's. Softer and somewhat even more mocking. Shane understood it all. She had made the sounds clear and the words simple. Shane nodded again.
“You know who I am, right?” she asked.
He could lie. Probably not. But he wondered if Ilya would prefer it if he tried. Instead, Shane straightened on his chair.
“Uh... I do.”
“Then why are you scared?”
Shane had expected her to have traces of a Russian accent. Some foreign As or Ws. But Shane also knew her mother was American and that she was too. The only accent she had was American.
“I'm not.” Shane blurted out.
“You look scared.”
“I'm not! I just...” Shane shrugged and she smiled.
She was beautiful. Even Shane could see that. You'd have to be absolutely completely blind not to see that. Shane couldn't blame Ilya for wanting her. Did he still? Shane didn't know why Ilya was keeping him from meeting her or from knowing her. He assumed that Ilya felt bad for fucking her all that time and didn't want them to meet. But perhaps he was wrong. Maybe Ilya wanted to keep her to himself. Just in case.
“He told me once that he was tired of people who took too long to say what they meant. I thought he meant his brother, then. But I'm thinking... maybe it was you.”
Shane bit his lip and looked around.
“You're not scared but you just...?” she offered.
“I... Hm... I...” Shane looked at her and shuddered. Fuck. “I don't think we should meet. Uh... He...” Shane looked around again, hoping to find an escape. “He doesn't want us to, I think.”
“No,” she scrunched her nose up. “He's keeping you for himself. And it's not fair, Shane Hollander! To me!”
Shane closed his mouth in a tight line. He looked at her shoulder. Not that it was a particularly interesting shoulder but her piercing eyes were getting to be too much for him.
Shane nodded and said, “Of course.”
“I know what it means. I just... Why?”
“You are too worried. And you've never been able to hide it on the ice. The other teams, they can see it too, Shane.”
“I'm not worried,” Shane frowned.
“Oh no? Distracted, maybe? That only happens when Ilya is on the ice with you, though. Are you tired?”
“How do you... I'm not tired. How do you know I'm distracted when-” Shane moved his hand through the air, “Rozanov?”
“I have eyes, Shane. And I know him and he's also very distracted.” She leaned towards him and smiled. “When he scores against Montreal, his eyes go to you first. He thinks he can hide it well, but no-oh... Not from me at least.”
Shane lowered his eyes to the tablecloth. How long had she known about Ilya and him? Did Ilya know? Shane knew that Ilya refused to talk to her about their relationship, but Ilya knew that Svetlana was aware anyway. Had she figured it out before them?
“So, Shane Hollander. What is wrong with you?”
Shane looked up and opened his mouth.
“Nothing is wrong with me... I mean... Not with Il-”
“Oh. No! Not with him. I meant on the rink. Something is wrong. Your team is not playing with you or for you.”
Shane blushed. Was it that obvious to everyone or just her? The energy in the Metros locker room had changed since Shane had shared his sexual orientation with the team. Is it actually visible in the way we're playing, too? Fuck... Shane scanned the room. Hayden had abandoned Jackie for a glass of champagne and was now talking to Ryan Hammersmith from the Raiders team. Jackie was looking at Shane and Svetlana while keeping an eye on her husband. She locked eyes with him and smiled. He nodded almost imperceptibly, but she understood what he was telling her. 'I'm ok.' He looked back at Svetlana and she carried on.
“I told Ilya about it and he shrugged. I heard the shrug on the telephone, Shane! And then he laid it on thick about Hayden Pike, but he sounded sort of affectionate? I guess? Is he also in love with Pike?”
“No. Just...” Shane closed his eyes and then looked at her. “Just me.”
She smiled like she had just won something, and she had. She had won the information Ilya had kept from her. She had known for however long, but Shane doubted Ilya had ever acknowledged it with actual words. Not to make their love less than what it was, but to protect. Ilya had promised to protect their secret until his last breath if he had to. This was what it was. Shane realized as he looked at her that Ilya was keeping him from her, rather than the other way around. He was protecting. He was keeping her away. Shane frowned as his brain worked through the truth.
“Hey buddy! You good?” Hayden sat on Shane's other side, with a dazed smile on his face and a hand on Shane's shoulder.
“Yeah... This is Svetlana, Il- Rozanov's f-friend.”
“Right! Vetrov, right? Your dad played for Boston.”
“Vetrova, yes. Shane was telling me Montreal's aiming for a third Cup this year. He has big p-”
“You don't have...” Shane interrupted, nervously, shaking his head. “You don't have to lie. Hayden knows.”
“He knows? Him?”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence, ma'am. What do I know?” Hayden slurred, with a smile.
“Him??” She extended her hand towards Hayden, shock clear on her face. Shane looked at her and frowned. He turned to Hayden and removed the champagne glass from his hand.
“About Rozanov,” Shane answered Hayden and ignored Svetlana.
“Oh yeah! I'm Shane's... Well 'you'. I'm like you but for Shane.”
Svetlana looked at Hayden with big offended eyes and shook her head. “No...”
“Yeah! You figured it out, right? By yourself! Like me!” Hayden sounded too proud. And too loud.
“Jackie, that's his wife, she helped,” Shane amended.
“Come on, dude!” Hayden said, vexed and drunk.
“Oh god, you people are boring...”
“Who are you calling 'boring'?” Hayden was a protective drunk. Hayden was a protective friend.
Boring. Ilya called Shane 'boring' most days. He could do it everyday forever and Shane would never mind. Ilya had poured so much love into it all these years that he had changed the meaning. When Svetlana said it, though, the meaning was meant. It wasn't a chirp or a compliment. It was a fact. It had become Shane's worst nightmare: actually being boring. Boring enough for Ilya to realise that more was waiting elsewhere. Easier things, simpler things. More exciting ones.
“You, Pike! I'm calling you 'boring'.”
“Fuck you! I'm not boring.”
“Hayden!” Shane admonished, turning to Hayden who was reclining against his chair, an angry look on his face. Hayden folded his arms over his chest and shook his head.
“Please stop,” Shane said and Hayden shrugged. Shane glanced at Svetlana and back at Hayden, but his eyes landed on the colorful picture once more. On Ilya.
For as long as he could remember, Shane would always see Ilya in the rooms they had been in, however big or crowded. His eyes had always been drawn to him. If he had allowed it, his body would have too. He would have crossed the distance and leaned into the man he had always loved. At their first MLH awards event, when Shane had won the Rookie of the Year award. Or at the last, when neither of them had won anything but they had fucked senseless. If he had let his body be drawn to Ilya's, Shane would have found him everywhere and would have kissed him in front of everybody. Should have kissed him. They had wasted so much fucking time pretending. They still were.
“He came home late that night.”
Shane turned back towards Svetlana at the sound of her voice. He could feel the blush spread from his ears to his cheeks.
“That night?”
She nodded towards the picture and Shane looked at it again. He smiled as he realized Hayden had closed his eyes next to him, but frowned as he remembered her words. Dread and jealousy filling his heart.
“Came home?”
“Hmhm... I was waiting for him. I wanted to surprise him. He came in with a spring in his step!” She smiled.
“You... Hm... You slept together af- after?” Shane's voice was tighter than what he wanted it to be. Ilya had fucked him in his hotel room that night. He had kissed him so tenderly that Shane had freaked out for a second before being pounded into the mattress enthusiastically. Ilya had kissed him tenderly after, too.
“Oh no! No... He was so into Jane that he wouldn't touch me, hadn't touched me for months, actually... I hated her.”
“And now?”
Svetlana shrugged and smiled.
“I'm revising my judgment, Jane Hollander.”
Shane huffed a laugh and shook his head. He bit his lip and glanced at Hayden next to him. He looked up at her and saw that she was still looking at him. Almost scientifically. She was revising her judgment, here, on the covered rink.
She smiled and asked, “Do you have questions?”
“Questions?”
“About me and Ilya?”
Shane closed his mouth and his eyes faltered, falling on the table again rather than her face. He nodded twice.
“Yeah... But I don't really want the answers.”
“Can I tell you something anyway?” She said smiling.
Shane nodded again.
“I lied. I've never really hated Jane. I was angry for a while because, I mean, Ilya loves hard.”
She stopped for a second and giggled. Shane laughed too. They laughed together and Shane hid his smile behind his hand.
“Did you hear him laugh in your head too?” Svetlana asked, still laughing.
“Yeah.”
“Ah, god! What a moron! Anyway, Ilya loves hard.” She smiled. “He loves too much once he does. Sometimes people don't deserve it and I was worried Jane was one of those. I thought she was playing him.”
“I-” Shane closed his mouth, shaking his head.
She nodded. “I know. I thought Jane was making him wait for some reason. And I thought he was ready to settle down. It felt like it.” She smiled again and continued. “He has loved her for a long time, Shane. Even if he wasn't ready to admit it to himself.”
Shane inhaled deeply and blinked a few times. His eyes went up to the rafters.
“How long have you loved him?” Svetlana asked softly.
He looked at her again, ripping his eyes away from the ceiling. He shrugged.
“We haven't tried to figure it out, really. We're just too happy to be together, I guess. Finally.”
“You've thought about it, though, right? You must have.”
He nodded. He breathed in deeply and looked at the Centre Bell's stands standing in darkness around them. Ilya had once sat high on a stand, looking down at Shane. A lifetime ago. Shane had felt it then, or possibly before. He had felt the attraction, the need to touch Ilya in any way possible. He had been too scared to see it for what it was, to act on it. If it had not been for Ilya's perseverance, nothing would have been possible. Not their love, not their dreams, not their future. Without Ilya, nothing was possible.
“I've always loved him, I think. I... I just didn't know.”
Shane felt a tear catch on his eyeline and turned towards Svetlana, pinching his eyelashes in-between his fingers.
Shane nodded slowly and bit his lip. He huffed a laugh. “It's crazy to talk about... about Rozanov, about us, here.”
“Because people might hear?” Svetlana asked.
“Because it's where I love him the most.” Shane sighed. “Well... Not anymore... I-”
Shane looked out into the distance and smiled a small smile. He pictured Ilya sleeping in the bed at the cottage, mouth open, morning light dancing on his face. He saw him laugh in his parents' living room and cook in Shane's kitchen. Ilya laying in the grass, Ilya jumping in the lake. Shane's smile curved more as the images came and he didn't feel the need to hide it. He sighed happily and bit his lip, eyes back on Ilya's smiling best friend.
“You have a day off tomorrow, right?” she asked.
Shane nodded.
“Are you going to Ottawa?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I'm coming with you.”
“I'm driving,” Shane blurted out.
“Yes?”
“It's... It's, like, two hours.”
She smiled. “Yes, Shane. I know. Ilya likes driving but nobody spends that much time in a car for just anybody.”
“Ily-... He won't like it.”
“I think he will! We're his favorite people. You more than me obviously but I'm OK with it.”
“He doesn't want me to meet you.”
“No, Shenya... He doesn't want me to meet you. He's being stupid. But now we've met, so too bad for him. We can gang up on him, too. It's going to be fun!”
Shane huffed a laugh, but shook his head. He frowned. Ilya didn't need anyone to gang up on him. He was sad and hiding in Ottawa. He had asked to be left alone, but Shane couldn't just leave him to his tortured thoughts. But bringing Svetlana, too? He'll hate me. Shane sighed.
“I'm leaving tonight. I... I have to take Hayd and Jackie home and then I'm leaving.
“Great! And then you'll come pick me up at my hotel.”
She wasn't about to let it go. She squinted at him and smiled.
“Stop being scared! He's going to be fine.”
Shane inhaled. “Have you seen the game against Boston?”
“Of course, I have! Who do you think I am, Shane Hollander?”
“He's blaming himself.”
“So he is hiding. I know. I've known him longer than you, Jane.”
Shane froze and lowered his eyes to the table. He nodded slowly. She had known Ilya far longer than him. Ilya had said 'forever' when Shane had asked for a date, a specific dot on a timeline. They were childhood friends and she knew him better than Shane. She had been there when Ilya's mom had died, when his father had been buried. Had she known about the coach's son, too? The one Ilya had fooled around with back in Russia? She certainly knew about Ilya's sexual needs. She knew how to fulfill them, too.
Shane felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and turned his head towards Jackie, who was smiling politely at Svetlana. She pressed Shane's shoulder and looked at him, a question on her face. The one she was always asking: 'are you okay?' Shane nodded. Jackie moved to Hayden and caressed the top of his head. She pressed a kiss to his hair. He stirred but did not open his eyes. Looking at them Shane felt, as he usually did, that nothing about this was fair. He wanted this for Ilya and him. He wanted Ilya to kiss him in the middle of a room and not have anyone stare like they were fucking monsters. He wanted to run his hand through Ilya's curls and carry on with a random conversation. Jackie sat next to Hayden and looked at Svetlana. She leaned forward, extending a hand towards the other woman, with an open mouth.
“Oh my god! I love your bracelet!”
Shane blinked, his mouth open.
“Thank you! I like it too! I love your dress. Is it Oscar de la Renta?”
“No... I got it from La Baie!”
“La Baie? What is that?”
“La Baie d'Hudson. Just a store.”
“It looks great!”
“Thank you! You look great!”
“Thanks!”
Shane had looked at the two of them talking. The conversation, the collision of two worlds was surreal and completely unbelievable to witness. He wondered for a second if the drinks had been tampered with. Maybe the stale air of the rink was making him woozy somehow. He blinked and realized they were both looking at him now. He opened his mouth and closed it quickly. Svetlana giggled.
“Give me your phone, Shenya,” Svetlana said with a smile.
Shane nodded and retrieved it. He unlocked it and gave it to her. Shane's mind flashed back to the night Ilya had called himself Lily on his phone and he bit his lip. As he looked at her fingers running on the screen, he smiled, the left corner of his mouth curving slightly. She was Ilya's family as much as Jackie was his, and here she was, establishing herself in their lives. Not just Ilya's. Theirs.
While Ilya was trying to keep her away from him, Shane was too happy to let her in. Ilya might resent him for it, but at that moment, Shane felt that Ilya would never be fully himself if Svetlana wasn't around. She had known him forever and carried parts of Ilya that Shane could never completely understand.
She smiled and returned Shane's phone. “Text me when you are leaving Pike's house. I just texted you the address of my hotel.”
“Ok.”
“Good! A pleasure to meet you all. Even him.” She pointed to Hayden.
Jackie laughed. “Hey! He's alright when he's not drunk on champagne, ok?”
“Hm... Next time, keep him on beers. I need to talk to him about his side-fakes. You should probably get him home. I'd like to hear about him puking in Shenya's car, but it wouldn't be nice to the car.”
She stood and smiled at Jackie. “Don't let Shane go to Ilya's without me. I'm counting on you, Jackie Pike.”
Jackie rolled her eyes and nodded. Svetlana left with a wave of her hand.
“She seems nice.”
“She is worse than Ilya. Can everyone just read what's in my head?” Shane asked.
“Well... Not all of it... But yeah...” Jackie said with a smile. “I mean... Those that know you, I guess. “
“Great.” Shane sighed and stood up. “Let's get Hayd home. And then... Then, I'll get to spend two fucking long hours with Ilya's ex... I'm so lucky.”
Jackie smiled. “So lucky!”