Chapter Text
Vika- age 16
Dasha- age 14
Maks- age 9
It was Shane’s favorite part of the day. He looked across the table at his three kids, who all still insisted on sitting on the bench together, even though they were squished together, elbows hitting each other as they shoveled pasta into their mouths. He took a bite of his salad and tried to fight back a smile as he chewed. How did he get so lucky?
Ilya seemed to know what he was thinking, and reached over to give his leg a little squeeze under the table. “Dashenka, your food is not going to run away from you, slow down.” Ilya scolded as he a gave a little chuckle. Dasha just grinned and wiped her face with the napkin.
Dasha was Ilya’s child through and through. Not only did she look like him, with her golden waves and mischievous smile, but she was their wild child. Whenever she was giving them a particularly hard time, Shane would tell Ilya it was his karma for all of the times in his past that he had been an asshole. Now, at 14, Dasha was not only a menace in their home, but also a menace on the ice. She was a force to be reckoned with, and had been ever since she put on her first pair of skates. Of course she was skating by age 2, always wanting to keep up with her big sister. People were amazed when they saw her teetering around the rink, blonde curls sticking out of her helmet. Then they would see Shane or Ilya scoop her up after a fall, and think, well, I guess that makes sense. Although Shane and Ilya secretly joked about how much trouble Dasha could cause, she was also loving and compassionate. As much as she teased her siblings, she also fiercely defended them, or anyone who wasn’t being treated fairly. She had a soft spot for animals, and had once convinced her Papa to pull over on the side of the road and capture a tiny kitten that she had spotted wandering dangerously close to the curb. In elementary school, she had won the “Biggest Heart” award, and at the award ceremony her teacher detailed all the things that Dasha had done over the course of the year to help her teachers and classmates. Naturally, Ilya had cried. Dasha was so like Ilya in the way that she could be devilish in one second, and the biggest sweetheart the next.
Shane shook his head, remembering the infamous day that his parents had met Ilya, and how at that dinner, Ilya was shoveling pasta into his mouth not unlike his daughter was tonight. “It’s a compliment to your cooking, Papa!” Dasha replied. “If it wasn’t this good, then I wouldn’t be eating it like this!”
“Ah,” Ilya murmured. “So it's my fault.” The kids giggled, and Shane and Ilya shared a fond look. Their happy laughter was the best sound in the world.
Shane cleared his throat. “Remember, this weekend we’re filming the special. So after dinner let’s do some clean up so our house isn’t a mess for the cameras tomorrow.” The kids groaned. Internally Ilya groaned with them. He didn’t dare groan aloud. “Let’s make a check-list. That’ll make it quick and easy. We’ll divide and conquer.” He looked at his oldest daughter. “Vika, pick your poison.”
Viktoria pursed her lips, deciding on what task she would pick. Shane studied the light smattering of freckles that dotted her cheeks. Their first born daughter had his dark hair and eyes, and was practical and disciplined like him, but had all the best parts of Ilya as well. She was caring, charming, and competitive, and it seemed like somehow Shane and Ilya had actually combined their DNA to make this child. They always said that she was the perfect first baby, so easy that it tricked them into thinking all kids were this easy. (When Dasha followed a little over a year and a half later they learned the truth.) Vika was the best big sister to her siblings, a true first born daughter that kept the household in check, and set the precedent for the Hollander-Rozanov kids on the ice. Sometimes Shane couldn’t believe the things that his daughter could do when he watched her play hockey. She was so smart on the ice, and often made opponents look silly in the way that only great players can do. Viktoria’s words broke through Shane’s thoughts. “I’ll do the laundry. I’ll fold the stuff that’s in the dryer now, and I’ll grab everyone’s hampers from their rooms and start a new load.”
“Sounds good.” Shane replied.
“That is the easiest possible chore!” Dasha complained. “She picked that one so she can sit in front of the TV and watch Netflix while she folds.”
Ilya shrugged. “So hard being younger sibling. What chore do you want malyshka?”
Dasha smiled innocently. “I’ll take Misha for a walk so he’s not in the way while everyone’s cleaning.”
“Ha!” Ilya chuckled. “Nice try. Does not count. You get one more chance before Maksim gets to choose before you.”
“No!” Dasha quickly relented. “I’ll vacuum.”
“Good choice.” Shane smiled and turned to their son. “Maksie?”
Maksim was their youngest child, and the only boy. If people thought that Dasha looked like Ilya, then Maksim was his clone. His soft blond curls and green eyes melted everyone’s hearts. Ilya didn’t have many of his childhood photos, but he had brought home an album the last time they visited Russia, filled with pictures of him and his brother. It was the last album his mother had made before she passed, which put Ilya just a little older than Maks, who was nine. But they were identical. The girls actually thought Ilya was pulling a prank on them when they saw the pictures, thinking Ilya had somehow edited pictures of Maksim to trick them. Although Maks took after Ilya in the looks department, he was actually much more like Shane. He was shy and sweet, and one of his favorite places was their local library where he could curl up in a bean bag and read for hours. He loved wandering around the science and history museum with Shane and his grandpa, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere and reading the signs at each exhibit. He still wanted his Dad and Papa to read him a story and tuck him in each night, and Shane and Ilya loved that their youngest child wasn’t in a hurry to grow up. People sometimes suspected that because Maksim wasn’t as outgoing or outwardly competitive as his sisters that he didn’t enjoy hockey. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Maks was like Shane in the way that he let quiet confidence guide him on the ice. He didn’t showboat or brag, but scored goal after goal with a small but assured grin. He was very superstitious for a nine year old, and a had a ritual that he performed each game day. If it weren’t for the fact that Maksim was Ilya’s twin, Shane might wonder if the sperm had gotten mixed up at the IVF clinic, and his had gotten used instead.
Maks smiled sweetly. “I’ll clean up the kitchen with Papa. Then I can wear the gloves.” Unlike Shane, who hated doing the dishes as the leftover food severely grossed him out, Maks loved putting on the kitchen gloves and feeling the hot water on his hands without actually getting them wet. Since it was well known that their dad did not like doing the dishes, Ilya was usually on kitchen clean up duty.
Ilya stood up to take his bowl to the dishwasher. “Spasibo Maksimka.” He kissed the top of his soft golden curls and took Shane’s bowl as well.
Shane stood up. “Okay. Up and at ‘em! Once everyone is done with their chores we can do ice cream.” The kids all headed off in different directions to do their chore of choice. Shane headed to the living room to clean up the random items that had accumulated there over the course of the day. He moved room to room, organizing and finding homes for each thing that was out of place. They had a cleaning lady, Lupe, who came once a week to make sure the house stayed in good shape, so there wasn’t too much of a mess. Shane used to roll his eyes at people who said their hired help was “family,” but Lupe had been with them since Viktoria was born, and at this point, she was family. She was getting up there in age, but was still as spry as a spring chicken. Shane still remembered the way she danced at her daughter’s quinceñera shortly after Dasha was born. She would often bring treats over for the kids, and Maksim loved listening to her stories from her childhood in Mexico.
A little while later, all chores were done and the family gathered on the couch, bowls of ice cream in hand. Of course Shane had his special protein ice cream which everyone made fun of him for, and everyone else had cookie dough. With Viktoria and Dasha being 16 and 14 respectively, and Maksim being 9, sometimes it was hard to get them all to agree on something to watch. Luckily at dinner they had already agreed on an episode of “Growing Up Animal” a Discovery Channel series that featured all kinds of baby animals figuring out how to survive in the wild. This show usually provided lots of opportunities for the kids to shout out, “That’s Dad!” or “That’s Papa!” when a particularly funny looking animal came upon the screen.
When the show ended and the bowls were empty, it was time for bed. “We’ve gotta get up early tomorrow, crew.” Shane told the kids. “I think they’re going to be arriving here at 8:00 to get ready to start filming.”
“8:00!” The girls screeched, indignant that they would have to be out of bed that early for something that wasn’t hockey.
Maksim covered his ears and Ilya gave the girls a warning look. He scooped Maks off the couch and held him like a baby, rocking him dramatically and swinging him back and forth. He spoke in Russian. “My baby boy Maksimka! He is so tired! I have to carry him up to bed!” Maks giggled hysterically.
“We’re trying to get them to bed, not rile them up.” Shane said, heaving himself off the couch as well. He kissed both of the girls on the tops of their heads and gathered all the ice cream bowls to throw in the dishwasher for the final cycle of the night. It was Ilya’s night to read with Maksim, so Shane did all the final nightly routines while Ilya and the children headed upstairs. He let Misha out into the yard while he dumped the cats’ food into their dishes. He gave them both a scratch under the chin, and then stepped outside to make sure Misha was actually doing his business and not just chasing fireflies. He took a deep breath. Tomorrow, there would be a film crew at their house to film “A Weekend with the Hollanders.” In actuality, the family used the hyphenated version “Hollander-Rozanov,” but ESPN had decided that would not flow for the title. Of course Ilya had scoffed at this, wondering why they couldn’t call it “A weekend with the Rozanovs.” Shane had jokingly replied that Canada loved him more.
This was the first time since retirement that they were allowing a glimpse into their private life. Vika had been six then, and Dasha 4. Shane and Ilya were both very private, and after their big retirement ceremony, had decided to step away from the spot light to welcome a new baby and raise their children. When ESPN approached them with the idea of a peek into their life as the 10th anniversary of their retirement approached, they agreed. Apparently everyone was curious as to how the two biggest hockey rivals turned lovers’ lives had turned out. Go figure.
-- -- --
The phone alarm chimed quietly on the bedside table. Shane, who had become more of a light sleeper since having kids, awoke and reached blindly for his phone. A lucky tap snoozed the alarm, and Shane sat up slowly and found his glasses that were next to his phone on the nightstand. Over the years his vision had worsened, requiring him to switch from just reading glasses to a real prescription. Not that Ilya minded of course. Shane mostly wore contacts, but would wear his glasses around the house when he didn’t feel like putting them in.
Ilya rolled over and reached for Shane. He pulled him close and kissed him sweetly. Shane smiled. “Are you going to run with me, or sleep a little longer?”
Ilya sighed sleepily. “Should probably run. I do not think that I will get another chance to work out today since we will be filming.”
Shane nodded. “I’m not sure what the plan is. When I talked to the guy last week, he said that we don’t have to have anything special planned, they just want to see how we live our lives as regular people.” He was out of bed now, and stepped out of the boxers he had slept in to get changed for his run. Ilya eyed his body hungrily as Shane stepped into their closet to get dressed. He briefly considered the possibility of staying in bed and touching himself to the image of Shane’s smooth, toned body, but Shane’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. “C’mon babe, you’ll regret it later if you don’t go. And Misha is always better behaved if you’re with us.”
Ilya stretched, got out of bed, and headed to the closet. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.” He smiled to himself cheekily. Or at least I wish I was, he thought. Shane seemed to read his thoughts and gave his butt a little slap.
“Maybe later if you’re well behaved on the run too.” He grinned at Ilya as he exited the closet and headed towards the doorway. “I’m gonna stretch for a few minutes and then I’ll be ready.”
Ten minutes later they were running a trail that snaked through the woods behind their private neighborhood. It was one of the things that Shane had loved about it, almost 10 kilometers of private trails that could only be accessed through their gated community. Quiet and secluded, it was the perfect place to run and not have to worry about anyone interrupting his workout or trying to take pictures from afar. Misha, who was a giant white cloud of a dog, loved it as well. They had gotten Misha as a puppy from the shelter when he was only a few weeks old. The shelter estimated that he would grow to be about 60 pounds. Shane figured that was perfect, about the size of Anya, their previous dog. Turns out, they were very wrong. Misha was apparently a Great Pyrenees mix, and was well over a hundred pounds. He was getting a little older now, at 8 years old, but still loved his trail runs in the morning.
Today Ilya and Shane were running one of the shorter trails, a five kilometer loop. As they saw the trail head in the distance, Shane dropped the leash. “Race you to the finish line?” He panted. Ilya just nodded. After all these years, they still loved to compete. “Ready, set, go!” Shane yelled, breaking into a full sprint. Misha’s bright pink tongue flapped in the wind as he ran right beside him. Ilya upped his pace, passing Shane and touching the trail marker a second before his husband did.
“Still can't beat me” Ilya joked. Shane just shook his head and breathed heavily as he fell into step next to him. Shane unclipped Misha’s leash from the collar and let him run back to the house, which was now coming into view. He checked his watch. 6:30.
“We’ve got 30 minutes til we have to wake the kids up.” He wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead and met Ilya’s eyes.
Ilya raised his eyebrows. “My reward.”
They quietly let themselves in through the back door and crept toward their bedroom. The girls would be sound asleep, but they didn’t want to wake Maksim, their earliest riser.
Ilya closed the bedroom door behind them and turned the lock with a sharp, final click. He turned to face his husband, watching the way Shane’s chest heaved under his damp shirt. “I wish we had more time,” Ilya whispered, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that always made Shane’s pulse spike. He didn't wait for an answer. He stepped into Shane’s space, palming him through the thin fabric of his athletic shorts.
Shane didn't waste time with words. He grabbed Ilya by the back of the neck and pulled him into a hard, demanding kiss that tasted like salt and desperation. He rutted blindly into Ilya’s hand, a low growl catching in the back of his throat.
Ilya yanked Shane’s shorts down and pushed him back onto the bed. He settled between Shane’s knees, taking him into his mouth. This was one of Ilya’s favorite things to do. He loved the power of it, the way he could reduce the most composed man he knew to a shaking, vocal mess. He sucked Shane’s cock with a practiced, rhythmic hunger, his eyes never leaving Shane’s face. He watched the way Shane’s head thrashed back, the way his fingers tangled in the bedsheets, and most importantly, the broken, hitched sounds Shane made when he was losing control. When Shane finally buckled, his hips lifting off the bed as he came, Ilya stayed with him through every tremor.
A moment later, Ilya pulled back, swallowing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a dark, triumphant spark in his eyes. “My turn,” he drawled.
The air in the room felt twice as thick as Shane reached for him, pulling Ilya down to return the favor. There was no hesitation, only the deep, intuitive knowledge of exactly how Ilya liked to be touched, how much pressure to use, and when to speed up. It was a language they had perfected over almost 30 years.
When the final rush took Ilya, he collapsed forward, burying his face in the crook of Shane’s neck as his breath came in jagged gasps. They lay there for a long minute, limbs heavy and tangled, the only sound the distant barking of Misha outside and the hum of the air conditioning. “Shower?” Shane murmured, running a hand through Ilya’s sweaty curls.
Their shower was huge, probably bigger than some people’s whole bathroom, and it had several shower heads, sprayers, jets, you name it. They scrubbed their bodies and hair as they discussed the plan for the morning. Then they toweled off and threw on some clean boxers and shorts to start the day.
Ilya quietly padded up the stairs. He had drawn the short straw of waking up the girls. He knocked softly on Vika’s door before entering. “Vikochka” he murmured as he slowly pulled open the curtains. He spoke softly in Russian as he sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s time to get up, my sunshine.”
Viktoria rolled over and covered her eyes to block the sunlight. “Nyet papa” she replied. “Too early.” Ilya kissed the top of her head and ran a hand over her dark locks as if to smooth down her bed head.
“Might want to shower. Or run a brush through this” he said, making a face. “You know, cameras being around and all.”
Vika shoved him playfully. “Hopefully they give you some makeup to hide your wrinkles.”
Ilya mocked offense. “And you’re supposed to be my nice daughter!” He stood up and opened the curtains a little further. “No, you’re beautiful, Vika. Just like your daddy.”
Viktoria wrinkled her nose. She was 16 for god’s sake, it was gross for him to say daddy. Ilya seemed to know what she was thinking. “Malyshka, don’t grow up on me.”
“Too late for that” she replied, reaching for her phone and tugging it from the charger.
“Be downstairs in 10 minutes?” Ilya asked as he exited her room. She nodded and he headed next door to his younger daughter’s room.
Again, he knocked softly before entering. “Lisichka” he whispered, repeating his routine of gently pulling open the curtains. Shane always laughed at the nicknames Ilya had for their children. It was a Russian thing, all the silly nicknames, and Shane, never having a nickname, didn’t necessarily get it, but loved it nonetheless. Lisichka was “little fox,” a nickname that suited Dasha very well.
Dasha still didn’t stir as Ilya sat on the side of her bed. She had always been the deepest sleeper out of their three children. He rubbed her back gently and murmured to her in Russian. Finally after a few minutes she began to stir and rub her eyes sleepily. Ilya suddenly wished he could scoop her up in his arms like he used to. He told her as much, and she laughed. “You couldn’t if you tried” she replied in her perfect Russian.
Now, Ilya couldn't resist a challenge. “You think I’m weak? You think an MVP and Stanley Cup winner cannot lift a small girl?” He chirped back, the Russian words firing off his tongue.
Dasha braced herself, trying to make herself as limp and heavy as possible. But Ilya could lift Shane, who was almost 100 pounds heavier than Dasha, so she was no match for him. Ilya hoisted her over his shoulder and marched her downstairs.
Shane rolled his eyes as Ilya dumped her onto the couch. “I don’t even want to know,” he murmured as Ilya came up behind him to wrap him in a hug.
“I win.” Ilya said simply as Dasha fake glared at him from the couch. He breathed in the fresh scent of the mint and eucalyptus body wash Shane used and kissed him gently.
“Blegh! Too early for PDA.” Dasha groaned from the couch.
“Oh, your fathers love each other and have happy marriage. My steak is too juicy. My lobster is too buttery.” Ilya replied, still hanging on to Shane.
“Who taught you that? Vika?” Dasha rolled her eyes.
Shane had a confused look on his face.
Dasha helped him connect the dots. “It means like if you’re in a good situation but you’re still complaining. Like fake complaining to say how good you have it.”
Shane nodded. “Ah. I like that one, I’ll have to remember it.” He sat next to his daughter and gave her a poke. “We’re also in our own home, so I don’t think PDA applies, the P standing for public.”
Dasha shrugged, “Semantics….” She grinned. This was another Vika line she liked to pull, as it seems like no one would argue her point after she said it.
Shane couldn’t help but smile at her grinning face. She was so much like Ilya that sometimes it felt like his heart might burst with his overflowing love. Before Dasha was born he secretly was scared that he wouldn’t connect as well with the new baby because it wasn’t biologically his. Yes, he knew this was a dumb thought, and he knew it was just his anxiety ramping up about having another baby in the house, but it was still there in the back of his mind. But Dasha was like having another Ilya around, and Shane could never get enough of Ilya. Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. There were times that he needed a break from the two of them, their chaotic energy getting a little too much. And the screaming. Viktoria, even as a toddler did not throw many tantrums. Even as a three year old, she could be reasoned with. Dasha, not so much. She was even more stubborn than Ilya, and that was saying something. She was a very happy child, but the temper tantrums that seemed to come out of nowhere were like something he’d never seen before. Luckily they made it past those years, and it had been much smoother in recent years. There was still the occasional blow up, usually over something that she felt was unfair, either in hockey or with her siblings. She had spent many minutes in the penalty box, both on the ice and at home. (Shane thought he was clever calling their time out chair the penalty box.)
Dasha put her head on Shane’s shoulder. Both her and Maksim were very cuddly children, but getting into her teenage years it was starting to get more rare. Shane sat there for a minute with her, appreciating the quiet moment. “I’ve gotta wake Maksie up.” He said quietly, giving her a quick kiss on her head. He eyed the big Boston hockey shirt that she had been sleeping in. “And maybe you should get dressed. Don’t want them to think we’re Boston fans in this house.” He joked before heading up the stairs to Maksim’s room. He liked to sleep with the door cracked, so Shane gently pushed the door open wider and walked over to his son’s bed. He still had his race car bed, but he was starting to mention wanting a bigger bed like his sisters. To be totally honest, Maks hadn’t even really picked the race car bed, Ilya had. When he saw it at Pottery Barn he couldn’t resist. Maksim was a toddler then, just transitioning out of a crib and didn’t know the difference, so Ilya had convinced him that this was the coolest bed in the world, and really hyped it up for him.
As Shane got closer, he realized that Maks was already awake and was laying in bed reading his book, his little book light clipped to the back cover. Shane sat on his bed. “Good morning Maksie.” He said quietly, pulling his son’s attention away from his book.
“Hi Daddy,” he said, closing his book and clicking off his book light.
“I didn’t know you were awake already.” Shane said, smoothing down Maksim’s soft curls.
“Yellow light,” Maks said simply, pointing to his clock on the nightstand. Shane and Ilya had gotten this clock years ago, when Maks was having trouble staying in his bed at night. He often wanted to come sleep with them, or would just get out of bed extremely early, trying to start the day at an ungodly hour. The clock had three color settings, red: stay in bed, it’s time to be asleep, yellow: it’s okay to be awake, but you need to stay in your room, and green: it’s day time, you can come out now. This clock had saved their sanity, and they had programmed it not to turn to green until 7:30 AM to let them have some peace in the morning until then.
“Ahh.” Shane replied. “We’re getting up a little early today because of filming. How about you get dressed and brush your teeth so you’re ready when they arrive.”
Maks climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom. His pajamas were covered in hockey sticks and pucks, and had actually been Dasha’s when she was his age. Dasha rarely wore anything from the girls section as a kid, and even now lived her life mostly in athletic wear. Shane headed back downstairs, glancing at his watch. The film crew would be here any minute now.
Ilya was feeding the cats in the kitchen, chatting with both girls, who were now sitting at the kitchen island, dressed and ready for the day. They were talking quickly in Russian, using too much slang for Shane to grasp every word they were saying, but he understood enough to know they were talking about the latest season of Love Island. At this point in his life, he spoke Russian well, he knew enough to converse with his husband and children easily, but Russian was a hard language to have a total grasp on if you didn’t grow up speaking it. That was the main reason why they had made sure that their children’s first language was Russian. That was honestly how Shane improved his Russian the most, when Vika was born and Ilya switched to speaking in Russian 90% of the time. They say the best way to learn a language is to be immersed in it, and that was definitely true. By the time Dasha was born a year and a half later, Shane was confidently speaking Russian to both his daughters. Now that the kids were older, and fluent Russian speakers, Shane had switched back to mainly speaking in English to his children. Ilya almost always spoke Russian to them to make sure that they didn’t lose their grasp on the language. Shane loved the way his children could switch back and forth effortlessly between Russian and English, sometimes flowing between both languages in the same conversation.
He headed into the bedroom to grab shirts for himself and his husband. He pulled out a light blue shirt that had the logo for the Irina Foundation on it, and slipped it over his head. He found an Ottawa Centaurs shirt for Ilya, one of his favorites that was soft and faded. It looked vintage, but in reality it had been sent in a PR package a year or so ago when they were doing a promotional event at a game for their foundation. He slipped back out of their bedroom and walked back to the kitchen, throwing the shirt to Ilya. “Spasibo lyubimaya” Ilya murmured, pulling the shirt over his head. Maksim had joined the girls at the island, and was eating an apple that Ilya had cut up for him.
Just then the doorbell rang. “I guess they’re here.” Shane said. He glanced at himself in the mirror briefly as he went to answer the front door.
“Why am I kinda nervous?” Viktoria said from the kitchen. The girls bickered back and forth about whether or not they should be nervous as Shane unlocked the door and swung it open.
“Shane Hollander! Great to see you! Jake Adams, we spoke on the phone last week, so great to meet you in person. This is my crew.” He pointed to people as he named them. “James- he’s our sound guy, Naomi- our producer, Mike- one of our camera guys,” he continued down the list, naming the crew members and their jobs. “Sierra was right behind us, so she should be here any minute. Once she arrives we can do a quick debrief before we start filming.”
Sierra Perez was the same sportscaster who had done the special Shane and Ilya had filmed for their retirement, so it had felt right to have her back for this one. She would be the one leading interviews and had been working with Shane and Ilya to guide the special in the way they wanted it to go. A black Escalade pulled down their long driveway. “That must be her!” Jake said.
Sierra approached the door and greeted Shane with a hug. “Ready for this?” She asked.
“I hope so.” Shane answered with a smile.
With the whole crew here, they followed Shane into the house, down the hallway to the kitchen where the rest of the family waited. “Ilya, so nice to see you again,” Sierra said, also pulling him into a hug.
There was a few minutes of chatter and introductions before Naomi clapped her hands. “Shall we get started?”
The weekend flew by, the crew capturing the family dynamic perfectly. Between interview segments, clips of the family interacting and showcasing their life, and the kids hamming it up for the camera, it would make for a great special. Naomi also collaborated with Shane and Ilya to access photos and videos that they wanted to be included as well. They wrapped up and left on Sunday evening, promising to send over the film once it had been edited to make sure that the family approved of everything. Once they gave the go ahead, it would air on the anniversary of their retirement. Six weeks later, Shane and Ilya received an email with the file attached. They called the kids to the living room and Shane connected his laptop to the TV so they could watch.
The film started with footage from Shane and Ilya’s final Stanley Cup, a montage of amazing passes, goals, and intense checks on the ice. They showed Ilya and Shane lifting the cup into the air, and Sierra’s voice cut in. “10 years ago, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov won their final Stanley Cup together.” She went on to list all the impressive highlights of their careers, and clips of their games throughout the years flashed on the screen. “"They were the gold standard of the MHL: Hollander’s precision, Rozanov’s fire. For years, we watched them as rivals, then as teammates, and as something the hockey world had never seen before. When Shane and Ilya stepped into the light mid-career to announce they were together, the world held its breath—but the duo never missed a beat. They didn't just play through the noise; they silenced it, winning championships and MVP trophies as their authentic selves. They proved that you could be the face of the league and the love of each other’s lives all at once. But ten years ago, at the peak of their influence, they made a choice to trade the roar of the arena for the quiet of the suburbs. Today, the names Hollander and Rozanov are synonymous with a revolution in sports. But in a quiet neighborhood in Ottawa, they’ve spent the last decade answering to much simpler titles: Dad and Papa."
“Not exactly how I remember our coming out story,” Ilya whispered to Shane. “They forgot the part where Hayden outed us.”
Shane just shook his head. “It all worked out, didn’t it?”
Ilya raised his eyebrows. “Not what you said at the time.”
“Rose colored glasses, I guess,” Shane said, nudging his husband and kissing his temple.
The video faded and went quiet for a second before the scene of a lively kitchen filled the screen. Ilya was flipping pancakes while the kids chattered in Russian. Shane was cutting up fruit, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. The screen cut back to Shane and Ilya, sitting on their couch, Misha laying beside them with his head on Ilya’s knee. “It’s obvious that your life has changed a lot in the last 10 years.” Sierra started. “You were the biggest names in hockey, training day in and day out, and hockey being your sole focus, to now running your own little team.” She paused for a beat. “Every great team has a specific identity. If you were looking at the Hollander-Rozanov 'roster' today, how would you describe the roles of your three stars? Let’s start with the eldest—Viktoria."
A photo montage played, pictures of Vika as a baby in Shane and Ilya’s arms, her at their game in a Centaurs outfit, pictures from her own peewee hockey games in her little uniform. They keep playing, going in order as she is getting older as Shane’s voice comes in. “Vika is our leader. She is your typical oldest daughter, and definitely keeps us in line. I think she is smarter than both of us combined.” Shane shared a loving look with his husband. Ilya’s voice came in as clips of Vika playing hockey fill the screen. “She is very disciplined. She works hard so she can be the best, and it shows on the ice. I wish I was as skilled at 16. She plays like Shane, but I have corrupted her a little bit.” He laughed. “She knows how to get in her opponent’s head.”
Watching from the couch, Shane and Ilya looked over at Vika. “We are so proud of you, malyshka.” Ilya said as he gave her shoulder a little squeeze.
Now on the screen they have started showing photos of Dasha. Sierra’s voice chimes in again. “So if Viktoria is the team captain, tell me about Dasha.”
The video cut to Shane and Ilya looking at each other, grinning wildly. Ilya spoke first. “I can already hear Dasha yelling at us for saying Vika is captain and not her.”
Shane nodded. “Dasha is our most competitive child. She’s got that fire in her belly. We joke that Dasha is Ilya if he was a 14 year old girl and had even less of a filter.” They all laughed. More videos of Dasha filled the screen, starting with one of her looking impossibly tiny to be skating as well as she is.
“Dasha, like Viktoria is very talented and hard working, and she has the natural gift as well. She is very tough and physical player like me.” He chuckled. “She loves to chirp. Has gotten in a little bit of trouble, but I can’t discourage it, that’s hockey!”
Shane squeezed Dasha’s knee. “Did we do alright with your intro?”
Dasha nodded. “I like it so far.”
Then the video cut to Maksim, a tiny baby in Ilya’s arms. “And last, but certainly not least, tell us about Maksim.”
On the screen, Shane squeezed Ilya’s hand. Ilya smiled proudly. “Maks is the sweetest boy in the world. He is very different from his sisters.” A montage of pictures and videos played while the pair continued to talk about Maks.
“Out of our three kids, Maks definitely has the closest style of play to me.” Shane started. “He has a quiet obsession to be the best-“
“Unlike his sisters, who are very loud about being the best” Ilya cut in. They laughed for a second. “He is competitive, but he is a true team player. I think part of that comes from being the youngest, he doesn’t get his way all the time so he has to be adaptable.”
A picture of Maksim in his school uniform with a medal around his neck appeared on the screen. “I’ve heard Maks is different from his sisters in many ways. Can you tell me more about that?” Sierra asked.
“Our girls, while having many talents, are very singular minded in the way we were about hockey. They live, eat, breathe, and sleep hockey. It is the most important thing in life to them.” Shane said as pictures of the girls in their hockey uniforms flash, holding up trophies or medals. “Maksim loves hockey too, but in a different way. While hockey is the girls’ escape, he has other ones.”
The pair continued talking about their children as the scene transitions to an aerial shot of their home, showing off their impressive house, yard, and hockey facility that sits on their property. "Most retirees might settle for a nice garden or a quiet wood-shop," Sierra’s voiceover teased as the camera landed on a massive, sleek building behind the main house. "But when you have multiple Stanley Cups between you, your backyard looks a little different." The camera settled back on Sierra, who was walking with Shane, Ilya and the three kids down the path and up to the door of the impressive building. “So guys, tell us about this place we’re about to enter,” Sierra started, looking at the family, a curious expression on her face.
Ilya pulled open the front door and they all entered into a small front room that almost looked like a lobby. There was a desk, some chairs, and a TV hung on the wall above a fireplace. “This is the Hollander-Rozanov Hockey Complex” Shane answered simply, giving an almost sheepish smile to the camera as if he knows that this place is a lot to take in.
Dasha came into frame. “This is where we do a ton of our training. Come this way!” She took the lead and the group followed her through a set of double doors. They walked down a short hallway before coming up to two more sets of doors, labeled with the men’s and women’s bathroom signs. “These are our locker rooms. We always keep a set of skates and pads in here since we’re in here all the time.” They walked through the locker room, past the toilets, sinks, and showers. Dasha sat in the opening of her locker. A placard hung at the top, her name and number on it. Viktoria had a matching one in the locker next to it.
“So, what you might not know about our dads is that they are very bougie.” Viktoria joked. “This is only the beginning of it.” The camera zoomed in on all the details, the tiles on the floor that spelled out the family’s last name, the hot and cold tubs that were in the “men’s” locker room, and the special compartments for all their hockey gear. They showed the state of the art gym, which was two stories, the bottom floor containing free weights, machines, squat racks, treadmills, you name it, they had it. The top floor was a yoga studio, also containing more free weights, several Pelotons, Bosu Balls, and floor to ceiling mirrors. Next they panned to the trophy room, containing all the accolades that the family has acquired, featuring Stanley Cup rings, MLH awards, and Olympic medals. Then the camera slowed down a little bit, showing a section for each child- peewee hockey medals, school awards, and finally gold medals for the girls who competed on Canada’s youth team the previous winter.
From the couch, Shane and Ilya looked at each other. They both had tears in their eyes. “Oh my god, you guys are so sappy!” Viktoria said, giving Ilya a little shove.
“We cannot help that we are so proud of you.” Ilya admitted.
Shane smiled and ran a hand through his hair. “We have all those trophies, but you three are our greatest accomplishment.” Dasha rolled her eyes, but Shane just pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. “You’ll understand when you’re a parent. Nothing makes you more proud than your kids.”
Dasha seemed to consider this for a second. “Nah, I think I’m gonna be proud that I’m gonna win more Cups than you and Papa combined.” Shane laughed and shook his head, and the family went back to watching.
The camera panned to the family lacing up their skates and heading out onto the ice. Even Sierra was sporting a pair of skates, and she wobbled out as the kids whizzed by her. They had their sticks, and they were passing a puck back and forth and taking turns shooting on the empty net.
“We usually make them wear pads, it can get intense very quickly.” Ilya said to Sierra, a proud smile on his face. “Let’s hope that there are no fights today.” He skated off and stole the puck from Dasha, who skated after him and stole it right back.
“Too slow old man!” She said in Russian as she snapped it to Vika who buried it in the back of the net. The girls fist bumped and shared a mischievous smile.
The camera followed the family around the ice as Sierra watched them. They were playing an easy going game of 2 on 3, Dasha, Shane, and Maksim versus Ilya and Viktoria. The pair of them scored the first goal of the game, with Vika showing off just how much skill she has inherited, juking out her younger sister and putting the puck through Maksim’s legs to score. “Davai!” Ilya shouted, skating to his daughter and tousling her hair with his gloved hand. Dasha and Vika spit Russian words at each other, Dasha clearly unhappy that she just got bested on camera. Ilya skated in between them and pushed them in opposite directions. “Maybe no subtitles on that exchange, yeah?” He joked. Ilya and Shane faced off to start the next possession. Shane won, and passed it to Maksim who skated swiftly down the ice. He shot a no look pass to Dasha, who was now being defended by Vika. A determined look on her face, she faked left and then snapped the puck into the net.
“Ah! Don’t fall for that Vika! You know that’s her move!” Ilya said in Russian, retrieving the puck from the back of the goal. The hockey game went on for a little longer, showcasing the talents of the Hollander-Rozanov family.
The kids were truly amazing to watch. As Shane and Ilya observed their children on the screen they both gave almost imperceptible shakes of their heads, as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Sometimes they almost forgot how talented their kids were, seeing them day in and day out. Sure, they knew that they were heads and shoulders above most of their peers, but part of them secretly felt like that was guaranteed for them, given their genetics. But seeing them like this through the perspective of the cameras, they saw them in a different light, almost like they had never seen them before and were witnessing the discovery of prodigies.
Then the camera caught a candid moment on the rink where Shane and Ilya were standing together, watching their kids skate. Shane had an arm around Ilya’s waist. The screen went soft. Sierra’s voice rang out. "Watching them here, it’s easy to see the athletes. It’s easy to see the wealth and the wins. But 20 years ago, a scene like this—two fathers, three children, and a life lived entirely in the light—was more than just a dream. It was a battlefield."
The scene dissolved from the cold blue of the rink to the warm, amber glow of the living room at sunset. Shane and Ilya were back on the sofa, but the mood was quieter now. Sierra’s voice is heard again. "You both played through a time when being 'out' wasn't just rare; it was revolutionary. When you look at your kids now, living this incredibly full, safe life in Ottawa... do you ever stop to think about the 'storm' you had to walk through to get them here?"
Shane and Ilya both took deep breaths. Ilya looked at his husband and Shane took this as his cue. “I definitely think there were times when we never imagined this would be possible. We never thought that we could even be together, much less be out, proud, and in the public eye as both hockey players and husbands. We both faced homophobia throughout our careers, and unfortunately that was pretty common throughout the hockey world. It took me years to just accept myself, let alone think about letting anyone else see me for who I really was.”
Ilya nodded. “When we made the decision to come out, even to just a few people, we knew we were risking our careers. When we were outed, it did effect Shane’s career on the Metros. At that point, we had been together for years, but it had been a secret. That kind of secret kills you inside.” He took another deep breathed and fingered the cross around his neck. “I have shared about my mother, she is the reason for starting the Irina Foundation. I lost her to suicide when I was just a boy.” Shane squeezed Ilya’s knee as he wiped a tear from his eye. “I have struggled with depression throughout my adult life. It is not something that many people know about me. The Irina Foundation, being pioneers as the first out couple in professional hockey…” he takes another breath, trying to find the English words. “If we can help even one person, keep them from taking their life, show them that there is support out there, that is all worth the struggle that we went through at the time.”
The emotional weight of the interview lingered for a second before the sound of a heavy door slamming and the frantic barking of Misha broke the silence. “Papa! Dad! Make her stop!” Maksim’s voice cut through the silence as he ran into the room and jumped into Shane’s lap.
“We used to be players. Now we are the refs.” Shane sighed as passed Maksim off to Ilya and got off the couch. “Dasha! Come inside!” He calls out the back door.
“How did he know it was Dasha?” Sierra whispered to Ilya, who was still on the couch with Maks.
Ilya smiled, almost a little guiltily. “Ah, well.” He chuckled. “It is always Dasha.”
Back in the living room, Viktoria and Maksim burst into giggles. Dasha had the nerve to look offended. “Papa you are so rude!”
The screen cut to the three kids sitting at their stools at the kitchen island. “Ooh, turn it up!” Vika said, “This part is gonna be good.”
“Okay kids,” Sierra’s voice came from behind the camera. “Time to play a game. You each have two paddles. One for your dad and one for your papa.” The kids held up their paddles, which were pictures of Shane and Ilya’s faces hot glued to jumbo popsicle sticks.
“They’re so young in these pictures, oh my god.” Vika commented.
“Before Dad’s gray hair.” Dasha teased.
“Had to get a jab in, didn’t you?” Shane said from somewhere in the kitchen behind the camera.
“Dad barely has any gray hair” Maks defended from his spot next to Dasha.
Sierra jumped back in and explained the rules of the game before they could get further off topic. “Okay, first question- who is the better cook?”
All three kids held up Ilya’s paddle. “Too easy. Sorry dad,” Vika said.
“What’s the best thing he makes?” Sierra inquired.
“Probably Pelemi. They’re basically Russian dumplings and they’re really good.” Dasha answered.
“Sounds amazing.” Sierra replied. “Next question- who is funnier?”
The kids take longer to think about this one. Dasha held up Ilya, Maks help up Shane, and Viktoria held up both. “This is hard because they’re both funny but in different ways. Dad is secretly funny. Like we’ve taught him like teenager slang and he knows how to use it now. Like the other day, Dasha and I had a really hard workout with Papa, and we really wanted Frosties from Wendy’s because we were starving. But it was almost dinner time, so papa was like ‘ask dad,’ so I texted him because he was out with Maksim.” Vika pulled out her phone. “Please just look at this text exchange.” She held up her phone to the camera.
Vika: can we pleasssseeee get frosties we just worked out really hard
Vika: papa said its okay but we had to check with you
Vika: he said we deserve it
Dad: Yeah, go get it girlfriend
Dad: You deserve it queen 👸🏻
“Like he’s secretly funny. I would say papa is more funny in general, but dad has good one liners every once in a while.”
Dasha considered this. “I still think papa is funnier.”
“That’s because you both have the same sense of humor.” Maks chimed in.
“I don’t know if that is compliment or insult” Ilya whispered to Shane behind the camera. Everyone laughed.
“See, papa is funnier. Thank you Maks for proving my point.” Dasha smiled as if she had settled the debate.
“Who would you ask for help with your homework?” Sierra asked next.
All three kids held up Shane. “Prosti papa,” Maks said with a guilty smile.
“Malysh! My own son betrays me!” Ilya groaned dramatically.
“Especially not English homework.” Dasha smirked, teasing her papa.
Ilya gasped. “I speak English for 30 years now. More than double what you are alive. And yes, that is math. I do math too.”
“And you just proved my point because that was not proper English.” Dasha grinned.
“Its endearing.” Shane said, defending his husband.
Sierra went on through her list of questions, the kids holding up their sticks and defending their answers. “Okay, last question. This is going to be the hardest one, are you ready?” The kids all nodded. “Who do you go to for hockey advice?” The kids immediately all held up both paddles. “Okay! Dasha, you want to explain?”
“As for training, I like doing drills on the ice with dad because he’s really good with the technical stuff. And if I'm not getting it right, usually he can show me how to do it and I can copy him." She smiled at Shane and Ilya behind the camera. “But, on the other hand, if we’re lifting, I like doing it with Papa because he actually likes our music so we get to control the aux. We’ve taught him so many tik tok dances.”
Vika nodded enthusiastically. “He’s actually low key such a good dancer. We always tell him he should go on dancing with the stars.”
Sierra laughed. “I would watch that! Maks, what about you? What’s the best piece of advice you’ve gotten?”
Maksim thought for a second. “I think probably to play in my own style. Sometimes its hard being the youngest, because Vika and Dasha both are so good, but they play in a really different style than me. So I really look up to them and want to be like them, but I want to still play in a way that’s natural for me. That’s probably the best advice they’ve given me.”
Sierra nodded. “That’s good advice. Staying true to yourself, in all aspects of your life, is important.” She turned to Viktoria. “Vika, what’s your take? Who do you go to for advice?” Sierra asked next.
Vika thought for a second. “For technical stuff- dad. That’s literally what he was known for, his precision, his decision making, his consistency.” She took a breath. “But, papa was the more adaptable player, he could play anywhere and still be great. He was more physical, which is more my style of play, and Dasha and I both take advice on him from how to captain a team.” She looks over at Shane quickly, hoping she didn’t offend him. “But dad was a great captain too! He led the Metros for many years.” She nodded her head back and forth as if she still thinking about her answer. “One of their favorite quotes is ‘Pressure is a privilege.’ And yeah, sometimes we don’t want to hear it, but it’s true. It’s a privilege that we get to have two of the best hockey players in the world as our dads, we get not only their genetics, but also their advice and knowledge of what it’s like to play at the highest level. It’s a privilege to have the home that we do, and the training facility that we get to practice in every day. So yeah, there might be the added pressure of people’s expectations based on our last name, or the pressure of being in a world championship like Dasha and I were in this past winter at the junior Olympics. But it’s also an immense privilege to be in the position we are, and they make sure that we know that.”
A producer’s voice was heard from behind the cameras. “That was great kids! We’re going to wrap for today.”
Ilya came into the frame first, still wearing his Ottawa Centaurs shirt. He didn't go for a stool, he just leaned over the back of the island, draping his arms around Dasha and Maksim’s shoulders. Shane walked into the shot from the other side, stopping next to Viktoria. He didn't say anything at first, he just placed a hand on the back of Vika’s neck, a grounding, steady presence. He looked at his three children, a proud expression on his face. "You guys did great," Shane said softly. He looked at Viktoria. "And for the record, Vika? I wasn't offended. I’d take your Papa’s adaptability over my precision any day. That’s why I married him."
"Gross," Dasha whispered, but she was smiling.
Ilya squeezed the kids one more time before planting a loud, dramatic kiss on the top of Maksim’s curls. “We are very proud. Even if you do not trust me to help with homework.” He grinned mischievously.
Shane looked at the camera lens, then back at his kids, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Okay, crew. Enough of the hot seat. Let’s get ready. We have a camp to run tomorrow, and I think the 'better cook' needs to get on his dinner duties.” The screen faded to black.
Sierra’s voice came in as the screen fills with the bright, energetic atmosphere of a public arena. Banners for the Irina Foundation hang from the rafters. The ice is crowded with kids in bright jerseys. “While life at home is filled with the duties of being full time dads, the Hollander-Rozanov name carries a different weight outside their front gates. Every summer, the family trades their private sanctuary for community rinks across the country." The camera panned around the ice, finding each member of the family. Ilya was working on a shooting drill with a group of kids, making them laugh as he dramatically tried to stop their shots. Maksim was his assistant, holding his clipboard, a whistle around his neck. Shane was working one on one with a young boy, patiently adjusting his stance. Vika and Dasha were with with a group of young girls, working on stick handling and passing. The camera panned to other hockey stars out on the ice, some past, some present, all working with the kids.
Finally it cut back to Sierra, standing near the glass, Ilya at her side. "The camp isn't just about hockey. It’s about the message. Ilya, you’ve been very open about why mental health is the core of this foundation. How does it feel to have your children out here as part of the staff?"
Ilya wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead before answering. “It is everything. We want them to know that their talent is a gift, but using that talent to help someone else... that is the responsibility. Seeing Vika and Dasha lead these girls, or Maks helping a kid who is shy... it makes me more proud than any trophy."
The pair continued talking about the Irina Foundation and its impact. They showed more clips of the family on the ice, serving their community for a good cause.
The screen faded before coming back to life. A beautiful, wide-sweeping shot of the Ottawa countryside at sunset. The sky was a gradient of deep orange and soft violet. The family was walking down one of the dirt trails that ran behind their property, framed by tall grass swaying in the summer breeze. Misha was trotting ahead, his tail wagging as he stopped to sniff the wildflowers. Shane and Ilya were walking side-by-side in the back, their hands occasionally brushing. Up ahead, Dasha and Maksim were on their bikes, while Viktoria walked with a cool, effortless stride, watching her siblings with a small smile. The sound of their distant laughter and Misha’s occasional bark settled over the scene.
The audio shifts to Sierra’s final sit-down question, playing over the footage of them walking. "You’ve built a life that most people can only dream of. But I have to ask—ten years later, when you see the highlights or hear the anthem play before a game, do you ever miss it? Do you ever wish you could go back to the roar of the arena, even for just one more game?”
Shane’s voice replaced Sierra’s. “There’s an adrenaline to the game that you never really replace. That feeling of the puck on your stick with five seconds left in a tied game... There’s nothing like it. But... I look at this. I look at the quiet. I think about how many years we spent hiding, and I realize I don't miss the 'roar' at all.” The camera focused on the kids, Vika now riding on the back of Dasha’s bike, standing on the pegs and holding on to her sister’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t trade all the Stanley Cups in the world for what we have now.”
Next Ilya’s voice was heard. "People used to call us 'The Gold Standard.' They looked at our stats, our trophies. But they were looking at the wrong things. To me, the gold standard is that my kids never have to wonder if they are loved, or if their fathers are proud of who they are. If I could go back? No. I would not change a single second of the struggle, because the struggle is what bought us this peace. I do not think of myself as a 'retired hockey player.’ I am a husband, and I am a father. And for the first time in my life, that is enough."
The family reaches a clearing, and they stop to admire the sun sinking below the horizon. Shane pulls Ilya into his side, and Ilya rests his head on Shane’s shoulder for a brief, quiet second.
Sierra’s voice rang out for a final time. "They were rivals who became teammates. Teammates who became a revolution. But today, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov are simply home."
The screen faded to black with a simple white text: For Irina, followed by the website for the Irina Foundation. A few seconds later it faded to black for good. The family seemed to take a collective deep breath, and it was quiet for a moment until Maksim’s voice broke through. “Can we watch it again?”
-- -- --
It was later that same night, and Ilya and Shane were in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher. Maksim had been put to bed a little while ago, and the girls were on the couch in the living room, some trashy reality show playing in the background while they scrolled on their phones, occasionally making comments of “Oh my god, look at what I just sent you.” Ilya put the last few bowls into the cabinet and then turned to Shane who had pulled his phone from his pocket. “You’re worse than the girls,” Ilya whispered to him as he rested his chin on Shane’s shoulder.
“If I’m remembering correctly, your screen time is almost double mine.” Shane teased him back. He leaned his head against Ilya’s and tucked his phone back into his pocket. They wandered into the living room, where the soft glow of the TV and the girls’ phones were the only illumination.
“Move over, you are hogging best spot” Ilya said to the girls as he approached the couch.
Dasha rolled her eyes. “This couch is literally huge,” she replied, but she still scooted over a little bit. Ilya plopped down next to her.
Shane laid against the corner of the couch, next to Vika, and put his feet in Ilya’s lap. Dasha looked up from her phone. “Do you have to put your stinky feet right next to me?”
Ilya pretended to swat Dasha on the back of the head and scolded her in Russian. “Do you know how many people would have killed to smell Shane Hollander’s sweaty socks?
“Well I am not one of them” Dasha muttered as she went back to her phone. Vika scooted over a little more until she could lean her head on Shane’s shoulder.
A minute later, she sat up suddenly. “Can you tell us more about what it was like?” Vika asked.
Shane raised his eyebrows, unsure what she was talking about. He looked at Ilya. “What what was like?”
“Having to be together in secret. Like how did you do it? How did it even start?” Vika asked.
Shane and Ilya looked at each other. “It’s a really long story” Shane said.
Vika just looked at him, a very Ilya like expression on her Hollander face.
Shane sucked in a breath. “Well, you know how it started. We met at the International Prospect Cup.”
Dasha put down her phone, suddenly interested in the conversation. “Well yeah, but that wasn’t the start of your relationship, just when you met.”
“Well, it’s what kicked off everything” Shane replied, looking a little flustered. “Ilya?”
“No, I want to hear you explain it too.” Ilya smiled cheekily.
Shane took a deep breath. “I don’t know when it started for real. There were so many moments that when I look back now, I can’t believe it took so many years for us to admit to ourselves and to each other that we were in love. That’s why I feel like it started the day we met, because I was just drawn to him from the beginning.”
Viktoria rolled her eyes again. “You are so avoiding the question trying to give a mushy answer. We want facts. Like, you weren’t out or anything, so how did you even know that each other were gay?”
“Psh, easy. I have world’s best gaydar. And dad couldn’t keep his eyes off me.” Ilya smirked.
“Still avoiding the question…” Dasha sing songed, looking at her phone for a moment. “You know I could probably get on Reddit and find these answers right?”
Shane sighed. “Well, we did a commercial shoot together not too long after we were drafted. That was one of the first times that we spent time together.”
“So what, at this shoot you’re just casually sharing that you’re both secretly gay?” Dasha interrupted.
“No Dashenka. And for the record, I’m not gay.” Ilya retorted.
“You’re married to a man, papa, for all intents and purposes, you’re gay.” Vika replied dryly. She raised her eyebrows at him. “So what happened then?”
“Like I said, world’s best gaydar. And I was 19 year old hockey star, everyone wanted me. So I took chance and invited myself to dad’s hotel room that night.” Ilya looked at Shane and smiled, knowing that they were giving the girls a PG version of what had taken place that day.
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Vika said. The girls laughed, and Shane made a face. “Dad, what did you say?!”
Shane gave a shy smile. “I told him I might open the door if he knocked.”
“Wow, oh my god.” Dasha smiled. “You were trying to be low-key about it.”
“Well I was still trying to get a feel for what was happening!” Shane defended himself.
“He was trying to get a feel for something.” Ilya muttered under his breath.
Vika and Dasha looked at each other with open mouths. “Gross.” Vika laughed. “So what, this starts your 10 year situationship?”
“No, was not 10 years.” Ilya replied. “More like 7. But yes, basically we just met up in hotels or occasionally at my house in Boston or at Dad’s place in Montreal.”
Vika nodded, seemingly thinking of another question. “I was thinking about this stuff because of the special. Like, in my mind, all I think about you guys is being married, and having us, and being out, because that’s all we know. And I knew it must’ve been hard at the beginning of your relationship because it was a secret, but I guess I didn’t think about how long it was a secret, and how hard that must’ve been. And the thought that you both could’ve lost your careers because of it.”
“Yeah, that’s sad,” added Dasha. “I don’t know how you did it.”
“It was hard” started Shane, and he shot a look at Ilya as if to warn him against making another innuendo. “I was always thinking about papa, especially when I shouldn’t have been. Eventually it got too much to bear. There were times over the years where we went long stretches without talking, or had gotten upset with each other, and each of those times I felt like I was drowning. There was one time when I got freaked out because it was getting too real, and I was scared of what that meant. There weren’t any out gay hockey players at that time, and I did not want that to be me, even though it was. After that, I finally came to my senses. We eventually drifted back together like we always did, and that’s when I knew I couldn’t let go again.”
“And when was that?” Vika asked.
“Hmm, 2017.” Ilya replied quietly. “We played on the same team at the all-star game. We hadn’t talked or seen each other in a while. But, you know what they say, kiss and make up and all that…” He joked.
Shane smiled knowingly. “He’s making light of it, but yeah, that’s pretty much what happened. That was the first time that I admitted to him that I actually cared about him, and I think we both realized how much we were scared of losing each other.”
“Dang, seven years to just admit that you don’t hate each other? This has gotta be the slowest moving relationship in history.” Dasha joked.
“They were repressed, Dasha.” Vika said seriously.
Now it was Shane and Ilya’s turn to roll their eyes. “A few months later, my papa died and I went back to Russia for his funeral. I think that’s when I finally admitted to myself that I was in love with dad. Of course I knew before, but I wouldn’t let myself admit it. A little after that, Scott Hunter came out, and it really opened my eyes. I wasn’t as scared of being ‘gay’” he shot a pointed look at Vika, “and I finally let myself be totally free.”
“And that’s when you spent the summer together at the cottage?” Dasha asked.
Shane and Ilya nodded.
“And grandpa caught you!” The girls squealed, laughing together.
“Oh yeah, you can laugh,” Shane said. “20 years ago it was not as funny. I think I had a panic attack.”
Ilya nodded. “He freaked out. But it ended up being a good thing. How you say it, ripping the bandaid off?”
Shane nodded. “It was for the best.” He looked at the girls. “You kinda know the rest. That was 2017, and we got married in 2021.”
Ilya and Shane shared another look, knowing that those four years weren’t exactly easy either, but at least they had each other. Shane looked at the clock. It was past 11 already. “Bedtime girlies” he said softly, stifling a yawn. Ilya moved down on the couch until he was next to Shane, his head resting on his shoulder. Dasha joined him, laying on the other side, putting her head on Shane’s other shoulder.
“C’mon Vika” Ilya murmured in Russian, and Vika reluctantly joined the pile at the end of the couch. Ilya rolled over a little and pulled her into his arms. Shane held Dasha the same way.
“I’m glad you guys made it through,” Vika whispered.
“Me too,” Shane and Ilya whispered at the same time.