Chapter Text
November 2024
Shane awoke five minutes before his alarm. He lay in bed, thinking about the game that day. Ottawa was due to play Winnipeg at home. Then in Toronto two days from now. His mom had set up a Reebok shoot for next week during a week-long break. That was fine. When his alarm finally went off at 6 AM, he shut it off, and went down to his home gym to start his morning workout. Yoga. Jog. Weights. Cool down stretches.
When his stretches were done, he walked back up to the kitchen and made his balanced protein smoothie. So much spinach the entire thing turned green, and a heaping scoop of chocolate flavored protein powder. At least the container said it was chocolate flavored. It mostly tasted like dirt. But it fit his diet plan, so he drank it.
He ran up to his bathroom to shower. Nine minutes, thirty seconds. He had his morning routine down to a science. No surprises. No deviations. By 7 AM, he was fully dressed and turned on the local hockey channel just to get the highlights. He sat by the television until 8 AM when he grabbed his gear bag and headed to the rink to get in some ice time before morning practice.
The moment his skates touched the ice, he felt like he could breathe again. He ran himself through skating drills and knocked a full bucket of pucks around before Troy Barrett showed up–himself early for practice. He gave Shane a single polite nod and then started with his own morning routine. They were usually the first two people on the ice, but they did their own thing. Shane had been a Centaur for nearly five years, but he wasn’t especially close with his teammates.
When the team showed up and practice started. He fell into the motions and just kept moving forward. At one point one of the newer players, Luca Haas, was struggling with some stickhandling exercises they were working on. Shane leaned in and gave him a few pointers. Luca shouted his thanks after Shane as he skated away. Practice ended fine, like it always did.
He was packing his gear into his bag to head home for his pre-game nap when Harris Drover bounded into the locker room to chat with his boyfriend, Troy. Shane very pointedly did not look over them, but the jealousy started to boil in the pit of his stomach. He felt it latch onto his rib cage and pull itself up to overtake his heart and extend down into his limbs.
Shane ripped the last of his gear off and threw it in his bag to get out of that locker room as fast as possible. Before he could reach the door, a large body jumped in front of him. “Hey, Hollander! I am planning a barbeque tomorrow for the day off. Everyone is going to be there–”
“Thanks Cap, but I’m gonna be busy. See you for the game.” Shane walked around the hulking form of Zane Boodram and walked out of the locker room and out of the rink. He threw his gear bag into the back seat of his Range Rover and got behind the wheel. Before he could turn the key, he took several deep breaths and rested his head on the steering wheel.
He really liked the Ottawa Centaurs. It was his home team when he was growing up and they had built a reputation around being the most welcoming and supportive team in the league. They had become the queerest team in the league by far with several out players–Troy and Luca among them. He liked them both. He loved the easy joy that Troy and Harris had together.
He had never had that. And as much as he was happy for them, it burned every time he had to see it.
After a few more deep breaths, he turned the key and made it home in time for his full pre-game nap. He made sure to lie down, even if sleep evaded him for the afternoon.
When he got up from his failed nap, he made sure to eat a sizable meal of salmon and brown rice. He would need the energy for the game. He turned back on the local hockey channel for something to listen to while he ate. Bite, chew, swallow. Bite, chew, swallow.
Eventually he pulled on his base layer and then his suit over the top of it and drove out to the arena. He was one of the first again, but followed his routines for getting dressed. Left skate, Right skate, Jersey. Then leaned back into his cubby with his eyes closed and ear buds in, even if he wasn’t actually listening to anything. The locker room continued to fill around him. No one addressed him, which is how he preferred it. He heard Coach Weibe come out and say a few words, then Bood stood up and said a few more. Shane could feel the energy in the room around him building–but it never really moved him. As much as he liked this team, nothing had since he joined it.
Once his name was called he skated out onto the ice, feeling the energy in the arena continue to build around him. Again, it built around him, but not in him. When they lined up, he looked into the rafters and saw the Cup banner, put there when he and the Centaurs had won it last year. They went from one of the worst teams to one of the best in only a handful of years from his trade in. And still he felt nothing for it.
He took the first face-off. He didn’t know the first line center from Winnipeg personally–he looked really young across center ice from him. So he just kept his head down until the puck dropped and passed it over to Luca without any fanfare from the kid. Luca was good, but he never could quite keep up with Shane, so Shane had learned to slow himself down to match everyone around him.
He still scored the first goal in the first five minutes. He didn’t celebrate. He just set back up at center ice while his teammates celebrated. They had tried to include him when he first joined, but he had made it very clear he was not interested. Now they celebrated with themselves and set back up behind him. By the end of the game, he had scored a hat trick plus one, and had two assists to Luca. Ottawa won 1-6.
The locker room was a rager once he got out of the shower. Music was playing, some of the guys were singing along, he could see Troy and Harris slow dancing despite the fast paced music and Luca on the other side of the locker room shooting glances at them and blushing.
He was fully dressed and headed toward the door when, “Hey, Hollander! Everyone is going–”
“Not tonight fellas! I’m meeting my folks for dinner. You guys have a good time though, you played a great game. First round is on me–Bood, send me a Venmo request. You earned it.” He gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile and fled the room.
An hour or two later found Shane sitting at a back table at one of his favorite restaurants in Ottawa with a plate of brown rice and salmon and a ginger ale. He fell into his pattern of bite, chew, swallow, when his mother finally called him on it.
“Honey, you haven’t said a word since we sat down. You scored four goals tonight! That’s gotta mean something.”
Shane chuckled ruefully, “Yes, I score four goals a game when I’m holding myself back so my team can keep up. It feels like a real accomplishment.” He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, hearing the bitterness in his own voice. “I’m sorry, I’m in a bit of a mood lately.”
David kept a close eye on his son, watching him collect his emotions before asking about the elephant in the room. “Son, do you think this is some residual feelings about Montreal?”
And didn’t that open a Pandora’s box of emotions in his chest. “I know Ottawa isn’t Montreal.”
David hummed. “But have you quite gotten over how things ended?”
“What’s to get over?” Shane spit out, feeling it all swirling in his chest again. “I give them a decade of my career. I give them three Cups. I come out to them and suddenly they don’t trust me anymore. They need to ‘change the locker room dynamic.’ And I’m out on my ass.”
“Hey hey hey,” David soothed, “They treated you horribly. That would make it difficult for anyone to open up again.”
All the bitterness and anger whooshed out of Shane and he could feel tears pricking at his eyes. He would not cry over that fucking team again. “I was in their wedding parties. I was at the birth of their children. I thought they were my brothers.” He took a deep breath, willing the tears to retreat into his eye sockets. “How do I come back from something like that?”
He looked to his mother, who was always the more logical parent and saw her covering her mouth and holding back tears of her own. He knew that her tears meant unbridled rage. “You win four cups in Ottawa and make the best of your time with them.”
Shane sighed. They had had this same conversation several times for years at this point. But it didn’t change the most pressing fact. “I am the best player in the league–by a lot. There is no team I can go to where I am anything more than a freak who can score goals and win Cups.”
The truth of it hung in the air as they finished their dinner. He hugged them and apologized for his sour mood before heading home.
He skipped the hockey channel for the night was finishing his skin care routine when he received a notification from an old Google Alert on his phone. Opening the article, his breath caught for the first time in years.
Retired MLH Star Ilya Rozanov and Marketing Magnate Svetlana Vetrova Call it Quits
Court filings indicate that retired Boston Raiders Center, Ilya Rozanov has filed for divorce from wife of six years, Svetlana Vetrova. Vetrova rose to prominence as a model turned marketing genius in the early 2010s. Rozanov was one of two generational talents in the MLH, alongside Ottawa Centaur Shane Hollander, until a knee injury in 2016 ended his career. The two were married in 2017 after a long speculated courtship…
Click to Continue Reading
Reaching the end of the article, Shane screwed up his eyes as if it would drown out the voice in his head. “Turn around and keep running, Jane!” No amount of force could hold the tears back at that point, so Shane buried his face in his pillow and screamed out his ancient history until exhaustion finally took him.
—
Shane awoke the next morning. Yoga. Jog. Weights. Cool down stretches.
He drank his protein shake. Spinach and protein powder that tastes like dirt.
He showered. He turned on the hockey channel. He was about to start his travel day preparations when his phone rang and Rose’s face lit up the screen. The second he accepted the call, she launched into speech, not waiting for him to say hello.
“Shane, my love, my darling. You scored four goals just for me last night, didn’t you?”
Shane smiled in spite of himself. He missed his friend dearly. “Good morning, Rose. Yes, four goals just for you.”
“I knew it.” She sounded smug even through the phone. “How are you doing? When does your flight leave for Toronto?”
“I’m fine and my plane leaves at 3 PM,” he said. “I leave for the bus in four hours,” he added once he remembered she was in a different time zone.”
“Ugggggggggh, that’s so gross. Toronto sucks major dick and balls. And not in the fun way.”
“Miss Landry, language,” Shane laughed out loud at his friend’s antics. She always had a way to make him laugh. “But yea, they pretty much do.”
“Score another hat trick for me. To spite the homophobes.”
“Of course, I will do exactly that. To spite the homophobes. And for no other reason at all.”
“Shane Hollander, are you cracking wise?!”
Shane laughed again, “I don’t know that means. Is that some folksy Michigander slang you made up?”
Shane loved talking to Rose. She always knew how to get him out of his own head and just relax into a conversation. They talked for over an hour while she ranted about her co-star trying to go “method” by just being bizarre on set and how her hair and makeup team was being bullied by some of the crew. It was a relief to listen to someone else complain about their own problems and to just sit back and portray the appropriate outrage at the right times. Eventually she circled back to what Shane suspected was the original reason for her phone call.
“Sooooo, I received a notification when I woke up this morning.”
“Rose, can we not–”
“I’m not pushing! I’m just checking in. His divorce is huge considering how much the wedding announcement affected you.”
Shane remembered, too. She cancelled her plans and flew in for an entire weekend of sappy romcoms and holding Shane while he cried. “I should have never taught you how to set up a Google Alert.”
“I’m glad you did! Now I keep track on all the unfortunate things happening to my ex’s as well. It’s much cheaper than therapy.” Shane snorted at that. “But seriously. How are you?”
“Well there were flashbacks to a hospital scene and a lot of crying. But other than that, things are fine.”
Rose started to grumble under her breath, “If I ever get my hands on–”
“Rose, it’s fine. It’s ancient history. I’m a big kid now.”
“Ancient history that makes you cry yourself to sleep. Right.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Look, I’ve got some time off in two weeks. Can we meet up for some shopping and a pajama party? I need more Shane time and it’s been ages since you let me buy you new clothes.”
“I am a fully grown adult and can buy my own clothes.”
“Yes, and if athleisure was acceptable business attire, it is all you would wear. Pleeeeease, let me buy you clothes.”
“Yes, we can meet up when you have time off and I will reserve on buying me clothes.”
“Deal. I love you Shane. Please let me know if things get hard again, okay?”
“I love you, too. And I will.” He knew he was lying; she knew he was lying; and he knew she knew he was lying. But she didn’t press and ended the call with an elaborate kissy noise.
Feeling a bit more refreshed, Shane walked into his bedroom to start packing for the road trip. He was twenty minutes into packing when he received another call–this time from Hayden.
“Buddy!! How are you doing? Kicked the shit out of Winnipeg last night, I see.”
“Hi, Hayd. And yes, but it’s Winnipeg, so…” Shane trailed off.
“Yeah, but MLH hat tricks plus one don’t happen every game. It’s worth celebrating.”
“I guess. How are Jackie and the kids?” Shane successfully distracted his best friend for a few minutes while he finished packing.
The twins were almost eleven now and would start middle school next year. Jackie is doing well and not pregnant thanks to Hayden finally getting a vasectomy. And all the kids were finally old enough to be in school, so Jackie was taking up some hobbies, in addition to her self-appointed WAG duties. “She runs these paint and sip nights for the WAGs now–they all get drunk and can barely paint a sunset. Bonkers, I tell ya.”
“It can’t be any worse than the Warhammer stuff you put together.”
“Hey! That’s completely different. Lay off my Warhammer!”
Shane laughed, “Whatever you say, buddy.”
Shane realized too late that he had left a lull in the conversation. “So, I got a notification last night.”
“Damnit, Hayd, not you, too.”
“Oh good, so Rose has already called.”
“Yes, Rose already called and I’m doing fine.”
“Fine-fine, or fine like last time when you stumbled back to the hotel room drunk and projectile vomited everywhere?” Shane cringed at the half memory. He didn’t drink often–but when the news of the wedding came out, he lost his head and didn’t regain it until Hayden was helping him into the shower and calling housekeeping for some kind of carpet cleaner. After cleaning up his sick, Shane thought it was only fair to tell his best friend the whole story.
“I’m revoking everyone’s Google Alert privileges,” Shane grumbled under his breath.
“Too late for that one, Buddy.” Hayden sobered. “But seriously. This is the first thing we’ve heard about him in years other than him selling off all his expensive cars. How are you really dealing?”
Shane sighed wetly. It was so hard to keep everything locked in a box when people kept trying to yank it off a high shelf. “I’m keeping it together. For now at least. We leave today for Toronto and have a few days off from there.”
“Great! Then there’s just enough time for Jackie and I to bring the kids down for a day or two.”
“Hayd–” Shane tried to object.
“Arthur misses his Uncle Shane. He’s just started a new school and could really use some conversation with someone who really gets him.” Arthur was quiet and particular, just like Shane was at his age. They were drawn to each other immediately and are largely inseparable when they are together.
“That’s a low blow, Pike.”
“Not if it works.
Shane groaned. “Fine! Bring the whole tribe down. We can make a few days of it.”
“Excellent! Glad to hear it! Now kick the shit out of Toronto and we will really have something to celebrate.”
Shane rolled his eyes, “I’ll get right on that,” and ended the call.
—
Shane’s plane demeanor pretty much matched him in the locker room. He put in ear buds and sat back with his eyes closed waiting to arrive. Fortunately the flight to Toronto was a short one, and it was neither too early or too late for anyone to be cranky or keyed up.
When they landed, he went directly to the hotel to unpack, met up for a perfunctory team dinner and then headed back to the room for his skin care and to read a book and go to bed early. When he got out of the shower, Luca looked like he was already asleep on the other bed. Shane picked his book up and continued reading about Cold War era Russian hockey players until he heard sniffling coming from the other bed.
“Luca… is everything okay?”
“Sorry. Ignore me. Just feeling a little homesick. I’ll be quiet so you can read.”
Shane frowned. On the Metros, he had always taken a personal interest in the rookies and tried to make them feel at home. Since moving to Ottawa, he had shut that out and disconnected himself from it. Looking at the younger man’s back, he made a choice and grabbed the remote for the smart tv in the room and logged into his personal Netflix account. With a few more buttons pressed, the opening sequence started and after a few moments, an incredibly young Julie Andrews started to sing about the Sound of Music…in German.
The sniffles in the other bed stopped for a moment, and the young man rolled over to check the television. He wiped his nose on his arm and then looked up at Shane. “You know that’s set in Austria, not Switzerland, right?”
“And those are close…right?” Shane asked, suddenly unsure. He looked over at his younger teammate and saw the suppressed laughter on his face. “Look, it’s not like I passed up a career in cartography to become a professional hockey player. Give me a break!” Luca burst into laughter and after a second Shane joined him.
When they had both calmed down, Luca looked up at him again. “Um…would it be okay… if I…” he looked away, sheepishly.
Shane sighed and lifted the edge of the comforter and scooted over. “Come on, it’s fine.” The younger man practically vaulted off the bed and under the covers next to Shane.
“Thanks, Hollander. This does help. I appreciate it.”
Shane looked down at him as he continued to watch the movie. Then reached over and smoothed soothing circles into Luca’s back. Luca signed and relaxed even more under the attention. “You can call me Shane. I’m sorry I’m such a sour puss all the time.”
Luca was quiet for a minute before turning to look up at him. “I don’t know that anyone thinks you’re a sour puss. Word got around what Montreal was like for you at the end. It would be hard to trust anyone after what they put you through.” Shane’s hand stilled and Luca looked back at the television. Shane desperately tried to blink away the tears that he refused to let fall. “For what it’s worth, though–I think the entire team would be there to support you. If you are ever able to let them.” Shane couldn’t prevent the tears after that–but he could prevent himself from making any noise to accompany them. He continued to smooth small circles into his teammates back until they both fell asleep.
—
When Shane’s alarm goes off in the morning, he does something unusual and hits Snooze. He doesn’t actually go back to sleep, but nine minutes is enough time for him to blink the sleep out of his eyes. The motions however led to some friction. Friction directly on his butt.
First he froze, then gave an experimental wiggle. The motion was enough for Luca to give a little sleep groan and move away. Shane checked over his shoulder and found his teammate fully clothed and still asleep next to him. He gave a sigh of relief and started to get out of bed.
He went down to the hotel gym and while the weights were trash, he at least got in his yoga and a jog. By the time he was back up to the room for a shower, Luca was sitting up in bed and blushing at the sight of him.
“Morning! How did you sleep, Luca?”
If anything, his blush got deeper. “Actually, really well. Better than I have on the road before. Thank you for everything last night, Hollander.”
Shane chuckled. “I told you to call me Shane. And don’t worry about it.” He started to grab his things for a shower. “You know, the way you were rubbing your butt on me all night is the most action I’ve gotten in years.” He looked up when he heard a squeak behind him and saw the mortification drain all the color from his face before he launched out of bed and ran out of the room.
“Shit!” Shane yelped and ran for the door. “I was only joking!” he yelled after the younger man’s retreating form. He swore under his breath and headed into the bathroom. “A-plus social interaction, Hollander. Good job.”
It was an hour or so later that he was down for the team breakfast buffet, earbuds still in when Troy Barrett sat across from him, plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and toast. “Scandalizing the rooks, Hollander? Never thought of you as such a bully.”
Shane’s gaze snapped up only to soften when he saw the laughter in Troy’s. “It was a joke!” He hadn't publicly come out of the closet, but when his new teammates started to question the rumors about why he left Montreal, he felt like he owed it to them to be honest. Universally, they were accepting and welcoming, but he could never connect with any of them past that. His joke was actually the first time he had mentioned it since coming out, and Luca was already out so he had felt reasonably safe.
Troy chuckled under his breath. “I assumed it would have to be.” Shane felt Troy’s gaze wander over him. “Hottest man in the MLH not getting any–the number of volunteers you would get to fix that immediately.”
Shane glared at him again and laughed. “Fuck off with that, or I’m telling Harris when we get back.”
Troy threw his head back and laughed. “Who do you think would be the first volunteer? My own boyfriend thinks I’m only the second hottest Centaur.”
Shane tried to hide his wince, but the way the other man stilled told him he was unsuccessful. “Harris is convinced you hate him.”
Shane dropped his plastic fork in complete confusion. “Harris is a human ball of sunshine. How could anyone hate Harris?”
Troy’s look was contemplative. Searching almost. “He says you tense up and refuse to look at him any time he walks in the locker room.”
Shane meets his gaze for a moment, then deflates. “I’m such an asshole.” He stirs his oatmeal in silence for a few seconds before setting it down and taking a deep breath. “I’ve only had one real relationship before.” He shook his head at that, “No, more of a situationship. It started before my rookie season and went on for years. But it was always sneaking around and stolen moments. Everything about it was difficult.”
Shane’s eyes were glassy when he met Troy’s. “You two are so easy. So happy. So open. I’m jealous because we never got that.”
Troy looked at him for a long moment. Taking in the longest conversation he and Shane had ever shared. “Hiding and stolen moments. Does that mean he was another player?”
Shane jerked back as if he had been stung. He felt the walls he had relaxed come crashing back down as he grabbed his tray and stood up. “That’s enough sharing for one day, Barrett.” He dumped the remains of his breakfast in the trash and walked out.
—
Everything about playing Toronto was terrible. The team played dirty. They didn’t chirp so much as yell slurs at every opportunity. The entire locker room felt more like it was gearing up for war than a hockey game.
Shane met their team captain, Torvald McGillicutty, across center ice. McGillicutty was from the deep south of the United States and was known for being both vocally racist and homophobic and a known wifebeater. Shane wasn’t sure how Toronto could continue to double down on the Dallas Kent (may he rot in prison) archetype, but they always did.
“Make sure to keep your eyes wide open so you can see the puck, Hollander.” Shane practically groaned. Not only was it offensive, but it wasn’t even original. When the puck dropped, Shane had it and was gone before McGillicutty could even react. A pass to Luca on his right wing and a quick snap back through traffic to Shane and the first goal of the game was scored inside the first minute. He made sure to skate over and bump helmets with Luca who smiled so wide Shane thought he might pull something.
The game went on that way–not a difficult one, because Toronto was terrible, but just a slog of dodging hate comments and the occasional fist while Ottawa continued to run up the score. By midway through the third period. McGillicutty was practically frothing at the mouth.
“Oh great, a full fag line on the full fag team,” he spit just on his side of the center line. Shane was meeting him at center ice with Luca on his right wing and Troy on his left. And he had finally just had enough.
“For fucks sake, give it a rest Torvald. This is the gayest team in the MLH, but you are so fucking ugly, I wouldn’t fuck you with his dick,” Shane said gesturing at one of McGillicutty’s wingers. The winger in question was even uglier than Torvald.
Troy started snickering, and Luca laughed outright. “Aw, Hollander, you hurt his feelings. I think he actually wouldn’t mind fucking his captain.” Both sets of eyes latched onto Luca and McGillicutty’s face looked red enough Shane thought he might have actually burst a blood vessel.
They were so focused on their fury that Shane one the puck drop again and was off. This time not quite able to get the puck into the back of the net. The two Toronto players didn’t seem to care about the game anymore and were after Luca.
Shane saw the hit coming, aimed at the back of Luca’s head. That kind of hit could cause serious damage. Shane altered course and bodied Luca out of the way at the last second, but it still connected with Shane’s right cheek. That was fine, he’d taken a hit before.
What he wasn’t prepared for were the three sensations he felt in rapid succession. First, being yanked back by the collar of his jersey. Then a fist connecting with the base of his skull. Last, his face connecting directly with the ice.
After that, he didn’t feel anything anymore.