Chapter Text
The phone call from Coach Theriault came at a very unexpected and unwelcome time.
Shane’s phone kept ringing on the nightstand which meant one of two things.
He only kept his ringtone on for family and work, so this was either an early morning emergency call from his mother or the league.
“Fuck, Hollander,” Ilya said breathlessly. “You're not giving me your full attention.” He punctuated the last few words with slow aggressive thrusts.
Morning sex at the Cottage was a sacred tradition at this point in their relationship. After a full season of miserable long distance, they had barely gotten through the front door before ripping each other's clothes off. And they were on day two of their post season sex marathon with no signs of stopping for more than a couple hours between each orgasm.
Usually Shane would be more concerned about who was calling, but his sex drunk mind could not care less.
“Turn it off,” Shane whined in huffed out breaths.
Ilya gave a crooked grin before reaching over.
“Should I answer,” Ilya asked smugly. “Could be important. And I know how much you love phone calls during sex.”
“No, Ilya oh my god that could be my mother!”
Ilya made a sour face when he picked the phone up. “It's not.”
He put it back down again and quickly swallowed up any follow-up questions Shane had with a bruising filthy kiss. He repositioned himself between Shane's hips raising Shane’s knees to his shoulders.
“Okay,” Ilya asked, looking intently into Shane’s eyes.
“Fuck, yes,” Shane gasped. He could worry about whoever was desperately trying to reach him later.
Ilya was pounding Shane through the mattress causing the headboard to slam into the wall. Shane was so close now.
“Ilya,” Shane had so much of him, but he wanted more.
“You fucking love it,” Ilya's ragged breathing suggested he was close too. “Stroke yourself for me.”
Shane had only been waiting for those instructions. It only took three strokes until he climaxed hard, his release spreading all over his chest. Not minute later, Ilya stilled and Shane could feel his release filling him up. It was so fucking hot to be in a committed relationship and not need condoms.
“I love you,” Shane murmured into Ilya's ear as he pressed light kisses across his shoulder, up his neck and jaw.
“I love you more,” Ilya said with a sly grin.
“Not everything has to be a competition,” Shane rolled his eyes.
“Mmhm, but I like to win.”
“I think I just won,” Shane lightly trapped Ilya's bottom lip between his teeth pulling before releasing it with a smile. “According to you, I'm loved the most.”
Ilya blushed which Shane made a mental note of for the next time he tried to say Russians never blush. They'd already spent almost 10 years lying to each other and themselves about their feelings, which Shane thought would disappear overnight but Ilya still had a tendency to duck and hide his soft side. These soft vulnerable moments where Ilya would forget to be embarrassed by his joy were his favorite thing in the world.
They each took turns getting clean and then made breakfast together so it was another 3 hours before Shane remembered he had at least 3 missed calls waiting for him.
“Shit, who was on the phone earlier,” he asked running up to grab the abandoned device.
“Looks like it was your coach,” Ilya said. He had pulled out one of the new puzzles Shane had got him and was laser focused at the dining room table.
Fuck, Shane thought. There's not a lot of reasons for his coach to be calling during the off season and he definitely wouldn't be happy about Shane taking so long to respond.
“Hello Coach, so sorry I was uh busy away from my phone when you called,” Shane said stumbling through two different excuses. He really did suck at lying. It's a miracle that he'd managed to have a whole secret relationship despite it.
“Hollander, are you in Montreal?” Coach Theriault asked skipping past Shane's awkwardness.
“No, Quebec for the summer, but I can head over. Do you need me?”
“Random mandatory drug test tomorrow,” Coach said. “Attedance is not optional. Details are in your email, I'll ask them to push back the time to accommodate you traveling back.”
Fuck, Shane had yet to get pulled in for one of these. He knew they sometimes happened off season, but hadn't planned for it.
“Okay, thanks Coach,” Shane said. This felt especially unfair considering he had barely shaken off all the hockey mode pressures from being the winning captain of the Stanely Championship Game. And his time with Ilya was already so limited losing half a day was completely unappealing.
Shane definitely looked as sullen as he felt when he went back downstairs.
“What's wrong,” Ilya asked looking concerned.
“I got picked for random drug testing and have to go back to Montreal tomorrow,” Shane said. “I'm sorry.” It wasn't his fault, but apologizing was Shane’s default mode.
“Is not random, they ‘randomly’ pick all us Slavic players every year, twice a year,” Ilya said with a snort. “They think all Russians are doping.”
Shane cringed. “Ah yeah, I know JJ gets them pretty often too. It sucks. But they usually call us in the fall, so this is a bit weird.”
“Ah, that too,” Ilya said with a rueful smile. “At least in Russia they do not pretend to be accepting. Is less disappointment when standards are low, yes?”
“Jeez,” Shane took a seat next to his boyfriend. “That's a bleak way to look at life.”
“We cannot all be how you say ‘Happy go lucky.’”
“No, and they can be weird towards me in a million different ways, but I do like to think it’s the ignorance of the few not many,” Shane said.
He recalled the countless interviews where reporters would ask him about breaking barriers similar to Black American athletes or rattle off the names of Asian athletes from all other types of sports disciplines to ask for his commentary who he likely didn't know and better yet didn't feel good commenting on regardless. Everyone else's game is their own game. He focuses on his game.
“Send anyone who is being weird to you to me, and I'll have them taken care of, da,” Ilya said, grasping Shane’s hand in his.
“Okay Mr. KGB,” Shane said smiling. Ilya laughed and kissed him soft on the lips. And then kissed him again. And again.
Their marathon might be continuing.
𑣿
Shane was lounging on the back pool dock watching Ilya do ridiculous moves off his diving board when he got another call this time from a Montreal number he didn't recognize but popped up as the Metros office. He answered.
“Shane Hollander?” The voice on the other line had a thick Quebec accent.
“Yes…”
“This is the Metros Player Relations Office, we need to schedule a follow-up meeting. Your drug tests came back clean, but your name was flagged by the anti-doping organization. I am sincerely sorry for the inconvenience, but just know the Metros will be fully supporting you in this.”
Shane felt like the earth dropped from beneath him. He was being investigated for doping. This could ruin his entire career, true or not, and it definitely was not true.
“Oh, okay, um let me get back to you with scheduling things,” Shane said his mouth suddenly feeling dry.
“No problem Mr. Hollander, we will look out for your email. Have a good day,” and the line went dead.
Panic mode was in full swing, but Yuna Hollander was the best person in the world to handle it. Although having Ilya with him also helped a lot as he gave Shane a steady stream of back rubs and forehead kisses.
“Okay, I think I've finally tracked down the source of this thing, and it just confirms it will be totally fine. Are you hearing me Shane,” his mom asked. “Totally fine.”
Shane nodded out of respect not quite believing her.
“The word coming down the insider hockey channels is that the anti Doping organization just busted three different athletic trainers, and Anders Vizoult was one of them. So I'll be adding finding you a new trainer to the to do list. But, the drama means they have to check on all of his athletes, it's just the bureaucracy doting their ‘i's and crossing their ‘t's nothing more,” Mom said with extra emphasis on the nothing.
It still didn't feel like nothing to Shane but he could breathe a bit better.
“But the lawyer will help,” Ilya spoke gesturing with hands. “Make this go away.”
“In a manner of speaking,” Yuna said. “It’s for our protection, making sure the league doesn’t get too carried away. You can never be too careful.”
And so they were careful, at least that’s what it seemed. There were all these detailed requests for medical and phone records. It felt a little humiliating or maybe just vulnerable to both see these medical notes and having them highlighted by his lawyer Donovon Will Graham (apparently Donovon Graham was a well known divorce lawyer, so Graham used his middle name to differentiate).
It was weird enough but necessary to let Graham know about him and Ilya especially as they got through the yearly physical notes. The sterile awkwardness of being asked by a late 40s doctor about his sexual activity was one thing, but Shane was long past the age of having his mom hovering over his shoulders at those appointments like she was now.
“We can redact the parts where they note down both male and female sexual partners right,” Yuna asked, peering through her glasses.
“Yes, I’d say it’s a fair redaction. It doesn’t speak to any performance enhancing drug side effects. We will have to keep in the notes on his libido,” Graham said with so much professional nonchalance Shane felt like he could be talking about the weather instead of his levels of horniness.
“Doesn’t it look suspicious taking those out,” Shane asked in a squeakier tone than he meant to.
“No, honey, this is why we’re being thorough,” Yuna said. “By cutting out everything even tangentially unrelated to the PED allegations it makes it clear we’re both respecting your privacy and keeping this short and relevant. They should frankly be grateful to not have to filter everything out themselves.”
𑣿
During the meeting the investigation committee was decidedly not grateful.
Shane could only watch while white knuckling his arm rest as Graham laid out each one of their carefully crafted justifications for redacting the various medical notes.
But the issue where they lost the most ground was in the phone records.
“My client is a high profile individual with high profile friends who require privacy,” Graham said.
“And we respect that, and remind you that these proceedings are and will remain strictly classified within the organization on a need to know basis,” Montgomery said. She was a stern woman with cat eye glasses that gave her face the appearance of being in a constant scowl. Despite being quite young and pretty, she had the makings of an older mean math teacher in her.
“The committee has to allow us to at least replace all the contact names with the pre-assigned pseudonyms we presented in H3,” Graham argued back. He was a British Canadian who passed the bar to practice both there and across the North Americas in various states and provinces. Shane had no doubt the guy was a genius, but he also had a humble tilt in his mannerisms that translated well in Canadian culture.
“The pseudonyms can stay as long as we are allowed to run all the relevant numbers through our watchlist of PED users and distributors,” Montgomery said relenting.
The back and fourths continued with both a tedious yet agonizing level of detail. They only had access to the past 2 years of medical and phone records. And it became abundantly clear through the types of medical labs listed that Shane was not straight.
“And these are the results of the STI rectal exams,” Shelly Johnson said. She was second chair for Graham on Shane’s side of the committee investigation handling the evidence he wished was not being projected onto a Zoom screen at the moment. It had only been a few weeks since he learned about this video meeting platform, but he now hated it with a passion.
The whole thing felt exposing and wrong. And Shane had no idea it could get much worse.
𑣿
Ilya was surprised to find himself happy to see Hayden Pike that evening at the bar. He was also always glad to see JJ, the one friend Shane had from his team who wasn't annoying. And seeing Shane made him feel the happiest of all.
It had been a far more stressful off-season start than usual with the bullshit doping investigation, but things had finally quieted down 2 weeks before their first week of hockey camps for the Irina Foundation in Montreal.
“Rozanov,” JJ said, nodding his way.
“Boiziau,” Ilya said with a smile. He slid into the booth next to Shane. “Hollander.”
Shane narrowed his eyes warningly. “Hi Ilya.”
“I'm also here,” Hayden said for no good reason.
“Yes, is a shame you could be spending this time with your 200 children but chose to go out instead,” Ilya said dismissively.
“Hey I already put all the kids to sleep,” Hayden protested.
“You gotta learn to ignore him,” Shane said wryly. “I do.”
“Remind me why you two are friends again,” Hayden asked.
Ilya grinned widely knowing he'd just received the best set up to tease his secret boyfriend with.
“Shane loves me, Pike. It's the type of love that grows with time, not sizzling into obligation like you know.”
“You really want to drop gloves tonight, huh, Rozanov,” JJ said with a small smile. He was too nice to admit he found Ilya funny, but he could tell he did anyway.
“Can't we just have an evening of unhealthy snacks and sports trivia in peace,” Shane asked with a groan.
“Anything for you, moy glupyj krolik,” Ilya said quickly.
He loved the way Shane’s cheeks turned red making his freckles pop out. He freaked out the first couple of times Ilya used his silly pet names in front of them, but he pointed out that neither Pike nor Boiziau knew Russian or had any desire to learn. It was a safe way to flirt with only Shane knowing how sincerely he meant every word while his friends figured he was just testing out new increasingly depraved Russian swear words.
A server came by with trivia cards and took their orders. They actually had Shane’s favorite ginger ale in stock, which Ilya had called to confirm a few days earlier. Despite his protests to the contrary, Ilya knew Shane was still stressed about having his sexuality inadvertently exposed to the higher ups at the league.
Things relaxed as they got into the trivia night. A handful of hockey fans had come up to ask for photos here and there, but for the most part their booth was undisturbed. It felt good to be out with Shane in public even if the most Ilya could do was press his thigh into his and tap their feet together.
“Why couldn't Wyatt make it tonight,” Hayden asked looking at Ilya.
Ilya suppressed a grin. He suspected from the moment he mentioned it, Wyatt would be far more comfortable with trivia on any subject outside of sports, and comic books more specifically.
“He went to visit his sister and her wife in Toronto,” he said. “Said they needed family bonding time.”
“Damn, I would be laughing the whole trip there,” JJ said. “Kept him on the bench for years and now they're down a goalie and 4 other players.”
“Yeah, their roster’s a shit show now besides Kent and Barrett,” Shane said. “Duchebag 1 and 2.”
“Surprising they weren't doping,” Ilya said. “I fucking hate those guys.”
“That was so crazy, you know they actually called me in for drug testing,” Hayden said incredulously. “And I thought they were supposed to be random. Like it's never come up before, but I guess I was just lucky.”
Ilya, JJ, and Shane all laughed at that.
“Wow,” Ilya said, still shaking from his laughter. “They actually did call everyone if they called you.”
“How was your first time,” JJ asked innocently. “You weren't too nervous to perform?”
“Alright, fuck you all,” Hayden said. “We're good players, its not like they usually bother Shane either.”
Shane shook his head. “Don't know where you get that idea, but I get a ‘random’ call every 3rd week of November.”
“Every 2nd week of November,” JJ leaned forward to dab Shane up.
“Hmm, every 3rd week of October, 2nd week of December, 1st week of January, end of May but sometimes I'd be gone by then and could go out and party like a normal person,” Ilya said.
“Normal people take illicit substances to party,” Shane said skeptically.
Ilya snored dramatically. “I'm sorry I did not spend my summers reviewing tape like a good hockey boy.”
Shane rolled his eyes and tapped Ilya’s foot once under the table. He'd want to talk about this later. Ilya didn't mind. It was harder to find opportunities to have angry sex since they'd gotten together as a couple. Maybe he'll even mention snorting coke lines off of some model's breasts for added aggravation.
“Did they also ask you to give your phone to some forensic company,” Hayden asked.
“No, this was the first time they asked that,” JJ said. He wasn't laughing anymore. “That shit actually freaked me out. I got a lawyer because I thought it was just happening to me.”
“Yeah,” Shane said quietly. “I thought that too.”
“They didn't even suspend everyone outright,” JJ said now sounding angry. “Just a bunch of early retirements for no reason with a couple real suspensions. At least admit it, it's good that those guys got caught. It should make us look better to say they took it seriously.”
“I guess that just means, they probably want the option to not take it seriously,” Ilya said. “Let their real favorites walk. Promising rookies.”
“Shit,” Hayden said looking horrified. “That's probably exactly what they did.”
“Only the white ones I'm sure,” JJ said with a snort.
“Did they ask you guys any follow-up questions,” Shane asked.
“Hmm, they followed up, but I don't remember any questions specifically,” Hayden said.
“Of course,” Ilya said. “You barely remember the game you’re supposed to be playing when you’re on the ice.”
Hayden flipped him off with one hand as he took a sip from his beer with the other.
“Yes, but my lawyer handled that all,” JJ said. “Reminded them it was not supposed to be about anything else.”
Shane made a noise and nodded. Ilya could feel his leg bouncing next to him. He wanted to grab his hand, but held back. Even in this booth with the amount of hockey fans cautiously watching them that was a risk. Instead he pressed his thigh into Shane’s and tapped his foot twice trying to send him a message.
Shane looked up at him quizzically, reminding Ilya that he did not do subtle.
“Are you good,” he asked under his breath.
Shane nodded quickly which Ilya knew was more default than a real answer.
“Damn, I guess since I had nothing else to base it off of I didn't realize it was that scary,” Hayden said. “Sorry you went through that buddy.”
“Its… it's fine,” Shane said, stumbling slightly over his words. “I just, you know didn't appreciate the invasion of privacy and now everyone in management knows I'm gay for very uncomfortable reasons.”
“They're not being weird to you are they,” Hayden asked sounding indignant. “That's illegal.”
“Hasn't stopped bigots before,” Ilya said. He wanted to hug Shane. He wanted to pull him out of the bar, home under the covers, and into a tight embrace.
“We've got your back, Capitaine,” JJ said. “No matter what.”
“What you've got,” Shane leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Is the wrong answer for the 1986 Stanley Champion final runner ups.”
Ilya burst out laughing.
“God, no one gives a fuck who came in second,” JJ said laughing.
“You're such a hockey nerd, we'd be winning this if it was only hockey questions,” Ilya said, smiling warmly at his boyfriend.
Shane flushed slightly, turning away but tapping Ilya’s foot three times. I love you. Ilya could always read that one.
Since this was a Montreal bar anyways their trivia team came in second since most of the questions did cover hockey much to the pleasure of the bar owner who excitedly handed them their mini trophy. Ilya tried subtly to shift into the back of the photos, he forgot that was a possibility. But Shane surprised him, by throwing an arm around his shoulders.
“Don't you want your picture taken with a 3 time Stanley Cup winner,” Shane asked innocently.
“You are the actual asshole of the league, please someone quote me on this,” Ilya said feigning annoyance but he loved it when Shane bragged about his own achievements. It was unfortunately rare, and yet a huge turn on.
“Don't worry Rozanov,” JJ said. “We can dedicate our next Cup to you. Anything for a fan!”
The Montreal boys laughed while Ilya scowled.
Later that evening, Ilya remembered he had a follow-up question about the conspicuous follow-up questions.
“Shane,” he waited till he looked up from his book.
“Yeah?”
“Those follow-up questions from the League,” Ilya wasn't sure how to ask. “Did they ask if you were gay?”
Shane blanched and put his book down to nuzzle into Ilya's side on the bed. This time Ilya pulled him in close and embraced him tightly.
“They asked a lot of things,” Shane said. “My lawyer made it clear I didn't need to answer anything unrelated to the PED case. And it was mostly a lot of whys. Why redact this, why redact that, so it was stuff for my lawyer to answer. It was basically like they know I'm gay and in a relationship with a man and they're asking why I'm hiding those details from them.”
Ilya swore in Russian.
Shane laughed lightly.
“Don't keep saying it's okay, Shane. It's fucking not.”
“I know. It's just… there's nothing I can do, so… Maybe it's better to just think it's okay,” Shane’s words cut through Ilya’s heart. He was so used to shrinking himself, it made him both angry and sad.
Shane fucking Hollander should shrink for no one.
And what was worse was that there was very little they could do. It was starting to drive Ilya crazy how out of control everything in their lives felt.
“Do you ever think that maybe our plan is too far away,” Ilya spoke hesitantly. He was thinking so fast in Russian and needed to slow himself down to translate. “Do you think we will get to choose to come out, or if we will get caught one day?”
“Well, at least my mom has a plan for every scenario,” Shane said.
“It’s not that simple I think.”
“Neither are my mom's plans. From what I kinda of know.”
Ilya balked and adjusted himself.
“How- what do you mean ‘kinda know’?”
“Well, I mean my mom has all these spreadsheets and mentioned having different contingency plans if we get outed together, or if just one or the other of us gets outed. Statements and stuff prepared. It's not like we need to review them unless it becomes necessary.” Shane sounded entirely unaffected by the idea that these worst case scenario statements existed without his input.
“Well maybe, if I get outed I want to respond with my own words,” Ilya said, feeling himself getting annoyed.
“Of course, it's not that we have to use what she's done. They're just options,” Shane said, tossing his hand dismissively.
“You don't even know all the options,” Ilya asked, slightly more accusatory than he meant.
“No, it stresses me out so I try not to think about it,” Shane said tensely.
Of course it did, thought Ilya.
“I want to know what the plans are,” he said instead.
“Okay,” Shane said exasperated. “We can ask her in the morning before you leave.”
Ilya sighed. He barely had any time with Shane and he didn't want to spend any of it being annoyed at him or Yuna who he loved too. She created Shane and opened her home to him in ways he hadn’t experienced since moving to North America.
“It is fine, when we do the camps in Ottawa we can talk about it,” he said relenting. He worried sometimes they let go of conversations too easily, but those brown eyes truly bewitched him and he hated to see Shane look even the slightest bit upset if he could help it.
𑣿
The day before the Irina Foundation camps in Ottawa was a disaster.
Ilya loved Shane. He loved David. And he loved Yuna. But while Shane played hockey with a cold detached precision that Ilya found sexy, Yuna played public relations with a cold detached precision that scared him.
Ilya initially thought this would be an awkward conversation about the boundaries he at least wanted between their personal and professional relationship, and not wanting to feel like Shane’s mom was scripting out his life the same way Shane allows her to do his. It was supposed to be simple.
And it started out simple. There were the statements for various public incidents where they either got outed together or separately. What they would post once they were ready to come out, also split together and separate in case they wanted to soft launch.
But then there were the PR strategies in the case of bad reception. And these were frankly sinister.
“If the League keeps up its current tactics, these resources are going to be necessary,” Yuna said in a matter of fact tone. “Controlling the narrative in the news is essential in any marketing strategy.”
“Yeah, but this is not about us,” Ilya said. “You could share this information with the reporters now and it would still force the league to be better.”
“This is mostly public information,” Yuna argued. “I just put together some more of the missing dots.”
They were all sitting at the dining room table where Yuna had her binders spread out. The offending binder “Defense Strategies” was in front of Ilya and he kept flipping through the pages. Shane sat to the right of Ilya shaking his left leg frantically as his eyes shifted uncomfortably from the pages, to his boyfriend, to his mom, and back again. David looking as impassive as ever, kept his eyes to the table. Yuna defiantly kept her gaze locked between the pages and Ilya’s face.
“This is not just public, you have notes where you spoke to the coaches’ wives and assistants,” Ilya said. “You know more than the public.”
“It was always a statistical possibility that the league had more than two gay players,” Yuna explained like she would any hockey related fact. “Eric Baldwin not getting his contract renewed was a good lead, but Nils Lundin going back to Sweden helped establish the pattern. Most players are from Europe and have a lot to lose without a new contract. When I looked at their game stats and the public contract negotiation news it was clear that some players were moving for reasons completely separate from team performance. Figuring out Ryan Price’s situation helped find the rest.”
“You don’t know for sure these other players are gay or queer,” Shane said. “This is mostly guessing.”
“Guessing with some tactfully placed inquiries to get more clarity, yes,” Yuna said.
“And you’re ready to out them to help us,” Ilya said incredulously.
“No,” Yuna said firmly. “It is nothing like that. It is simply to establish a pattern for members of the press to look into. Whether or not they choose to speak to the press is completely up to them.”
“But they don’t know somebody’s created this special algorithm to find NHL queers and handed their names over to some reporters. Like that doesn’t feel fair,” Shane said. “Being figured out like this is my nightmare.”
“Exactly, like you two and Scott Hunter, there are definitely more players I’m missing and a chance some people are being miscategorized, but potentially identifying 16 players in a league of 32 teams makes sense,” Yuna said. “And it’s to know for you guys. Like Shane I don’t want to stress you out, but it is part of the pattern for Montreal to not have asked you yet what you plan to do with your upcoming free agency. They should be trying to woo you, you’ve won them 3 Stanley Cups.”
Ilya could see the moment Shane’s heart dropped. This wasn’t a fair fight. This shouldn’t even be a fight.
“You have a list of trustworthy sports journalists, you should just give them this information now,” Ilya said. “I understand why you figured this out, but keeping this to yourself is not okay. 10 of these guys don’t play anymore and no one knows why.”
“If they were really pushed out for the reasons I think, they have just as much incentive to go to the press,” Yuna said.
“No they don’t! It says right here, they’re going down to the AHL, trying to coach, become athletic trainers — they’re trying to stay connected to hockey,” Ilya shouted. “And worse, they all think they’re alone because they’re at smaller franchises, they played support positions and saw barely any ice time. None of them are All Stars. They can’t afford to complain.”
Yuna shook her head.
“We get one chance to play this theory is all, so I don’t want to waste it,” Yuna said coolly.
“So confronting the league on it’s bigotry is a fucking waste unless it’s to protect, Shane,” Ilya said. “Got it. That’s great.”
“Ilya” Shane said at the same time David said, “We don’t talk like that at the table, son.”
“My apologies,” Ilya said with a rueful grin. “I forgot this is family business. I’ll see myself out.”
“Ilya, please,” Yuna said as he got up. “I’m sorry you feel this way. Surely we can come to a resolution.”
“Thank you so much for lunch Mrs. Hollander. Mr. Hollander,” Ilya looked at Shane. “Hollander.”
Ilya wasn’t sure what to expect from Shane when he got back to his house a couple hours later, but seeing his bloodshot eyes immediately made his anger dissipate.
“Hey, c’mere,” he said spreading his arms wide.
“Fuck, Ilya,” Shane’s words were muffled into his shoulder. “I know she’s intense, but I didn’t know it could be like this.”
Now Ilya was the one tempted to say “It’s okay” but he really felt strongly that it wasn’t.
“Will she share her information,” he asks instead not expecting much.
“She promised to think about it,” Shane said weakly.
Ilya sighed deeply and reminded himself that he wouldn’t want his mother judged for her own worst moments.
“I will apologize to Yuna and David,” Ilya said. “But we will not agree on this.”
Shane nodded his head. “I don’t agree with it either. But I’ve never known anyone to change my mom’s mind about something. Not me, not dad.”
“No, you did change her mind about me,” Ilya said with a soft smile.
“That’s different,” Shane said, lifting the corner of his lips slightly. “She didn’t actually know you when she hated you. And she hated you a lot less after you visited me in the hospital.”
“And she cares a lot about you,” Ilya said. “I can relate.”
It wasn’t perfect, but Ilya loved Shane and the Hollanders. He believed in Yuna, that she could do better. Do the right thing. He at least wouldn’t let Shane try to convince her alone.
𑣿
The next unwelcome call that came from Shane’s Coach happened in person.
“Benched,” he said exasperated.
“Until further notice,” Theriault said gruffly.
𑣿
Ilya generally had a positive impression of his new coach Wiebe. But seeing him at his front door at 7 in the morning did seem a bit much post what was really a standard Ottawa Centaurs loss.
“Yes, Coach,” Ilya said opening the door.
“Sorry to drop by like this,” Wiebe said with a strained expression. “I figured this would be better than a phone call.”
“Okay,” Ilya said slowly completely lost. “Um, come in. Do you want coffee?”
Wiebe came in and took a seat at his kitchen island waving off the coffee offer.
“No good way to say this, but your scratched till further notice pending a ‘contract review’ and that is everything that I am allowed to tell the team,” Wiebe said.
Ilya felt scared, but still mostly confused.
“What does that mean,” he asked.
“I really have not been told much, but I wanted to get some clarity or offer my support for as much as it can do,” Wiebe gestured for Ilya to sit down which he did.
“Now I had a lot of questions when I got the call 30 minutes ago to tell you not to come to practice,” Wiebe started. “The official statement is you are being benched due to contract issues. What I am not allowed to tell the team, is you are being investigated for breaching contract terms. And I could be off, but when they said it was for an inappropriate player relationship, I figured that meant either you were dating the owner’s daughter which would be weird, or you were potentially dating another player. Am I far off base?”
Ilya looked down. He felt like all the air had somehow escaped his lungs and he needed to start breathing again to compensate for it.
“I’m really sorry,” Wiebe spoke again taking Ilya’s silence as an admission. “I know it doesn’t count for much to say I don’t think this is something the league can just get away with in 2020, but I do think this is something you can fight. Do you have anyone I can call for you? To not be alone right now?”
Ilya suddenly remembered his phone was still sitting on his bedroom nightstand.
“It is,” he started. “I can call his family.” No point in lying now that the biggest secret is out. And he definitely did need whatever resources Yuna Hollander might have at disposal now.
Wiebe nodded. “Please go make that phone call, and again I’m really sorry. I know I don’t have much sway with anyone at the board, but my next stop is with Ottawa management, and we’re already aligned with wanting you off the bench as soon as possible.”
Ilya walked Coach Wiebe out the door. And he got to his bedroom where he already had 4 missed calls from Yuna and 2 missed calls from David.
“Hello,” he said, having chosen to call David back.
“Ilya,” Yuna exclaimed. “Oh honey, did they bench you too?”
Ilya’s stomach lurched. He had only had a few moments to process being found out himself, and hadn’t quite connected the dots back to Shane.
“Yes, I am out with no end date,” Ilya said. “Pending review."
Yuna sucked her teeth emphatically. “They are going to regret this.”
Ilya had no doubt she’s live up to those words.
“Just hang tight son,” David said. “We’ll be over in another 30 minutes or so.”
Ilya registered the putting the phone down, but not much else. He sat on the side of the bed and then slumped over. A dam burst and a steady stream of tears began falling from his eyes. They had been caught. He didn’t know how, but it happened. And now all their worst dreams are coming true. He wasn’t allowed to go to practice. Soon this would be all over the news.
Ilya wasn’t sure how long he had been laying there like that until he was suddenly aware of strong arms around his shoulders and soft fingers in his hair.
“It’s gonna be alright, okay,” David had his arms around him rocking him now reassuringly.
“Hang in there honey,” Yuna cooed. “We’ll get through this together.”
Ilya just nodded. The fear that paralyzed him was starting to dissipate, but he didn’t trust it to last.
“Everyone will know,” he said.
“Oh no, honey, this is strictly internal league business,” Yuna reassured. “I’ve already spoken with 3 different attornies and the NLPHA representative. We have time, and they have no reason to disclose why you’re being benched.”
Ilya felt like he could breathe a bit again. It wasn’t just the being outed, it was the lack of control. It was not seeing Shane. He felt so tired and frankly sad all the time, to have the one consistent activity in his life stripped from him on a random Thursday after losing at home again. It was all overwhelmingly bad, but at least he wasn’t completely alone.
“Shane is driving here,” David said, answering the next question on Ilya’s mind.
“We’re going to figure this out okay,” Yuna said in her stern voice. There was no disagreeing with her now.
Ilya nodded along. He could get through this. He had to get through this.
𑣿
The New York headquarters of the NHL might as well have been a court room. Shane was so close and yet so far from Ilya in the big conference room. It was one of the private rooms without the big windows that people rarely heard about.
It was a disciplinary hearing with at least four competing agendas at play. The NHL board that set this in motion had brought forth allegations of player misconduct due to breaking the conflict of interest clause and were seeking fines and suspensions. The Montreal Metros and Ottawa Centaurs wanted their star centers back on the ice. The Boston Raiders wanted $30 million dollars for contract tampering and loss of future revenue. And Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov just want to be together and continue to play in the NHL without getting outed any further than they have already.
“Thank you all for coming here today early, so we can get started on time. My name is Tara Montgomery if we have not met. I will be facilitating these meetings. The faster we get through discovery, the faster we get to a resolution on this matter. Does anyone have any questions before we begin?”
Shane saw Ilya’s mouth open and then shut as he was met with a searing glare from his lawyer. Shane bit the inside of his mouth at once both annoyed and endeared by his boyfriend’s insistence at being the most opinionated person in a room regardless of the circumstances. He could guess what Ilya’s questions might’ve been.
Why are you doing this? Is this because you hate queer people? Is it so wrong to fall in love with your archrival that we have to have a whole meeting about it?
That was also one of Shane’s questions. But he knew how to best present himself in front of an audience like this one. At least he hoped his years of media training would count for something here. He never practiced what to say in this situation, but he also hadn’t planned on falling in love with his rival to begin with.
All in all, it was a lot of growing pains to go through.
“Now on the subject of discovery,” Montgomery started.
“Excuse me, but we have put forth a statement of objection that we would like addressed,” Graham said. “Sorry to interrupt, but the rules are little less clear here seeing as this is a private investigation being held in lieu of anyone taking any outright legal action at this time.”
The air in the room grew even more tense. Everyone knew they were at a precipice with this internal hearing. It was essentially the league's way of avoiding a lawsuit from the Boston Raiders who were holding Shane personally responsible for the loss of their star center. They had offered Ilya everything they could to try and get him to re-sign with Boston not knowing that he essentially had been ready to quit from the minute he stepped foot into Shane’s cottage.
And to a lesser extent, Shane and Ilya were poised to counter sue the league if they continued to bench them. Shane had zero interest in being an activist for queer rights in sports, but he was a queer man in a sport at risk of losing his position for that fact. It was not at all how he wanted to come out, but he was willing to fight for it. He deserved to be the captain of the Montreal Metros. And he wanted to do that while being Ilya Rozanov’s boyfriend.
The people around him kept warning him he might have to choose one, but it was no choice really. No matter what happened with this hearing, Shane planned on staying by Ilya’s side.
“To the best of our knowledge, this entire hearing is based off of evidence gathered incidentally,” Graham said. His tone was firm as he gestured to the papers in front of him.
“This is all fruit of the poisonous tree,” Graham continued. “The call logs from a very unnecessary doping hearing not unlike this one were turned over to clear Shane Hollander of any wrongdoings. They were never supposed to leave that specific strict circumstance, and that was promised to us at the time.”
“Well, we had every reason to know about this outsider influence during our player contract negotiations,” said Ben Horne, the lawyer for the Boston Raider organization.
“Contract season was up years ago, Ben. You can’t force him back to Boston now,” said Regina Langley, Ilya’s lawyer. She had long reddish brown hair that came down in waves and a thick Bostonian accent that communicated she could give two shits about what anyone in that room had to say who wasn’t her. She both scared and impressed Shane.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Montgomery said. “We have heard out your fruit of the poisonous tree objection, but like you said. We are not beholden to the same restrictions as the US court systems here and hope to come to a passable resolution without it.”
“And I hope that sincerely works out for you too,” Graham said with a cold smile. The charming nice affect with which he handled the doping committee had seemingly been completely abandoned as soon as they moved the meetings to New York City. Shane guessed he realized being nice got you nowhere when it came to the league.
“Now on to the evidence,” Montgomery said decidedly ignoring the last passive aggressive comment.
For the next two hours Shane watched again in mortification as his phone records were displayed for an audience he would never willingly share them with. And worse still he had to answer questions about them.
“And how does Mr. Hollander explain these 4 to 6 hour long phone calls with Mr. Rozanov,” Montgomery asked for the second time, the first being over 4 months ago.
Graham nodded at Shane, and so he gave his well rehearsed reply.
“I was on the phone with Ilya on speaker as I went about my daily tasks,” Shane said.
“And why would you keep Mr. Rozanov on the phone for so long during the day?”
“We lived over 9 hours apart from each other and wanted to feel like we were closer,” Shane said. His mouth was already feeling dry again. This was private, intimate and not at all something he wanted the very angry Boston Raider management team to be listening to.
“Do you do this with all the friends you live far away from?”
“No, just Ilya.”
“Is this because you two were more than just friends at the time?”
This was the part that he hadn’t answered at the first hearing, but now potentially worked in his favor if they really did have to sue.
“Yes, Ilya was and is my boyfriend,” Shane said, risking a small glance at his left. Ilya was looking at him with a rueful grin on his face. Shane’s lips twitched wanting to return the smile, sad as it was, but needing to be the most detached version of himself to get through this.
“When did this relationship start,” Montgomery asked.
Now was time for the gamble. They had discussed various scenarios with how to win over the committee to convince them that the Boston trade negotiations in 2018 was not some out of the blue trick. As if Shane could or would ever manipulate Ilya in the way they kept trying to spin it.
“It started the summer before our rookie season. Before either of us ever played a regular NHL game for our respective teams,” Shane said. He noticed a few jaws drop over in the Boston corner and it seemed like the Metros management team members paled.
Montgomery was stunned for a few seconds before she quickly schooled her features and repeated her questions to Ilya.
“Yes, we started to see each other romantically the summer before our rookie seasons,” Ilya said. “It was very casual off and on until 2017.”
“The committee has requested additional phone records, but neither of you were forthcoming in providing those, why is that?” Montgomery asked.
“My client’s previous cooperation under strict guidelines was not honored as we’ve established earlier,” Graham said. “So being as we are not under any real legal obligation to provide so, we have opted to not provide further phone records.”
“Likewise my client has no legal obligation to provide this committee with any of his private communications,” Langley said. “So you’ll just have to take our word for it. But we have provided supplemental materials to prove that my client was in close proximity with Mr. Hollander during this time period.”
“This is outrageous,” Horne yelled. “They’re trying to deflect from the contract negotiations by claiming this conflicting relationship pre-dates the season. What’s next, are they going to say it pre-dates the draft?”
“We did meet before the draft,” Ilya said with his signature smirk. Langley sent him another scathing glare.
Shane could hardly imagine what the people in this room would think if they knew that if either him or Ilya had been even a little bit braver at 18 they would’ve first hooked up that night of the draft in the hotel gym. A shiver ran down Shane’s spine as he remembered there was really no telling how far they would go into the details of their twisted timeline to try and fight this.
“I think we are about at time for today’s meeting,” Montgomery said reeling the room’s attention back. “Recall the boiler plate statements we have for the press and that nothing said in this room is to leave.”
Shane rolled his eyes at that one unable to keep up this mask of professional indifference for a minute longer.
𑣿
“This doesn’t feel right, mom,” Shane said. He loved his mother and usually trusted her implicitly. But she sometimes scared him. And now was one of those times.
“We are in a war of information and optics,” Yuna said. “It doesn’t have to feel right, it just needs to work.”
“Your mother is right,” Graham said. “The Raiders leaking to an outlet means they actually want to settle with Ilya and are willing to drop you from the suit. They want to force the league’s hand as much as our own.”
“We hit them back harder,” Langley said. “Call their bluff. They know we hold the trump card. They just don’t believe we’ll play it yet.”
“I feel bad for those guys,” Ilya said. “And we’re not doing this to actually help.”
“You want to keep playing hockey and keep your personal life personal,” Langley said. “This is our best play.”
“And let's not forget,” Graham said. “The league made it personal first. This wouldn't be happening at all if you were in a heterosexual relationship. People can and need to have friends across different teams or else no one could ever be traded.”
“Contract tampering, fixing games, the whole shabang. It's all bullshit to obfuscate- well pretend, that the real problem is you make them uncomfortable,” Langley finished.
Shane shifted in his seat and felt the tap of Ilya’s foot to his. Even though they were in closed doors in this private conference room discussing their relationship, Shane couldn't help but want to keep his distance. To prove that he and Ilya could be professional, and that they had been professional this entire time. Shane tapped Ilya’s foot back three times.
“So the reporter will publish the story right away if you ask,” Shane said hesitantly. “I wasn’t the only interview?”
“No, but the angle has to be right,” Yuna said. “There was already a bunch of write ups when Baldwin and Lundin were dropped from their teams. Two can be a coincidence. Your interview makes three and establishes a pattern of the NHL pushing out and silencing LGBTQ+ players. It's a risk to try this mid suspension, but that's also why it will work.”
“The league would rather let you play than deal with this PR nightmare,” Graham said. “It’s 2020 and the political climate towards the LGBT community is tense and loud. Even a hint towards a boycott will send Roger Crowell into cardiac arrest.”
“That would not be a bad thing, yes,” Ilya said, earning a wry grin and glare from their respective lawyers.
Shane allowed himself a small smile before schooling his features back to the picture of professionalism.
“This is still fairly untested waters handling sexual orientation discrimination in men's sports,” Graham said. “Especially in hockey. One out player still active and the rest bullied into silence or retiring.”
“Getting Ryan Price on the record will shift everything, you guys,” Yuna said. “I know he's a quiet guy, but if it's you asking, Shane I think he'll be open to it.”
“Send the text, make the call, or slide into the DMs however you kids communicate these days,” Langley said. “This benching ends tomorrow. You've both missed two games too many as is.”
“Damn right,” Yuna said with a cold nod. “Those fuckers are going down.”
“Jeez, mom.”
“Tell us how you really feel, Yuna,” Ilya quipped.
“You boys outta know by now that I'm ruthless when it comes to defending my family,” Yuna said.
And maybe that was just the problem.
Lily: 1630
Jane: ???
Lily: 😈
Jane: Seriously?!?!
Lily: Always, my little slut 😘
It was mostly an act, of course Shane was going to his boyfriend's hotel room.
𑣿
Ilya peppered light kisses to Shane’s arm and chest as he lay in bed as the little spoon. There was the comfortable post sex silence between them that Ilya didn't want to break.
But Shane had no such qualms.
“Ryan said I can call right at 8am,” Shane said. He was still playing with Ilya's curls as he spoke, twisting and untwisting them in his fingers.
“Okay.” Ilya sighed, pressing his forehead to Shane’s chest. The silence was twisting to uncomfortable territory.
“I know it's kinda shitty,” Shane started.
“It's not kind of shitty, Shane. It's totally fucked up,” Ilya said far harsher than he meant to.
The next beat of silence was torturous and familiar.
Being in a long distance relationship, Ilya and Shane had developed a terrible habit with arguments. Their time together was so limited and neither one of them wanted to waste it on tough conversations.
And much to Shane’s discomfort, his mother's managing tactics were a constant well of tough conversations.
It really started with Ilya switching over his management to a Canadian agent Yuna recommended. No one at the agency had any reason to think Ilya was especially close to Yuna and thus had shared some startling feedback offhand about working with her.
Things like “She's the best, but also the worst. I was so glad when I finally got off her desk,” which was noted by a soft spoken assistant.
Or things like, “You're lucky Yuna is planning on covering your Adidas deals. I heard she scared their assistant PR rep so bad, she only deals with the VP directly now. You're guaranteed the best contract.”
Yuna Hollander was a great ally and an awful enemy. When she had visited one of the brand shoots she co-booked with his agent Farah Jalali, it was like she had brought in a ticking time bomb with the way she got everyone to move faster.
And then there were the questionable PR moves, like this.
“I mean yeah, it's shitty but no one at ESPN wanted to do a gay NHL player's post Scott Hunter story with the lower profile players before,” Shane said. “The story always mattered.”
“Yeah, but good journalism is not waiting for my son to need a fucking bargaining chip to drop an article,” Ilya said.
Shane pulled away and Ilya let him.
“I don't like it either. It's not like the story was never going to happen,” Shane said heated now.
“No. It was just going to be ‘On hold till contract season’ right?”
Yuna’s hard work trying to track the treatment of gay and queer players in the NHL paid off, as she gathered a compelling file of evidence off record and on of players who'd been called up to NHL headquarters randomly, or players whose contracts were mysteriously adjusted to remove “no trade clauses” or shortened completely. She knew when a queer player was going to get cut before they did.
And she did nothing about it.
The revelation at the end of the first round of hockey camps had created a canyon sized fissure between the whole family which Ilya was still considered a member of. And he loved the Hollanders truly, but he wanted Yuna to see life beyond cold optic calculations and self branding deals.
Ilya thought she cared far too much about what other people thought. And at times, he thought Shane did the same.
“It is a fucking huge story without ‘Shane Hollander's’ name attached,” Ilya continued. “And your name still isn't attached.”
“Okay, sorry I don’t want to come out because I'm being sued!”
“She fucking outed you!”
“I know and its fucked!” Shane yelled. “Don't you think I know its fucked,” he said again quieter.
“I wish you would tell her,” Ilya said, matching Shane’s tone. He suddenly felt bone tired even though it was still a quarter past 10pm. “Are you going to let her manage your life forever?”
“She's my mom, Ilya,” Shane said. It's what Shane always said. This is how this fight always ended.
“It affects me too,” Ilya said stubbornly. “She sold your coming out story for you, and didn't even ask. And if we call Ryan Price tomorrow that's it. I might as well sign the same fucking deal.” Because there was a similar deal, not presented like Shane’s was. Yuna at least gave him an option.
Shane’s breathing grew ragged.
“I just don't want any of this to be happening,” he huffed out.
Shane rarely cried even around people he was comfortable with. While Ilya turned into a fountain over a cute dog video and certain anniversaries like his mother's birthday, Shane just didn't express his emotions like that often.
And contrary to popular belief, Ilya was not an asshole nor did he take any pleasure in bringing his boyfriend to tears.
“Shane,” Ilya said hesitating and then rolling on top of him. Shane buried his face in the crook of his neck.
“I don't want to do it, but I want to play hockey again, but I also really don't want to do this stupid fucking article,” Shane spoke his words whispered into Ilya's shoulder. “But then we get outed either way.”
Ilya took a couple deep breaths waiting and Shane started to copy him. He could feel the tension slowly ebb down.
“So maybe we are outed, maybe not,” Ilya said. “Our lawyers will not get their bonuses if we are.”
“Ha,” Shane said dryly.
“You are Shane fucking Hollander,” Ilya said finally making eye contact again. Shane’s warm brown eyes were still a bit glossy and bloodshot, but they were Ilya's whole world. “They will not stop you from playing hockey.”
Shane smiled a little. “You're also pretty decent at hockey too.”
“Wow, I am blushing at your high praise.”
Shane smiled a bit wider. “I thought Russians didn't do that?”
“Maybe only because of you,” Ilya said and pecked him with a soft kiss. “I do a lot of different things only because of you.”
“Isn't that bad? Am I too demanding? You should do more of what you wan-” Ilya kissed Shane again more urgently to stop his spiraling.
Shane chased his lips and they laid there just kissing for a while.
Ilya nuzzled into Shane's neck and spoke quietly into his ear.
“I want to be with you. I can stay in the closet with you, walk out of it with you. If this secret gets out, I want it to be with you. They can out me for loving you, I don't care, Shane. What I really want is you.”
“You have me.”
“You in control of you,” Ilya said, then bit back his lip. He didn't want to start this fight again. “Just you.”
He felt Shane nodding. “All I want is you too. And me in control with you. Whatever that looks like.”
Ilya lifted his head back to look into Shane’s eyes again. They were soft and sad, but not in the same way they were a moment earlier.
“Are you saying that,” Ilya trailed off, not sure exactly where he was going with that.
“I'm not firing my mom, but I'm also not letting her make this decision for me,” Shane said. “For us.”
𑣿
“The plan was a two part article,” Yuna said. If she was upset that the plan was no longer happening, she didn't show it. “But now we have the bluff left and a paper trail to back it.”
The meeting today had to work.
“This is not discriminatory in any way,” Horne said. “Boston management was presented with compelling evidence of contract negotiations tampering, and is asking for the policies in place to be enforced.”
“This is not simple and you know that,” Langley said.
“We are prepared to counter sue, and these civil litigations stay public for as long as it takes for us to settle. Is that something the Boston organization really wants following them around?” Graham asked.
“There is no cause for my client to remain benched,” Langely said. “He made up his mind and has moved on from the Boston organization. You're not going to retroactively win that cup, hon.”
“Now you just-” Horne was cut off by Montgomery.
“That is enough, please refrain from using such personal language, Langley.”
“What can I say,” Langley said without a note of apology. “I'm from the city of Brotherly love, can’t take the Philly out the girl.”
“Moving along, we have reviewed the by-laws and the amicus briefs and summaries submitted by Rozanov’s representation,” Montgomery said. “At this time we have decided to close his contract tampering case among the disciplinary board.”
“But not my client,” Graham said. “We cited the same by-laws and submitted twice as many relevant amicus briefs.”
“We have to take these allegations of contract interference seriously,” Roger Crowell said. He rarely spoke at these meetings and it caused a churning in Shane’s stomach to hear him choose to speak up now.
“Our by-laws do make clear provisions about consequences for third party interference and there is no compelling evidence against Shane Hollander being a relevant third party in the Boston contract negotiations,” Montgomery said. She spoke matter of factly as if there was no emotional weight to what she was suggesting.
“This is bullshit,” Ilya spoke exactly what Shane was thinking.
“Rozanov please, we have yet to table the personal conflict issue,” Crowell said.
Shane felt a sick familiar heat in his chest from those words. Crowell sounded truly apologetic to Ilya where he hadn't just a moment ago when discussing Shane. It was that sick twisting feeling of anger tinged with despair that he got whenever he noticed someone was being racists towards him or his mom. His lawyer was white like most of the people in the room. It was supposed to work in his benefit, but it seemed like it hadn't made much of a difference at all.
“I don't think you've fully clarified your positioning,” Graham said. “Are you keeping my client on the bench after this along with Rozanov? Or is just Rozanov allowed to play now?”
“Well we can't have contractual liabilities left un-dealt with,” Montgomery said.
Ilya let out a humorless laugh, but said nothing.
“This feels like a move to take away my client's standing in pursuing further legal actions,” Langely said.
“Well we took the Russia factor into consideration as well,” Montgomery said. “Rozanov’s legal status is dependent on his work at the NHL.”
But Shane’s isn't was the part left unsaid. Shane felt like he might scream. He became aware suddenly that he was tapping his right foot intensely and he could feel a frenetic energy rising up in his chest. He actually might explode right here and now.
“You are making a huge mistake,” Graham said. “This gives us more ground to pursue discriminatory counter suits.”
“We have prepared a settlement amount for your client to consider,” Montgomery said and gestured towards an assistant who began handing out little blue folders.”
“More than half of his salary, this absurd,” Graham said.
“We would also like to express again a desire for a quick and fair return to play for our captain,” a representative from the Metros said. “The by-laws do not require benching for disciplinary negotiations.”
“Benching players currently under disciplinary review is under our discretion,” Crowell said stoically.
And there it was plain as day to Shane. It was no secret that Ottawa was a bit of a league embarrassment, and no one was happy to see Ilya join the organization outside of it and Shane’s immediate loved ones who knew. This was a punishment for moving the most successful player in the league down to one of the least successful franchises within the league.
And it was a punishment Crowell was glad to have Shane shoulder alone. Maybe he thought Ilya playing for a losing team in of itself was punishment enough.
“My client is not paying a fee to get back on the ice,” Graham said. “We have the legal system on our side if we choose to go to the courts.”
“If that is what your client wants,” Montgomery said.
Shit. This is the bluff call.
“And we have the proper paperwork prepared,” Graham said, seeming unfazed.
“You will be compelled to comply with our discovery requests in full,” Montgomery said.
This was the tennis match. They lobbed hypothetical threats back and forth. Shane tried to keep his eyes trained to the table. He didn't know if his face was giving away their position. He also didn't know if he could use his body language to sell his position. He was sure he didn't look like a man ready to come out via civil suit filing.
“And we are prepared to respond to those discovery requests in full,” Graham said. “My client has nothing to hide. But he does have a right to privacy and the league has no right to ask him to forego that privacy.”
“Especially as we have provided a clear paper trail to establish there was no tampering with contract negotiations between my client and Mr. Hollander,” Langley said.
“There is evidence that Mr. Rozanov took career advice including agent recommendations from Mr. Hollander,” Montgomery said.
“There are only a handful of talent agencies representing NHL players, and it is public knowledge who those agents and agencies are,” Graham said. “They do not share an agent and even if they did, it does not go against any league by-laws for opposing players to share the same representation.”
“It's the hint of impropriety,” Horne said. “There was a $30 million dollar contract on the table left unsigned because of the actions of Mr. Hollander.”
“Those actions being a private personal relationship,” Graham said. “Horne do you really expect us to believe Boston would give a shit if Mr. Rozanov had been dating an employee of the Metros organization of the opposite gender?”
“We could have,” Horne said dismissively. “But he wasn't screwing some floozy from the sales department, and frankly the board's decision to forego our request to invoke the morality clause is completely shortsighted.”
“Oh, you've made your opinions of the ‘morals’ of Mr. Hollander and Mr. Rozanov abundantly clear,” Graham said snarling at the word morals. “Although Horne, your ex-assistant had very different things to say about your morals since you brought it up.”
“Oh you would listen to that lying bitch, get fucked Graham.”
“Gentlemen,” Montgomery spoke sharply. “I know this is not an official civil proceeding for the district court of New York, but we do expect a similar level of respect in the language you use here.”
“My apologies, Ms. Montgomery,” Graham said.
“Horne?” Montgomery asked.
“I apologize for my outburst,” Horne said with some difficulty.
An uncomfortable silence settled into the conference room. A paralegal passed a notepad over to Graham who scribbled something down and passed it back. They began to type frantically on their computer.
“My client is prepared to provide additional testimony to refute the conflict of interest clause claims,” Graham said.
“As is mine,” Langley said.
Montgomery nodded to her left and an assistant pulled up a new blue folder and passed around a fresh document copy for everyone on the nameless board, and the team representatives present.
“Who wants to speak first,” Montgomery asked.
Shane wanted to, but that wasn't part of the strategy for today.
“Mr. Rozanov will read his prepared statement first,” Langley said.
“Very well,” Montgomery said.
Ilya straightened up and took a deep breath. And then a sip of water. Shane had already heard this a few times, but was still surprised by the shaky and highly formal English coming out of Ilya’s mouth. He was never anything less than confident when speaking despite the language barrier, but this situation was of course different. It was painfully personal, and only Shane heard Ilya speak about what was on his heart. It felt cruel to hear him speak on it now in such a severe context.
“I first met Shane Hollander in the December of 2008,” Ilya read from the sheet of paper before him. “I was 17-years-old and still learning English. It was a few days before we ever competed against one another on the ice. He talked to me about hockey in general which took me a lot of effort to translate and I did not have the effort left to respond. But it was clear he was trying to be friends.
“I met Hollander again after the NHL draft in July 2009. My English was more improved at this time, and we spoke in the hotel gym after working out together. Again we discussed hockey and our new teams in a friendly manner. And I realized that I had more romantic feelings for him.
“In the summer of 2010, I saw that Hollander was signed to the same CCM deal that I was and asked my agent if it was possible to do a brand shoot together. I wanted to see him outside of any competitions. And we started a casual romantic relationship after that brand shoot.
“I am a Russian citizen and highly aware that my country was not and still is not safe for people like me. I had no intentions of coming out as bisexual in public and I had reason to believe disclosing the romantic nature of my relationship with Hollander would threaten my safety. That is why I am asking the board to waive the breach of the conflict of interest clause as there were extenuating circumstances involved. Thank you.”
Shane could tell his face and ears were burning. He had never speed run through so many emotions at once. The love he felt for Ilya, the rage he felt to be known as an “extenuating circumstance” to the league he dedicated his entire adult life to, and the uncomfortable exposed feeling of hearing his love story presented in such a cold careless setting.
Montgomery only nodded. “Is Mr. Hollander ready to proceed?”
“Yes,” Graham nodded at Shane.
“You may proceed, Mr. Hollander.”
Shane took a sip from his water bottle again. He tried to empty his head and treat this as just another press junket. Nothing more but a prepared statement. It's nothing more to everyone listening after all.
“At the 2008 World Juniors, I introduced myself to Ilya Rozanov. I was 17-years-old and, while hopeful, still 6 months out from the NHL draft.”
The statements were carefully curated to emphasize two key points. First that Shane and Ilya started in the NHL very young, and second that nothing about their relationship impacted the way they competed.
Shane had bristled at the key words Graham had written on their strategy board. “Naivety,” “Innocence,” “Competitive,” and “Scared.”
Watching their legal team craft statements out of those key words felt artificial, but hearing that Shane might not be getting off the bench today his fear was definitely the realest it's ever been.
“From the moment I was drafted, I began getting a lot of media requests and branding opportunities. I had a lot of new and difficult responsibilities. Still I did not expect to develop such strong feelings for Rozanov nor to act on them, and with everything else going on I felt it would be safer to hide this relationship from everyone.
“My relationship with Rozanov started out very casual due to us both being closeted and very focused on our respective careers. But through the years as we've both grown up, we realized that there were things we wanted beyond hockey. But it seemed impossible to conceptualize a future together without losing the ability to compete which we both love, and so we planned on waiting until we retired to move forward.
“We were never sure if and how us being in a committed romantic relationship would be allowed in the league and decided to wait things out rather than look into coming out while playing. Hockey has always been important to me, and I hope to continue to play at this level for the next 10 years at least. But I also know this career path is not something that I can do for much longer than 25 years on average and I need to plan for life beyond the NHL. It would seem impossibly cruel to ask that I abandon my long-term future plans to continue to play in the short-term, and it is my sincere hope that this committee does not ask me to do so and instead waives the conflict of interest clause. Thank you for your time and consideration.”
That was it and that was the gamble. Would the committee believe that Shane cares more about Ilya than their woefully ill-written by-laws? Shane knew he did even if he wasn’t running to out them both now if he didn’t truly have to.
The answer was less than what he had hoped.
“We requested all communications during the 2018 free agency period between both parties, but only received partial summaries,” Montgomery said. “Did either party want to revisit our suggestion of having the communications reviewed by a neutral 3rd party?”
“We would only agree to a third party review if it's overseen by the NHLPA,” Langley said.
“That is also still our stipulation,” Graham said.
“Okay, we are willing to work within those terms,” Montgomery said. This was new.
But Shane was relieved to hear Graham speak up.
“If we proceed, we want it in writing that the team doing the review is looking only for violations of the by-laws on contract negotiations and conflicts of interest, this is not going to be another blind hunting trip,” Graham said. “Absolutely no one on your side sees any messages. Only union reps.”
It was a point of contention how the league sidelined the players union for this disciplinary hearing. They each had a representative at their respective teams listening in, but they had no voice until a disciplinary action decision was made. And benching them for an investigation technically didn't count even if they could still argue later that the time served off ice was punishment enough. It was a bit of a lose lose.
𑣿
The business day was half over and Ilya was leaving.
“This is bullshit,” Ilya said voice muffled in the name of Shane’s neck. “I don't want to play if you can't.”
Shane huffed out a humorless laugh and felt tears pinprick his eyes. They were in his favorite position, wrapped up in each other's arms, on the floor leaned on a wall in an empty office adjoined to the conference room where their lawyers, the NHLPA reps, and Yuna were waiting.
They expected Ilya to fly back to Ottawa where he'd still miss the game, but be back at practice.
“It's fine, they're just giving you a head start in the scoring race so you have a fighting chance at beating me this year,” Shane said.
Ilya’s shaky breath of laughter was short.
“It’s not fun anymore,” Ilya said quietly.
“What is,” Shane asked, a little taken aback.
Ilya shrugged and seemed so deflated.
“I don't know, hockey, life, not you,” Ilya clarified passionately. “I love you, I love being with you. But this and being apart. Is miserable.”
“Do you feel,” Shane wasn't sure how to broach the question but they had so little time and the answer really mattered. “Do you feel sad? A lot?”
Ilya shifted, moving his head to Shane’s chest. He stroked small patterns down Shane’s arm and nodded.
“I'm really really sorry you feel like this, Ilya,” Shane said pulling his boyfriend in closer. He wished he could open up his chest and tuck him inside, safe next to his heart.
It seemed like Ilya wanted to shrug again, but instead he just shuddered as tears started silently rolling down his cheeks.
“Sometimes I think, I just don’t know how to keep going. To keep existing. Is overwhelming, everything is too much. Sorry, English is too hard,” Ilya said, his voice thick with an exhaustion Shane had never heard before. This was very bad. Unsafe levels of bad.
“Fuck it, you don't have to leave,” Shane said. “Not today. Not like this. I won't let you.”
Shane felt Ilya smile against his chest. “Not very polite Canadian boy of you, Hollander. They will bench me again for being a bad influence.”
“Apparently I'm the only bad influence,” Shane said bitterly. And then he sighed.
“I'm sorry, we don't make enough time for hard conversations,” Shane said.
“We don't have enough time ever,” Ilya pointed out.
And that point was punctuated with a knock on the door.
“Hey we really got to get going,” Langley yelled.
“Those motherfuckers!” A muffled yell came through the door.
“I want to talk more about your feelings, but it sounds like my lawyer is also having a breakdown,” Shane said apologetically. “Call in sick, and let's figure out how to just get away from this for even a day.”
Although Shane started the day wanting nothing more than to be on a flight back to the Bell Garden and gliding down center ice again, he was realizing that was not exactly the most important thing in his life. Have they spent a whole week fighting to play hockey, while Ilya could barely stand the idea of playing or participating in life in general? What the fuck was the point of that?
More muffled yelling and swearing was happening outside the door when Shane and Ilya stepped out.
Yuna's eyes immediately locked on to Ilya.
“Hey what's wrong,” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
Before they could answer Graham spoke.
“Shane, I'm sorry, but we have to sue,” he said. “They have been fucking with us the entire time. This isn't like fruit of the poisonous tree, this is poison fruit completely. We have more than enough grounds now.”
“Now what, how,” Shane asked, unable to stop himself before remembering his more pressing issues. “Ugh, nevermind we need to not deal with this for the rest of the day.”
“Nu- never mind,” Graham sounded as though Shane suggested he grow horns and attempt to fly off a clifftop.
“They botched this from the top,” Langley said. “It's good news really. Finally getting those doping investigation final reports processed and cross referenced.”
“We have evidence this had nothing to do with that 5 hour phone call,” Graham said. “This is all predicated on texts from June this year, when you brought your phone in. They've been trying to establish a cheating timeline in the past off of your present conversations.”
“What conversation,” Shane asked, feeling himself drawn back in.
“They buried the exchanges which we can prove, its all here, also wonderful work Cassie,” Graham said. “We have it here, this has nothing to do with doping, it's entitled misreadings of communications they never should have accessed.”
Ilya let out a deep sigh in that moment bringing Shane back to the present again.
“We need to get back home and they can fight out whatever they want with you guys,” Shane said. “Ilya needs… help.”
The room of lawyers and legal assistants finally took notice of the the 6’5” dark cloud clinging to Shane’s left arm.
“We have to let Ottawa know he's not coming to practice, it'll be a health related scratch this time,” Jonsey with NHLPA said.
Graham nodded, and wrote something on a sheet of paper passing it to Cassie who read it and crumpled it up.
“I can get you two a private flight wheels up in 2 hours,” Yuna said.
Messy as things were, Shane was so glad his mom had the commanding presence and connections to back it up like she did now.
𑣿
Shane watched carefully as Ilya drifted off to sleep as he played with his hair. Today was going to be hard anyways, but the absolute nightmare hearing in the morning followed by the long hospital visit in Ottawa that evening was uniquely draining for them both.
But the hospital had connected Ilya with a Russian therapist fairly quickly, and Shane was relieved to know that all the worries Ilya couldn't find the English words to, could at least be addressed in his mother tongue. He wished he'd started learning Russian years ago. He wished he'd known how much he'd grow to love that beautiful boy he awkwardly introduced himself to in Sasachawan in 2008.
He kinda wished he hadn't spent his whole life focused on one goal, to play hockey, only for it to be dangled directly out of reach of him like a cruel game of “keep away” repeating itself like it had for him in the first grade.
Maybe it was Shane realizing he could win “keep away” while on the ice was the issue. Perhaps he hadn't given himself the chance to see if his life could be focused on something other than constant competition. Winners and losers.
And maybe that's why it felt so anti-climatic to find out that they'd won.
𑣿
It was less a win and more of an avalanche of concessions and tactfully worded apologies.
Followed by very desperate pleas according to their lawyers.
“They would give you boys the moon on a silver spike if you asked for it,” Langley said in her typical wry candor. “Anything to keep you from suing and speaking out.”
“But you have time,” Yuna said. “Up to a year from the start of the incident to pursue damages. You can control the timeline and the flow of information now.”
“I don’t feel in control,” Ilya said softly.
The dining room fell into an uneasy silence. They were all at Ilya’s house in Ottawa. He had been back to the hospital a second time after that initial emergency visit two days ago. Shane didn’t know everything that was discussed, but after he was pulled into a planning meeting he would rather not need. They had already announced Shane would be returning to practice full time while Ilya was taking another week of injury reserve for an undisclosed illness.
“That is valid,” Graham said. “It’s not as glamorous as it looks in the movies working in contract and anti-discrimination law. Without getting into specifics, most of my clients are dealing with situations like this in board rooms of office complexes trying to resolve very private personal matters in very private impersonal company. It was never any of their business but now that it’s happened, we can protect you.”
“And there is still a risk of leaks,” Langley said. “But these assholes know they’re on the hook for well over 6-figures guaranteed if that happens.”
“I am sorry for the record that this happened,” Graham added.
“Same here kid,” Langley said. “Although, Ilya you have been one of my favorite client referrals. You could be a real comedian kid even though you pick the worst venues to test your jokes.”
Ilya huffed a laugh. “That is the nicest thing you’ve said to me, Langley. Why is everyone so nice after they find out you’re on suicide watch? It’s not like your opinions mattered to me before, I kinda preferred you being a dick.”
“See and I knew you would say something like that which goes to my point. You’re predictable. Every lawyer would rather have a client who is consistent and predictable, and when it comes to constant streams of bullshit, Ilya Rozanov has never let me down,” Langley said, smiling and not leaving room for Ilya’s gallows humor to darken the mood.
“Ah, yes,” Ilya sighed, putting a hand to his heart. “That is exactly what I like to hear.”
Shane rolled his eyes and smiled, leaning further into Ilya’s side tracing circles around the interlaced fingers to give himself a grounding point so as not to cry. He was working on accepting Ilya’s humor coping mechanism, and he could see it better now that he’d actually witnessed what a fully humorless Ilya was like. Like when he woke up the other night to Ilya crying and breathlessly insisting he was trying and yet not able to articulate what it was he was trying so hard to do, or not do. So yes, Shane found he could tolerate some dark jokes.
“It will be easier if we give Shane a similar boiler plate excuse for the suspension for now,” Yuna said. “Just something simple about contractual issues as well. People will be mad and ask follow-up questions, but it’s also boring enough to deter any real digging.
“Shane and boring is good,” Ilya said.
“Oh I know, it’s your favorite,” Shane said with a genuine smile. He pulled up their interlaced hands for a quick kiss. He’d been thinking a lot lately about Ilya’s hands and how they would look with a wedding band on them. And how much he wanted to see that happen sooner than later.
“And any excuse close to the truth is preferable because it keeps them on their toes,” Graham added.
𑣿
“So I've been thinking,” Shane started.
“Oh no,” Ilya made an exaggerated face of horror.
“Shut up,” Shane said and kissed his forehead. They were cuddling in bed post sex and post sex shower which had included some more sex stuff.
“I've been thinking that we've been going through this type of thing for a while now,” Shane said carefully.
“How do you mean a while,” Ilya leaned his forehead in searching Shane's eyes concerned.
“I mean,” Shane took a deep breath. “We have been together off and on at first, but now just together and going through shit and it's been lonely at times when it shouldn't have to be. Like I don’t know exactly, but maybe I would've realized how in love with you I was sooner if I'd actually talked to another person about you and how you made me feel? I don't know how I feel timeline wise, but I want to just be with you and not wait for another 10 years.”
“You want to come out,” Ilya asked hesitating.
“I wanna fucking marry you and do couple things and be a normal couple because we are a normal couple,” Shane said practically yelling. “I want it on our own timeline but I also want it right fucking now.”
Ilya was silent and then rolled on top of Shane. “You want to marry me?”
“Yes of course, but this isn't a proposal to be clear,” Shane laughed as a big goofy grin spread across Ilya’s face. He had a feeling that he would definitely be treating this like a proposal.
“Shane Hollander wants to marry me,” Ilya said with a giggle.
“You're blushing like a lot right now,” Shane teased. “That's not very Russian of you.”
“I don't care, the hottest guy in the NHL wants to marry me!” Ilya was kissing every inch of Shane's face and he started to giggle too.
“I had more to say,” Shane said although he was pretty sure he'd forgotten some of whatever else he meant to say.
“Yes, yes of course I am listening to you my future fiance,” Ilya said nuzzling into Shane’s neck eliciting more laughs.
“I was saying, I want us to be together and to have a future outside of hockey too,” Shane made sure to make eye contact. “I think I'd rather take a pay cut and stay here and play in Ottawa. At least until you get your Canadian citizenship and then we could play anywhere that knows to take us as a packaged deal.”
“Ottawa is nice,” Ilya said contemplatively, continuing to nuzzled into Shane's chest. “The new coach has been very understanding. Not forcing any questions.”
Shane was glad to hear that.
“I also wish I didn't have to leave you now,” Shane said, hearing his voice crack.
They lay in silence for a bit. It wasn't heavy or tense like the times before. It was the comfortable type only achieved by being vulnerable with someone safe, who makes you feel safe.
“You will tell JJ and Hayden,” Ilya asked.
“I want to.”
Neither of them knew about Shane's relationship with Ilya, well beyond their now public friendship. They knew about Lily and had made some educated guesses about Lily's gender, but Shane was still too nervous about fellow hockey players being aware of their relationship.
“You should,” Ilya said decisively.
“And you should tell Wyatt- if you want,” Shane said hurriedly. He seemed to be the one teammate Ilya was particularly close to.
“Yes, maybe,” Ilya proceeded to yawn loudly.
“Damn, I'm keeping you up.”
“No, it's fine.”
“No, you need your rest.”
“No, I need my engagement ring.”
“Shut up, that's not happening tonight or tomorrow or whatever time you're guessing.”
“It's surprise?”
“It will be, so prepare to look surprised.”
“Anything for you, moy lyubimyy.”
𑣿
The next morning Ilya woke up the happiest he’d been in weeks, perhaps even months if he was being honest. Knowing that Shane wanted to change their plans, and play together, move in together, and get married as soon as possible made him irrationally happy. He knew it was silly, but he felt like his depression was cured.
Shane was in the kitchen cooking breakfast already. They only had a few more hours before he had to drive back to Montreal, but David would be over to keep Ilya company before then.
The constant supervision would be ending soon enough, but Ilya was glad he was able to do outpatient treatment. He had been terrified when he went into the hospital for the first time, that they would never let him out if he answered their questions honestly. Connecting with Dr. Galina Molchalina, Ilya’s worries were put far more at ease. Therapeutic practices have changed a lot through the years, and they didn’t force people into hospitalizations like he thought they did.
But it was still a big adjustment letting people know what he was really feeling and trying out medication.
“Hey,” Shane said. He was smiling brightly and his freckles looked especially adorable in the morning.
“Good morning,” Ilya greeted him with a kiss.
They moved around in amiable silence for a bit. They finished breakfast and cleaned up before going to sit in the living room. Ilya nestled himself between Shane and the couch feeling ready to drift into a mid-morning nap as Shane played with his hair.
“You know being long-distance sucks, but we’re gonna have to have more difficult conversations,” Shane said. “And I am going to have them more with my mom.”
“Oh?” Ilya had wondered what became of the ESPN feature expose that Shane decided not to participate at the last minute.
“Yeah, um, I’m hopeful that the story can go forward without us,” Shane said. “I told the reporter that I wanted to wait for my partner before coming out.”
“Oh really,” Ilya said, smiling. “And what did they say?”
“That they understood,” Shane said. “And that they might reach out to see if I still want to be quoted anonymously.”
“So mysterious,” Ilya mumbled. “I’m glad Yuna is letting that go.”
“Me too,” Shane whispered. “She really laser focuses and forgets that other people exist outside her goals sometimes.”
“Like you and the hockey puck on the ice,” Ilya suggested.
“Oh? Please don’t continue what you seem to be suggesting.”
“I thought we were having hard conversations?”
“Not like this we’re not!”
“Oh the strict Hollander voice, my favorite,” Ilya said laughing. “Is not a bad thing. I think most people are more similar to their parents than they would like to notice.”
Shane rolled his eyes, cheeks still flushed. “Do you think that you’re a lot like your mom?”
Ilya hummed at the thought. “My father would say so, not nicely, but he would say it. My brother too. I’d like that to be true.”
They were silent for a moment.
“Can you tell me how you feel, really about me playing here in Ottawa or even just going back to business as usual with the Metros today,” Shane asked. “I could finish out the season as a Metro or request a trade, they’d be willing to waive my no trade clause if I asked.”
“That is a huge pay cut,” Ilya said the first thought that came to mind. “But yes, I like playing together. I’d like you being here. We would have to be on separate lines, but I think we could do the power play together with you at center.”
“A Hollander Rozanov power play sounds so hot,” Shane said, making Ilya erupt in laughter.
“Yes, it really does,” Ilya said still laughing. “Everyone’s worst nightmare come true.”
Then he asked, “Do you want to let go of your captaincy? I’m not sure with just the two of us we could get to the playoffs. It might be worth it to stay and try for that 4th Stanley Cup.”
“I don’t know about that anymore. I always loved this team and I love winning, but it already just feels weird with management. And with my team too ever since I came out to them it’s been a little weird,” Shane admits. “That’s why I’m asking you. If it’s just about playing hockey, maybe I can do that anywhere.”
“And after I get my citizenship, we can go anywhere,” Ilya said.
“Exactly, you only need to wait till what, next July and you can start applying,” Shane said. “We should probably start prepping for the test too.”
“Oh good, tests,” Ilya said smiling. “Won’t it be faster if you just marry me.”
Shane blushed again. “Okay yeah, it could help a little.”
“I want you to finish the season if it feels right to you,” Ilya said. “Unless we actually have a shot at the playoffs before the trade deadline. Then you should quit and help us win Stanley Cup.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you’re trying to use me for my hockey,” Shane said in mock offense.
“Everyone would understand,” Ilya said. “Shane Hollander, hometown hero, comes back to help Ottawa win Stanley Cup. They will make it into a movie.”
“God they never make hockey movies,” Shane grumbled.
“You would know, hockey nerd,” Ilya said and quickly kissed away any incoming complaints.
“Hmm, what if they made a hockey TV show,” Ilya asked leaning back.
“Who said you could stop kissing me,” Shane asked instead.
“Could be fun,” Ilya said dodging Shane’s advances playfully. “Maybe about rivals who secretly hook up with each other.”
“Give me an example, and I’ll consider it,” Shane said, sounding fully exasperated just like Ilya wanted him.
Ilya rolled himself on to his boyfriend. “Oh I can give you the whole experience.”
And that is exactly what Ilya delivered.