Chapter Text
Shane
Shane’s life was hockey. As soon as he’d learned to skate, he lived and breathed the game. Knew the rules. Understood them in a way that was a head-rush of relief in a world that usually offered him nothing, but stress and discomfort. Hockey helped him carve out a space for himself and he loved it for that.
He knew the love he got in return was always conditional, but over the years he’d convinced himself it was enough. It had to be.
And then he watched Scott Hunter kiss his boyfriend out on the ice, after winning the Cup, and Shane realized not only did he want more…
He needed it.
That place inside of himself where he’d packed away everything that didn’t fit into the world he loved—everything he’d tried so desperately to ignore—cracked wide open and it all poured out.
Aching loneliness.
Bitter jealousy.
A deep, yearning want.
And the worst one—the one that he never seemed to be able to stamp out, no matter how hard he tried: a spark of hope.
Could I have that?
Staring at Hunter, who was fully fucking making out with his boyfriend between declarations of love, Shane didn’t even realize he’d started crying until his mom reached over to swipe a gentle finger down his cheek. He startled, huffing out a laugh as he scrubbed a hand across his face, suddenly aware of how the cheers from the TV were the only sound in the room.
“Sweetheart,” she began and Shane shook his head.
“I’m okay. I’m—” Fine? Happy for Hunter? Any answer would be good enough in its own way, something his parents would accept, but he couldn’t sit there in this moment and bring himself to say anything but the truth.
“…I’m gay.”
Silence fell over the living room again and Shane held his breath. He couldn’t take the words back, wasn’t even sure if he wanted to, but this—this would change everything. Every scenario he’d run through his brain before was purely theoretical. Ready or not, he was about to find out if their love was conditional too.
His dad cleared his throat, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees as he dipped his head to meet Shane’s gaze. “Hi, gay,” he said. “I’m Dad.”
Shane’s mom slowly turned away from him to stare at his dad. “David,” she said evenly. “What the hell? We talked about this. Numbers five through seven were off the table.”
“I thought it was a nice way to break the tension,” his dad protested, sitting back in his chair. “And say everything’s okay all at the same time, right? Because it is, son. Your mother and I love and support you and we’re so proud of you.”
“We do, honey,” his mom agreed immediately, whipping back around to grasp Shane’s hand. “Thank you for telling us and sharing that. We love you so much.”
“Sorry, I—hang on a second.” Shane’s mind was going a mile a minute and still hadn’t wrapped itself around what exactly was happening. “What did you mean ‘numbers five through seven’? What did you guys talk about?”
“Well,” his mom said, gently folding her fingers around his. “We thought that you…being gay…might be a possibility and we wanted to be prepared to support you in the best way possible.”
Shane’s eyebrows shot up. “And that way was ‘Hi, gay, I’m dad’?”
“No—”
“I was doing some research,” his dad cut in, grabbing his phone to pull up the sites he apparently had bookmarked. “And I found this article in the Globe and Mail about the top ten best responses for when your child comes out to you.”
“Some of which we decided were more appropriate than others,” his mom murmured with a sideways look at his dad.
“Oh, my god.” Shane buried his face in his hands. “You were researching?” Had he been that obvious this whole time? Did everyone have suspicions? No—well, Rose, probably. They’d danced around it enough when they broke up that she had to have some kind of idea. But he’d been sure that no one else knew and now to find out his folks had been researching—
“We’re your parents,” his mom said as she shuffled over closer to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “I like to think we know you better than most and once we had an idea this might be on the horizon, we wanted to be ready for whenever you were ready. For when you felt like you could trust us with it all.”
Swiping at his cheeks again, Shane snorted out a laugh. “And that’s what you went with.”
“Distracted you from being scared, didn’t it?” His dad grinned at them, impossibly proud of himself, and Shane couldn’t help but grin back because yes. It really had.
“Thank you,” Shane said, squeezing his mom back and shuffling over to make room when his dad joined them. “Both of you.”
There were some more tears after that, more talking, and few more groan-inducing jokes from his dad, but it was okay. Truly okay. Shane was still trying to let himself believe it when his mom went into ‘Yuna Hollander, Manager’ mode.
Her phone emerged as she started talking about how to handle things after he comes out—various sponsorship deals they could pursue, who to give interviews to—and Shane had to pump the brakes.
“I don’t know what I want to do or how or when I want to do it,” he said, exhausted after only coming out to his parents. He couldn’t imagine what facing the whole world would be like. “Let me have some time first? Please? Just to think about it all.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” His mom put her phone away with a shocking lack of argument. “We’re following your lead here so whatever you need, whatever you want, we’ll do it.”
A great approach—in theory.
Shane had only ever really thought about what he wanted from his life in terms of hockey. He put a lot of energy into not letting himself dream about anything beyond that so for the first time, he took a step back to think, really think about what he wanted his life to look like.
He made charts. Pro and con lists. He talked with his parents, with Rose, with Hayden and Jackie and JJ, and even Scott Hunter himself.
It was actually Hunter who helped him make the decision.
Shane, armed with a made-up story about a shoot for an ad campaign, flew down to New York with the goal of taking Hunter to dinner and picking his brain. They ended up at a hole-in-the-wall place that turned out to be as delicious as it was private, but it still took about thirty minutes of stilted small talk before Shane gathered the courage to broach the topic.
“So, how, uh—how have you been?” Shane asked, intently tracking the trail of a single drop of condensation down the side of his glass over even attempting to make eye contact with Hunter. “With, uh, with everything?”
“And by everything you mean, you mean how’s it been since I came out in the most public way possible?” Hunter’s wry laugh pulled Shane’s gaze and he looked up to see the man shaking his head. “It’s been…better than I thought it might be,” Hunter said with a sigh. “And worse.”
“Do you regret it?” Shane asked quietly.
Hunter watched him steadily, a small smile quirking up the edge of his lips. “No,” he finally said. “Look, rook—”
“Not a rookie anymore—”
“Fine. Hollander.” Hunter rolled his eyes with another grin before growing serious again. “Has it been hard? Yeah,” he said. “There’s been plenty of hate online and a few people brave enough to say something to my face, but that’s just noise. And the good is still outweighing the bad.” He shook his head again. “It was never going to be easy, but I have my friends. My team. Kip.”
Even just the mention of his boyfriend brought a soft smile to his lips, sending a twinge of jealousy through Shane—not that he wanted Kip. Just…someone all his own to smile over.
“And there’s been a lot of support too,” Hunter continued. “Way more than I ever expected—from fans. Journalists. Other players. A bunch of guys have—” Hunter lowered his voice as he leaned in. “Guys have reached out to me privately to say thank you for doing it, for being the first. Said it’s made a difference.”
“It has,” Shane murmured and Hunter paused, eyebrows slowly raising.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I mean—” Shane blew out a slow breath as he sat back in his seat. This was why he was here, right? Time to go all in. “It made a difference to me. I didn’t think I could ever…and you just—you just did it—”
“You didn’t get to see all of the baby steps and backwards mistakes that happened between hiding myself for years and then that.”
“Did you do it because of Kip?” If Shane could break it down, like a play, maybe he could figure out his own next moves.
“He was a part of it,” Hunter agreed. “…but I did it for myself most of all.” He nodded, more to himself than anything. “I was tired of being lonely,” he said. “And I was always going to be alone if I could never fully be myself.” He picked up a coaster, twirling it on the table a few times before setting it down and facing Shane.
“I’m not gonna lie to you, Hollander,” he said. “It was scary as shit and sometimes the, uh, the enormity of it freaks me out if I think about it for too long, but it’s still the best fucking thing I ever did.”
“I came out to my parents,” Shane said in a rush. “And some of my closest friends and now I just, I don’t know. I’m trying to decide what to do next.”
Hunter’s face split into a wide, proud smile. “Congratulations, man, that’s awesome.” He lifted his glass for a toast. “I’m happy for you.”
“No, yeah, thank you, I appreciate that.” Shane clinked his ginger ale against it. “But what do I do?”
“I can’t decide that for you.” An incredulous little laugh escaped from Hunter as he stared at Shane. “This has to be about you, Shane. Your life. Your choices.”
Well, that was no help at all.
“I think,” Hunter—Scott, said carefully. “Maybe, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t at least have an idea of what you want to do.”
Right.
And that—
“It’s fucking terrifying,” Shane managed to get out. “But…I don’t want to be lonely anymore either.”
“Hey. Listen.” Scott waited until Shane met his eyes. “If you come out and get even half of the DMs that I did, being lonely won’t be an issue ever again—”
“Dude—”
“And considering you’re Shane fucking Hollander, you’ll probably get more.”
“This is your pep talk?” Shane laughed, shaking his head. “And what do you mean probably?”
Scott waved a hand at him. “You know.”
“You think I’m hot?” Shane smirked, intrigued by the way Scott’s cheeks pinked up.
“Shut up.”
…that wasn’t a no.
Scott fucking Hunter thought he was hot. Shane felt his own cheeks heat, despite himself, and took a moment to let that fact settle in his brain.
“So, how many DMs are we talking about here?”
“Brace yourself, is what I’m saying.” Scott signaled for another round before diving into a few stories about the boldest and weirdest messages he’d received over the last few weeks.
“It hasn’t been all dick pics and sexcation offers,” he said eventually as he tucked his phone away. “There really has been a lot of guys reaching out to say thanks and to—to just talk. So many of them are still too scared to ever come out. Saying it’s different because they’re not me. Or Shane Hollander, for that matter.”
Shane scoffed and Scott held up a hand.
“I meant it before—whatever you do, make sure it’s for yourself first.”
“But,” Shane prompted, already knowing where this was going.
“One guy coming out is big news,” Scott said. “But news fades and people move on and forget or let it be buried. Two guys? Both at them Cup winners? That’s got the potential for real change.”
“I don’t want to be the face for anything.” That had been forced on Shane more than enough times over the years and the thought of being the perfect gay hockey player role model was already exhausting.
But.
“I wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t have come this far, if it wasn’t for you though,” Shane admitted. He probably would have kept hiding until he retired. Maybe even beyond that. “If me coming out helps anyone else like you helped me, I can’t regret that.”
Scott watched him quietly for a moment across the table. “So, you’re doing it?”
Fuck. He was. “As long as you don’t mind me stealing your thunder?”
That got him another laugh. “Happy to share, rook—”
“Not a rookie—”
“—and I’m happy to help, any way I can,” Scott continued. “What are you gonna do? Make a post online? Give an interview? Got a boyfriend to start kissing in public?”
“Maybe, I don’t know, and I wish.” Shane scrubbed a hand over his face. “I literally just decided for sure. Gimme a minute to work out the details.”
“Interview’s not a bad idea if you can sit down with someone you can trust,” Scott said, tapping a finger against his glass as he thought. “A post is easy, but give someone an exclusive and you can head a bunch of questions off at the pass and set some boundaries.”
That actually sounded pretty good and there were a few reporters Shane liked, relatively speaking, that he thought could be trusted with this. Shit, this was starting to sound like a plan.
He and Scott bounced around a few more names and scenarios over their last round and by the time Shane flew back home, he had a loose game plan. He was still kind of terrified, but at the same time, filled with the kind of utter calm that he usually only felt during a game.
His parents had questions—many questions, especially his mom—and talking through everything helped them to tighten up the plan until it was as good as it was going to get.
They started with a carefully crafted statement. Shane wanted to get that out now and give everyone time over the summer to get used to the idea. His team included.
Offers rolled in for interviews, but Shane had already reached out to his top choice: Chelsea Nadeau, a reporter for Sportsnet who he’d known for years. She always asked smart questions, never pushed things just for the soundbite, and, according to her Instagram, had recently celebrated her fifth wedding anniversary with her wife.
Chelsea was thrilled to have the exclusive, making a point to congratulate him and offer her own well-wishes. Talking with her honestly felt more like sitting down with a friend…which was probably why Shane ended up being a little more candid than he meant to.
But it was all out there now, for better or for worse, and there was the whole rest of the summer ahead to let things settle down before the season started back up.
All in all, a pretty excellent plan.
Hopefully.
***
Exclusive interview with Montreal Metros star, Shane Hollander (cont’d)
CN: Shane, thank you so much for your honesty today. I know hearing all of this from you is going to mean a lot to many people out there.
SH: It felt good to talk about it so thank you for that.
CN: I think now I have to ask the question that’s going to be on everyone’s mind—
SH: Uh-oh. [laughs]
CN: Is there a special someone in your life right now?
SH: No, uh, not at the moment. Let’s just say I’m still looking Mr. Right.
CN: Something tells me you’re going to have a lot of offers…
***
Ilya
“Guys! Guys, guys, guys! Shut the fuck up!” St-Simon’s voice rang out across Marly’s backyard where the Bears were gathered for their end of season barbeque before everyone went their separate ways for the summer.
Usually, Ilya would be headed home, but home was a moving target at the moment. With Papa gone and Sveta staying in Boston for work, he had no desire to head back to Russia just to spend his days avoiding Alexei.
Marly had convinced him to stay, saying they could go for some road trips which didn’t sound terrible. And Sveta would be would around which was good. But there was still something itching at the back of his brain, an incessant little scratch that wouldn’t let him fully relax.
“Hollander’s interview dropped!” St-Simon yelled and of course, everyone instantly went for their phones to read it.
Except for Ilya who had already been reading it for the past ten minutes.
The itch was getting louder.
Scott Hunter coming out—that had been mildly interesting. Yes, big news for the hockey world, fine, whatever, but bigger news that he actually had enough energy for a young, hot boyfriend. Ilya didn’t think the dinosaur had it in him, but people could always surprise you.
People like Shane Hollander.
His post last week had been enough of a bomb and now this fucking interview. Captain Canada talking about his ‘coming out journey.’ Spread after spread of Hollander being so polite and well-spoken and fucking boring while looking so fucking sexy.
Ilya wanted him.
He needed him.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried over the years—carefully aimed chirps towing the line of flirtation. A whole-ass joint photo shoot that Ilya had orchestrated only for Hollander to rush out at the end before they had a chance for any kind of…one on one time.
Eventually he figured it was a lost cause and pulled back on his efforts, but Hollander was still always there as a looming question mark Ilya resigned himself to leaving unanswered.
The man had plenty of answers now, it seemed.
“Oooh, Hollander’s looking for Mr. Right?” Marly crowed, saluting the yard with his beer. “If there was ever anyone I’d try it out for…”
Noises of agreement went up around them and Ilya shot out of his lounger because what the fuck. “What is this? You would all be gay for Shane Hollander?”
“Well, yeah, Cap,” Carmichael said as the rest of the team nodded around him. “It’s Hollander.”
Of course, Ilya understood that. He should be the only one who understood that.
“Mm. Sorry, my English. Let me rephrase,” Ilya said, counting to three to gather the energy to deal with these idiots. “You think any of you would have a chance with Shane Hollander? The second-best player in the MHL?”
“Nothing wrong with shooting our shot, Roz!” Marly said, flashing another stupid grin at him and that was enough of fucking that.
“Okay, all of you, listen up,” Ilya said, stepping up onto one of Marly’s boxed flower beds, minding the plants so he wouldn’t get another lecture. “No more jokes. Hollander deserves better than assholes ‘shooting their shots’ or messing around. We give him respect. Serious applicants only.” He paused until the groans died down. “But also, if anyone is Hollander’s Mr. Right, it will be me. Best player in MHL. Nothing less.”
He batted away the hotdog buns and pickles that got thrown at him for that, cackling as he hopped down. They could cry about it all they wanted, but he was right.
Hollander just needed to see it too.
“And what if we’re serious?” Anderson, their rookie, piped up. Ilya raised an eyebrow at him as the rest of the guys turned their way. “If we’re actually gay—if I’m gay,” he continued, voice shaking ever so slightly. “Me. I’m gay.”
Ilya stepped forward to gently grasp the kid’s shoulder. “Then we say congrats and we support your application, right, boys?” The team cheered behind him and Ilya winked. “Hollander will still not go for you because you are tiny baby, but we support you.”
He smacked Anderson’s chest lightly, grinning when the kid rolled his eyes and told him to fuck off. Conversations picked back up after that with guys still talking about their odds with Hollander, but the usual shit as well—summer vacations, family stuff, newly drafted prospects.
Good. Let them all move on and let Hollander’s news fade into the background. Ilya would not forget. His mind had been turning it over for days and now it was time to start planning.
His shot would hit the bullseye.
***
Shane
Coming out had been…better than he expected. His post and the interview were shared by people within the hockey world and beyond. There had been a lot of shock, some nastiness, but the bad was definitely getting drowned out by the good. Guys were sending him messages of support, of thanks, and yeah, of penises.
So many penises.
He’d banned his mom from managing his social media accounts for now because there were some things she just did not need to wade through.
Scott had been right though (as he’d reminded Shane no less than three times now.) Two guys made a difference—well, it was five guys now, so yeah—Shane coming out had made a difference.
His team had been a bit weird, the chirps landing on the sharp side until Shane logged onto the group chat for long enough to make it clear that none of them were his type so they could fucking relax. (Seriously, Comeau, he would never.)
He didn’t expect them so many of them to demand to know why not. In any case, it helped put things back on a more even keel as half of them moved on, basically pretending it never happened, and the other half kept tossing out names of athletes and other famous guys, competing to guess his type. Trying to recognize anyone outside of the athletes was a losing game for Shane and his team had terrible taste, but it was a kind of teasing he could live with. Chirps were familiar territory.
Teasing quickly morphed into attempted set-ups though (J.J. was especially bad) and he had to put a firm rule in place. No trying to find his Mr. Right. Shane could do that on his own. Probably.
People kept asking him what he was looking for and Shane was trying to figure that out, okay? He’d never let himself think too much about it before because having a proper relationship never seemed like it would be something he’d get.
Now it was an actual possibility and he had interest and offers and he was a little overwhelmed. A lot overwhelmed.
“It doesn’t have to be that serious, hun,” Rose said during their weekly wine and video chat. “You don’t have to come out and settle down immediately, you know? Maybe have some fun with a few Mr. Right-nows.”
“Kind of hard to have fun with it when it all feels so public,” Shane muttered before gulping down half of his glass.
“Okay, so have fun with that,” she said, leaning in with a gleam in her eye. “You’ve got a platform to publicly shop for a man. Tease them a little. Make them work for it.”
“Rose—”
“You deserve to let loose a little, Shane.” She raised an eyebrow at him and pointed a finger at the screen. “Relax and see what happens…”
Relax.
Have fun.
See what happens.
Shane was pretty sure it was terrible advice, but Rose’s words came back to him a few days later while he was working on an ad campaign for Calvin Klein underwear. He was in make-up, getting prepped for the shoot, when a nervous, wide-eyed guy approached him.
“Mr. Hollander? Hi, I’m James, I’m interning with the social media team.” He stuck out a shaking hand and Shane shook it with a smile.
“Nice to meet you, James.”
“We’re hoping to do some behind-the-scenes footage that we can post online.” He held up his camera and a little microphone. “Would you mind doing a quick interview?”
“Oh, sure, yeah,” Shane accepted the mic and faced the camera as the make-up team backed away for the moment. James started with a few easy questions like favourite summer vacation spots, favourite way to relax, boxers or briefs—all standard the standard fluff.
Then, James straightened his glasses and took a breath. “We also put out a call for fan questions,” he began. “And the number one question was—”
Oh, god.
“What would it take for someone to be Shane Hollander’s Mr. Right?”
“Seriously?” Shane huffed out a laugh. “The number one question? People really want to know that?”
“Yeah, I mean—” James shrugged, waving a hand in Shane’s direction. “You’re Shane Hollander.”
...you know what?
He was.
He was Shane Hollander and he was out and maybe he was ready to have some fun.
“Well,” Shane said, mouth curling up as he brought the mic closer. “First of all, he should play hockey.”
“Just play?” James asked and Shane was pretty sure he spotted one of the hair and make-up team taking notes.
“No, he should be good,” Shane said. “Really good. I want someone who can keep up with me, you know what I mean?”
“Mm-hm,” James squeaked, nodding vigorously.
“So, amazing at hockey.” Shane ticked the point off on his fingers. “He should definitely be an All-Star, maybe even a Captain, but that’s not a deal-breaker. Oh, and he should have at least one Stanley Cup. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“Hot, too. I know attraction’s subjective so let’s just say I’ll know it when I see it,” Shane said with a wink. “Strong is a must. If he can't bench-press me, I'm not interested.” One of the production assistants was headed their way at a clip so Shane figured it was best to wrap things up. He leaned toward the camera and smiled. “I hope that helps.”
James nodded and hurried off as the hair and make-up team swooped back in to finish him up.
Rose was right, that was fun. Maybe now that they had his pretty unattainable list, people would calm down.
***
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