Chapter Text
“Shane? Shane! Honey, can you hear me?”
Shane blinked, his head was pounding, everything felt muffled, everything was white noise.
His mother appeared in blurry waves, and even through the haze of his headache he could make out her infamous, deeply worried frown.
“Mom?” His voice came out rusty, scraped raw from his throat.
“Yes, it’s me. We’re here, your dad and I, and everything’s going to be okay.”
“Okay.” Shane decided to take her word for it.
“What happened, Mom?” He tried to stretch his head toward her, but pain shot through him like a finely honed knife.
“Don’t you remember? You collided with Marlow during the game.”
“Marlow?” Shane frowned, which did nothing to help the headache. “Where am I?”
“In the hospital, sweetheart.” His mother brushed her hand over his arm, and Shane decided to finally open his eyes.
His mother was sitting right by his head, looking straight at him. The white hospital walls didn’t calm Shane at all; he felt his heart begin to race.
His gaze caught on the doorframe, where the most beautiful man he had ever seen was leaning.
“Mom?” he tried to whisper. “Why is the doctor wearing black?”
“The doctor?” Yuna’s head snapped around, her eyes widened, and she clutched her hand to her chest.
“For God’s sake, Ilya Rozanov! You scared me half to death. Who let you in here?”
Rozanov? Something stirred in Shane’s stomach – something he couldn’t place. Why did the doctor’s name sound familiar?
His mother turned back to him, and this time her expression wasn’t just worried, but probing.
“Do you remember everything that happened before the accident? Why don’t you recognize Rozanov? He’s your biggest rival in hockey!”
Hockey! Shane knew that!
“I’m the best hockey player in the league!” he announced enthusiastically.
He did remember everything – he’d won the Cup just last year! There was no reason to worry.
“Mh, that is to be discussed.”
The voice from the doorway startled Shane again. It was deep, soothing, and the fine hairs on his arms stood up like little flags in the wind.
The man with the blond curls, tight black jeans, and a fitted black V-neck sweater stepped away from the door.
“As the captain of my team, I wanted to check in on how he’s doing. Marlow feels terrible – he didn’t mean to hurt Hollander. You must be his mother?”
Spoken in a strong Russian accent – one that sent a shiver down Shane’s spine for reasons he couldn’t grasp – the sexy Doctor McSteamy revealed himself to be a hockey player.
Shane was confused. Why couldn’t he remember a team captain? He had every play from the last two years, every lineup of the teams he planned to beat next season, ready in his head.
Yuna seemed just as surprised by the young man’s presence, but she still shook his outstretched hand.
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you for the concern,” she said, throwing Shane a look over her shoulder that he couldn’t quite interpret.
“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Shane said, suddenly deeply uncomfortable.
“How are you feeling, Hollander?” the man asked now, stepping closer. Shane looked into his eyes for the first time and suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. Who was this man?
Yuna misread the fear on her son’s face.
“I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake. Your heart rate is pretty elevated too, but hopefully he’ll give the all-clear soon.”
She stood up and walked toward the door, passing the curly-haired man.
“Rozanov, if you dare smother my son with a pillow or do anything to him, I swear – I’ll be right back!”
With that, she disappeared into the hallway. Ilya Rozanov stepped even closer to the very confused Shane Hollander.
“You scared me,” he said.
“Why?” Shane didn’t know what else to ask. “I think I’m okay.”
Rozanov frowned. Shane desperately wanted him to either smile again or leave. Standing there by the bed, not recognizing him, yet still stirring that strange feeling in his stomach – it was driving him crazy.
“No, really, I appreciate that you came all this way. I’m sure your teammate didn’t want to seriously hurt me. We’ll see each other again on the ice in a few months, yeah?” Shane tried.
Maybe this Rozanov felt guilty. Maybe he was somehow involved in the accident? He’d have to ask his mom later and rewatch tapes of the game – he wanted to know exactly what had happened.
His response only seemed to unsettle the man further.
“Your mother’s gone. We can talk openly–”
With a careful movement, he lifted his hand and placed it on the back of Shane’s outstretched hand.
For a millisecond, Shane looked at their hands. Then he yanked his own away.
What the fuck? What was wrong with this guy? Hadn’t his mother just said they were rivals? Something here was very, very wrong.
“Um, sorry, but do we know each other well? I honestly can’t remember you at all.” Shane decided to stick with the truth.
“Ah–” Rozanov straightened up. Shane saw something like pain flash through his blue eyes, but it vanished instantly. His brow smoothed, he clasped his hands behind his back, as if trying to keep them as far away from Shane as possible.
“No, no, we don’t know each other that well. I just want to be the best player in the league without the media saying it’s because you’re injured.”
Shane nodded slowly. That made sense.
Rozanov cleared his throat. “Um—” Rozanov began again, but at that moment Shane’s mother burst back into the room, followed by a doctor and a nurse.
“Ah, honey, I can already see your heart rate’s back down to 81 – very good! Thank you, Rozanov, for stopping by. Shane, the doctor’s already reviewed your vitals–”
But Shane wasn’t listening anymore. His focus was on Ilya Rozanov, who was backing out of the room with a thin smile.
“Get well soon,” Shane thought he saw him mouth before he was gone.And Shane felt sad, but relieved – because that had been really strange.
___________________________
Fuck.
Ilya hadn’t even made it ten meters down the hospital hallway before he had to lean against a wall and slowly sink into a crouch.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Seeing Shane unconscious on the ice had already been traumatic enough. For a moment, he’d truly thought it was over. A life without Shane. It had snapped him back to reality – at least for a few hours.
He was obsessed with this man. Every plan he’d had to end this relationship – whatever relationship meant – had dissolved the moment he thought he might actually lose Shane.
He’d raced to the hospital as fast as he could after the game. He didn’t care what the media would write, what anyone would think – he had to see Shane.
That seeing him could hurt even more – that hadn’t occurred to him.
At first, he’d thought Shane was just pretending because of his mother. But the way he’d recoiled from Ilya’s hand – that had been worse than the first times they’d slept together. The panic in Shane’s eyes echoed inside him now. He didn’t remember him.
Maybe this is a good thing, a voice whispered in his head.
You knew it had to end eventually. And you’d have been too weak to end it yourself. Now the decision’s been made for you. Be glad.
But Ilya wasn’t glad. He was heartbroken.
Still, if there was one thing he’d learned in life, it was how to keep going through grief as if nothing had happened.
So he stood back up. The mask slid back into place; his shoulders locked in again.
He would keep living his life.
And he did – he tried, truly. He allowed himself to google “Shane Hollander” once a day, and once every evening he opened the chat with “Jane” to reread their last messages.
A week passed like that.
“Shane Hollander released from hospital,” the headlines read.
“Broken collarbone and concussion,” they listed his injuries. No mention of amnesia. No mention that Shane had apparently forgotten several years of secret hookups.
He’d forgotten tuna melts. Had he forgotten Rose Landry too? Or just the reason Rose and him weren’t compatible?
Ilya was lying in bed when his phone pinged.
Hi Lily, this might be weird, but I read our messages and they don’t make sense because I’ve had some memory gaps since an accident. How do we know each other? Best regards and sorry if it’s strange that I’m just messaging you.
Shane.
The message was so heartbreaking, so unmistakably Shane, that Ilya couldn’t help but reply.
So you don’t remember me at all? I like to think I’m pretty unforgettable ;)