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Ilya took a deep breath as Shane sat down on the couch next to him. He laid down on top of the love of his life and looked him in the eyes.
“Can I ask you something?” Ilya asked, steadying himself for impact.
Shane looked down and smiled. “Of course, husband.” The last word came out with a toothy smile that, Ilya thought, must have restorative healing powers. Why had the doctors not investigated its ability to cure disease and injury yet? Stupid doctors.
Ilya grinned despite his nervousness. But it came back quickly. He tensed, and Shane noticed. The smile vanished, and the same thing that happened every time Shane’s smile faded, Ilya felt weak. He took a deep breath. He needed to just…ask.
“I want to change my name.” He said, quickly.
“What?”
Ilya swallowed. “I want to change my name,” he repeated, more slowly this time.
Shane looked at him, carefully, appraising.
“To what?”
Subconsciously, Ilya started playing with the ring on his finger. He had purchased this one for his finger but kept the one that was too small on his mother’s necklace. He was so in love, it was disgusting.
“I want to be…a Hollander.”
He barely whispered the last part of the sentence. But Shane heard every word.
“Really?”
Shane seemed…excited about this. The last time Ilya had heard Shane sound so giddy was when he had told him that he hadn’t slept with anyone since Shane, the first time he had been invited to the cottage. Seemed like a lifetime ago…and yet, just yesterday.
“If you’ll allow. And your parents.” He could feel how nervous he sounded.
“Hey,” Shane said softly. His fingers stroked Ilya’s cheek, softly, tenderly. Like they might break if he went much harder. “There is no ‘allow’, Ilya. If that’s what you want, we’ll do it. You’re already a Hollander, even if you don’t change your name. And I know my parents would say the same thing.”
Ilya let out a deep sigh of relief. “So, you wouldn’t mind?”
“No, of course I wouldn’t mind. But…” Shane trailed off, looking suddenly nervous. “Will the team be okay with two ‘Hollander’ players? I feel like…don’t celebrities usually keep their original surname once they’re famous?”
Ilya considered this complication. It wasn’t something he had really foreseen, to be honest. He was so nervous about getting Shane’s approval, he hadn’t considered the ramifications for the hockey world.
“I suppose you could always legally change it, and then just keep Rozanov for hockey?”
Ilya nodded. “That would be fine. If that’s easiest. And if you’re okay with it.”
“Of course I’m okay with it. But…”
“But what?”
“Do you think…do you think Hollander-Rozanov would be better? Or I know some people call us Hollanov, maybe--?”
“No.” Ilya’s reply was firm. “Shane, I…you never met my father. And I know I haven’t told you much about him. Let me make one thing crystal clear. I want nothing to do with him. I want no part of him with us, here, in our home. And that includes his last name.”
Shane considered this, then nodded. “Okay.” Then said, nervously: “Do you…want to talk about it?”
Shane knew Ilya was making progress in therapy, and with his medication. He didn’t want to push. But every so often, he invited Ilya in to share something deeper.
“No pressure, as always, Ilya,” Shane said, gently but firmly.
“I should tell you,” Ilya said quietly. He sat up. “I was never enough for him. Never good enough. When I called you, after he died…” he gulped. “I told you, in Russian, that he…I would always seek his approval. And I never got it. Not once. All I ever wanted was for him to tell me, just one time, that he was proud of me. I never got that.”
Shane was looking at him like the thing he wanted most in the world was to put Ilya back in his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly.
“Yes. It hurt. It hurt my feelings, a lot. But,” he laid back down on to Shane’s lap. “I have a new family now. One that has never, not once, made me feel like I don’t belong. One that accepted me for who I am, one who loves me and tells me they’re proud of me. And I wouldn’t change that for anything. I wouldn’t even change it to hear Grigoryevich tell me that he’s proud of me a thousand times. You, and your parents, are the greatest gift to my life.”
Shane blinked tears away. Ilya had this uncanny ability to open his heart in a way that just wrecked Shane.
“And you’re the greatest gift to mine,” he whispered quietly.
“So please. Please let me be Ilya Hollander.”
“Of course,” Shane said automatically. There was no question that if Ilya wanted this, he would get it. Shane didn’t care what the league, or the team, said about it. He knew his parents would be accepting of it, but frankly, he didn’t even care if they wouldn’t be. Ilya wanted this, and Ilya was going to get this.
“If you’re going to be a Hollander,” Shane said, teasing now, “Maybe you should show me what giving you my name means to you.”
Ilya sat bolt upright, and lunged at Shane. “Be careful what you wish for.”