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The Pike household was having a rough evening.
On the bright side, the twins and Arthur were living their absolute best lives at their maternal relatives’ place. Which meant the five-year-olds were free to stuff themselves with Smarties until one of them inevitably threw up, while two-year-old Arthur had unrestricted, twenty-four-hour access to the glowing idiot box, endlessly zoning out to yet another episode of Paw Patrol.
Paradise, really.
Jackie often wondered where exactly this luxury resort for baby bosses had been during her own childhood.
In any case, the reason for all these temporary relocations was their youngest daughter’s sudden jaundice. Honestly, everything that had happened after the birth felt like a subtle but persistent hint that Hayden Pike should finally learn what contraception was and how to actually use it.
It started with the emergency C-section, a decision made quite literally while Jackie was suspended between “Hayden, I’m going to kill you, you bastard” and “Honey, I’m in so much pain, your child is trying to reenact a scene from Alien.”
And it ended with the fact that, with their luck, they were bound to get the one-in-a-hundred-thousand defective condom; birth control pills, of course, refused to mix with alcohol (for God’s sake, let a mother have her one glass of red wine a week); and if you took into account that the girls had been conceived with an IUD in place—which had apparently decided to take a vacation and bail the hell out of her uterus—it was probably best not to tempt fate anymore.
After a brief but heartfelt internal debate, Jackie Pike decided on getting her tubes tied.
Sure, once the horror of the last birth faded, she did occasionally wonder if she’d made the right decision, if they might regret it someday. But those philosophical thoughts occupied her beautiful mind only until Amber’s medical issues entered the chat.
It was as if the baby’s body had decided to play bingo, methodically crossing items off a checklist: rotavirus, heat rash, diathesis, diaper dermatitis, an ear infection. Yes — Amber was an impressively productive young lady.
“For the full set, all we’re missing is jaundice,” they joked.
They shouldn’t have.
And so their ten-month-old daughter finally caught them all and earned three stars in the Patient of the Year category, unexpectedly turning into a tiny banana about two weeks ago.
Thankfully, the pediatrician assured them that even this late, such a situation could happen—but it still required monitoring. Which was exactly what they did during one of Hayden’s few days off, heading to the children’s hospital together.
The tests came back completely normal, and Amby’s eyes no longer had that alarming yellow tint (Hayden liked to joke that their kid could now see in the dark). The whole hospital ordeal drained the Pikes, and after two hours of consultations they finally headed home, deciding to stop by the supermarket on the way to grab breakfast supplies.
It would have been lovely if that Saturday had ended right there—with watching, or at least attempting to watch, something that didn’t involve toothless bearded men.
But while walking through the dairy aisle, they ran into the elder Hollanders, who were meticulously studying the ingredients of various cheeses. It wasn’t exactly shocking to see them in Montreal, but outside of major games they usually preferred to stay in Ottawa, at least as far as Jackie knew.
It took only a few seconds for them to reach the parents of the league’s best hockey player (and yes, Hayden was definitely not jealous) and exchange a few words. After the usual greetings, the conversation drifted into polite small talk, until the topic of Yuna and David’s stay in Canada’s largest city came up.
“Well, we missed our sons—” the woman paused briefly, awkwardly swallowing the word, “—our son… so we decided to come for a visit.”
Hayden smirked, nodding knowingly.
“I get it. Shane’s been taking a break from civilization for the past two days and stubbornly ignoring every call and message,” he continued, flashing a charming smile.
Jackie decided not to stay out of it and confidently chimed in:
“Of course, if we weren’t parents to these little monsters, we’d happily lock ourselves away together too—”
And right at that moment, her brain snagged on the phrasing.
Lock ourselves away together.
Together.
Rozanov… fuck.
Okay, it hadn’t been that long since the insane theory about their friend and “Lily” had been confirmed—about six months, to be exact. And okay, Jackie no longer saw it as something extraordinary.
So what if the biggest rivals in the hockey world were dating? Big deal. Did you see the Selena Gomez–Justin Bieber drama? That was a scandal. These two were just the appetizer.
Besides, all that on-ice tension, when properly analyzed, had very quickly reclassified itself as sexual—though, frankly, no one had asked them to put their mating rituals on public display.
Once she got used to the idea, Jackie was more surprised by one simple fact: she was the only one who knew.
Well. Her, and a couple hundred people on AO3 who had already written Hollander fanfics. Although, considering the existence of works featuring the Hayden + Shane pairing, those people could hardly be considered allies.
In any case, damn Ilya Rozanov was definitely in Shane’s apartment right now. And she really didn’t want to think about what exactly they were doing there.
In the very same apartment Yuna and David were heading to as they spoke.
Oh God.
New plan.
“You know…” Jackie began, putting on the best poker face she could manage, “I think we should go with you.”
A wave of raised eyebrows followed from everyone present (except Amber. Amber did not yet have eyebrows).
Yes. Okay. It was very strange. Normally emotionally intelligent Jackie was suddenly tailing the Hollanders and trying to break into someone else’s apartment without an invitation.Fine. This was motherhood. She might have lost her mind a little. And that meant a lot could be forgiven now.
Even murder.
Right?..
Well. Probably.
It might have looked strange and completely unmotivated from the outside, but there was no way in hell she was letting Shane take a hit. He was her friend, and she would do everything in her power to pack this secret neatly into a closet until better times.
Judging by their expressions, Yuna and David weren’t prepared for this turn of events either as they exchanged surprised looks. About thirty seconds passed before their silent conversation ended and Shane’s mother was ready to deliver a verdict:
“Oh, sweetheart, you really don’t need to worry about that,” she said gently, sounding as reassuring as possible, while using her husband as a nodding bobblehead in support of every word.
Yes, Jackie felt an all-consuming shame. Her ears betrayed her immediately, burning hot.
But the mental image of Shane’s parents discovering their son underneath the captain of the Ottawa Centaurs was far more vivid.
“I just think we haven’t had enough chances to see each other lately,” she continued, choosing the most confident tone she could muster. “So we really should go with you.”
Oh my God, they’re going to think I’m a tactless psychopath.
“Baby, I think—” Hayden started, finally recovering from the initial shock, only to be cut off by the patented “shut your mouth” look.
“Uh—yeah? Yeah! That would be great, if you’d let us,” he added quickly.
Yuna and David still didn’t look entirely convinced. Their politeness wouldn’t allow them to openly object, which worked very much in Jackie’s favor. She just needed one last push.
“Little Amber misses her favorite uncle,” Jackie said sweetly, deploying her final weapon. She hadn’t gone through labor for nothing.
The Hollanders’ hearts visibly melted at the sight of the tiny minion.
And then—
“I think Shane wouldn’t mind seeing you, guys,” David said slowly. “It’s good for close friends ones to know…” He paused. “…how he’s doing,” he finished, once again trying to communicate something to her using only his eyes.
“Oh God… alright,” Yuna finally agreed, still looking a little unsure. “Alright, we can go. But we absolutely need to pick up fresh bread first.”
“Perfect!” Jackie declared triumphantly, glowing with victory.
She glanced at Hayden, who was still staring at her in utter confusion.
Yeah. Shane and Rozanov owed her big time.
***
The Chevrolet Tahoe followed Shane’s parents smoothly along the evening road. The radio was playing New Rules for what felt like the tenth time that day, a song that usually made Hayden’s ears curl in self-defense. But right now, he was far too lost in his thoughts to complain.
His wife, seated to his right, was aggressively typing something on her phone. The only blessing was that Amby was sleeping peacefully in her car seat, patiently awaiting her reunion with her uncle.
“Fuck. Shane, pick up, you idiot,” Jackie muttered, bouncing her leg impatiently, hoping to hear his familiar voice on the other end. Every ring inevitably ended with voicemail.
“Jackie,” Hayden finally tried to salvage the situation while stopped at a red light. He placed his large, calloused hand on her knee, gently rubbing it. “Jacks, talk to me. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
For a second, Jackie thought she might actually tell him everything. Avoid all the lies ahead. Stop carrying this alone. Then she remembered they were driving, and that kind of shock would probably redirect their route straight into the nearest light pole.
She could say it was Lily. That Lily was currently at Shane’s place, and this was not the best time for parental introductions. With one small caveat: Lily weighed close to two hundred pounds, spoke Russian, and had a dick.
Besides, Jackie was afraid that mentioning Lily at all would have the opposite effect. Because despite how fiercely Hayden denied it, he absolutely loved gossip.
So she had only one option left.
“I have a bad feeling,” she said. Okay, she wasn’t lying. She genuinely had a very bad feeling, especially if those two really were fucking nonstop and ignoring all calls.
“Jackie?” Hayden’s voice turned cautious—the kind you use with cranky children or the clinically insane.
She stopped bouncing her leg and stared straight ahead, as if the solution to all her problems might suddenly pop up on the hood.
I wonder if Reddit would give decent advice.
~Hi, my best friend is gay and dating his biggest rival. I’m currently the only person who knows. What do I do?~
“I…” She paused dramatically. “I need to use the bathroom.”
Hayden blinked.
“…What?”
“THE BATHROOM,” Jackie enunciated, sharply turning toward him. “Urgently. Right now.”
“We left the supermarket fifteen minutes ago.”
“I drank two iced lattes, Hayden. TWO.” She held up a peace sign like it was a mic-drop argument. “And you know what? That was a mistake. A big one. A fatal one.”
Inside, everything clenched with embarrassment.
“I’m a mother of four, Hayden Pike. My body no longer obeys logic,” she added more quietly, already back on her phone, frantically tapping the screen. “Shane, pick up, or you’ll find your balls hanging on a Christmas tree next year.”
The phone, of course, continued its merciless silence.
Ahead of them, the Hollander car drove in a perfectly aligned, calm formation. Confident. Serene. Jackie doubted those people had ever received a speeding ticket in their lives. Their entire existence was planned down to the minute—and it made her feel even more anxious.
“Jackie,” Hayden said again, gently squeezing her knee. “You’re scaring me. What’s happening?”
“Absolutely nothing,” she nodded too quickly, already typing:
“HOLLANDER, I KNOW EVERYTHING. TELL YOUR “RUSSIAN DICK” TO GET OUT OF THE HOUSE. YOUR PARENTS ARE COMING OVER.”
Sent.
Unread.
The Hollander car turned on its blinker.
Jackie’s heart dropped somewhere near her ankles.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Plan B.”
“There was a Plan A?” Hayden asked carefully.
They parked.
Yuna and David got out of their car: calm, composed, grocery bags in hand, looking like they were headed for an entirely ordinary, uneventful evening.
“Quick, quick,” Jackie hissed, unbuckling. “Hayden, grab Amber. I’m going first.”
“Why are you—”
“LATER,” she was already out of the car, nearly sprinting toward the entrance. “I NEED THE BATHROOM!”
She could feel Yuna’s and David’s gazes on her. Polite. Very confused. The stereotype about Canadians being incredibly nice people existed for a reason.
“Iced latte,” she added over her shoulder with an awkward smile. “Two of them. Learn from my mistakes.”
And before anyone could say anything, Jackie slipped inside the building, mashing the elevator button faster than her brain could properly form a thought.
The doors slid shut behind her. Jackie Pike pressed her hands to her chest, exhaled, and thought only one thing:
Jesus Christ, those idiots.
She rested her forehead against the cold metal wall of the elevator and closed her eyes.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Her heart was pounding somewhere in her throat, her palms were slick with sweat, and there was an unpleasant tightness in her stomach — whether from the two iced lattes or from the realization that she was about to barge into someone else’s private life screaming threats of genital mutilation.
The hallway was quiet. Neat. It smelled like fresh floor cleaner and something neutral — the way expensive buildings always smell. The carpet muted her footsteps. She burst out of the elevator and headed straight for her target.
Jackie came to an abrupt stop in front of the door, nearly slamming her shoulder into it.
Fist.
Palm.
Fist again.
“YOU TWO OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I’M RIPPING YOUR DICKS OFF!”
Her voice cracked into a shriek, but it was far too late to back down.
Silence.
The hallway answered her with nothing but its own echo.
Okay. Great. Wonderful, her brain supplied helpfully.
She knocked again, harder. Angrier.
“I’M SERIOUS!”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a saving thought surfaced: thank God Shane had bought out the entire floor. Otherwise there would already be nosy neighbors standing around, filming her on their phones, and by morning Twitter would be circulating a video titled:
BREAKING NEWS: Hayden Pike’s Wife Has Officially Lost Her Mind.
No. No. No.
Finally, there was movement on the other side of the door. Jackie didn’t even have time to figure out what kind of noise it was before it was interrupted by a soft mechanical whir behind her.
She turned her head slowly.
The elevator was coming up to this floor.
The numbers above the doors were changing far too fast.
“Oh my God…” she breathed, a chill running down her spine.
At the same moment, there was more movement behind the apartment door. Shuffling. Footsteps. A muffled voice muttering something that sounded straight out of an old comedy — in a completely unrecognizable language.
“Blyat, kto eto tam…”
Harsh consonants. Hissing sounds. Sharp intonation. Unmistakably swearing.
Russian, she realized with grim clarity. At least this hadn’t been for nothing.
The lock clicked.
The door swung open.
Ilya Rozanov stood in the doorway.
Shirtless. His skin still slightly damp, like he’d just stepped out of the shower. Dark moles scattered across his chest, a gold cross glinting against his skin. His face looked almost comically relaxed — Ilya lazily scratched his very defined pec, casually taking a massive bite out of the apple in his hand.
The image lasted exactly one second. Until their eyes met.
In that split moment, everything flashed across his face at once: surprise, recognition, panic, and the full, dawning realization of the scale of the disaster.
“BLYAT,” he barked, loud and aggressively. There was no doubt whatsoever that this was profanity.
He spun around sharply, desperately searching for a solution.
“SHANE!”
Jackie opened her mouth. A thousand words were there but not a single one made it out.
Behind her, the elevator chimed.
A final, decisive ding.
Like a verdict. Almost like the grim reaper clocking in.
Her body moved faster than her brain.
“I’M SORRY,” she blurted out and grabbed Ilya by the chest.
“Whoa—”
She shoved him backward into the apartment.
“NO TIME!”
Throwing a quick glance around, Jackie yanked open the nearest door — it gave way immediately.
Click.
“IN HERE.”
Ilya, still chewing the unfortunate apple, was physically shoved inside. Disoriented, Jackie stumbled in after him and slammed the door shut behind them.
A walk-in closet.
Dozens of sports jackets hung in perfect order. Just as many spotless sneakers lined the wall. Shane Hollander had absolutely had a hand in this.
After a brief, doomed assessment of the space, Jackie finally accepted the inevitable and looked straight ahead.
Oh my God.
Her hands were still splayed on either side of Ilya’s chest. Rozanov looked down at her, thick brows raised in open curiosity.
“Mrs. Pike,” he drawled, his heavy Russian accent curling around the words, “is your husband not good in bed?”
“OH MY GOD,” Jackie jumped back a full step and immediately began wiping her hands on her jeans in disgust.
“Do you even know who I am?” The question was probably unnecessary, especially since Ilya Rozanov had just addressed her by name but the entire situation still felt completely absurd.
“Uh…” The curly-haired man put on an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression and scratched the back of his head. “You are, of course, a very sexy woman. Very dominant. But I am not interested.”
“FUCK, just shut up,” Jackie snapped, throwing her hands up in a desperate attempt to end this conversation. This man was unbearable.
Voices sounded from outside.
Jackie immediately raised a finger in a sharp “be quiet” gesture and moved closer to the door to listen. Ilya, meanwhile, kept chewing his apple with an innocent expression, clearly enjoying himself.
Asshole.
The voices became clearer especially one very flustered one, unmistakably Shane’s.
“Mom… Dad… and uh—Hayden, what are you doing here?” His voice cracked on the last name. The panic was audible even from here.
“Honestly, I don’t really know myself, man,” that was her husband.
Jackie could perfectly picture Hayden standing there, confused, scanning the apartment for his unhinged wife.
That was followed by a loud silence — the kind where someone opens and closes their mouth, unable to find words. Near Jackie’s ear, she heard the soft sound of chewing. She shot a murderous glare at the captain of Ottawa, who was still methodically destroying the apple and ruining her concentration.
She glared at him.
Ilya just shrugged: what is the problem.
“You… uh… didn’t see anything?” Shane asked his friend carefully, his voice sliding further into panic.
“What are you talking about, buddy? The only thing Jackie—” Pike didn’t get to finish before Shane cut him off, frantic.
“Jackie? Oh my God… Jackie is here too… oh my God.” His voice dropped with every word, until it was barely a whisper.
The budding hysteria was interrupted by Mrs. Hollander’s gentle voice. Judging by the volume, she had already taken off her shoes and stepped closer to her son.
“Sweetheart, I’m sure everything is going to be fine. You don’t need to worry, do you?”
It was hard to tell what followed, but the entryway sank back into tense silence.
“I think this might be a good time to finally do it, don’t you?” Yuna continued, and her caramel-soft tone unexpectedly eased the tension in the room.
And suddenly, Jackie felt hands on her shoulders, careful but firm, gently pulling her away from the door.
“Oh no… no, what are you doing…” she hissed, but resisting was pointless — when a six-foot-four brute decides on something, the apocalypse is inevitable.
Three.
Two.
One.
The door swung open.
Jackie didn’t dare look at the Hollanders’ faces. Instead, she stared at her husband. Hell, even during the twins’ first delivery his eyes hadn’t been this wide. And honestly, no one could blame him.
He stood frozen, mouth slightly open, stuck in one deeply awkward position.
“Why is baby Pike yellow?” a rough voice cut through the silence as its owner stepped toward the Hollanders.
Yuna, who had been gently rubbing her panicking son’s back, smiled softly and turned to the speaker.
“Ilya, hello,” she said, opening her free arm in invitation.
Ilya strolled toward her with an easy, sunny grin.
What an absolute shitshow…
The apple core was still in his hand when he wrapped an arm around her back and pulled her into a hug. When they parted, Yuna kissed him on the cheek and stepped aside, giving her son space. Rozanov immediately caught on and confidently began kneading Shane’s shoulders in silent support.
“Long time no see, son,” David said, still standing by the door with grocery bags, nodding to Ilya.
“Good evening, Mr. Hollander.”
“Please,” Hayden hissed, “can someone take Amber from me before I drop.”
***
Dinner preparations passed in an almost tangible silence.
Yuna and Shane were doing something together in the kitchen quietly and seamlessly, like they’d been rehearsing these movements for years. David stood by the table, frowning over the rules of a new board game brought from Ottawa. Hayden and Jackie sat on opposite sides of the table.
Jackie had a glass of some local wine — she didn’t remember the name or the taste. Hayden had a can of ginger ale. Unfortunately, he was driving. Even more unfortunately, he was standing in the epicenter of an emotional earthquake.
The very cause of this entire mess was sprawled on the couch, babbling to Amber and provoking streams of pure, crystalline laughter. The curly-haired hockey machine had finally put on a tank top, hiding all his indecency, but it barely helped — his presence still took up too much space. Half-reclined, he held the baby securely in strong arms, spinning her like an airplane, changing her position midair, making absolutely idiotic noises.
“Taking off, mini Homer Simpson! Brrrrr—” he rambled absolute nonsense, blissfully happy.
Amber’s laughter sounded almost sacrilegious in a room where six adults (if Ilya right now could even be counted as one) were collectively pretending nothing extraordinary was happening.
Hayden cracked first.
He cleared his throat.
Then again.
Set the ginger ale on the table with the care of someone handling an unexploded bomb.
“Can I…” he started, then stopped.
Everyone’s gaze slowly, like in a bad sitcom, turned toward him.
“Can I ask some questions?” he finally managed.
“Yes,” Shane exhaled and nodded. “Yes. Of course.”
“You…” Hayden gestured toward the couch, “you two… this…”
He hesitated, as if searching for the most polite phrasing in a universe where none existed.
“Are you together?”
Silence.
“No, we’re just friends,” Ilya drawled lazily, not even looking up from Amber. “Especially horizontally.”
“ILYA,” several voices snapped in unison.
Shane rolled his eyes and rushed out:
“Yes. We… yes. We’re together.”
Hayden nodded. Once. Slowly.
“Got it,” he said. And then immediately, “How long?”
“Since rookie season,” Yuna said gently, almost fondly, looking between her boys.
“Summer before,” David added without looking up from the box. “To be precise.”
Hayden blinked. Then blinked again. Then very slowly turned his head toward his wife.
“Jackie.”
She took a sip of wine, caught red-handed.
“Yes, babe?”
“You… knew?”
“Well,” she shrugged, “it was pretty obvious.”
“Obvious,” he echoed. “To whom?”
“To people with eyes and basic logical reasoning, my God,” she answered honestly.
“And how long have you known?”
“Mm…” Jackie tapped a fingernail against her glass. “A couple months? Maybe six.”
“SIX?!” Hayden nearly jumped out of his chair. “How?! How did you find out?!”
Everyone stared at her.
Even Ilya stopped buzzing, burbling, and making baby noises. This “Russian greatest love machine” was disturbingly good with kids.
Jackie sighed.
“Well… Lily.” She pointed at Ilya. “And Jane.” A second finger pointed at Shane. “I still don’t understand how I was the only one who noticed.”
“Wait,” Hayden frowned. “What Lily? Like… Lily from Boston?”
He froze.
“Boston Lily?..”
“Oh!” Ilya perked up happily. “Yes, very hot baby girl. Took very good care of our Jane.”
“ILYA!”
“What?” he grinned. “Not me. Lily.”
At that moment Amber laughed loudly, and Ilya immediately lifted her again, blowing warm air onto her chubby belly and making idiotic noises.
Hayden turned his gaze back to his best friend. Shane was still looking at his teammate too intently. For too long.
“This…” Hayden swallowed. “This isn’t a problem?”
The room went completely still.
Even Amby froze midair, tightly held in Ilya’s arms. He felt it, stopped rocking her, pulled her closer, lowering his chin to the top of her head. His usual smirk vanished.
Hayden didn’t answer right away.
He stood up straight, like he was about to step onto the ice, and only then took a step forward.
“Shane…” he started, his voice betraying him.
He huffed, shook his head, and suddenly smiled — that smile he only ever wore in moments of absolute sincerity.
“I don’t give a damn who you love,” he said firmly. “If you’re happy, then it’s right.”
Shane stared at him without blinking. His eyes became watery.
“You’re my best friend,” Hayden repeated, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And this doesn’t change anything. At all.”
A pause.
Shane stepped forward sharply and hugged him.
“Thank you,” he said hoarsely into Hayden’s shoulder.
“Thanks for trusting me, man.”
The heartwarming moment lasted exactly as long as it was allowed to.
“Well, this is all very sweet and everything,” an awkward voice chimed in, “but I think baby Pike needs a diaper change…”