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Shane decided to choose comfort for this interview: a crisp white Gymshark tank that made him feel like his skin glowed. His stylist suggested to dress up for the occasion instead, bring some more seriousness to a podcast - his first ever, mind you.
“Honey, remember this is still considered press. It feels casual, but it really isn’t,” Yuna said, manager tone activated. He had been wondering when she would slip out of mom mode. She had been deceptively calm leading up to this.
The whole point of this to finally let his guard down, to show the one thing Shane Hollander actively avoided in all his press and media and interviews. Vulnerability. Did he not owe himself that?
So no, there would be no jeans or fancy jacket for this interview. He even opted for new white sneakers. It was a bonus, really, that the shorts they decided on were the ones Ilya always said were his favorite on him: dark green, athletic, cut just so to show off most of his thighs. He felt most confident like this, especially with his bangs pushed back a little.
Yes. Yes, this will do.
“Okay Shane, we’ll start recording in 5. That good with you?”
He had been in the middle of a breathing exercise. Shane opened his eyes to the voice in front him: Alex Cooper. He was surprised that she actually had… notes in front of her, secretly tucked away with an assistant that whisks them away before they record.
Honestly, he didn’t know why he was surprised. He devoured the library of videos on her YouTube this past week and it was obvious that her interviews felt effortless only because they really weren’t. His mom suggested Alex as the best social media personality to take this story live. He loved that she seemed to be brash but earnest, the right amount of fun. It hadn’t looked like she had too much experience hosting athletes, let alone anyone actively with the MHL. Good call, mom.
Too much time had passed, lost in his thoughts. Pretend to be normal, Shane.
He opted to gave her a tight lipped, shy smile back. “Definitely, I’m ready."
He was not ready.
His heart pounded in his chest, anxiety threatening to close his throat up. A different assistant kept hovering over him to fix his hair and powder his nose against the stress sweat peaking through. He didn’t even feel this nervous playing in front of thousands, but . . . he guessed this video would be seen by many, many more. Maybe his anxiety was valid this time.
Please, he whispered in his own head, please let this be a good idea.
Ilya always told him that he was too hard on himself. Letting go of this habit was harder than he thought. Shooting pucks into a net? Easy. Reprogramming yourself to believe that not every anxious thought is a fact? Not so much.
Crew fluttered around him and he chanced a glance behind the cameras to catch his mom’s eye. She gave him a thumbs up and took it as a good sign; his shoulders lowered, his back melted into the comfortable suede of the pink loveseat he was in. He could have sworn all of Alex’s other videos had her guests in a single armchair, but he was grateful for the wiggle room - hockey shoulders were no joke.
He closed his eyes again. A last minute of reprieve that had him thinking of Ilya, the man that sacrificed the only life he had ever known in adulthood to move to another new country. For him. For them.
The Centaurs were struggling, but it was obvious Ilya was going to be a good influence on the team regardless. The Irina Foundation’s first set of hockey camps this past summer went smooth - astonishingly so. Shane’s team, the Metros, were projected to go to playoffs this season again.
So why, why, did it still feel like there was something missing? He often joked to himself (maliciously) that he was like a wayward princess, complaining about the single pea hidden under a stack of twenty mattresses.
He knew, though. Somewhere under the fear and the butterflies at the potential of being outed, a voice that sounded infuriating like his own said, “You know why. You know how to fix it. And I’m sorry, but you’re the only one who can.”
Ignoring this voice any longer felt like death and there was simply too much life left to live - life with Ilya.
The lights overhead shone brighter. Shane’s ears picked up the slight feedback of the mic in front of him as it turned on. Alex adjusted her sweater confidently directly across from him - it said “unwell” in bubbled letters, whatever that meant.
Show time.
“Shane Hollander! Welcome to Call Her Daddy!” Her voice was bright and upbeat, a good match for the blonde bangs framing her face.
Fuck.
“Thank you - it’s great to be here, Alex.” Relax, relax, relax.
“Oh, are you kidding?” She breathed life into the room. “You’re officially our first MHL player to ever be on the show and it feels like we’re going to get a strong start.”
Ah - what’s the professional way of saying yes ma’am, that’s exactly why we picked you?
He opted for a chuckle instead before saying “I’m honored, really. This has been refreshing for me. I don’t spend a lot of time outside of hockey-only spaces.”
“You’re someone who likes to think outside of the box then?”
“I’m not and that’s exactly why this time with you is important to me. I’ve been in the league for ten years now and it’s time to think about how I can do things differently.” Shane opted to cross one leg over the other, a protective shield as they continued.
Alex was gentle in her next question: “Is that because things haven’t been working out for you or…? Because I researched your career to prep for this and, let me tell you, it looks like you’ve been doing a fantastic job.”
“I’ve had an incredible time, but I blinked and suddenly I’m almost 30 now.” Shane nodded his head slightly as he spoke, lips pursing. “I’m a creature of habit, but I’ve been asking myself how I can grow up, so to speak, on the ice and off.”
“That is so relatable. This podcast actually used to be a space for me and my friends to talk about sex, dating, men.”
Oh, he knew, he listened to those earlier versions of the pod too. Shane was kind of impressed to be honest . . .
“But both my audience and I grew up.” Alex was a natural in connecting the dots. “It’s tough finding the right balance between those original raw conversations and incredible guests like you now that want to show up and have much deeper chats about life, career, politics, you name it.”
She gestures to the camera and Shane knows that the edited, finished video of this will have images of his career laid on top now, a visual for the audience to understand Shane more. He’s able to react in real-time as those photos pop up now on the computer behind the camera for him to see.
The last one is Shane on the upcoming cover of Out Magazine.
“And wow, grow up you did! I mean, are you guys seeing this?”
Shane was definitely seeing and had seen before. He still couldn’t believe that it was him, that he not only was the model in these photos but that he was allowed to even have a vision for the spread at all.
He decided to be honest and say exactly that. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Alex had a mix of interest and disbelief on her face. “Tell us more about that then. Because it sounds like you don’t normally have too much creative control over your brand deals.“
"You’re right and . . . “ Shane paused briefly, looking up to the ceiling to gather his thoughts. “that was how I wanted it to be at the time. I didn’t know anything different. I would show up to these sets, be told what to do, and it would get executed. It almost felt like hockey in a way - the crew behind the camera or the ad or the commercial was my team and I just so happened to be the captain or the “star” of the show. At the end of the day, everyone left relatively happy - they got the shot they needed and I got a gold sticker for a job well done.”
And well…the money, the exposure. These were things that didn’t need to be said.
Alex nodded slightly. “I see where you’re coming from now about growing up along with your brand. Your manager mentioned in the brief that this was the first shoot where you actively sought out the magazine and a photographer yourself. What did it feel like to ask for what you wanted?”
“Oh, suddenly I was 17 again and nervous that I wouldn’t get drafted or something. But after that initial meeting, with Out’s incredible creative directors and writers and photographers, I had never felt more heard.” True. They never gawked at the awkward little hockey player in front of them trying to get his point across. “They never once made me feel stupid - every idea I brought to the table, they were honest enough to tell me what worked, what didn’t, or how we could improve it. I left feeling a kind of excitement that almost made me nervous - really different from my usual which is…just a ball of nerves, no excitement to be found.” Understatement of the century.
Shane figured this was a good place to laugh, so he did. He tried to look casual as he sipped on the ginger ale in a tall glass that was placed next to his chair.
“Were they…maybe surprised that a popular MHL player was reaching out to them? Obviously I would assume that they would because the league isn’t a popular place for the queer community, even after Scott Hunter’s coming out.”
“I‘ll say that they were eager to get their hands on this story.” Shane was nothing if not diplomatic. “I made the decision to come out to my friends and my teammates a few months ago so it didn’t feel like a huge secret . . . But I also never had the intention in the beginning of a big, public announcement. I’m gay, the people I loved and spent the most time with knew, and for a while I was okay with that.”
His interviewer took this as the opportunity to dive a little deeper. “So, what changed then? What happened to make Shane Hollander publicly announce his sexuality on one of the biggest LGBTQ magazines in media? It sounds like you were content with flying under the radar, in a way. And I could see how it benefits you more to stay silent.”
Here it goes.
Shane resisted the urge to fidget in his seat. “Well…Ilya Rozanov happened.”
He stretched one of his arms across the back of his seat. He wanted to look cool, calm, collected. No big deal, he thought. It was anyone’s guess if it was actually working
“Ilya…Rozanov?” He nodded with another bashful smile. Alex turned away from the mic to look straight into the nearest camera.
“Daddy Gang, for those of you out of the MHL loop - I’m going to catch you up.” Shane marveled at Alex’s ability to turn on the charm. “Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander have been rivals on the ice since 2008.” Her voice inflected upwards.
Again, more photos popped up in his line of vision that would eventually make it into the final edit - this time of Shane and Ilya facing off in the rink, doing side-by-side agitated interviews, accepting awards as opponents. Alex went on.
“If you hear one of their names in a space, you’ll hear the other’s right after. These two have been top players since they were drafted as literal teenagers and have 4 Stanley Cups between the two of them before they’ve even turned 30. They have been the most watched, most talked about, hockey All-Stars in North America in the last decade. Can you tell I’m foaming at the mouth?” Her eyes widened just so, showing her growing disbelief.
Alex turns back directly to Shane again.
“Ilya Rozanov?” Another inflection at the end. “The yin to your yang? The fire to your water?”
“Oh, so you do know him?”
They shake with mirth together, two friends talking about the mystery man their friend just introduced them too. The last of Shane’s nerves melt away at how easy the banter feels.
He can do this. He is doing this. He slides his eyes to his mom again, slightly out of frame, and she gives him a winning Yuna smile.
“Ilya Rozanov has been the love of my life for a long time. And this entire photoshoot - the cover, the spread inside, the article, is an homage to him. It has pieces of the sport that brought us together and the countries that shaped us. There is a piece of him, of us, in every inch of this. He inspires me everyday and I wanted him to know that, with this.”
“Oh… my god - Shane!” Alex’s eyes are bright, her legs come up happily to sit pretzel-style. “Who knows about this?”
“My parents. Two of my closest friends and now…everyone will.”
“Did you hesitate at all about doing this shoot or this interview with me?”
“Everyday.” Another laugh together. “I was seconds from panic calling your team this morning to cancel.”
“Tell us what Ilya said when you told him about this plan.”
Shane could see it now, them in bed together at Ilya’s Ottawa house with the sheets already a mess. He decided the internet didn’t need that exact detail though. “I get all of my ideas in the middle of night and he was half asleep saying, “Hollander! Yes, do whatever you want - do interview!”
He turned on his Russian accent for this part. He knew Ilya would get a kick out of it - and it looks like Alex did too.
“My husband HATES when I get the zoomies before bed too," she said. Oh, is that what it was called?
Alex grounds them back into their conversation after that, continuing, “That takes a lot of trust. It must’ve been encouraging for you.”
“It was and… it might sound silly because I joke about it, but it’s a huge testament to who Ilya is as a person. That’s why I wanted to do this.”
“So that he knew that you loved him?” Her eyes narrowed gently, tracking the direction of their conversation.
Shane could feel the tiny prickles of tears dotting the bottom of his eyes. “No. So that everyone else could see why I love him. And that I do love him. And that he deserves more credit than they give.”
He wished he could hide behind a visor, a hockey stick, but his usual safety guards weren’t going to be here for this. Instead, he went on.
“You just said it yourself.” He raised an upward palm towards her. “Ilya Rozanov has been one of the best players in the MHL in the last decade. And lately, all anyone wants to talk about online and in the news is what happened to Rozanov? Why did THE Ilya Rozanov leave a winning team in Boston for Ottawa? Is he even Captain worthy anymore?” It hurt Shane even now that these things existed in a world that Ilya could see them. “Alex, I just can’t do it anymore.”
She cocked her head to the right, “the questions, you mean.”
“No.” The flood gates were open now. “I mean the disrespect.”
Here we fucking go.
“Ilya and his team lost a few of their last games recently. I go on social media and I see these people completely choose to forget that he’s a human being too. They consistently write the most disgusting things on his account, on the Centaur’s corporate page. Someone left a comment on one of his posts saying has Rozanov forgotten how to be a winner or what? He should’ve retired instead of whatever he thinks he’s doing now.”
Shane couldn’t hold back anymore. “Alex, how in the world am I supposed to allow that on a near daily basis? These people don’t see what I see. They don’t see him for who he really is. And part of that is my fault.”
His voice grows in volume, more confident but angry too.
“I have let total strangers dictate what I do in my life and in my relationship. I’ve hid myself for so long, hid Ilya for so long, and for what? For people to drop their loyalty the second it gets hard? To post about us as if we don’t have lives outside of the rink? I’ve given absolutely everything to the Metros and to this sport because I love it. I really do. No one loves hockey more than me.”
Alex used this as an opportunity. “Did your love of hockey stop you from coming out sooner then?”
“I wish I could say yes.” This was something Shane thought about often. What was the real thing holding him back? “Really I was afraid that I would just lose everything - and if I lost everything, then what would have the last ten years been for? When you feel like you’re at the top, where do you go from there if you lose it?”
“It seems to me like you’re choosing to take that risk now. Is that right? What does it feel like to take this risk now, farther into your career?” She was relaxed and Shane tried to mimic her attitude.
Shane shook his head, “That’s the thing. It doesn’t feel like a risk anymore. I regret every second that I pretended that I didn’t love him. But I can’t go back - I can only go forward and going forward meant realizing that as long as I have Ilya, have my parents, I have it all.”
And he meant it. He really fucking meant it.
“I know I’m a great player. The league would be less than if they decided that I can’t play anymore because of this. But I know that together, Ilya and I can handle whatever life throws at us. I’m done hiding him and I’m done hiding me.”
Alex’s eye shone as she listened. “Shane, I’m so happy for you. It’s so obvious to me sitting here - shit, I don’t know why I’m getting emotional! - that being with Ilya over the years as given you a different kind of confidence.”
“I know you recently started a charity with Ilya. What has it meant to you to do that alongside someone you love?” Ah yes, he had wanted to make sure the Irina Foundation was a highlight of this too.
“It feels like I’m in a dream - like I accidentally stepped into a different universe and I’m not mad about it. Waking up next to Ilya, working with children, finding other hockey players that are passionate about changing the league from the inside out - these are things I wanted so deeply that I almost…didn’t even let myself want them. Do you know what I mean?” His head cocked right, eyes squinting as he hoped that she understood on some base level.
“I used to be so confident that there was no way I would find someone who not only loved me but understood me, and didn’t care that I’m…really particular or like my things a certain way, that I didn’t even let myself dream about it. And now, this opportunity is at my feet to live a life I’m proud of with the man I love and it’s like…how can I not scream about him and his accomplishments and our ideas from the rooftops every chance I get?”
Alex gave a warm hearted laugh at how he was excitedly rushing through his words. “Well, Shane -I don’t know anything about hockey, but I know you have me in your corner.”
He had never felt more buoyant in his entire life.
“That’s all I ask for.”
“It’s obvious that you’re passionate about Ilya and your relationship. I can see now why that was a big inspiration for the shoot. Did Out know about your relationship from the start?” Back to Shane’s cover story. A small piece of his brain applauded him for switching between themes quickly. It all went back to the same thing at the end of the day - being open and happy with Ilya.
He steeled himself. “No.” The word dragged out of him that he wasn’t sure it was the right one. “I didn’t disclose that Ilya being in my life was going to be a big part of this. I started by telling them the original inspiration was the 2008 International Prospect Cup in Saskatchewan.”
Alex laughed, eyes wide. “Okay, I’m sorry - what?” Shane couldn’t help but laugh back.
“I know! I know! It definitely didn’t land when I was talking to a team of creatives but Ilya and I first met at this exact event . .”
"Oh okay I think I can see where this is going now…”
Shane nodded vaguely. “Exactly - 2008 was the year Ilya and I played against each other, representing Russia / Canada. What I was really trying to say, and what they helped me with, was that I wanted to do the shoot on the ice and in the locker room - lean heavy into stereotypical Russian style. Bold, lots of fur, leather, confidence, sultry energy..
She gave a coy look at him. “And of course, a little sweet Canadian energy doesn’t hurt either.”
Shane’s eyes crinkled again, tilted them down to look at her through his lashes. “Well . . . yes, that too.”
“Daddy gang, these photos have exactly that.” Alex picked up an advanced copy and flipped through its glossy pages towards the camera.
Shot 1: Shane in a long caramel-colored fur coat, sitting in the stands of the rink, leaning back. Shirtless, blue jeans, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips (they had to tell him how to hold it).
Shot 2: He leaned against a row of lockers and turned away from the lens, wearing his cozy Canada fleece from the Olympics with a few buttons popped open.
Shot 3: An all black outfit with a smooth, leather blazer as he sat on the seat of a Zamboni. He faced the camera and gave his best come hither look (he didn’t think he succeeded).
Shot 4: His favorite one - a black and white shot of him in front of a net on center ice, staring down the lens. The fur coat is back with a studded black belt, oversized jeans and big boots. Wearing Ilya’s cross necklace in this shot was the real star of the show though, if you asked Shane. The gold looked good on his bare chest.
Shane indulged in the rarity of what was happening right now.
It was the only shoot he had done where he didn’t feel like a prop trying too hard to sell another prop. It wasn’t lost on him that it was probably the sexiest one he’s done too. Sure - there was an underwear ad of him somewhere from years ago, but he remembered how stiff he was that day from his lack of confidence, nervous that he wasn’t the right kind of sexy.
He preferred this version of himself more.
Alex helped him break his trip down memory lane. “Okay Shane, a little bird might have mentioned that you hate surprises…”
What?
“Oh no,” suspicion rose in him like a snake.
“Oh yes. You see, we actually had Ilya Rozanov’s manager reach out a few days ago…”
“His manager?” Shane raised one dark eyebrow.
Fuck. Off.
Alex radiated glee in her jeans and Ugg boots. “Yes! It turns out Ottawa’s very own star forward caught wind of our time together…”
“Well, it certainly helps that his manager is my mother.” His voice cracked somewhere in the middle of trying to process.
The crew in the back giggled.
Alex was unperturbed though. “Daddy gang, join me in welcoming the one, the only, Ilya Rozanov!” Her arms elegantly stretched out towards the door opening nearby.
And there he was, walking in wearing a tight black t-shirt topped with a mixed black and denim jacket. Even after all this time, Shane could still feel his heart fluttering at the sight of him, fingertips tingling to reach for him. He would never get tired of this feeling.
Ilya smiled as he sat down next to him on the couch, giving Shane a gentle peck on the cheek. “Syurpriz, lyubov' moya”.
Well . . . this would explain the loveseat situation.
Alex flowed into a new question without missing a beat. “Ilya, tell us. What did you think of the Out shoot?”
“Hot. Hot. Hot. Hot.”
Shane loved this man so much. There was a 18 year old version of him in a locker room that thought there was no way someone like Ilya could find him attractive. He blushed now, happy, and hugged Ilya close by his arm.
Ilya went on, much to Shane’s horror. “These are nothing compared to the extras Shane gave me though.”
“Oh NO.” A blush creeped into Shane’s cheek, warm and unwanted. Alex’s eyes gleamed, “Ilya, tell us more.”
“Absolutely not!” Shane almost jumped up and they all laughed. “The photographer was kind enough to take a few other pictures that didn’t make it into the article . . .”
Ilya couldn’t resist interjecting. “Yeah. Too sexy. Too naked.”
“STOP”, Shane half-yelled at the same time he heard Alex’s squeal of “Shane!!” This was probably the real intel she was here for though.
“Those are definitely for Ilya’s eyes only,” he managed to squeak out.
“Yes. Yes. I am a lucky man.” Shane and Ilya looked at each other then, sparks passing between them without words. Ilya was the first to acknowledge Alex again, turning slightly to reach the mic that had been added for him over the last few minutes.
“Honestly, there was a time I thought that we would never have this - that I would not get to have Shane.” His voice was deep and sure. “Being here, it feels…what is word? Surreal.”
“Why didn’t you think you and Shane would be here today?” Alex was back with her inquisitive questions, bolstered by the brief break of levity.
Shane knew how much it took Ilya to do this. It didn’t matter how fluent and perfect Ilya’s English got over the years between the States and Canada, he still avoided long-winded English interviews. He hoped Ilya felt the small tap of his foot against his in support.
“Mostly because I did not know how.” Real, honest. Shane didn’t know why he was even surprised. Ilya was probably the more emotionally intelligent of the two of them.
“And if I ever figured it out,” he continued, “I was not certain that Shane would be willing to change his life for us too. It would take both of us to make this work.”
“Shane initiated your relationship in the beginning then?”
“Oh, no.” Ilya’s head shook left to right at Alex’s question, a small and confused pout on his lips. “I did.”
She went on, matter-of-factly. “So you must’ve known? That you were capable of wanting him and eventually making some kind of sacrifice for him then?”
A rare Ilya smile came in now, wide, bright teeth.
“Alex Cooper.”
Shane whispered “oh no” again. He wasn’t sure the mic even picked it up.
“You did not tell me I would need to send you therapy bill after this. No?”
The room warmed up with joy. Typical Ilya. Alex was laughing and brushing back her own blonde bangs.
“Okay, okay! Yes, sometimes these can feel a little like therapy. Can you blame me?”
Shane opted to jump in, save Ilya from where this conversation was going. He leaned in.
“Ilya was always the brave one of the two of us. It’s not easy navigating something like this when you’re so young. I mean, we hadn’t even started rookie season officially,” his eyes caught Ilya’s in confirmation, “and we were already trying to navigate locker room tension, our names constantly in the media, moving to our team cities.” Shane was pretty sure he had forgotten how to breathe like a normal person. “He’s the one who took a chance to see if I was interested and he wasn’t wrong. There’s an entirely different version of us somewhere where that scenario could have gone very, very badly.”
“I’m sorry, did you say….before rookie season?” Alex stuttered out. “Shane Hollander, you are just letting out all of your secrets today!”
Oh shit. That piece wasn’t really part of the plan. Shane had expected to focus on the now of it all only. He trusted Alex to sweep them into the next question while he adjusted.
Adjust she did. “How do two hockey players at the top of their game even hide this for so long?”
“Lots of hotel rooms.” Ilya’s pitch lowered, his eyes going dark as he turned his head slightly right to look at Shane.
Was Shane ever going to stop blushing? This was going to be on the internet forever.
“Sexy!” She was letting them take the lead on where they wanted to go from here.
“Yes. . . but, it also made it feel so short, temporary. I regret letting us stay there for so long.” Ilya, much like Shane, had sometimes wondered what would’ve happened if they had let each other have more of themselves earlier in their careers.
“Hm, I could see that. Did any other regrets surprise you?”
Ilya took a big breath through his nose and Shane could feel his body move against him like a wave. “I regret not asking Yuna and David if it was okay that I was a part of Shane’s life.”
Shane stepped in briefly, curious to see where this was going. “My parents.” He leaned back into the couch after he clarified, head cocked to the side as he looked at Ilya’s profile again.
“Yes. Yes. Shane’s parents. By the time we had met, I was already in love with Shane and . . . I did not want to give them the opportunity to say no, so I did not ask.”
“Meeting them went well though?” Alex didn’t even know the can of worms she was stumbling onto here.
“No. Well, yes.” Ilya couldn’t settle on a response, but Shane didn’t blame him. “It is tough because David walked in on Shane and I at home, in our cottage. We had not planned to make the transition so jarring for them.”
Alex cringed on their behalf, sympathy coating her features. “I would’ve been absolutely terrified.”
“Trust me, I was,” Shane tossed in casually. He liked letting Ilya lead here.
“Yes. We were ready for things to move forward but…that was not how I envisioned it. I am lucky they were still so welcoming after the initial shock.”
Shane shook his head. “He’s being modest. I was demoted from the favorite child slot almost immediately because of him.”
Alex’s ponytail swished as she smiled. “Ilya, Shane mentioned that you have been going through a lot the last year with the move, the new team, some negative press. Meeting David and Yuna must have added to that chaos then.”
“No.” Shane was surprised it wasn’t followed with “probably”. He said it with no doubt instead.
“No.” Alex matched Ilya’s cadence before he went on.
“No. They have been one of the highlights of my year. I do not consider them part of the difficulty.”
“Really? What does your relationship look like with them now?”
Ilya looked to Shane. He gave him an encouraging nod almost as if to say yes, say it, it’s okay, you don’t need permission.
“It took me a long time to believe it, but they consider me as a son now.” Ilya paused slightly, judging how deep he wanted to go. “It was actually David that was brave enough to ask me about the people I was with before Shane. I admired that - he did not hide his curiosity and I had the opportunity to tell him the truth.”
Shane internally cringed at the reminder and said so. “Man, that conversation at the kitchen table felt like my own personal hell.”
“Actually..”, Ilya paused, licked his soft lips. He had let his stubble grow. “We talked about it again, alone, months after that first meeting.” His look now was sheepish.
This was news to Shane. He knew Ilya spent time at his parents’ house - often going over for dinner and cards - but he hadn’t realized his parents were still questioning their relationship after the summer at the cottage.
“David expressed his concern that he did not really know me yet. He only knew that his son and I were in some kind of . . . relationship for a long time and suddenly, I moved countries, changed my workplace, for Shane, and this can be jarring for a parent that only wants to protect his child.”
Well . . . when you put it like that . . .
Alex’s tone was soft, admiring, “Wow. That’s the kind of parent I want to be: brave.”
This peaked Ilya’s excitement. “Exactly! Exactly. So I proposed him and I get together once a week, to get to know each other, and that’s what we did.” He reaches into his jacket pocket to fish out his phone. “I have a meeting on my calendar every Monday morning and we speak on the phone for 30 minutes. Sometimes we are both on the way to work, sometimes we are getting breakfast ready. I cherish these times. It has given him an opportunity to understand me and I him, outside of Shane.”
Ah, yes. David spoke about these calls with Shane often. He never divulged what they spoke about, but Shane was always under the impression that his dad more than looked forward to these standing times with Ilya.
“That is so sweet.” Alex paused to consider if it was okay to expand on this. Shane gave a slight nod to show he was happy with where this was going. “Ilya, can you tell us a little more about these calls with Shane’s dad? Which has been your favorite so far?”
Ilya took a second to consider, opting to lean forward onto his knees with his elbows. “I was in New York City one night for a nomination with the League, but I knew I was not going to win.” He said this as he did often with things related to hockey, sure and without ego.
“The Cens, my team now, had not been winning and I had not proven myself enough yet as their Captain. It was still too early in the season, yes? I flew to the event anyways and took our normal call together when I was settling into the hotel early that morning. David mentioned then that we could celebrate at home with dinner and Yuna when I got back to Ottawa.”
Ilya moved to put his fingers on the tip of his ear, the only tell Shane could ever clock on him. Shane remembers he couldn’t be at the event Ilya was talking about despite being invited too; he had a game that night in a different city.
“I made a joke and said well, I’ll let you know.” His head shook side-to-side to show his unease. “Because maybe I don’t win trophy and we will have nothing to celebrate.”
“And he said, Ilya, it doesn’t matter if you win or not. We’re celebrating you. You know we’ll still love you even if you don’t win, right?”
Shane usually controlled his tears well, but one slipped. He did know this story, but he loved hearing it again all the same. Proof that his favorite people existed in the same world, that Ilya got to experience the same kindness Shane had when he was growing up.
Alex swiped at her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweater. “Oh my gosh, Ilya..”
“I could not believe it either!” His eyes went wide, as if still in disbelief it had even happened. “Never in my life did I have an adult tell me that it did not matter whether or not I won. That I was still worthy even without it.”
“What did you say to him?” She leaned forward, like a friend at brunch.
“Nothing.” Lie. Ilya remembered the way he thanked David, stared out of the window of his large suite. Ilya told him he hopes he is half as good a father as David is one day. Some things could still be private though. He opted for a different truth . . .
“I realized I did not care to be there and flew home to Ottawa on the next flight out. Shane’s parents and I watched the ceremony for that event together, in the living room of their home. I was already eating ice cream by the time they announced my nomination and we saw another player announced as winner. I may not have won that night, but . . . I had won in other ways. Yes?”
“Yes. Yes, definitely.” Alex was back to beaming now. Shane could feel the interview coming to its natural end, where they planned to circle back to Out. He promised the magazine that they would do a final shout out to boost release day sales. It had been a long time since he cared to do that for press.
“Is there anything you want to say to the haters, Ilya?” Her tone was cheeky, typically a Ilya Romanov speciality.
“Yes.” Ilya didn’t even need a moment to consider. “I would like to say that I know they are just jealous. That I get to play hockey, be with Shane, and they do not. I do not blame them - look.” He held up the advanced copy of Out that was lingering on the coffee table between them, Shane on the cover.
And in that moment, Shane would give anything to tell his younger self that everything would be okay. He would settle for this though, leaning sideways to hug the man he had spent the last ten years loving and hopefully, the next hundred too.
Alex nodded enthusiastically. “Actually Ilya, we have time for one more question. Do you want to do the honors?”
Shane looked away from Ilya and back to her, confused. Their 75 minutes were up, weren’t they? He was vaguely aware that Ilya was getting up and …getting down on one knee.
What was happening right now.
But there Ilya was, a velvet box hinged open, and looking up at Shane like he hung the moon . . . or let him adopt another dog.
“Shane Hollander.” Those warm eyes, that smile Shane missed even when he blinked. “There is no one else I want to live this life with. Will you marry me?”
And what in the world was Shane Hollander supposed to do except…
“Yes. Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”
A pop in the background, champagne probably, crew cheering on their behalf. His dad suddenly next to Yuna off to the side even when Shane could’ve sworn he had said he was scheduled to work that day.
Alex jumped right back in, grinning - “and there you have it, folks! Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov, it was an honor to have you on Call Her Daddy.”
Shane was oblivious, all he could see was Ilya slipping a shiny black ring onto his finger. He whispered so hopefully only Ilya could hear, “you asshole, I was going to propose tonight . . .” (everyone heard, as the YouTube comments will tell him later).
“You can read more about Shane, Ilya, and their love story in Out Magazine, releasing on June 1st!”
This, Shane thought in the haze of congratulations and hugs and disbelief, this is what freedom felt like.