Work Text:
Yuna Hollander loves hockey.
It’s her favorite sport in the world. She loved playing it as a kid, she loves watching it now. She loves how much her husband loves hockey, how much her son loves hockey.
She did not expect her son to play hockey professionally.
Nobody ever believes this about Yuna. Everyone assumes she saw that inkling of potential, of greatness in her Shane at a young age and she pushed and pushed and pushed, because she’s Yuna. She’s a tiger mom, she expects the best out of everyone! Of course, Yuna Hollander’s son became a professional hockey player. One of the best professional hockey players in the world.
But Yuna didn’t push.
Honestly, sometimes, Yuna wishes Shane didn’t play hockey.
But Shane loves hockey. Shane has always loved hockey. It’s his favorite sport in the world. He loves playing it, he loves watching it. He loves how much his mom and dad love hockey.
He’s like Yuna that way.
***
Shane’s birth was hard fought.
Three miscarriages, two failed rounds of IVF, a week in Mexico to relax and regroup before she and David began seriously pursuing adoption, and one final, positive pregnancy test. David liked to joke that they picked up a hitchhiker on their way home from Mexico. Their wonderous, miraculous Shane.
Before Shane was born, Yuna had been angry often, that things couldn’t just be easy, especially when it came to their family. Because she loved David, she had always loved David, and David loved her. But David’s parents didn’t love her, especially at the beginning. And her parents didn’t love David, not even now. Not even after all these years. And Yuna spent years with her mother’s vicious voice in her head, whispering, wailing even the universe knows this isn’t right. This isn’t how it’s meant to be, that’s why you have no children, that is why they won’t stay and live and become—
And then came Shane.
***
There’s a video Yuna loves, from Shane’s first day of kindergarten.
He’s five, standing on the front steps of their house, wearing a bright red polo shirt and khaki shorts. The cowlick on the back of his head refuses to be tamed, and he’s missing one of his front teeth.
“What’s your name?” Yuna asks from behind the camera.
Shane giggles. “Mommy, you know my name!”
“We need it for the record!” Yuna replies with a laugh. Shane grins.
“My name is Shane Hollander!”
“And how old are you, Shane Hollander?”
“I’m five!” Shane shoves his hand forward like a guard at the crosswalk, showing off his five tiny fingers.
“Wow, you’re five whole years old?” Yuna asks, the awe in her voice genuine. She doesn’t know where the time has gone.
Shane laughs again, “You know I’m five, Mommy.” The laughter makes his brown eyes squint. She loves him. God, she loves him.
“And where are you going, today, Shane?”
“I’m going to kindergarten!” He adds a little jump of excitement, or maybe nerves, at the end of the statement.
“That’s so exciting! A few questions for you, new kindergartener, Shane Hollander: what’s your favorite color?”
Shane points to his shirt. “Red!”
“And what’s your favorite food?”
“Spaghetti!”
“And what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“A hockey player!” Shane says immediately with a shout, jumping off the front step entirely. The smile on his face could light a ship’s way home.
“A hockey player?” Yuna asks, honestly a little shocked. Shane loves hockey. She knows he loves hockey. And it’s normal for little kids to say they want to be professional athletes. And Shane is athletic, fast and lithe, with pretty incredible reflexes for a kid his age, David always says it. Yuna just—
Well. Hockey is dangerous. And Shane is her miracle baby.
Her tiny, breakable, miracle baby.
“Yeah! I’m going to play for the Montreal Metros and win the Stanley Cup!”
Yuna grins through her most-likely irrational fears. “You know that’s Mommy’s favorite team?”
“It’s my favorite team, too!”
“Well, Shane Hollander, winning a Stanley Cup is going to take a lot of hard work.”
Shane shrugs. “That’s fine. I can do it.”
And he does.
(Yuna shares the video with the Metros PR team after Shane wins his first Stanely Cup at Montreal. The video goes viral immediately. People on the internet coo over how cute baby Shane Hollander is, they gif his “That’s fine. I can do it,” shrug, they applaud him over his ability to manifest his destiny, and they tend to think eternal momager Yuna staged the whole thing once upon a time. That Yuna Hollander knew exactly what was coming, exactly what her tiny little five-year-old would someday accomplish.
It’s fine. But sometimes Yuna wishes she’d kept the video for herself.)
***
Yuna Hollander is not blind to the Kris Jenner comparisons. She knows she is, to some, a Canadian version the Kardashian matriarch. Yuna really can’t bring herself to care.
The thing is, hockey ends. Sports end. No matter how talented Shane is, no matter how good he is about taking care of himself, injuries happen. Age happens. And Shane is a very successful hockey player, but he doesn’t have a degree. He’s never worked a regular nine to five. Hockey will end someday, and Shane needs a nest egg. He needs a backup plan. He needs to never have to work so hard again in his life.
And Yuna is obviously biased, but her son is good-looking. And he’s great at hockey. A fantastic role model for the children of the world. Sponsors are climbing on top of each other to get at Shane from the beginning. Yuna just—she manages it for him. She picks the best ones, gets him as much money as she can, and doesn’t bother taking a cut for herself. She doesn’t need it. And this is Shane. It’s for Shane.
Whenever Yuna can make things better for Shane, she will.
***
Yuna had another miscarriage less than a year after Shane was born. The pregnancy had been an enormous shock but still welcomed. Still wanted.
And the loss was still deeply grieved.
Yuna had stupidly thought maybe this time it would be easier, though. She had Shane. She had her baby. She was a mother and David was wonderful and life was good. Life was so good.
But there could have been another, there was supposed to be another, one could have been two. And Shane, her perfect Shane, he shouldn’t be alone.
Someone was still missing.
Not long after it happened, Yuna had a dream. She dreamt of Shane, a few years older than the baby down the hall in his crib, but unmistakably her Shane, chasing a little boy through a field. A little boy with light hair and blue eyes and a smile as bright as the sun, giggling in delight as Shane fought to catch him.
Beautiful. He was beautiful. Her son.
The little boy met Yuna’s eyes and Yuna woke up with a gasp, her own eyes flooded with tears.
She thought a lot about the dream in the weeks and months after that.
David had light hair and blue eyes. But it felt unlikely (not impossible, but highly unlikely) that a child of Yuna’s and David’s could have such features, especially given how much Shane resembled her.
But he was her son. Yuna knew that in her heart, would scream it from the rooftops if necessary. Her son.
***
Shane is twelve when Yuna realizes the hockey ambitions may not just be the far-fetched dreams of childhood.
Shane is good. Shane is fucking prodigious.
It terrifies her.
Coaches, scouts, parents on the opposing teams, fucking MHL players at camps all go out of their way to tell Yuna and David just how gifted their son is. “A once in a generation talent” gets tossed around like dice rolling on the table of Shane’s life and half of Yuna wants to berate them because she’s been betting on Shane since before he existed, thank you very much. The other half of her wants to scream at them all to stop looking at her son.
And it’s not that he’s small (but he still is, God, he’s small, and every time he gets checked Yuna wants to retch) and it’s not that he can’t. Shane can. Shane can do it. Shane is that good. He may very well be the best.
But to be the best is to be alone, and to be so often disappointed in the rest of the world. It seems a cruel fate for someone as wonderful as her son.
***
It takes Yuna and David a day too long to get to Montreal after Shane’s accident. It doesn’t matter that he’s 26 and an adult and a famous professional athlete and a millionaire. Yuna wasn’t there when Cliff fucking Marleau checked her son so hard he snapped his collarbone and lost consciousness on the ice. Yuna left her son all alone in the hospital overnight and she will never forgive herself for it.
David is in the hallway speaking with Shane’s doctor and coach, when Yuna bursts through the doors of Shane’s hospital room.
“Mom, you’re here!” Shane sing-songs, reaching out his hand not in the sling. “Hi, Mom!”
Oh, he’s so high. He’s flying higher than the 747 she and David deboarded not an hour before.
Yuna fights not to smile as she walks forward and finally grips Shane’s hand. “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?”
“I’m good. I’m so good, Mom. I’m just like—like great.”
“That’s great, baby. I’m sorry it took us so long to get here.”
Shane shakes his head slowly. “’s okay. All okay. I wasn’t alone.”
“I’m so glad. I saw your coach in the hallway, Dad’s talking to him now. Did Hayden stay with you?”
Shane shakes his head a little. “Hmmm, no. Well, yes. A little. But Hayden has babies, he had to go see his babies. Ilya came though!” Shane replies with a happy grin.
Yuna can feel her brows furrowing. Ilya? Who the hell is…
“Rozanov? Did Rozanov come to see you, Shane?”
Shane’s grin widens as he nods, “Yeah! He’s…nice. Ilya’s really…nice.”
“Ilya Rozanov. Of the Boston Raiders. He was…nice to you?”
Shane nods again, “The nicest.”
“Well, that’s…nice.” Yuna is honestly a little concerned about an overdose. Does Shane have a new medication allergy?
“I’m so ready for summer,” Shane says with a sigh, apparently changing the subject. “I can’t wait to go to the cottage. It will be so fun. So much fun.”
“Yeah, honey, I’m sure it will. Maybe you should get some sleep, yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah. Love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
***
There’s another video, taken right after the first day of kindergarten video. Yuna is sitting in an armchair, Shane in her lap. He’s still wearing his red polo shirt from the first day of school. Neither seem to notice David with the video camera, spying on them from around the corner. Yuna is reading Shane a book.
“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always,” Yuna sing-songs, “As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.”
“Mommy,” Shane interrupts quietly, his head tucked into Yuna shoulder, “Will you love me forever and like me for always?”
“Of course,” Yuna says immediately. She presses a kiss to Shane’s head. “You’ll always be my baby.”
“’m not a baby,” Shane grumbles. But he hugs Yuna tighter. “Would you love me if I was purple?”
Yuna’s face scrunches up in confusion, but her reply is near-instantaneous. “Yes, of course I would.”
“Would you love me if I turned into a puppy dog?”
“Definitely.”
“Would you love me if I played for the Boston Raiders?” Shane asks with a giggle.
Yuna turns to him seriously, “I would be Boston’s number one fan.”
Shane gasps. “But you hate Boston, Mommy!”
Yuna bops his nose. “I love you more!”
“Wow, you love me lots.”
Yuna kisses his head again. “I’m telling you, kid. I love you forever and like you for always. Nothing will ever, ever change that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I love you, too, Mommy.” Shane settles back down, and Yuna makes to pick up the book and begin reading again. “Maybe,” Shane says quietly, “maybe I play hockey for Ottawa someday, so I can be home with you and Daddy?”
Yuna laughs lightly and brushes back Shane’s hair. “Sounds like a good plan to me, baby.”
(Shane gives the video to Harris on the Centaurs PR team; they play it on the jumbotron before a home playoff game on Mother’s Day. There is not a dry eye in the house.
Ilya scores a hat trick and punches two Montreal defenders in the face as compensation for letting anyone see him cry. The victory is sweet.)
***
Yuna Hollander watches Shane drive away in his Land Rover with Ilya Rozanov in the passenger seat with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. She finds herself waving, staring at the car driving down the lane until it’s gone, and David gently grips her hand and leads them to the porch.
She sits on the stoop, head in her hands for a long moment. David slumps loudly beside her.
“Big day,” Yuna says softly. David holds one of her hands in both of his. He fiddles anxiously with her rings.
“Uh-huh,” David agrees. “Rookie season,” David says again, with a shake of his head. “Jesus Christ. Are we just blind?”
Yuna shrugs. “Maybe. I’m just—I’m glad he wasn’t alone. I’m glad he had someone who understood.”
“Who knew it would be Ilya Rozanov though?”
Yuna thinks about her dream, from so long ago. Shane and the little boy, running through the field.
“Remember, the baby after Shane, when I had that dream?” Yuna asks slowly, because it still hurts, even after all this time, so always, it will always hurt. But David understands, because it’s his hurt, too. He doesn’t ask about the abrupt change in topic, just nods his head.
“You said he looked like me.”
Yuna bites her lip, “I said he had blue eyes and light hair. But he also…David, he had curls.”
It was the part that had always given Yuna pause, the part she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud. Because nobody in David’s or Yuna’s family had curls, how was Yuna’s son supposed to have them? But he did. Flowing, beautiful golden curls that bounced as he ran through the field with Shane, curls that shook with his laughter and glimmered in the sunlight.
David smiles with all his teeth, and doesn’t tell Yuna she’s crazy, because he never would. He puts his arm around her shoulder and holds her close.
***
Yuna Hollander loves hockey.
So do her sons.