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Svetlana Vetrova had grown to love Shane Hollander dearly and knew in her heart that there was no one better for her Ilya than Shane. This didn’t stop her from cursing Rozanov under her breath as she stuffed another cashmere sweater into her suitcase. Why couldn’t he have found someone on one of the Florida teams?
Every year, Sveta took a vacation in late January or early February. It was the slowest time of year for luxury car sales. Even Ilya himself, one of her former best customers, wouldn’t have bought a convertible when the entire city was covered in increasingly dirty snow piles, and everyone had spent so much money for Christmas. Sveta certainly wasn’t going to go back to Russia in the dead of winter, that was for summer, so she took yearly winter vacations in Miami. Things were easy there, she could relax. It was sunny and warm all the time. There were other Russian expats for her to hang out and go clubbing with.
The days in Miami had a rhythm. Brunch, shopping, and lazing on the beach during the day. She’d head back to her hotel room in the late afternoon, ordering in dinner and getting herself ready while she watched whatever 7 PM hockey game was on TV. Once it was over, those were prime nightclub hours, and Sveta was always dressed to the nines for Miami clubs and ready to drink and dance the night away. Sometimes she was also ready to take a nice Miami boy back to her hotel room after for some fun. (Not a nice Miami girl. That was for Boston only. Her people there understood it better. Ilya had included her in a few threesomes before Shane locked him down and was an excellent wingman between then and leaving for Ottawa.)
Packing for Miami was easy, too. Tank tops and a couple pairs of shorts for early days. Two bikinis to rotate, both strapless to prevent odd tan lines. Flip flops. Skimpy dresses and her trusty Ferragamo heels for the clubs. All of it always fit perfectly in her carry-on with plenty of room for her makeup, skincare, and whatever she bought on her shopping trips in Wynwood.
Packing for four days in Ottawa at the end of January required more room. Sveta pushed down her jeans as far as they would go and tried to console herself that at least she wouldn’t need to leave room for new purchases.
Even after Ilya transferred to the Ottawa Centaurs, she’d kept the Miami Beach tradition alive. She’d asked during the first year if Ilya wanted her to come during her vacation time, but he’d said no. When Shane was in Montreal, the two were back and forth often, stealing whatever moments they could together, and juggling another visit during the season was just too much. She and Ilya made time for each other when Ilya played road games in Boston and during the summer, alternating between Ilya making return trips to Boston and Sveta visiting the cottage. (She found the cottage boring, truth be told, but Ilya was so happy there that she only teased him about it a little.)
Now things were different, with Shane in Ottawa. They didn’t need to hoard free time during the season for each other. They could make more time for friends. And so Ilya and Shane had found a home stand in Ottawa’s schedule that would be perfect, shortly before the All-Star Game. Friday morning to Wednesday afternoon at home, no back-to-backs that would leave them too exhausted to be good hosts. Ilya had asked her if she could come visit during that home stand and she’d said yes without a second thought. She’d missed him terribly.
Ilya was a little different, too. He’d been withdrawn not long ago, especially that last year before Shane joined him in Ottawa. Less energetic. Less forthcoming. More reluctant to make plans. He even tried to avoid her on one of his Boston trips until she made use of the phone number she’d gotten from a fourth liner on a previous visit to find his hotel room and bring him lunch. Shane had seemed worried. Sveta tried not to pry, she and Ilya didn’t do that kind of thing, but she’d been worried too. Yet having Shane in Ottawa had done Ilya good. He was more relaxed, more open. Maybe not all the way better, but better.
And…the outing. Sveta didn’t want to talk to her Russian friends in Miami about it. A few of them had texted privately to offer support after it happened. More of them, though, chose silence. They stopped asking about Ilya entirely. One of them had texted something so homophobic she’d cursed him out and blocked his number before he could answer. That asshole clearly wasn’t her friend anymore, and she didn’t want to see him with their mutual friends, but she worried they would still invite him. She didn’t want curious stares or awkward silences around it. She really didn’t want to get thrown out or arrested for throwing hands if someone said the wrong thing about it.
So she was going to Ottawa with a suitcase full of heavy sweaters to watch some Centaurs games in person and do whatever else it is that people did in Ottawa.
Sveta had worked on Friday, so she took a late flight to Ottawa after leaving work while the boys played against Pittsburgh. She kept up as much as she could over the in-flight WiFi and smiled when she saw they’d won right as overtime started on a goal from Bood, a little while before landing.
Upon arriving at Ilya and Shane’s home, the three all hugged and quickly agreed that they were tired from traveling and the game and just wanted to relax that night. (Sveta noticed Ilya’s ruffled hair and suspected there might be other reasons the boys were tired. Good thing she’d been careful to text her exact ETA once she got her Uber.) They all settled on the couch and turned on the late game, Vancouver at Los Angeles. Sveta enjoyed sipping on her vodka (no matter how domesticated he might be now, Ilya still had plenty of the good stuff around), petting Anya, and watching.
Sveta kept her eyes focused on the game, but during commercial breaks and intermissions, she pretended to scroll on her phone while really watching Shane and Ilya. They were cuddled together on the sectional, legs stretched out, Shane half on top of Ilya and resting his head on Ilya’s chest. During the second period, Shane started to doze off during ad breaks, always waking back up when play started again. Ilya stroked his hair gently, occasionally kissing the crown of Shane’s head. When Shane would rouse himself from his ad break mini-naps, he would kiss Ilya’s cheek and sigh happily.
Maybe being in Ottawa wasn’t so bad after all, Sveta thought.
Right after the second period ended, Shane’s phone buzzed, the first interruption in quite awhile to the trio’s near-silent hockey watching. Shane grumbled slightly as he sat up and looked at his phone. “My mom says Los Angeles looks really good tonight. She thinks they’re going to win the West again this year.”
“Tell Yuna she should go to bed instead of staying up all night watching hockey, it’s so late,” Ilya murmured, his own eyelids starting to droop.
“She’s right, though,” Sveta jumped in. “Who else is it going to be? LA’s defense and goaltending is too good, just look at how they’re shutting down Vancouver now. Colorado’s forwards aren’t going to get past them. San Francisco has too many injuries. Edmonton’s stars are still too young, maybe next year is their year.”
Shane smiled as he typed a response, then settled back on Ilya’s chest. “You and my mom have to meet up while you’re in town, Sveta. You’d get along so well. You should sit together at the Admirals game.”
Sveta hesitated. She’d briefly met the Hollanders at Ilya and Shane’s wedding, but they were so swarmed by people offering them congratulations that she hadn’t really talked to them. If it had been Ilya who asked, she would have laughed at the idea. “Really, Ilyusha? You want to introduce me to your in-laws? Are you going to tell them about all the times we hooked up? All the clubs we’ve been to together? How much vodka we used to drink together?”
She would have been joking, but with a serious undercurrent. Ilya had left that side of himself, the partying and hookups, behind for Shane. Sveta didn’t quite know how to do that yet, hadn’t even realized it was something she wanted to leave behind until she’d seen what Ilya and Shane had. Now she knew and she had no idea what to do with that. Just growing embarrassment.
But it was Shane who asked, and Sveta had grown to understand just why it was so hard for Ilya to ever say no to him. He was so earnest and sweet. Shane made her best friend happy, and if this would make him happy, she could do it. Probably.
“Yeah, that sounds nice,” she said quietly. Shane and Ilya both smiled at that and went back to cuddling as the studio talking heads started to drone about the game thus far.
Both men drifted off to sleep before the third period started. Sveta tossed a throw blanket over them and turned the TV volume up just a touch once she was sure they were both out, not wanting to wake either but wanting to make sure she could still hear the announcers over Ilya’s soft snores and Shane’s occasional mumbles. She watched the rest of the game in a contented silence, admiring LA’s defense, sometimes stealing an adoring glance at the two cuddle bugs, letting them sleep until it was over and only then nudging them both to get up and go to bed.
Saturday passed without much fanfare. Over breakfast, Ilya suggested an art museum in Ottawa he thought Sveta would like visiting during the Centaurs’ afternoon practice and a nearby restaurant for lunch, but she decided it would be more fun to tag along and watch practice. She sat near Cassie Boodram and restrained herself from yelling out suggestions. She didn’t want to upstage Coach Wiebe or the team captain. Though she couldn’t help whispering in Hayes’ ear during a break that he was holding his blocker just a little too high. Her father was a goalie too, after all. After the break, he started holding it just right and Sveta smiled to herself.
Ilya and Shane took her out for dinner after practice, a Thai place with good cocktails, and she tried her best to hide her relief when Shane texted his parents to ask if they wanted to join and got a response that they had tickets for a play. Meeting them tomorrow would be fine, right? They could just watch the game, talk about hockey a little, keep it light, it would be fine.
It would probably be fine.
The mental reassurance didn’t quiet her nerves, nor did the second or third drink at dinner. (Thank goodness for Shane, designated driver extraordinaire, sipping his ginger ale.) Ilya raised an eyebrow at her when she ordered the third, declining another of his own, but only said “Sveta, we’re taking you out with the team tomorrow night, after game. You and I will outdrink all the boring Canadians put together.”
At home later, Ilya and Shane made sure to point out the white noise machine in her guest bedroom (“Rose left it here in the fall, said our guests needed it”) and left her to her own devices. Sveta called Anya into her bed, both to make sure the dog wouldn’t see her dads engaged in any indecent activities and so Sveta could try to calm her own nerves about meeting the Hollanders, about saying or doing the wrong thing or revealing too much. She watched more hockey, deliberately turning the volume up, checking the closet during first intermission just to see if Rose Landry had left any cute clothes behind. (No such luck, but there was a toner in the bathroom that Sveta made sure to write down the name of.)
Sunday’s game was an afternoon game against the New York Admirals, and as far as Sveta was concerned, it came around way too fast. It felt like she, Shane, and Ilya had barely finished breakfast and walked Anya before the boys started getting ready to head to the arena. Sveta insisted the two take Shane’s car so she could drive Ilya’s for her slightly later arrival. (“You want to get me fired from the dealership? I cannot be seen driving a Jeep!”)
Sveta would normally want to be at the arena as early as possible to watch all the warmups, but she delayed today, taking her time with her skincare and makeup routine and fussing over which sweater to wear. She wanted to look her best, yes, but she also didn’t want to be sitting too long in the family and friends seats before the game. Too much time to talk with no hockey to talk about.
Though maybe she wouldn’t actually be near the Hollanders? Sveta pondered the possibility as she turned on Ilya’s car. Lots of families were coming to this game, the 3 PM time slot was always a good one for kids. Maybe she’d be next to someone else, further away from the Hollanders. She could make small talk with the WAGs, play with the kids, say a polite and quick hello to Yuna and David during intermission and avoid talking too long. That would work.
Who am I kidding? she thought to herself after a minute, shaking her head. Shane Hollander was involved. To hear Ilya tell it, that boy had plotted out Ilya’s entire future in a fit of jealousy in the middle of the night their first time at the cottage. (Ilya had neglected to mention who exactly Shane had been jealous of, but after that time Ilya had downed nine or ten shots of vodka in a Boston club after the 2017 playoffs loss and slurred something out about how they should get a green card marriage as she put him to bed after, she had her guesses.) There was no way Shane hadn’t arranged for her to sit next to his mother. He’d probably texted whoever arranged the family and friends tickets to make it happen, right then and there on the couch while he’d been half asleep. Fuck.
It would be fine. Right?
Sveta arrived in the stands about twenty minutes before the game started, with a drink in hand from the concession stands. Her ticket from will call was an aisle seat, which was nice of the team. Down to Row C…oh. Of course. Hollander and Rozanov jerseys right next to each other. Right next to her seat.
“Hi. Are you Mrs. Hollander?”
“Yes, hi! Call me Yuna, please, and this is my husband David. You must be Ilya’s friend Svetlana, he mentioned you’d be here today.”
“Yes, Svetlana Vetrova. But call me Sveta. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs…Yuna. David.”
David smiled brightly at her. “Nice to meet you, Sveta. It’s wonderful that you could come up to Ottawa! We’re always happy to meet Ilya’s friends.”
Yuna was silent for a moment, her brow furrowed, and Sveta swallowed. Finally, Yuna spoke. “Vetrova? Are you related to Sergei Vetrov? The former Bears goalie?”
Oh. Whew. “Yes, he’s my father. I was born in Boston when he was playing there.”
“He was a great goalie. So good at kick saves.”
“The best.” Sveta smiled. “Nobody else in the MLH had good goaltending back then. Too many easy goals. But not against my papa.”
“So how do you know Ilya?”
“My father moved our family back to Russia after he retired and got into politics. Our families knew each other through politics, Ilya and I became good friends.”
“And you moved to Boston after?” Yuna looked curious, maybe a bit puzzled.
“Yes. My parents divorced a few years after we went to Russia, my mother was American. She went back to Boston. Once I finished school I went to live there too. It was nice to be near her and Ilya.”
“So you and Ilya were good friends?”
Uh-oh. “Yes. We knew each other well, he didn’t know many other people in Boston when he first moved there. He was still learning English. So we would spend time together.” Before she could stop herself, she tacked on “We were never…boyfriend and girlfriend. Nothing like that.” She immediately regretted it. Why even steer the conversation there? How dumb was she?
David whispered something in Yuna’s ear and Yuna reddened slightly. Sveta cringed internally. Surely David had to be telling Yuna that she was a former Ilya hookup. She was pretty sure there had been photos of the two together in Boston, tipsy and loose and all over each other. It felt like another lifetime ago, but still. Hadn’t David called Ilya a ladies’ man when he’d caught him and Shane together? Ilya had been so proud of that little comment. Sveta found it funny too when Ilya told her, but now it made her nauseous.
Yuna paused for a moment, then said “It’s very nice that Ilya had a good friend in Boston when he moved there. We were so worried about Shane when he moved to Montreal after he got drafted, and he was only a couple of hours away.”
“Yes, it was good to be able to help him. Ilya’s been a great friend to me too. So has Shane, now that I’ve gotten to know him.”
Yuna smiled and the two fell into silence as the arena music ramped up for player introductions.
Both women remained quiet during the first ten minutes or so of the game, taking in the proceedings intently. New York’s core players were older than Ottawa’s, a bit slower. Yet no matter how much Ilya joked about Scott Hunter being old, he was as strong as ever and his team was the same. The early game was physical. Lots of hard checks, tough defense, few scoring opportunities. David watched alongside them but had offered to hold one of the WAGs’ babies so she could run to the bathroom and was a bit distracted by cooing at the baby.
The energy shifted as Carter Vaughn stole the puck out of Ottawa’s zone. Scott Hunter spotted the opportunity and turned around quickly, with only a young Ottawa defenseman able to keep up with them. A classic two-on-one. But the defenseman was sticking too close to Vaughn.
“No! Take away the pass!” Sveta yelled, then realized her voice wasn’t alone. Next to her, Yuna was yelling the exact same thing.
The two women looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.
On the ice, Vaughn evaded the young defender with a spin move and launched a beautiful pass to Hunter, who shot it straight at the goal. Fortunately, Wyatt Hayes was ready for it, snatching the puck in his glove.
Sveta and Yuna cheered Wyatt’s superb save, then looked at each other again.
“Shane thought we might get along,” Sveta said, now grinning. “I figured you knew hockey after your text about the LA team the other night.”
Yuna was grinning too. “So you agree? You think it’ll be LA in the finals again?”
“Yes. No one can stop that defense this year. Next year, though? Edmonton will be ready.”
“And what about the East?”
“I think it’s Ottawa’s year, as long as no one gets hurt. No one can touch them in the Atlantic. Boston doesn’t have a goalie that can stop Ottawa, Montreal is falling apart after Shane left them, Toronto has too many goons and not enough scorers.”
“I think you’re right,” Yuna said. “There’s some good teams in the Metropolitan that could put up a big fight in a series. Washington, New York, Carolina. But they’ll cost each other wins with that division schedule. Ottawa should have home ice all the way through the conference finals at least.”
“So Ottawa versus LA in the finals. That’d be a great series. A scary one though.” Sveta pondered the first game Ottawa had played against LA, toward the end of their long West Coast road trip in December. LA’s defense had shut down a tired Ottawa team, with only Ilya’s signature move in the third period preventing a shutout, and the Centaurs had lost 3-1.
“Oh, yes. On both counts.”
The two women fell silent again, a much more comfortable one now. Sveta smiled as she watched Dykstra check an Admirals player into the boards, the Centaurs reclaiming control of the game after the two-on-one scare.
Toward the end of the first period, the Centaurs went on the power play. The entire friends and family section began cheering, but Sveta and Yuna were the loudest.
Ever since Shane had joined the Centaurs, he’d been a second-line center while Ilya stayed on the first line with Bood and Barrett. The only time Shane and Ilya played together was on the power play first line, when Ottawa played four forwards. And it was working, just like anyone who had seen the 2017 All-Star Game could have predicted. No one could keep up with Shane or Ilya’s speed and the two were in perfect sync, delivering gorgeous passes to each other while Bood, Barrett, and Dykstra kept the outnumbered defenders away – or punished them for leaving one of them alone to focus on Shane and Ilya.
Barely 15 seconds into the power play, Ilya evaded his defender, finding space near the endzone faceoff spot on the right, and Shane dished the puck to him. As soon as the puck touched his stick, Ilya launched a one-timer right at the net. The Admirals goalie dove for it, but the shot was just too powerful and went above his arm, hitting the back of the net. The crowd went wild as the goal horn sounded. 1-0 Centaurs.
Sveta jumped up to cheer and realized, to her surprise, that Yuna went to hug her right after hugging David. Even more surprising, she readily accepted it and hugged back. She wasn’t really a hugger, but the Hollanders’ enthusiasm was contagious. Plus, seeing Shane hugging Ilya tight over Yuna’s shoulder was loosening her up.
Once they caught their breath and sat back down, Sveta glanced at Yuna and asked, “Man in the Crease was saying Shane and Ilya should be on the first line together. What do you think?"
“Well, I always think our boy should be on the first line!” David chimed in, but Yuna quickly shook her head.
“No, not yet. I was a little miffed when they put Shane on the second line at first, but it’s working. He and Haas are so good together, and almost none of the other teams have a second line that good. What other teams can say they have one of the best players in the league on two different lines?”
“Yeah, I think you’re right. I love watching Shane and Ilya together. But Shane only plays center and Ilya’s better at right wing than left wing, so you’d have to move Barrett down to second line and Haas to third.”
“Ilya could learn left wing. But it would take time. Maybe in a season or two. Train Ilya on left wing, sign a good second-line center. Then you could have Shane, Ilya, and Barrett on the first line, and Bood and Luca on the second with whoever they sign at center.”
“That would work. Luca could carry a second line then. He needs a little more experience, but he’s really good.”
The horn sounded to indicate the end of the first period and David stood up. “Ladies, I’m going to use the restroom and grab us some drinks and snacks. Yuna, honey, I’ll get you a pretzel and some hard seltzer. Sveta, what would you like?”
“Oh, you don’t have to get me anything!”
“Please, Sveta. It’s my pleasure. It’s not often Yuna gets to talk to someone other than her son who loves hockey as much as she does. Even I can’t keep up with her. I’ll keep you ladies supplied so you can have fun. What can I get you?”
“Some fries would be nice. And maybe a hard seltzer for me too? Thank you so much.”
“No trouble at all. I’ll be right back!”
And so Sveta chatted away with Yuna about line combinations, with a wide smile on her face.
Early in the second period, Scott Hunter scored a goal that both Sveta and Yuna booed louder than anyone else in the arena and Luca Haas quickly answered, with an assist from Shane. The pair had kept up occasional hockey-related conversation during the second period, and Sveta took delight in chirping about a slow Admirals line change and making Yuna laugh.
During a stoppage in play late in the second period, Sveta checked other MLH scores and noticed that Montreal was down 4-1 against Detroit, with their only goal being from Hayden Pike. She showed Yuna and the two high-fived and gleefully mocked Shane’s former team.
Sveta briefly wondered if she should get so personal, but she decided to go for it. “Shane and Ilya told me you were a huge Montreal fan for the longest time, even when Shane was growing up. Was it hard for you when he left for Ottawa?”
Yuna nodded at the question. “Not the move itself, exactly. The way they treated Shane was the hard part. I felt just as betrayed as he did. I couldn't believe that this team I’d grown up loving, where so many players talked about the importance of teamwork and being a family, would turn their back on all of that because of who Shane loved. I wanted to protect Shane from it so badly and I couldn’t, and a part of me felt guilty. I felt like he’d put so much into this team because of me and how much of a fan I was.”
“It wasn’t your fault. Shane would have done the same thing for any team he played for. You couldn’t possibly have known how awful they would be.”
“Thanks for saying that, Sveta, honey. I do feel better about it now, seeing him and Ilya so happy together on the Centaurs. They’re the only team for me now. Was it tough for you when he left Boston?”
“A little. I didn’t really know about him and Shane then, I knew he was seeing a man but not who it was, so I told him he was making a mistake. He heard that from a lot of people, but I think it hurt more coming from me. And then not long after I pieced together that the person he called ‘Jane’ in his phone was Shane and it all made sense and I apologized. I don’t think Boston would have been quite so bad as Montreal about it. He and Marlow are still friends. But there are players who would have given him a hard time, so I’m glad he’s here. Even though I miss him living in Boston.”
“How did you figure it out? I didn’t until David caught them and now sometimes I wonder how I didn’t know.”
“It took me a long time. I knew he had someone named ‘Jane’ that he texted for a long time and he didn’t like to talk about. I knew he was bi. Then these little clues started popping up. I always asked him to take me to the All-Star game, I thought it would be fun to go, and he never would.”
“You know, Shane did the exact same thing with us!”
“He did?”
“Yes. David and I always talked about coming and he would say no, that he needed the time to focus on things like fan events and team building. It always sounded strange to me that he cared so much about team building for a game that no one else took seriously, but he’s always been so competitive, I figured he couldn’t stomach losing even that. David thought he just wanted to party without his parents.”
“In a way, he did,” Sveta laughed. “With Ilya, I figured after he wouldn’t let me come to the 2017 All-Star game, even though it was in Tampa and I love to visit Florida, that his ‘Jane’ must be a man in hockey.” Ilya had also stopped hooking up with her after, but Yuna didn’t need to know that detail. “But I didn’t know who it was. Then I started to think about things I’d noticed. He was so upset when Shane dated Rose Landry, and then again when Shane got that concussion. I used to call Shane hot and Ilya would never agree with me, even though we talked about other men being good-looking. And he would watch Shane whenever he was on TV, even that documentary about the cottage, stuff that had nothing to do with hockey and that I never thought Ilya would like. I thought it was a weird rivalry thing.”
“Wait, Ilya watched that? Even David and I thought it was a bit dull. I thought it sounded like a good idea when I set it up, it just didn’t pan out like I’d hoped.”
“Yeah, he did. I was ready to go to a club with him one night in the summer and he was sitting on the couch watching this real estate documentary. Tried to pretend he was bored, but he was staring at Shane doing yoga.”
Yuna was laughing too hard to respond properly, so Sveta continued. “When Ilya told me he was transferring to Ottawa, I thought his Jane must be someone on the Ottawa team. Why else would he go there? But I couldn’t figure out who it was. Then a couple weeks later I was watching Montreal play at Ottawa, and it was a blowout Voyageurs win so the announcers were bored and talking about other things, and they said it was a hometown game for Shane Hollander. Then it just clicked. Jane, Shane. So I texted Ilya that I finally understood why he was going to Ottawa and that his boyfriend two hours away from there was very handsome, and at last he agreed with me.”
During the second intermission, two teams of young hockey players took to the ice for a Mites on Ice showcase. The entire family and friends section went wild for the kids, cheering as loudly as they could and gushing to each other once play started about how adorable they were.
Sveta studied the teams thoughtfully. The kids were so cute, even she couldn’t deny that despite having little interest in having children of her own. Yet she was thinking about Ilya’s youth hockey experiences. The Russian coaches had been so hard on him. Most Russian coaches were tough, prone to yelling and swearing even at very young players and sometimes worse, but Grigori had seemed to seek out the very toughest ones for his son, especially after Irina’s death. He would say Ilya needed discipline, that he was lazy. Ilya had seemed to take it in stride, staying long hours at the rink perfecting his shots and skating. Now and then, Sveta would see a tear in Ilya’s eyes as he left practice, but he didn’t say anything about it and she didn’t ask.
Sveta stole a glance at Yuna and thought about Shane. She couldn’t imagine how a young Shane would react to a coach yelling like the Russian ones did. It was even harder to imagine Yuna putting up with it.
“What was youth hockey like for Shane?” she asked. “How were his coaches?”
“Oh, we couldn’t get him off the ice even when he was little. His coaches always adored him. I remember one said to me that not only was Shane so talented, but he also never had to tell Shane anything twice.”
“Did he ever have any really tough coaches?”
“Once. His first year playing bantam, he got recruited to this team that was supposed to be really good. The coach was a nightmare, though. Always yelling, always criticizing. He would never say anything when the players did well, so he didn’t have much to say to Shane. Sometimes Shane would be near tears in the car, I would ask him what was wrong, and he would tell me how much it hurt to hear his coach yelling at people. I would try to cheer him up by saying how good he was playing, tell him he wasn’t in trouble, but it never worked. I couldn’t bear it. The second that season was over, I found him a new team for the next season.”
Sveta smiled. “He’s very lucky to have you helping him out.”
“Thank you.” Yuna smiled for a moment, then a flicker of sadness crossed her eyes. “This is a personal question, and you certainly don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, but did you know Irina at all? Do you remember what she was like?”
“It’s not too personal,” Sveta said quickly, then considered what else to say. “I did know her. She was always very kind. Whenever I came over, she would give me a big hug, tell me how happy she was to see me, and make sure Ilya and I had everything we needed. She loved to ice skate; she would take us skating sometimes. She would play little games with us on the ice and always tell us what wonderful skaters we were. When we got tired and went home, she would cook for us. She was such a good cook. She liked to make shchi, Ilya loved it.”
Sveta paused for a moment when Yuna took out her phone, then saw Yuna’s Notes app open. Yuna asked “How do you spell that? Shchi?”
“S-h-c-h-i.”
“Thank you. Please, keep going, I’m sorry for interrupting.”
Sveta continued. “Irina had hard days, though. Sometimes Ilya would just appear at our house without warning, and we’d play and hang out together. I asked my mother why I couldn’t go to Ilya’s house, when my mother was still in Russia, and she would say that Irina was sick and needed to rest. Sometimes Ilya would look sad or tired on those days, and he didn’t want to go back home. It wasn’t often at first, when we were young. Then it would happen more and more until…well, you know.”
Tears welled up in Yuna’s eyes. “I’m sorry, honey. That must have been hard for you too.”
“Not as hard as it was for Ilya,” Sveta said automatically.
“Well, no. But it’s never easy to see someone you love in pain.”
Sveta only nodded, feeling her own eyes start to water.
Yuna continued, “I’m so glad Ilya has a friend like you, Sveta. He needs it. And you’ve been a good friend to Shane too. I’m so glad my boys both have you in their corner.”
This didn’t help Sveta’s attempts not to cry. She averted her eyes and caught the sight of Yuna’s phone on her lap, still open to the Notes app. “Shchi” appeared at the bottom of a list, and Sveta started reading the rest of it, hoping it would be a distraction. Chicken parmesan. Spaghetti with arrabbiata sauce. Tuna melt. Sour cream. Cookies and cream ice cream. Coca-Cola (regular or cherry). Shustov vodka.
Ilya’s favorite foods and drinks.
Sveta brushed a tear away, silently praying no one else noticed. She couldn’t make eye contact with Yuna, so she looked away, but managed to say “Well, I’m glad they have you and David. Ilya loves you both so much. You’ve been such a good family to him.”
“Thank you, honey. Ilya makes it so easy to love him. And you’re always welcome in our home, whenever you come to visit.”
Sveta looked at her phone to try to reset her mind. She would not start crying in the middle of this arena. She answered a couple of texts, then returned to her MLH app and found a highlight that was just perfect to lighten the mood.
“Hey, Yuna. Want to see Gil Comeau lose a fistfight to a rookie?”
“Oh, you bet I do.”
Early in the third period, not long after Shane scored on a breakaway goal to make it a 3-1 Centaurs lead, Hayes made a save on a Scott Hunter shot, deflecting it by angling his blocker. Both Yuna and Sveta cheered loudly. As Ottawa’s defense settled back in, working to halt any Admirals momentum, Yuna mentioned, “That was great from Hayes. Perfect positioning. He was ready for it.”
“You know, I talked to him about that at practice yesterday.” Sveta couldn’t stop herself from bragging, now that she was with someone who would appreciate it.
“You did?”
“Yeah. He’s always great, but he wasn't quite holding his blocker right. I gave him a tip about it and he fixed it. Looks good now, right?”
“Sure does. He bruised that wrist a couple weeks ago. Nothing serious, but he was probably favoring it a little and didn’t realize. Nice catch.”
“Thanks.” Despite Ilya’s repeated insistence that Russians did not blush, Sveta felt a bit of heat creep up on her cheeks.
Yuna studied her for a moment. “Do you work in the MLH? Or for the Bears?”
“No, no, I sell convertibles. Ilya used to be my best customer.”
“I bet Shane is happy that’s not the case anymore. You should think about it, though. You’d be very good at it. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to make some calls.”
“That’s very kind, thank you. But no, I’m not really interested. Ilya tried to talk me into joining the Bears’ staff, but I was worried that people would think I was just there because I was Sergei’s daughter or Ilya’s girl, not because of my knowledge. And I don’t want to move away from Boston to work for another team.” Sveta realized a moment too late she’d said “Ilya’s girl” and not “Ilya’s friend,” but Yuna didn’t seem to notice.
“It’s hard for women who love hockey. When I met David at McGill, he loved that I loved hockey, but his teammates didn’t get it. Some of them would try to quiz me on hockey so they could make fun of me if I got something wrong, and they’d get mad when I knew more than them.”
“Men never change, do they?”
“No. But still, don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure that once people saw how much you know about hockey, they’d know for sure you didn’t get that job because of who you’re related to or friends with.” Sveta was starting to see how Yuna managed Shane so effectively.
“Maybe someday. I know some women hockey players who want to start a professional women’s league.” Yuna definitely didn’t need to know that her “in” with the group of women was a friend and occasional hookup. “Nothing concrete yet, but they’ve been talking to some investors. I would like to work with the women’s league if they can make it happen. I don’t play myself, my dad didn’t want me to, but I would like to help with marketing or maybe coaching.”
“Oh, you’d be perfect for that. I’ll keep my ear to the ground. Do you know Leah Campbell? I think she’s involved in that group.”
“I’ve met her once, yes. She was very nice.”
“She comes to Shane and Ilya’s camps every year to help coach. Maybe you could come to one of the camps this summer? The three of us could talk about it and see what we can do to speed things along with this women’s league. And I bet Shane and Ilya would love having you there. You could help coach the kids too, you’d be great at it. Good practice for the women’s league.”
Wow. Yuna really is relentless. “Let me see if I can make it work. It’s hard to get more time off in the summer. I usually take vacation time to visit Russia and to see Ilya and Shane at the cottage, and car sales are busier in the summer, so I lose too many commissions if I take too much time off. I would like to, though. That sounds like fun.”
Fortunately, Barrett chose that moment to strip the puck from an unsuspecting Admirals winger and charge toward the other side. Yuna dropped the conversation entirely to focus on the breakaway play and cheer Troy on, and Sveta joined in with relief. Yet once the New York goalie stopped the shot, Sveta found herself wondering if she really needed to visit her father in Russia this summer. Maybe, just this once, she could go to Ilya and Shane’s camp instead.
The game ended in a 4-2 Centaurs win, with Vaughn tipping in a deflected shot midway through the third period and Barrett getting the empty netter to seal the deal after New York pulled their goalie.
As Ilya had promised the night before, the team went out for dinner and drinks at Monks to celebrate, and Sveta’s presence was not optional. The Hollanders took their leave instead of joining the team at the bar, stopping to hug the boys and Sveta before everyone got in their cars. “Be safe, you three,” David reminded them. “Don’t drink too much, no drinking and driving, and make sure you all drink some water.”
“Dad, you don’t have to tell us that, we’re all adults,” Shane groaned.
“Don’t worry, David. Shane will keep Ilya and me out of too much trouble.”
Sveta did have some vodka at Monks, but she spent most of her time dancing and encouraging as many Centaurs as she could round up to dance alongside her. The old tavern was a far cry from a sleek Miami nightclub, and she was dressed in a thick sweater, jeans, and boots instead of her usual minidress and heels, but she felt right at home.
Monday evening after practice, Shane, Ilya, Sveta, and Anya all went to Shane’s parents’ home for dinner. As soon as they walked in the door, David proudly announced that he had made chicken parmesan with spaghetti, garlic bread, and broccoli.
The group chatted easily over dinner, Ilya gleefully scarfing down Shane’s untouched garlic bread, and Sveta wondered how she’d ever been so nervous about meeting the Hollanders. They just seemed to know how to make people feel at home. First Ilya, then her.
Yet a question nagged at her, one she was both desperate and afraid to know the answer to.
After dinner, Yuna invited them to hang out for a bit before heading home. David had suggested putting on a movie, which both Sveta and Yuna immediately rejected. “Washington is playing Carolina and you’d have us watch a movie instead of that?!” Yuna gasped.
Yuna offered to do the dishes (adamantly refusing Sveta’s offers of help) and Shane and Ilya scooped up Anya for a quick walk around the block, leaving David and Sveta to get settled in the living room. Sveta hesitated as David found the right channel, then took a deep breath. She couldn’t let them have the wrong idea about her.
“Sorry if this is weird, but when we were at the game yesterday, when I was introducing myself, you whispered something to Yuna. Do you mind if I ask what it was?”
David knotted his brows for a moment, and Sveta worried he was reluctant to tell her, then realized he was trying to remember. “Oh, that. She was asking about your past and I know that Ilya’s family is a bit of a sensitive subject, and you seemed like maybe you were a little uncomfortable talking about it, so I told her to go easy on you. You know, we always want to know more about Ilya’s life before we met him, we think it helps us support him. But I didn’t want to push too hard too fast. I wanted to make sure you had a good time at the game instead of worrying about heavy stuff.”
The world turned right side up again.
“Thank you for telling me and for looking out for me. I had a wonderful time at the game. It was so much fun talking hockey with Yuna.”
“Sveta, Yuna couldn’t stop talking about you on the way home. Says you know more about hockey than anyone else she’s ever met, other than herself and Shane. Oh, and I just remembered – do you have a good recipe for that soup you were telling her Ilya’s mother liked to make? I’d like to try to make it for Ilya soon and I want to be sure I get it right.”
“I’ll ask my mother. I don’t cook much, but my mom has Irina’s old recipe. She used to make it for Ilya when Irina was having a hard time. Once she made some and I brought it over when Ilya was in Boston and got sick. I can get the recipe from her and text it to Shane to give to you.”
“Wait, you don’t need to have Shane text me. Let me give you my and Yuna’s phone numbers. Then it’ll be a surprise for Shane too when I make it. And you can text Yuna about hockey.”
Sveta didn’t go shopping at all while she was in Ottawa, but when she packed her bag on Wednesday morning, she still had to flatten her sweaters more than she thought possible to stuff in an extra item she was bringing home.
It was a photo frame, carefully wrapped in heavy brown paper to protect it on Sveta’s flight home. Inside the frame was a photo of Ilya’s helmet kiss to Shane at the 2017 All-Star game.
It was a gift from Yuna Hollander.