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Yuna Hollander prepared herself for the day her baby boy, Shane, would bring his girlfriend home.
She knew from the moment that she first held him in her arms that he was something special. All moms say that about their children, no matter how many they have; she’s heard it a million times over, but it’s the truth. Despite what some articles believed, Shane wasn’t born with a hockey stick in one hand and a hungry winner’s gleam in his dark eyes. No, quite the opposite, actually, although that would come later. Shane’s lips were in a soft pout as they suckled, filling his beautiful, round cheeks, as his eyes flickered back and forth rapidly, curiously, and Yuna knew. She cried with love and pride, and couldn’t even blame the fresh hormones because she fucking knew how beautiful he was, not just on the outside.
And that’s what caused Shane to find the beauty in all else.
Hockey, to start with. He played to win once he started in peewee hockey. A dirty sport that he found glory in, emphasis on the dirty, because Yuna could wash his gear a hundred times over and still smell something sharp linger, not sweat, just something purely Shane. He used to throw such a fit about killing any creepy crawlers in their house, rushing to stop the boot before it could come down, and begging his dad to just use a cup and paper trick. Even the worst of the worst, no matter how many legs it had, Shane wanted to see. He’d poke his curious nose closer to inspect any stray bugs if Yuna would let him.
That being said, it was sweet. Not a lot of men in this world were still sweet, especially those striving in hockey. Yuna’s heard the way teenage boys talk and how their curses seemed to leak to the younger generation, but never Shane. It was the only thing he found truly disgusting. At only eight years old, his nose scrunched in aversion the first time he heard a term degrading women, and Yuna filled with pride. He didn’t know what it meant ‒ just knew that it was said to hurt someone, and therefore, he didn’t like it. Shane didn’t like hurting other people’s feelings because there was no beauty in it. Nothing could defend being a bully.
And these were some of the best traits in Yuna. She could say with pride that her baby could find a little bit of good in anything, no matter how ugly, and he was no bully. She’s so proud and full of love, she could burst with it.
Love for Shane, that is. Not for the fucking cat he brandished.
Yuna nearly dropped the tuna she was spreading on bread with a shriek of surprise as Shane rounded in on her. “Baby, drop that‒!” She had started to yell because she thought the fucking thing was a massive rat. A molerat, maybe, because of how mangy it was.
“Why?” Shane asked innocently. Gold flickered in his honey eyes as he cradled the ‒ the thing closer to his chest, like she once did when he was born ‒ with love.
Oh God. This sounds horrible, Yuna knew this, but the animal was so ugly. Once she calmed her startled heart, she grimaced. Either it was gray or was covered in so much dirt and muck that it darkened its coat, and had a few missing spots where the fur should’ve been. One of the pointed ears was ragged, as if another animal had taken a chomp out of it. It made an awful hissing noise, gleaming its bright green eyes at Yuna as it squirmed in Shane’s arms, but the boy held on tightly. It definitely lost a few fights on the street.
It being a cat. What was left of it was a damn cat.
Worry immediately struck her heart again when she saw a few scratches and bite marks littered across Shane’s arms. The cat was still fighting him off, and he still wouldn’t let go.
“Did it bite you?! Baby, that’s dangerous! Where did you even find the thing?! You shouldn’t be bringing wild animals home! Or touching them, it could be sick!” Yuna interrogated with concern. She didn’t usually ramble like this, she had a one-track mind, but nobody like her baby brought out the mom in her.
She went to take it, to bat it out of Shane’s arms, and wave it outside, but her boy yanked away. The cat yowled and dug its nails into his hand, but he barely flinched, as if already used to the marks. “No!” He cried out. “Look at him, Mom!”
Yuna really didn’t want to.
Shane still held it up with pride. The stray wriggled in his firm grasp, legs and arms flailing in the air. “I think he likes me!” He insisted with a beam and bounced on his toes in joy. “Can I keep him?! Can I, please?!”
“Baby, no, we can’t keep him ‒ please, just put him down, it’s violent, and probably doesn’t have any shots,” Yuna begged with an audible wince. She’s going to be booking Shane a doctor appointment as soon as possible.
“But ‒ But…” Shane slowly lowered the cat. Now that it was out of the air, it was slowly seeming to calm down in his little hands, but was still weary. He didn’t even notice. His bottom lip started to tremble, and his big, brown eyes became swamped with tears that threatened to spill over the lid. “He’s not violent. He’s just scared, Mom.” Shane sounded so sure and hopeful. He gave the cat a few scratches behind its damaged ear. “He’ll be real good, I promise, he just needs a home!”
“Shane…” Yuna’s heart was still racing, but at the same time, felt too overwhelmed with love. He’s always been so sweet, her boy, wanting to help everyone and everything he could, and so emotional. God help her, Yuna prayed the world never took that from him.
And she was going to have a wailing Shane Hollander in about three minutes if she didn’t talk him down from keeping the cat.
He managed to keep his crying to a minimum that day. Realistically, they couldn’t keep the cat. The only way to calm him down was for Yuna to grab her car keys and drive them to the nearest veterinarian, where she paid for it to be given a round of shots and the proper care it would need to survive. They reassured her the animal was in proper hands, and they updated her a few weeks later that he had been officially fostered. Shane had brightened up at the news. He had been moping since they left the clinic, so news that the stray he found would be okay had lifted his mood.
“See, Mom? I told you, he’s good,” he crowed. He looked so proud of himself.
It wasn’t the last time Yuna saw Shane dote over something wild; it was just one of the first. She thought his days of bringing strays with savage tendencies home were over years ago.
Then Shane brought Ilya Rozanov to his cabin for a two-week summer trip.
Yuna didn’t believe it at first. The way her husband returned from his quick run to their son’s cottage with his face flushed in mortification, spluttering words that didn’t form coherent sentences. She thought maybe he went to the wrong cottage (even though Shane’s owned it for years at this point). Maybe it was just a tall and muscular girl, another hockey player, perhaps, and David didn’t get a good glimpse through the window. Yuna’s world was always black and white, yes and no, A and B. There had to be an explanation.
Shane’s car had slowly rolled into their driveway, and she blinked through her glimpse out the crystal glass of the door, and suddenly, he was eight again. So much smaller, determination crinkling his nose, and a fond glare on his freckled face as he cradled a hissing cat like a baby (her baby, her heart cried, who never told her‒), and showing it love like it’s never known.
And she knew. She knew.
Shane introduced Ilya nervously. Yuna could still see remnants of her baby from that day, the excitement switching from tears in his eyes when she told him they weren’t keeping the cat, and it made her heart hurt. He thought they wouldn’t accept him. He told himself they wouldn’t, as if anything could cause Yuna not to love him.
“But you hate him,” she stated like a question. Baby, that’s dangerous! Where did you find that thing?! Ilya Rosanov, who she’s seen bodyslam rookies during games, and start fights based on a single twisted look, like an animal backed into a corner, wanting to show he’d bite first.
Ilya doesn’t stand there like that now. For such a brutal hockey player, he looks so small, so soft, and Yuna wonders if she’s just seeing the baby in him like she sees in her own. He has a supportive presence behind Shane, but nestles firmly. He doesn’t want to be there any more than Shane does, but he stays put like a loyal companion.
“No‒” No! Look at him, Mom! “I mean, I get that.” Shane fidgeted. “But no, I actually, uh…” Can I keep him?! Can I, please?! “... I love him.”
Of course you do, Yuna wanted to say, because she knew that look on her son’s face. Nervous, sure, but so certain of himself, of his choice. So in love.
They sit down and nurse various drinks while Shane catches them up to speed. Before their rookie season, Yuna wonders how on Earth she missed it. The loving sparkle in her son’s eye, she’s mistaken for normal after so many years.
“Ilya, I gotta say I’m surprised,” David admitted. “You have such a reputation as a ladies’ man.” You shouldn’t be bringing wild animals home!
“Mmm, it’s not untrue,” the Russian agreed.
“Ilya likes both.” Or touching them, it could be sick.
“It’s true, I’ve been with many women, but…” Ilya turned his head to eye her son, and oh, Yuna sees it. A cute little blond with fire in his green eyes that soften for Shane, and only Shane. “... I have only been in love with one person.”
Shane was smiling and uttered softly, “Same here.” He’s not violent. He’s just scared, Mom. “Only one.” He’ll be real good, I promise, he just needs a home!
Tears burn Yuna’s eyes, and she rushes to stand. She murmured about needing a drink, but her voice cracked, and she knew, and Shane knew, but she hurried to bustle herself outside without thinking to grab her cardigan.
Yuna blinked through her blurry vision, and baby Shane wasn’t sat at her dining room table anymore, swinging his legs with skinned knees. He’s an adult now. And he found a stray that doesn’t hiss and scratch when he tries to love it, no. Maybe it did at first, but that wasn't for her to know, when now...
It loves him back.