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David sat quietly at the dining table and sipped his coffee in the early morning light. It had been two days since he’d stumbled across an unexpected private moment between his son and a man. A man whom David was certain Shane and Yuna told him he was supposed to hate.
Frankly, David never understood his family’s strong negative feelings toward Rozanov. Ilya, his brain corrected. Ilya had sat at this very table and asked to be called by his first name. David would respect that request.
Ilya had never struck him as someone to be hated. Sure, he was loud and arrogant, but he had the skills and talent to back that up on the ice. David knew enough from being Shane’s dad and playing hockey himself that you didn’t excel in this sport at this level without a strong work ethic and a burning desire to succeed.
He only had one of those qualities when he skated for McGill. Sure, he loved the game and worked hard, but he didn’t live and breathe hockey, certainly not the way that was required to play professionally. Shane did though, and David had been all too happy to do whatever he could to help his son thrive.
He and Yuna knew that when Shane was young, he possessed a natural talent. When combined with hard work and a drive to be the best, Shane became unstoppable. David was awed watching his son on the ice. He knew he was likely biased, but he really hadn’t seen a player who equalled Shane. At least, not until he saw Ilya Rozanov play.
David had some vague awareness of Ilya from hearing Shane and Yuna talk about him while preparing to leave for the 2008 International Prospect Cup. Shane had been buzzing with excitement leading up to the tournament. To hear Yuna tell it, the only thing that might keep Shane and Team Canada from walking away with the trophy was another phenom, Russia’s Ilya Rozanov. David privately thought competition for the Cup would likely be much greater than that, but he listened patiently as his family hyperfocused on Ilya and the rest of the Russian team. David would support Shane no matter what. Always.
When David first watched Ilya play, he immediately understood the hype surrounding him. The kid was fearless, strong, and a blur of speed. There was also this intangible quality (Yuna called it an X factor) that reminded David of his son, but it was different with this boy. When Ilya Rozanov was on the ice, you couldn’t look anywhere else. He demanded your attention in a way that was as compelling as Shane, but its polar opposite. Where Shane was quiet, technical, and precise, Ilya was loud, aggressive, and chaotically effective. Of course, David later found out from Shane and Yuna that off-ice Ilya was “an asshole”. Still, he enjoyed watching Ilya skate.
After both boys were drafted, David tried to console his son, who was angry about coming second to Ilya. Shane and Yuna were quickly distracted by the Montreal bigwigs who stopped to chat and eagerly told the Hollanders how glad they were to have an Asian on their team. David recalled finding the comment offensive and choked angrily on his drink, quickly excusing himself before he said something regrettable, and left Yuna to politely listen and smile.
He was nearly through the washroom door when he heard the sound of a very angry Russian voice. David paused at the entrance for a moment as the voice thundered and bounced off the marble surfaces, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. What followed was the unmistakable sound of a slap. He rushed into the washroom to investigate the commotion and came face to face with Ilya Rozanov and an older man towering over him. The man wore a stern expression with eyes so cold and pale David momentarily shuddered. He eyed David shrewdly for a moment, then hissed at Ilya in heavily accented English, “We will talk later,” before marching out of the room.
David, ignoring his own shock at the scene that just played out in front of him, approached Ilya cautiously to make sure he was okay. Ilya was tall and imposing in his suit, but, in the wake of the man’s departure, his shoulders had visibly curled in on themselves, making him appear much smaller. There was a red mark blooming across his left cheek, and David noted how Ilya’s hands tremble as he reached for a hand towel.
“Here, let me help.” David grabbed a towel and ran it under cold water before pressing it softly to the boy’s cheek. He wasn’t sure if it would bruise, but he hoped the coolness of the water would help alleviate the visibly smarting pain. Ilya was staring blankly at some fixed point in the distance with watery eyes, and David’s heart broke. This boy, this talented boy who was the first round draft pick, this unstoppable force on the ice, looked so lost and fragile as he placed the towel against Ilya’s face. David was reminded of his own son and knew if he saw Shane looking like this, he’d gather him in a warm, grounding hold. He’d breathe calmly until Shane’s breathing matched his own and the shaking tension loosened its grip on his muscles. But David reminded himself that this wasn’t Shane, and he had no right to hug him.
“Are you alright, son?” David winced. Damnit. So much for the reminder. He really couldn’t resist caring for creatures in distress. Yuna called it his most endearing quality. She said she decided to marry him when he helped her rescue an injured baby loon they’d found on a hike during their third date. But standing in this public bathroom with a skittish Russian teenager, David worried he’d overstepped.
Apparently, his words snapped Ilya out of his dissociative state. His eyes flashed with emotion as he finally saw David standing before him. Shame, anger, and sheer terror chased across Ilya’s face until he schooled his features and growled through clenched teeth, “Fine.”
David sighed as Ilya backed away, the hand towel falling to the floor between them with a wet plop. He watched the lost little boy transform into the cocky menace, and Ilya strode angrily from the room without another word. David stood there for a minute, processing the events with a mixture of sadness and anger for Ilya, who should have been celebrating this career-defining accomplishment. He composed himself, disposed of the towel, washed his hands, and returned to his family.
***
He never told Yuna about that incident. He didn’t feel it was his place. Clearly he’d witnessed something private and humiliating to Ilya, although David never thought Ilya should bear that shame. (No, the blame for all of this fell squarely on the shoulders of the man David later learned was Ilya’s father.) So he stayed quiet as Yuna raged about Ilya’s arrogance and showboating. He said nothing while the league pitted Ilya and Shane against each other as bitter rivals to sell more tickets and squeeze more money out of feral hockey fans, who voraciously consumed even the slightest hint of drama.
So David watched as Ilya scored 67 goals in his rookie season, matching Shane’s own record. He watched as Ilya led a previously floundering and rudderless Boston team to a league championship. He watched as Ilya lifted the cup in triumph, while emotionally shouting in Russian. (Secretly David hoped Ilya was cursing out his bastard father, but since he didn’t speak Russian, he’d contented himself to never know.)
Sadly, David also watched with concern as Ilya became harder on the ice, ruthlessly checking anyone who got in his way, including Shane. He read the gossip rags that speculated about the number of women Ilya bedded each season. He watched as Ilya inflamed the press and the league with his trademark cockiness, but David saw that his eyes often reflected a deep emptiness that reminded him of the lost boy standing at the washroom sink all those years ago.
While his family were virulent Rozanov haters, David quietly worried about the kid and hoped he’d find a way to heal from whatever it was that haunted him. He hoped success wouldn’t go to Ilya’s head too much and destroy him before he reached his full potential. He hoped Ilya’s coaches and advisors would step in and guide him to a long, healthy career.
What he’d never even dreamed of hoping was that Ilya would find a partner who would love him, match him, and heal him. As it turns out, it didn’t matter. David’s own son stepped into that role while no one (including himself, his wife, and the hockey world) was looking.
***
It was a pleasant summer afternoon at the cottage, when David told Yuna he needed to take a quick drive to see if he’d left his phone charger at Shane’s house. He’d tried to call and text Shane before heading over, but his phone died before he could reach his son. Yuna scolded him, saying he needed to respect Shane’s “silent retreat” which seemed an unusual way for Shane to spend a few weeks. David promised not to speak to Shane, or disturb his quest for inner peace or whatever Shane was seeking. He just wanted to grab his charger and return home quickly.
As he backed into his usual spot in Shane’s driveway, David hoped that the silence was helping his son heal. The concussion Shane sustained as a result of a brutal check, more than his other injuries, had scared David the most. He was unsure how Shane’s brain would handle the trauma and whether he would fully recover. Every week, it seemed the news had another story about an American football player with CTE. Many of the articles were written after the players had died in increasingly tragic and violent circumstances. He didn’t want that future for his son.
David knew Shane was strong. He was a force of nature like his mother, but he also had an inherent goodness to him. Sure, he could be a little oblivious in social situations, but really, David was no better. Thankfully, Yuna usually kept them both from too much embarrassment, patiently, but not patronizingly, explaining more nuanced situations so their brains could process them. David was so grateful to have such an amazing co-parent and life partner. He loved his wife desperately, even after all these years, and he gave his younger self lots of credit for landing a woman like Yuna Hollander. They made a great team, and together, they’d raised an amazing son they were both incredibly proud of. Shane was a good man, and David took comfort in the knowledge that no matter what, he and Yuna would make sure their son stayed that way.
David was so lost in thought as he entered Shane’s cottage that he barely registered that the house was empty. He rifled through the junk drawer in the kitchen where Shane kept odds and ends that didn’t have a designated home. His phone charger would definitely fall into that category. He quickly found it, neatly coiled in the front right corner, next to the flashlight and extra batteries Shane kept for emergencies. He also noted a box of matches next to some candles, and huh…that lighter was new. Maybe the matches weren’t as convenient.
David turned and saw a basket of assorted highly-processed snacks and sweets. Had Shane decided to take a break from his macrobiotic diet for the off-season? That seemed highly unlikely. David’s forehead creased with worry. Was Shane not okay? Had he been so negatively affected by his injuries and not making the playoffs that he was spiraling into binge-eating? David tried to calm his racing thoughts as he began to search for other visible signs that Shane was struggling during his self-imposed isolation.
That’s when he saw two people walking back to the house from the lake. They were draped in towels and obviously wet from being in the water. David squinted. That was Shane, but who was that other person with him? It was far too tall to be Rose Landry. Maybe it was one of Shane’s teammates? Hayden Pike wouldn’t be here without his wife, certainly not so soon after the birth of his latest child. Also the figure looked too fair-skinned to be JJ Boiziau. So who was it, and why was someone here when Shane told his parents insistently that he needed solitude this summer? It was unlike Shane to lie to them.
The glare of the sun shifted, and David was clearly able to see the man who was kissing the daylights out of his son up against the sliding glass door he faced. Ilya Rozanov, his brain, ever helpful, supplied. Shit. Ilya Rozanov was very passionately and very obviously kissing Shane right in front of him. The shock of the situation had barely registered when David suddenly realized he needed to leave before they saw him first and it became very awkward for them. (It was already awkward for him.) Shane was clearly not expecting company, and David was acutely aware he had intruded on a very, very private moment. He needed to leave quickly. Unfortunately, his body was slow to respond to the messages being fired by his brain. Instead he stood frozen in Shane’s kitchen, staring as his son made out with this man they were supposed to hate.
Ilya noticed him first. Once David realized he’d been spotted, his legs finally got the message and carried him out of the house. In a daze, he trotted down the front steps, hopped into his car, and sped away.
His mind raced faster than the SUV on the winding road back to the cottage. Not only had he discovered that Ilya was no rival, but that he was something more. Much more. And Shane, the son he felt so close to in every other way, had felt the need to keep this secret.
Panic set in. He had broken his son’s trust and violated his privacy, however unintentionally. And for the second time in his life, he had intruded on a moment of Ilya’s that was none of his business. Surely, they would both hate him for this.
David didn’t remember the drive back to the cottage. He was inside and plugging his phone into the charging station by rote before he even realized he’d moved. Yuna may have been talking to him, but he was unaware.
I should apologize. I should drive back and tell Shane I’m sorry. I should make sure he knows I wasn’t trying to spy on him. Oh god, if I go back, he may not want to see me. He may be so angry and betrayed, and then, once again, I’m taking away his choice. I have to be patient. I have to stay here and wait until Shane wants to talk to me.
David didn’t have to wait long. Less than an hour later, he heard Shane’s car in the drive. When the door opened, Shane looked rumpled and distressed, standing there with an equally uncomfortable Ilya Rozanov. Seeing Ilya in his entryway with no pads and no skates, just a man in a Boston Raiders t-shirt, was a sight David never thought he’d see.
***
David had apologized. Shane had apologized. Shane had come out. Ilya admitted they were lovers. Yuna was speechless, a rarity that David noted with a heavy heart. He had never intended to hurt his wife by not sharing what he’d seen, but it was not his story to tell. He reached for her hand, offering silent support while she processed all this new information.
Eventually, they’d made their way to the dining table to continue their conversation while sharing drinks. David poured Ilya a glass from his own private collection. It was his favorite Russian vodka, a Christmas present from Shane. At the time, David had been surprised by the gift. He’d always been partial to Russian vodkas, but Shane had never shown an interest. Shane rarely drank; he was too focused on keeping his body in peak condition. So David accepted that this was just one aspect of himself that he wouldn’t be able to share with his son. Now he suspected that Ilya may have had something to do with introducing Shane to the brand David favored.
Yuna abruptly excused herself. Shane followed, offering to take her a sweater. David sat quietly, observing Ilya across the table as they both sipped their vodka.
Ilya broke first. “Is good?”
David finished his glass. “Yes, very.”
“Good. Shane asked what good brand was a couple years ago. Glad he found some for you.”
“You and Shane talk often.”
“Most days, we text. Is simple. Sometimes we call.”
David leaned across the table to top off Ilya’s glass as he refilled his own. He took a deep breath, and finally released the words he’d wanted to say for years.
“You know, I don’t blame you, right?”
Ilya’s shoulders stiffened as he tightened his grip on his glass. “Blame me?”
“For your father. Fathers can be difficult. Mine never understood me.”
Ilya swallowed and looked away from his open gaze.
Frowning slightly, David continued, “He was never violent, never openly cruel. But I knew I was not the son he wanted. I was too ‘soft’, too ‘thoughtful’, too ‘nice’. He made them sound like insults. It wasn’t until I met Yuna that I learned that those words aren’t inherently bad.” His forehead smoothed as he remembered the beautiful girl who approached him after hockey practice, told him his edge work was excellent, but his backhand could be stronger, and asked if he wanted to grab some coffee with her. Her freckles glowed under the arena lights, and David had been entranced.
Ilya’s sniff brought him back to the present. “She is much like Shane, yes? A, what is word…strong storm?”
David chuckled, “Yes, she’s an Alberta clipper, a force of nature. Always been like that. She blew into my life one day and turned it upside down in the best way possible.”
“Yes, I can relate,” Ilya nodded thoughtfully. “Shane came up to me with no fear and talked to me like I was friend he hadn’t seen for a long time.” He smiled to himself. “His freckles. They were so pretty. I wanted to count them.”
David’s eyes softened. Oh, this boy really loved his son. He knew exactly what this felt like. He still felt it every time he looked at his wife. “I still count hers.”
Ilya smiled at him. The very first genuine smile David had seen from him. His eyes lit up with delight. And David vowed that the Hollanders would do whatever it took to keep that light there.
***
David felt Yuna’s soft hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her and raised her hand to his mouth to kiss it. “Hi honey, I’m surprised you’re awake so early. You stayed up late the night before last. I was going to wait til 8 before bringing you some coffee.”
She sighed. “No, I’m alright today. I got a good night’s sleep. Besides, I need to start prepping the food to take over to Shane’s.”
He watched as Yuna headed into the kitchen and listened contentedly as she rustled around. They were going to go to visit the boys today for lunch. The boys. It was easy for David’s brain to go there. After so many years of stifling his fatherly concern for Ilya, he was pleased that he got to indulge in the quiet care that he’d mastered being Shane’s dad.
Ilya’s childhood was heartwrenching. Shane had shared the tragic circumstances surrounding their motivations to start and name the charity. David listened with tears in his eyes. His anger with Ilya’s father, with the cruelty that destroyed Irina’s life, with the abuse that he’d witnessed firsthand, still burned hot in his chest. But he knew holding onto his anger wouldn’t help Ilya. So he’d taken several deep breaths and reached across the table to squeeze Ilya’s hand. A silent conversation passed between them.
I see you. I’m so sorry. You never have to worry about that with me. I will make sure you are safe. I will support you. Thank you for finding a way to love my son, when you had no one to show you how to love yourself. We will be here for you. Always.
David blew his nose. It would take some time for him to think about Ilya as a little boy without tears. The world had been so cruel to that boy, but Shane had found him and taken him in. Even if Shane wasn’t fully aware of what he’d done when he was 17, David saw it so clearly.
Shane had seen an injured creature and gently reached out his hand. He learned how to care for Ilya, how not to spook him, how to help him grow. And Ilya, in turn, had found his way to love Shane, how to help ground him, how to push him outside of his comfort zone in a safe and supportive way.
David sighed happily. Yes, my boys will be just fine.