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Shane, September 2018
The Pike house smelled like vanilla candles and kids’ shampoo and microwave popcorn. It was the safest place Shane knew that wasn’t a rink or a locker room.
He’d spent the entire afternoon on the floor with the kids, letting them climb him like a jungle gym, chasing them through the living room until he was breathless and laughing, letting them paint his arms with washable markers because he couldn’t say no to them. Jackie had taken pictures. Hayden had laughed and called him a human playground.
Now the house was quiet. The kids were asleep. The TV was off. Jackie had finally brought out snacks like she’d been waiting for this exact moment: chips, candy, wine glasses on the coffee table. Shane sat on the couch, legs bouncing, hands clasped together so tightly his fingers ached.
Say it. Just say it. It’s Jackie and Hayden. They love you. They’ll be fine. They’ll be great. Don’t make this dramatic. Don’t make this weird. Don’t -
His heart was pounding so hard he felt lightheaded.
Jackie smiled at him. “So,” she said gently, settling into the sofa. “How are you?”
Shane swallowed. “Uh -good. All good. Training’s been fine. Ready for the season.”
Hayden nodded. “Good. How was your summer?”
This was it.
This was the opening.
This was the moment.
Shane felt heat rush up his neck, his face flushing, sweat breaking out along his spine.His mouth opened.Nothing came out.
He cleared his throat. “It was—uh—it was great.”
Jackie and Hayden exchanged a look. Jackie tilted her head. “Shane… is something wrong?”
“Yes,” Shane said instantly.
Oh God.
“Yes,” he repeated, then rushed out, “I’m gay.”
There was the smallest flicker of surprise on Jackie’s face. Barely a second. Then she smiled softly and said, “That’s not wrong.” Shane let out a shaky laugh. “I know. That’s not what I meant. I just—”
Emotion crashed into him all at once. Relief. Terror. Exhaustion. Fear. Years of silence.He buried his face in his arms.His vision blurred. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding himself together until something inside him finally let go. “I just didn’t know how to say it,” he muttered. Then he felt arms around him. Jackie first. Then Hayden.
“I’m proud of you,” Hayden said quietly.
“So proud,” Jackie added.
They didn’t make it dramatic. They didn’t make it weird. They didn’t make it about themselves. They just held him. When Shane finally lifted his head, his eyes were wet.
“I’m gonna tell the team,” he said. “At the start of the season.”
Hayden stiffened slightly. “You sure?” Shane nodded. “Yeah.” There was a beat. Then Hayden nodded back. “Then I’ve got you. No matter what.” Shane believed him without hesitation.
Ilya, later that night
Ilya was sprawled across the couch when the door finally opened, one sock abandoned somewhere near the coffee table, phone forgotten in his hand. He looked up instantly.
Shane stood there for half a second, still wearing his jacket, shoulders slumped like he’d just played triple overtime.
“Hey,” Ilya said softly.
“Hey.” Shane kicked the door shut and dropped his bag by the wall. He didn’t move any farther into the apartment.
Ilya sat up. “So?”
Shane exhaled, long and shaky. “It was… scary,” he admitted. “But good. I think. Really good, actually.”
Relief rushed through Ilya so fast it made him dizzy. He crossed the room in three steps and hooked a finger into Shane’s sleeve, tugging him closer.
“I knew it,” Ilya said. “Pike is terrible at hockey, but at least he is not being asshole.”
Shane huffed out a quiet laugh and let himself be pulled into Ilya’s space. “You’re going to start a war.”
“I will win,” Ilya said easily. Then, more seriously, “So. He is… okay. With it.”
“Yeah. He was great. So was Jackie.” Shane’s voice softened. “They were just… supportive. No drama.”
“And your team,” Ilya pressed. “If they make trouble. Will Pike… help you?”
Shane didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Of course he will. He’d have my back no matter what.”
That should have been comforting. It was comforting. It also made something twist in Ilya’s chest.
“Good,” he said lightly. “Nice to know your annoying friend is useful.”
He was grateful—truly. Grateful that Shane wasn’t alone. Grateful that someone in that locker room knew and cared enough to protect him. But part of him wished, selfishly, that he could be the one standing there. That he could be the public support. The visible one. The person Shane leaned on when things got hard. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Shane and pulled him close.
“You were brave,” Ilya murmured into his shoulder. “I am very proud of you.” Shane relaxed against him, finally. “I just wanted to come home to you.”
Ilya smiled, even as jealousy and love tangled together in his chest.
Hayden, October 2018
Hayden probably should have seen it coming. Jackie always did. She noticed things. She connected dots. She remembered small details and quietly filed them away until they made sense.
Hayden, on the other hand, had been too busy putting out fires. For three weeks straight, he’d been running on pure adrenaline and stubborn loyalty. Ever since Shane had come out, Hayden had been on constant alert. Watching the locker room. Watching the hallway chatter. Watching the looks some guys thought no one noticed.
Last Thursday, he’d caught a couple of them outside the practice arena, leaning against the brick wall and talking just a little too loudly. Talking shit.
Hayden had nearly lost his mind.He’d gone storming over, voice raised, fists clenched, ready to turn it into something physical if he had to. They’d backtracked fast, swearing it was “just a joke,” that they’d never say anything to Shane’s face.They better not, Hayden had thought.
Since then, he’d been in meetings with coaches. With management. With the board. Repeating the same thing over and over. Shane was still Shane. Still the best player in the world. Still their franchise. Still their future. Nothing had changed.It was exhausting. Hayden felt it in his bones. In the tight knot between his shoulders. In the way he collapsed into bed every night and still couldn’t quite turn his brain off.
Thankfully, he had Jackie.
Most nights, once the house was quiet and the day had finally loosened its grip on him, they’d talk. About the team. About Shane. It helped. More than Hayden liked to admit. This night, they were stretched out on opposite sides of the bed, the lamp casting a soft circle of light between them. Jackie was propped up against her pillows, scrolling through her phone. Hayden stared at the ceiling, mentally replaying practice for the hundredth time.
“Do you think Shane has a boyfriend?” Jackie asked casually.
Hayden blinked.
“What? No,” he said automatically.
Jackie lowered her phone and looked at him.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” He frowned. “I mean… I think so. He used to have that girl in Boston. Lily.”
Jackie’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Lily,” she repeated.
“Yeah. They were hooking up for a while,” Hayden went on. “I guess that’s over now that he’s gay.”
He paused. Then added, “Though… he still texts her. Actually, I think he texts her more now than before.”
Jackie just looked at him. There was a long, patient silence. Finally, she smiled.
“He was always gay, Hayden.”
“I know,” Hayden said quickly. “I know. I just mean— you know.”
She chuckled softly and shifted closer, turning fully toward him.
“Hayden,” she said gently, “could Lily be a man?”
The words landed slowly. Like snow settling on the ground. Hayden stared at her.
“A man?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He thought about it. About how he’d never met Lily. About how Shane had always disappeared to take her calls. Stepped outside. Shut doors. Lowered his voice. About how weirdly protective he’d been of that part of his life.
Oh. His mouth fell open.
“Wait,” he said slowly. “Yeah.”
Jackie’s smile widened. “Yeah,” he repeated. “She’s probably a man.”
Jackie laughed quietly into her hand. Hayden shook his head, equal parts amazed and horrified at himself.
“How did I not see that?”
“Because you’re you,” Jackie said fondly.
He snorted.
“But…” He thought for another moment. “I don’t think they’re together anymore, though.”
Jackie tilted her head.
“Why?”
“We played in Boston last week,” Hayden said. “And Shane didn’t visit her. I mean—him.”
Jackie studied him.
“I figured it was because he’s gay now,” Hayden said automatically.
Then he stopped. Processed. Groaned. Jackie burst out laughing.
“He was always gay,” she reminded him.
“I know,” Hayden muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “I know. I’m an idiot.”
Jackie leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Shane, two days later
Shane lingered in the hotel lobby long after most of the team had collected their keys and drifted toward the elevators. He barely noticed the soft hum of conversation or the clatter of luggage wheels. His entire world was contained in the glowing screen of his phone.
Ilya: Miss you. Tomorrow I steal puck from you 😘
Shane: You wish.
Ilya: I get what I want
Shane bit his lip and smiled like an idiot.
Tomorrow, they’d be enemies on the ice. Tonight, though—tonight they were finally in the same city again. After weeks of bad FaceTime connections and endless phone calls, he was going to be in Ilya’s arms. The thought made his chest feel too full and too light at the same time.
He was still grinning when Hayden cleared his throat beside him.
Shane jumped a little. “Jesus, Hayds.”
Hayden smirked. “Relax. You look like you’re texting Lily.”
“Yeah,” Shane said automatically.
“Yeah,” Hayden replied, unconvinced. “I recognize that stupid blushing face you make.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.”
He shoved his phone into his pocket just as it buzzed again. He could practically feel Ilya’s presence through the vibration, like some invisible thread tugging him forward.
Hayden nodded toward the elevators. “We’re heading out to dinner. You coming?”
“No,” Shane said. “You should go, though.”
“I don’t really want to,” Hayden admitted. “Kinda tired. I thought maybe we could watch a movie.”
Shane hesitated. Normally, he would’ve said yes without thinking. Hayden had been hovering more since Shane came out—subtle about it, mostly, but always nearby. Like he was quietly making sure Shane was okay. It was… nice. Comforting. And also inconvenient right now.
“I’m, uh,” Shane said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m meeting someone tonight.”
Hayden’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Old friend,” Shane added quickly. “From here.”
Shane pulled his phone out again before he could overthink it and opened Ilya’s last message. It was a gif of a cartoon wolf dramatically throwing open its arms, captioned COME TO ME in glittery letters. Shane snorted and laughed under his breath.
When he looked up, Hayden was watching him with mild confusion.
“You good?” Hayden asked.
“Yeah,” Shane said, still smiling. “Totally.”
Hayden studied him for another second, then softened. “Okay. See you later, then.”
“Yeah. See you,” Shane replied.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the doors, his steps light, his heart racing.
Tomorrow, they’d pretend they were just rivals.
Tonight, though—tonight was theirs.
Hayden, later that night
That night, Hayden lay on his back in the too-soft hotel bed, staring at the ceiling like it might suddenly offer answers.
He had his phone pressed to his ear, one arm flung dramatically over his face.
“Jackie,” he said quietly, like he was sharing state secrets. “I think Lily has moved to Ottawa.”
There was a pause.
Then, “—What?” Jackie said.
“Shane is meeting her. Him. Right now,” Hayden added, lowering his voice even though he was alone in the room.
On the other end of the line, Jackie made a sound that could only be described as a squeal.
“Did he say anything?” she demanded.
“No,” Hayden said. “Nothing. Which is weird, right? I’ve been supportive. I’ve been very supportive. I bought a book. I Googled things. I used the right words.”
“You did very well,” Jackie said automatically, though her tone was distracted.
“So why is he still keeping secrets?” Hayden continued. “Why wouldn’t he tell us if he was dating someone?”
There was a beat. Then Jackie inhaled sharply.
“Oh my God, Hayden.”
“What?” he asked.
“Who do we know,” she said slowly, dramatically, “who moved from Boston to Ottawa?”
Hayden frowned. “I don’t—”
“WHO,” Jackie repeated, louder, “would Shane still want to hide from us?”
The words landed. And then… they echoed. And then they rearranged themselves in his brain.
Hayden sat up so fast he nearly dropped his phone.
“Oh,” he said.
Five seconds passed. Maybe six. Hayden felt sick.
“No,” he said firmly. “That’s not possible.”
Jackie burst out laughing. “But what if it is?”
“It’s not,” Hayden insisted. “That’s—no. That’s insane.”
Jackie only laughed harder.
“Not funny,” Hayden muttered.
Hayden, game day
Jackie’s voice will not get out of his head.
Lily could be Rozanov.
It’s ridiculous. It has to be ridiculous. But Hayden has known Shane a long time, and he knows when something is off. The texting. The soft little smile Shane tried—and failed—to hide. Boston. Ottawa. Rozanov.
Hayden drags a hand down his face in the visitors’ locker room at the Ottawa arena and tells himself to focus. It’s game day. Montreal versus Ottawa. First time facing Rozanov since the trade. That should be enough to occupy his brain. Shane walks in late, bright-eyed and practically vibrating with energy. He looks loose. Happy. Glowy.
Oh no. Hayden has seen that glow before. After road trips. After certain mysterious “Boston” visits. It clicks into place with awful clarity. He got laid.
“Please get this out of my head,” Hayden mutters under his breath, yanking his gear on harder than necessary.
On the ice, Rozanov makes his entrance like he’s starring in his own documentary. Chin high. Shoulders back. That infuriating confidence radiating off him in waves. He skates straight for Shane. Hayden braces.
“You will need comfort tonight, Hollander,” Rozanov says, voice low but carrying. “Will you cry when you lose?”
Shane scrunches up his face exactly the way he always does. “Fuck you, Rozanov.”
Hayden has just enough time to breathe a breath of relief over the familiar rivalry before he catches Rozanov's wink at Shane. Not at the bench. Not generally. At Shane. It’s small, quick and intimate.
Rozanov pushes off toward the circle like nothing happened. Hayden’s gaze snaps back to Shane. There it is. The goofy smile. The pink in his cheeks. The light in his eyes that has absolutely nothing to do with hockey.
Shane catches himself a second later, shakes his head like he’s clearing it, and skates into position. The two of them lean in at center ice, trading a few quiet words before the puck drops. Too close. Too aware.
Hayden’s stomach drops.
Montreal wins.
Not because of Hayden. He plays like garbage and knows it. His passes are off, his timing worse. His head is nowhere near the game. Shane, on the other hand, is electric. Two goals. An assist. Flying. The locker room is loud after. Music blaring. Guys shoving Shane around, laughing, calling him a beauty.
Hayden watches him from across the room. Shane’s flushed with more than victory. One by one, the team filters out toward some pub nearby.
Soon it’s just the two of them left, peeling off tape and stuffing socks into bags.
Shane’s phone buzzes. He looks down at it and smiles like the sun just rose in his hands. That’s it. Hayden stands, heart pounding, and walks over.
“Is it Rozanov?” he asks, blunt and low. “Is Lily really Rozanov?”
Shane freezes. His eyes go wide. His mouth actually falls open. Hayden has heard the phrase deer caught in headlights his whole life. He has never seen it look this accurate.
A beat.
Two.
Then Shane swallows and nods.
Just once.
Hayden’s world tilts. “You’re fucking Rozanov?” The words come out sharper than he intends. “It’s been going on for years, Shane.”
Everything from the past month - coming out, secrecy, tension, the trade - crashes into him at once. Rozanov is an asshole. Everyone knows that. Loud, arrogant, infuriating. Dangerous, in a hundred different ways. Hayden feels angry. Shocked. Betrayed. Terrified for his friend. He wants to punch something. Instead, he grips the edge of the bench until his knuckles go white.
Shane’s voice is barely more than a breath. “We’re in love, Hayden.” There are tears in his eyes. Hayden’s chest tightens painfully. He steps forward and pulls Shane into a hug. Hard. Long. The kind you give when you’re furious and scared and still, somehow, entirely on someone’s side. Shane clutches the back of his shirt like he’s bracing for impact.
Hayden presses his mouth near Shane’s ear and mutters, helpless and sincere, “But he is such a dick, though.” Shane lets out a shaky laugh against his shoulder.
Ilya, after the game
Ilya is halfway through scrolling uselessly on his phone when the doors finally open and Shane steps out into the cold Ottawa night. He looks up automatically and then he freezes.
Because Shane is walking toward him with Hayden Pike. Like this is completely normal and not something that makes Ilya’s stomach drop straight into his skates.
“Oh,” Ilya mutters.
He straightens up without really deciding to. One second he’s leaning against the car, the next he’s standing, hands shoved awkwardly into his jacket pockets, heart doing something stupid in his chest. Shane sees him almost immediately. His smile flickers.
They reach the car, and Shane stops in front of him. Hayden hangs back half a step, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes sharp and irritated like he’s still in game mode. Shane exhales.
“He found out, Ilya.”
Ilya blinks and then blinks again.And then he laughs.
“Ah,” he says lightly. “Okay.”
Hayden’s eyes narrow. Ilya finally looks at him properly and tilts his head.
“Good game, Pike?”
Hayden stiffens.Ilya probably shouldn’t enjoy that as much as he does.Especially since Montreal had just beaten Ottawa. But Pike? Pike had been terrible. Missed passes. Sloppy defense. One bad turnover that had practically gift-wrapped a goal. Ilya had noticed.
Hayden looks like he’s trying to decide whether to punch Ilya or set him on fire with his mind.
“You think this is funny?” Hayden snaps.
Ilya shrugs. “Little bit.”
That’s when Hayden finally explodes.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he demands. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him? To his career? To his life? You think sneaking around with him is smart? You think—”
“Hey.”
Ilya’s blood goes hot fast. He takes a step forward before he even realizes he’s moving.
“Do not talk about his career,” Ilya says sharply. “You know nothing.”
Nothing about the flights. The distance. The nights alone. The trade he’d taken without hesitation just to be closer. Nothing about how much Shane mattered.
Hayden doesn’t back down. “You’re selfish. You’re reckless. You’re… You think this ends well for him?”
“You think I don’t worry?” Ilya’s voice cracks just slightly.
“Enough.”
Shane’s voice cuts through them, firm and unyielding.
He steps between them without hesitation, one hand braced against Ilya’s chest, the other pressing lightly into Hayden’s shoulder.
“Stop it,” Shane says. “Both of you.”
Hayden looks annoyed. “Shane…”
“No,” Shane insists. “You don’t get to talk about him like that. You don’t get to decide what’s good for me.” Hayden opens his mouth. Closes it again.
Shane’s eyes are steady. “Ilya is a good guy,” he says quietly. “You’d know that if you bothered to look past the attitude.” Ilya snorts. “I have great attitude.”
Shane’s hand presses more firmly against his chest, like, please don’t. Hayden looks between them, something conflicted and exhausted crossing his face.
“I just… worry,” he mutters.
“I know,” Shane says. “But this is my choice.”
Silence stretches. Ilya decides he hates it. Also, he really wants to hit something. Since he can’t punch his boyfriend’s best friend without causing international incidents, he does the next best thing. He grabs Shane and pulls him in hard. Shane barely has time to gasp before Ilya kisses him deep. One hand fists in the back of Shane’s hoodie, tugging him close like Ilya might physically fuse them together if he holds tight enough. Shane melts into it instantly, because of course he does. Because Shane is perfect.
When Ilya finally pulls back, slightly breathless, he rests their foreheads together.
“We go home now, yes?” he murmurs.
Shane laughs softly. “Yeah. We go home.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Ilya sees Hayden staring at them like he’s witnessing either a crime or a medical emergency. For a second, Ilya thinks he’s going to say something else. Instead, Hayden exhales sharply, waves once in their general direction, pulls out his phone, and walks away without looking back.
“Will he tell?” Ilya asks Shane.
Shane doesn’t hesitate. “Only his wife.”
“…And she probably already knew.”