Archive of Our Own ^beta

If anyone looked back on the game, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing remarkable. No unnecessary hits, no checking that was a little too close to the line, no chirps that crossed the line. It was a normal game. Just a freak accident in early January took Shane out of the season for eight weeks.

They were a week into the New Year and just back from a road trip. The team was tired, but happy they had won every game on the road trip. They were on track for making the playoffs and were everyone’s favourite to win the Stanley Cup. For the third year in a row.

They were playing at home against Vancouver. After this game they were going to have a four-day break and Shane was looking forward to having some down time with Ilya and Anya going to the cottage. They were both tired and bruised from so many games close together. But Shane couldn’t complain with the attention Ilya had given each bruise, with a soft touch or kiss.

They were halfway through the third period and were winning comfortably 6 to 2. Vancouver had a rookie centre who had been staring at Shane in wonder every time they were at the face off. It was startling for Shane to realise the rookie, Liam Hart, would have been three years old when he was a rookie himself. Ilya had been rolling his eyes on the bench, making comments about Hart being starstruck. But Shane just shook his head and had been offering small comments of encouragement to Hart during faceoffs. He could tell Hart was nervous and while he wanted to win, he wanted to see Hart calm down and actually enjoy the game.

It was a rare play for Wiebe to have Ilya on Shane’s wing, but as usual they were playing well together until Ilya hadn’t been able to move his stick in time and ended up high sticking a Vancouver defenceman. So, Ilya was escorted to the penalty box. Shane just rolled his eyes at his husband as he skated past.

“Stupid stick,” Ilya muttered.

“Don’t think you can blame the stick Ilya,” Shane chuckled shaking his head.

“Watch me,” came the terse reply.

Shane had to turn away otherwise he knew he was going to burst out laughing seeing Ilya sat in the box pouting at his stick. So, he and Luca drifted down to their own end, both nodding at Wyatt before taking their positions. Shane was just glad Ilya was in a penalty box on the other end, if Ilya had been in the box nearest to the face off, he knew he would lose due to laughing at his husband.

Vancouver’s penalty kill had lots of weaknesses; it had been observed during tape review after practice that morning. So, Shane and Luca shared a look before the puck was dropped. Shane turned back to Hart and smirked. “Head up rook.”

Hart was just able to mutter “what?” before the puck was dropped and Shane was passing it to Luca. Shane then shot down the ice, Luca passing the puck cleanly to his stick. With Vancouver concentrating on being on a power play, the way was clear for Shane to hurtle down the ice towards the goal. Hart was close on Shane’s heels, trying to reach out with his stick to knock the puck.

They were racing down the ice, meters from the goal when it happened.

Hart stumbled as the blade in his skate snapped. The rookie was unable to keep his feet due to the speed he was going. Not even a veteran like Shane would have been able to keep his feet. But Hart fell, his legs taking Shane out. He felt himself fall to his left, he knew the angle was wrong, his ankle bent, a crack sounded before Shane felt pain engulf his left ankle. The pained shout was cut off as he landed heavily on the ice, winded.

The speed he and Hart had reached meant they were unable to stop themselves. They were a crumpled heap sliding across the ice. Through the haze of pain radiating from his ankle, Shane was sure he could hear Ilya shouting his name. But all he could do was look on in dread as he and Hart hurtled towards the boards at the end of the rink.

Within seconds of them falling to the ice, they were crashing into the boards. Hart cried out in pain, while Shane, already in a pained haze, felt a mild crack around his collarbone. He just grunted as his head collided with the boards. Shane knew he hadn’t lost consciousness, but suspected he had a mild concussion to go along with his other injuries.  

Lying on the ice, the sound in the arena faded into a mild buzzing sound. All Shane could hear clearly was his own heartbeat in his ears, along with his and Hart’s pained heavy breathing. His body just hurt, the pain pounding in time with his heartbeat. He kept his eyes shut, the blinding lights of the arena causing his head to pound. The coldness of the ice started to leach any warmth in his body. But that could have been the shock. But what it meant was Shane started to shiver which only made his entire body hurt more.

Through the pained breaths Shane heard Hart mutter, “I’m sorry. Oh no, I’m so sorry.”

“S’not your fault Hart,” Shane managed for force out. His mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate, Shane could guess he was slurring and wasn’t sure if Hart could hear him. But the rookie’s pained apologies faded, so perhaps he did.

Suddenly, there were hands touching him and Shane found himself flinching, causing him to whimper in pain. Then the unknown hands that had touched him suddenly were gone, to be replaced with a pair of hands Shane would know blind. “Ilya,” he whispered, voice tight, eyes still clenched shut.

“I’m here moya lyubov, I’m here,” Ilya murmured. Shane could hear that his husband was trying to force back tears and hated that he had been injured in front of Ilya again. The Marlow hit had been years ago, but Ilya still flinched at any reminder of the hit.

“Sorry,” he whispered, feeling his grip on reality slipping.

“Shhhhh,” Ilya comforted, a thumb brushing across Shane’s cheek. “No sorries. It will be okay. Medics on their way.” Shane let himself drift, feeling safe with Ilya beside him, knowing nothing else was going to hurt him with Ilya there. “Shane,” Ilya’s firm command slipped through his head and as much as Shane tried to force his eyes open, he just drifted and as much as he didn’t want to worry Ilya the promise of no pain that unconsciousness brought was too much to fight. His body gave into the darkness and all he could do was try and mutter Ilya’s name.

Ilya knew he was pouting from the penalty box. But he hadn’t meant his stick to lift up and high stick the defenceman, and he knew Shane wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. So, he played up his annoyance. Sitting on the bench in the box, he had to fight to hide his smile at Shane’s clear amusement.

It still took Ilya’s breath away that he could play on the same team as Shane. The 2017 All Star game he thought at the time was a once in a lifetime chance. But for the past three years they both played for Ottawa, and Shane was much more relaxed, more prone to smiling and laughing during games. It amazed Ilya at how much better Shane had played the last three years, even commentators were shocked. Clearly being with a supportive team and relaxing had done wonders for Shane, who now no longer played like there was a threat hanging above his head. As much as Shane had taken pride in being captain of Montreal, being an alternate captain in Ottawa had helped relax him, with Ilya taking on the brunt of media responsibilities. Although Harris had asked if Shane could do more, seeing as Shane had clearly listened to his media training as a rookie.

Ilya craned his head so he could look down the ice to the faceoff. Shane was looking steadily at the rookie, Hart he thought, the rookie had looked at Shane as if he couldn’t believe he was playing against his hero. Ilya had rolled his eyes, but he had to hide his soft smile on seeing Shane being so nice to the rookie. Shane always had a soft spot for rookies. He was so good with them. Happy to help them with a skill or just giving advice. Shane had also been known to throw his gloves off and fight anyone who messed with a rookie. He had only done that once or twice at Montreal, his coach telling him to stop. But Wiebe knew there was no problem with Shane fighting, Ilya would make sure he didn’t get too hurt. A few times Ilya had had to have a cold shower before talking to the media after games Shane had fought in.

Former Montreal players who had been rookies mentored by Shane and had been traded before they were outed had taken to social media to show their support for Shane in the wake of Montreal turning their backs on Shane. His husband had been surprised at the support, but Ilya wasn’t. Every former rookie they played that first season Shane played for Ottawa all came up to smile and chat with Shane. And Shane thought he would be a bad father; Ilya only had to remind him how much the long line of rookies he had mentored loved him.

Watching the faceoff Ilya smirked on seeing the teasing smirk on Shane’s face. He couldn’t lip read what Shane said, but he saw Hart lean back slightly in confusion. Then the puck was dropped. Shane quick as a shot passed to Luca and was then moving up the ice, Vancouver floundering behind them. Luca then passed up to Shane who was flying down the ice. As Shane passed the penalty box, Ilya took the second to watch his husband. Watching his focused gaze and the way he effortlessly powered down the ice. He was a bit impressed to see Hart had caught up to Shane and was trying to knock the puck from Shane’s stick.

But then Ilya watched as Hart stumbled, he saw a flash of silver and realised Hart’s skate blade had snapped. Hart clearly tried to lean away from Shane, something Ilya would later appreciate, but no one would have controlled their fall or kept their feet going that fast with a skate blade breaking. He could only watch as Hart fell, his legs sticking out and knocking into Shane. Ilya pushed himself to his feet in horror, the angle Shane was falling looked wrong, he watched as Shane’s left ankle bent. He heard the pained shout from Shane and flinched as if it was his own pain.

“Shane!” he shouted, although he knew it was useless, there was nothing he could do. The arena went silent. Everyone watching in horror.

Shane and Hart hurtled towards the boards, unable to stop themselves, just a tangled mass of limbs. They hit the boards with an ear-rattling crack. Hart cried out as his leg hit the boards first. Shane was sideways on, his left side hitting the boards. The force pushing him up and his head bounded off the boards before he came to lie still on his back, his head turned so he was facing the boards.

For a moment no one moved.

Then Ilya was forcing the latch on the penalty box up, leaving his helmet, gloves and stick in the box, he raced across the ice. The Vancouver goalie was crouched over the two fallen players. His hands reaching out to offer comfort and keep them still. As Ilya reached them, he heard Shane whimper, at the sound of his skates the goalie looked up and nodded at him and then moved to concentrate on Hart. Ilya dropped to his knees beside Shane, taking his husband in. Shane’s eyes were clenched shut, there was tension in his shoulders, and his body had started to shiver. The arena was still silent, but there was noise and action around the benches as medical staff gathered.

“Ilya,” Shane whispered, voice tight, eyes still clenched shut. Just looking at him broke Ilya’s heart, Shane was clearly in a lot of pain and there was nothing Ilya could do.

“I’m here moya lyubov, I’m here,” Ilya murmured, trying to force back his tears. Crying now was not going to help the situation, if he started to sob uncontrollably like he wanted to, they wouldn’t let him stay with Shane.

“Sorry,” Shane whispered, his voice slurring.

“Shhhhh,” Ilya comforted, a thumb brushing across Shane’s cheek, watching as bruises already began to form over the freckles he loved. “No sorries. It will be okay. Medics on their way.” He watched as Shane seemed to become listless, the tension fading from his body. This wasn’t good, with the amount of pain his husband would be in, becoming that relax would mean he was losing consciousness. “Shane,” he firmly commanded trying to keep Shane awake.

Shane’s lips moved, with no sound coming out as he muttered Ilya’s name. Terror froze Ilya as he watched as Shane went limp, his head starting to loll to the side. Ilya used his hands to keep Shane’s head straight. Silent tears slipped down his face as he waited for the medical team.

Once the medical team arrived, Ilya moved where he was directed, keeping hold on Shane’s head. Trying to prove he was useful and could stay with his husband. Behind him, Hart was loaded onto a stretcher, crying out in pain, but Ilya couldn’t take his eyes off Shane. With Hart moved, Ilya was directed to kneel behind Shane’s head, he kept hold of his husband’s head. One of the team took Shane’s helmet away and Ilya adjusted his hands, shifting his fingers slightly to curl around strands of Shane’s dark hair. Watching with a lump in his throat as they put a neck brace on Shane.

As Shane was eventually stretchered off the ice, Ilya trailed beside the stretcher, reaching out to rest a hand over Shane’s. He looked at his husband’s face, trying to force back his tears, just trying to breathe. Since watching Shane fall to the ice, Ilya didn’t think he had taken a single breath, but he must have done because he was still standing. He stepped back to allow the medical team to take Shane off the ice, he could hear the rumble of applause, but it was more of a faint buzzing noise to him. Wiebe clapped him on the shoulder as he stepped off the ice, Troy and Bood nodding at him. There was no expectation of him finishing the game which he would have fought with tooth and nail anyway.

Shane was taken to the medical room, for them to brace his ankle before putting him in the ambulance. Ilya rushed through changing, skipping a shower and throwing Shane’s clothes in his bag, along with their phones and keys. He didn’t even take the time to take his wedding ring off the chain around his neck to put back on his ring finger, he just had to get to Shane. Ilya’s skin was burning while not having eyes on Shane, not knowing if his husband had regained consciousness and was looking for him. He ran through the hallways and was there in time to see the paramedics loading Shane into the ambulance. Shane was still unconscious, they had folded his hands across his chest, his skates had been removed leaving him in just his grey socks with a brace around his left ankle. Ilya jumped in the back and reached out to hold Shane’s hand, making sure to not move Shane’s arm recalling the force in which he collided with the boards.

On arriving at the hospital, Ilya was directed to a waiting room so they could take Shane back for X-rays. Sitting in that chair, his leg started to bounce furiously. The stinging of his lips made him aware of the fact he had been biting them. What had been minutes, dragged into what felt like an eternity.

“Ilya,” turning he found himself looking up at Yuna, behind her David. Standing he rushed towards them and pulled them into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry. I did not text or call,” he murmured into their shoulders.

“Don’t apologise,” Yuna firmly stated.

David ran a hand up and down Ilya’s back. “Coach Wiebe called us, and don’t worry about Anya she is at our house. Once we know Shane is settled, we’ll head back to ours to watch her.”

Ilya felt shame strike through him about forgetting Anya. Yuna gave him a knowing look and ran her hands through his dishevelled curls. “Don’t worry about anything. We’ve got you.”

The three of them sat down on the uncomfortable chairs, just waiting, each of them sighing and leaning against each other as they waited. The longer time passed, the more concerned Ilya became. It couldn’t be good if they had to wait this long. Worse case scenarios flickered through his mind. How many injuries did Shane have? Would his career be over? Would he have to medically retire? Ilya would continue to love Shane no matter what, but he worried about what would happen to Shane if he found he suddenly couldn’t play anymore. Ilya just knew Shane was someone who had to slowly get used to an idea, suddenly losing hockey would slowly kill Shane.

“Family for Shane Hollander?” The three of them almost gave themselves whiplash turning to look at the doctor. She smiled at them comfortingly. “He is going to be fine.”

Ilya closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, breathing a sigh of relief. Thankful to the doctor for just getting to the point. “What are his injuries?” Ilya managed to force out turning to the doctor again, rubbing a hand across his chest, touching the cross and wedding ring.

“Shane has a broken left ankle, a fractured collarbone on his left side and a mild concussion. All in all, he was really lucky. I have seen worse injuries with hockey players slamming into boards.” She gestured them to follow her, Ilya pushed himself up on shaky legs, thankful that Shane was going to be alright. But he winced, a broken ankle with a fractured collarbone? Shane was in for a long recovery.

Week 1

Two days after getting injured Shane was still in the hospital. It was more precautionary than anything else. With his three injuries, he was being given lots of painkillers and the doctor didn’t want to risk Shane overdoing it at home thinking he was fine when he was just drugged with painkillers.

Ilya hadn’t left the hospital, just deciding to spend his four-day break with Shane, who had been feeling guilty since the moment he woke up with a clear head. There was a white cast on his ankle, Yuna had brought some old socks to cut up so they could cover Shane’s toes, his left arm was in a sling, and it was clear Shane was uncomfortable, but he had to rest. The curtains of the room were drawn and the lights on low to help with Shane’s constant headaches from his concussion. 

“You should get some fresh air,” Shane mumbled, his head lolling to the right side to look at Ilya who was sat in the chair beside him, his dark eyes glazed over.

Ilya smiled softly and reached over to brush some of Shane’s hair out of his face. “I am right where I want to be moye solnyshko,” he murmured. Shane nodded but creased his forehead. Ilya frowned and shifted closer, cupping Shane’s jaw with one hand as he brushed a thumb under Shane’s eyes. “Are you in pain?” Shane slowly shook his head. “Shane.”

“We should be at the cottage,” Shane mumbled, his voice cracking.

“Oh, moya lyubov, we will go when you are better,” soothed Ilya, one hand brushing through Shane’s hair.

Shane’s eyes filled with tears, “that will be months,” he stuttered out. “And you will be back to going to practice and games and I’ll just be sat at home. I won’t see you much.”

Standing up Ilya carefully lowered himself to the bed lying beside his husband and hugged Shane to his side. “You will see me every day moya lyubov.”

“You’ve got a road trip in two weeks,” Shane morosely stated.

“Fuck,” muttered Ilya. They did. He looked down to see the devastated expression on his husband’s face. Leaning down to kiss Shane’s forehead he murmured, “we’ll facetime. It will be like I am at home with you.”

“Won’t be the same,” Shane mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed. Ilya looked down at him, his own eyes stinging. Since Shane joined Ottawa three seasons ago, they hadn’t been apart for more than a night. Now he was going on a week’s long road trip.

“I can talk to Coach. I can get a leave of absence from the team,” Ilya stated, his mind running with ideas. He looked down when he felt Shane shake his head.

“You’re the captain. And it would only show shitty teams that if they injure one of us, the other will be out to. Better to go on the road trip.”

Ilya hated that Shane was right. There was no use putting targets on either of their backs. Montreal that first season Shane had been with Ottawa had been bad enough. Ilya lost count of the number of bad bruises Shane ended up with after those games. But eventually, after Ilya and Shane did an interview when they stated they had been in a casual relationship since before rookie season and then were exclusive from 2017. The anger from Montreal towards Shane had eased off. Many of his former teammates realising that Shane had won them three cups against Ilya, the whole time being with him. There were still some of the assholes who continued to blame Shane. But they had either now since retired or faded into the background now in the AHL. But there were still the ‘old school’ hockey players on other teams who would target them just to make Ottawa be down two of their best players.

“We can facetime and text,” Ilya stated, forcing fake cheer into his voice.

“Might still not be allowed to look at screens,” mumbled Shane. Ilya closed his eyes and hugged Shane closer against his chest. Shane sounded so sad. He had been since the moment he woke up. Ilya had expected to see his husband drugged up and giggly high like the last time he had a concussion. But Shane was just stuck in his head. Clearly upset about the cottage and worrying about what was going to happen during his recovery.

“We’ll work something out,” Ilya promised. He kissed the top of Shane’s head and pressed his fingers against Shane’s head, gently rubbing circles and kissing his head. It took him back to the tuna meltdown incident as Shane had taken to calling that afternoon. Before Shane had freaked out, (since telling Ilya he was scared he was going to blurt out that he was in love with Ilya after being called his first name), they had hugged on the couch just like this. Shane’s head a comfortable weight on Ilya’s chest. As he continued to press his fingers against Shane’s skull, his husband let out a soft humming noise. Ilya smiled into the dark strands of hair. Sure enough, he felt Shane relax and his breathing get lower and heavier. Ilya just started to hum a nonsense tune, then Shane’s right arm went lax as he drifted into sleep.

Ilya wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that; he was awake and just rubbing his fingers across Shane’s head, happy his husband was asleep and pain free. He knew once Shane was discharged, he was in for a few uncomfortable weeks.

Week 2

Adjusting to being home. Ilya got Shane home with an eye mask.

Shane had spent four days in the hospital. Ilya knew it had affected Shane that he spent their entire four-day break in the hospital. Shane had forced smiles, but Ilya knew Shane was sad, he was just trying to hide it. So, Ilya was doing everything he could to make Shane smile.

When Shane left the hospital, in the middle of a bright sunny January day, which Ilya knew was only going to give Shane a headache. So, Ilya had gone down to the hospital gift shop and bought an eye mask. Putting it on Shane, he had teased his husband by blowing on his ears or nose, bringing Shane to fits of giggles. He continued this as he pushed Shane’s wheelchair out to the car, the nurse who had been caring for Shane laughing the entire time.

When they reached home, eye mask still on, Ilya had carried Shane upstairs. Anya was still with Yuna and David and would be for the rest of this week so she would be out of Shane’s way. Once the curtains in their room had been drawn, Shane lifted off the eye mask and leaned back on the pillows.

Now, Shane had been home a week on bed rest. At the end of this week, he will be able to be up and about. But for now, he needed to rest, which Ilya knew was hard for his husband. So, he had grabbed a pile of books from downstairs that he knew Shane wanted to read, he had also brought a small TV to put in their room for Shane. He had almost bought a mini fridge to put Shane’s ginger ale in, but Shane had laughed and said he just needed to put a cooler box next to the bed.

Ilya had just come back from practice and made sandwiches for them both and went upstairs with trays for their plates. Shane hated eating in bed, thinking about the crumbs, so Ilya had bought trays with hockey puns on them to eat off.

He entered the bedroom to find Shane listlessly watching a hockey game. Turning to see who was playing, Ilya pulled a face seeing Montreal playing. Ever since their betrayal of Shane, he had no patience for the team or Shane’s old coach, who had finally retired last season. Hayden was now captain and Ilya was happy for him, finally Shane’s best friend could make the locker room better. From their last conversation Hayden had told Ilya that with most of the other guys being traded or retiring he could feel the locker room being a more relaxed space. Hayden had wanted to visit Shane but couldn’t as he was on a road trip when Shane was injured and then lots of games and practices this week. But he had phoned regularly, Ilya holding the phone for Shane.

“How is the league’s worst captain doing?” Ilya teased as he gently placed the tray on Shane’s lap.

Shane rolled his eyes, “Hayden has scored two goals.”

“Wow! More than two goals! Has that ever happened before?”

“You know it has,” Shane shook his head. “How was practice?”

“Boring without you. No one to compete with,” Ilya stated, sitting beside Shane on the bed. He leaned over to press a kiss against Shane’s head. He noted the volume on the TV was low and was happy to see Shane had left the brightness level of the TV on low (where Ilya had put it). His concussion was getting better, but there was no reason to risk the headaches getting bad again. “How are you?”

Shane sighed and rested his head on Ilya’s shoulder. “Bored.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “I was able to look at my phone for five minutes without a headache. So, it was nice to catch up with text messages. Luca wants to plan another museum trip, so it is ‘the best one yet’ when I am back on my feet. Bryan agreed and said he’s looking into any new exhibits in the area.”

Ilya smiled, he had overheard Luca and Bryan talking about museum visits. When Shane first joined the team, thinking he wasn’t good enough and needed to help form chemistry with his two new linemates, he forced himself to go to a bar with them. But Luca and Bryan took him to a museum instead, starting a new tradition for the linemates. Sometimes Ilya would go with them if they went somewhere he was particularly interested in, but he was happy to watch the Instagram posts of their adventures like the rest of the Ottawa fans.

After they finished their sandwiches, Ilya took the plates downstairs to wash. When he came back, he found Shane shifting uncomfortably in the bed. “Okay?”

“I really want a shower,” Shane muttered, looking angrily down at his ankle covered in a cast.

“I’ve got an idea,” Ilya stated. He turned to their ensuite bathroom and turned the bath on, putting in some lavender bubble bath, he had bought it this week, hoping it would do what it said on the bottle and be relaxing. He then went downstairs getting a plastic bag with some tape. Coming back to their room, he put the bag over Shane’s foot and used the tape to keep the cast covered. Ilya looked up to find Shane looking at him fondly, so he leaned down to kiss Shane’s knee. “Come on moya lyubov.”

Ilya carried Shane in his arms, one arm around Shane’s back and the other under his knees. He sat Shane on the closed toilet lid, turned the taps of the bath off and then grabbed some towels, folding them into a cushion and placed them on the edge of the bath. He helped Shane undress and then climb into the bath; he made sure Shane’s left ankle rested on the folded towels.

Kneeling beside the bath, Ilya took a washcloth and washed his husband, refusing to let his husband help. Then he washed Shane’s hair, smiling at the relaxed and pleased look on Shane’s face. Once he was done, he pressed a kiss against Shane’s wet hair. “Better?”

“Much,” Shane sighed in pleasure, his eyes closed. Ilya rested his arms on the edge of the bath, his chin on his arms, looking at Shane with a soft smile on his face. “Join me?” asked Shane, peeking one eye open. Ilya nodded and then stood up to take off his clothes.

Slowly, to not jostle Shane, Ilya climbed in behind him, hugging Shane against his chest. “I love you,” Shane murmured, his head a comfortable weight against Ilya’s chest.

“Ya lyublyu tebya,” Ilya replied, starting to relax himself. It hadn’t been easy to watch Shane get hurt and then try to cope with bed rest, but Ilya was going to do everything he could to help his husband get through this.

Week 3

Shane was curled up the best he could on their bed, staring at the empty side where Ilya would usually lie. Ilya was on a road trip, his dad had gone away on business for the Treasury Department for three weeks, his mom going with his dad (only after Shane had assured her he was fine). But now he was left to realise he wasn’t fine on his own. Anya was the only reason he was able to get up. Because he had to get up. He couldn’t drive anywhere due to the cast and sling.

He had one crutch and a boot on his foot to help him get around the house. But he was effectively trapped. He stayed in bed most of the day, watching hockey games on the small TV Ilya bought for their room.

Shane felt so lonely, but he couldn’t tell Ilya this. He still couldn’t look at his phone much, so face timing his husband was out. He could just about stand texting, even lowering the brightness of his phone didn’t really help.

Cuddling Anya on their bed, he buried his nose in her fur. It had been horrible sleeping without Ilya; he didn’t know how he had done it before they were married. He just hoped he healed soon, because with dread he remembered in two weeks there was another road trip. He honestly didn’t know how he was going to get through this.

Week 4

Going to practice, Shane, Luca and Bryan do interview with kittens and cats from a shelter.

Shane had come to practice with Ilya for the medical team to check him out, he was due to have his cast off later this week, but they just wanted to check on him.

After being checked over, Shane was prepared to wait in the locker room for Ilya but was met outside the medical room by Harris. “Up for doing something for me?”

“Of course,” Shane agreed. Anything to not be left with his thoughts for too long.

Harris walked to one of the meeting rooms, as they walked Harris asked how he was and then said. “Lots of fans have been commenting on posts asking how you are. And I know you don’t want to log into your Instagram account to give updates, so I came up with this idea to let the fans know how you’re getting on in a fun way.”

“Fun way?” asked Shane in confusion, he was wondering what the other man had come up with when they walked into the room, and he heard high pitched meowing. Sat on the floor was Luca and Bryan, his two linemates, who had clearly been borrowed from practice. Around them was a bunch of kittens climbing over them. Shane looked to Harris with wide eyes.

Harris grinned. “Lots of the players have dogs and since Wyatt and Lisa adopted their dog from one of the local shelters, they’ve gotten lots of people going to adopt dogs. And while none of the guys on the team have cats, I thought we could get in one of the local cat sanctuaries and you, Luca and Bryan have a linemate interview while playing with kittens. It lets the fans know how you’re doing and gives the cat sanctuary some airtime.”

Shane grinned. “It’s brilliant.” With no prompting Shane was down on the floor, immediately overrun with tiny furballs of fluff. He had always been more of a cat person than a dog person but living on his own in Montreal and then splitting time between Montreal and Ottawa it didn’t seem fair getting a cat, then they had Anya.

Turning, feeling a tiny body tugging on the laces of his right shoe. Shane observed a tiny tabby kitten, playing with the laces but wobbling before falling to the floor. Shane cooed and picked up the kitten. “Is it okay?” Shane asked.

The sanctuary volunteer, her shirt label read Erin, came over and smiled. “Yes. This is Fish.” Shane, Luca and Bryan all laughed at the name. “I know,” smiled Erin. “We try to give our cats uncommon names so when someone looks on the website, they can remember easily who they were looking at.”

Shane picked Fish up, smiling as she reached out a paw to poke his nose. “Why is she wobbling?”

Erin’s smile turned a little sad. “Fish has Wobbly Cat Syndrome, or cerebellar hypoplasia which is its technical name. It is a non-progressive, non-contagious neurological condition where a kitten's cerebellum doesn't develop fully in utero, usually due to exposure to the feline panleukopenia virus. But she is perfectly fine. She just has tremors and balance problems. But is still an energetic kitten who wants to play.”

Shane put Fish down and reached for a piece of string, laughing as she leapt for it. “How old is she?”

“She is five weeks old. Currently being fostered by a family and then she will be brought to our sanctuary when she is ready for adoption.” Erin then moved so she was out of shot of the camera. Shane noticed the light was on showing the camera was already recording, hopefully what Erin said would get fans interested in going to think about adopting a cat or at least becoming a volunteer. With all his extra free time, Shane looked down at Fish as she played with his hand. With the next road trip coming up next week, there could be worse ways spending that time alone than going to a cat sanctuary.

Harris then clapped his hands, Fish did a funny dance at the sound and ran around Shane, Luca and Bryan before jumping to land on Shane’s lap. The entire room just cooed. “So, guys we are just going to ask some questions. Of the three of you, who takes the longest to get ready for a game?”

Half an hour later, Ilya was changed after practice and after finding out where Harris had taken his husband, Ilya walked up to the meeting room. Behind the door he could hear laughter, Shane’s laugh standing out to him. He smiled to himself; Shane hadn’t had much to laugh about recently so it eased something in Ilya’s chest to hear it.

He quietly let himself into the room, closing the door softly and leaning against it. Chuckling seeing Shane and his linemates swarmed with kittens, one of whom had climbed onto Bryan’s shoulder and was trying to nibble his ear. Ilya leaned back against the door, his arms crossed, smiling at Shane who had three kittens climbing over him, one little tabby was clearly trying to get into his sling.

“Which one of you has the weirdest pre-game routine?” asked Harris who looked over to smile at Ilya.

“Bryan,” Shane instantly said. Luca burst into laughter nodding his head in agreement.

“What? Holzy why you gotta answer that quick? Dude!” complained Bryan.

“Shane, can you explain?” asked Harris, clearly fighting back laughter.

“Between warmups and the first period, Bryan tips cold water over his head,” Shane commented. He then looked over to Bryan. “It’s weird Bry.”

“I am keeping myself refreshed!”

“What? Warmups make you that tired old man?” teased Luca who was leaning into Shane, the two of them clearly ganging up on Bryan.

Bryan pointed at them. “I am only two years older than Shane so what your mouth you little shit.” Bryan then looked at the camera and then shrugged off the fact he swore. Shane and Luca just folded into peals of laughter.

“I think we hit a nerve,” Shane dramatically whispered to Luca.

“Do you think he dyes his hair to hide the grey?” added Luca. Ilya put a fist in his mouth to try to contain his laughter.

“If I have grey hair. That’s because of being on a line for three years with you two assholes!”

Harris called cut, but the three men didn’t hear him. Shane and Luca too busy teasing Bryan who Ilya could tell was playing up his annoyance. It was obvious to everyone in the room that Bryan was enjoying spending time with his linemates. They were the line dubbed by fans as the museum line, due to their habit of visiting museums together.

Ilya stayed on the edge of the room as the volunteer rounded up the kittens, Luca and Bryan getting up to help her. He watched as Shane remained on the floor, cuddling the tabby kitten who had tried to get into his sling. He then lifted her up to the volunteer with a smile.

Then Ilya walked across the room and helped Shane get to his feet. “Oh hello,” smiled Shane in surprise. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long. Long enough to see you tease Bryan for being old.”

“I’m not fucking old,” grumbled Bryan as he walked around them to head towards the door.

“Not as ancient as Scott Hunter,” Ilya agreed.

Luca smirked as he passed them, “but still fucking old.”

They could hear Luca and Bryan arguing down the hallway, Shane sniggered while he rested his head on Ilya’s shoulder. “Have fun?” he asked.

Shane grinned. “I did actually.”

Ilya kissed him, unable to resist looking at his smiling face. “Come on moye solnyshko, let’s go home.”

Week 5

Shane had been free of the ankle cast and the sling for a week. But now he had received the okay to do light exercises to try and build up strength again. This was the news he had been waiting for since waking up in the hospital. But he couldn’t celebrate with Ilya. His husband and the team were on another road trip, another week. They had only left yesterday and despite getting through the last road trip. Shane still wasn’t used to being in the house without Ilya. He had Anya at least, who was happy to cuddle. He had continued to break his own rule of not having Anya on the bed. Sleeping in their room was becoming unbearable and Anya helped with that.

He had been going to the cat sanctuary in his spare time after the interview he did last week. It was only time he was getting out of the house. And the volunteers had smirked each time he had visited, four times so far, knowing he was there for Fish. The little tabby kitten seemed excited each time Shane visited. Her wobbly head and body jerking as she ran to Shane. Every time he sat on the floor, Fish was quick to clamber onto his lap. He had taken many photos of the little kitten.

Yes, there was a skeleton crew of the medical team and physiotherapists at the practice arena. But they had given him exercises he could do in in their home gym. So, while he knew it would be better to go to the arena, he couldn’t face going there without Ilya and the team. He missed all of them. They had been good distractions while working through his slow recovery and right now they were on the West Coast. So, exercising at home and going to visit Fish at the sanctuary was getting him through the days.

He pottered about for the rest of the day, texting Ilya a picture of him in the home gym.

Ilya: ❤️

Ilya: Don’t work too hard.

Shane: I won’t. Good luck for the game.

Ilya: I’ll score a hattrick for you 😘

So that night Shane tucked himself under a blanket on the couch with Anya and watched the game. Just like the last road trip they were playing brilliantly. And yet again Shane was faced with looking at a team that didn’t seem to miss him. It made him wonder how many seasons he had left. Ilya was phenomenal as ever, Shane wouldn’t be surprised if Ilya had ten seasons left in him, he would definitely be a player still playing at over 40. Shane on the other hand, it looked like he would be lucky to last another five seasons.

Ottawa won the game easily, and Ilya did indeed get a hattrick. Shane took himself to bed and waited for the nightly phone call from his husband.

“Shaaaannneeeee,” came the gleeful of his husband’s voice. The pounding music in the background let Shane know exactly where Ilya and the team was.

“Celebrating?” Shane was able to say. His stomach twisted. Ilya was clearly having fun. Shane wasn’t someone who enjoyed nightclubs and used to feel guilty when he first came to Ottawa when Ilya stopped going out with the team to come home with him. Stating he was done with nightclubs. Apparently not. Clearly, he was forcing himself to give up something he enjoyed for Shane.

“Yes. I thought I would not get your hattrick for you, but I did!”

“You did,” Shane tried to smile. But now he was wondering if Ilya was stopping himself having fun at nightclubs because of him. “I love you.”

“Ya lyublyu tebya, moy biskvit,” Ilya chuckled.

“I’m not a biscuit Ilya,” Shane chided lightly. He could hear the excited shouts of the team and felt his eyes sting. Even on the phone he was still pulling Ilya away from having fun.

“How was today?” asked Ilya, his voice as soft as it could be with the loud noises around him.

“It was good, Anya and I are ready for bed,” Shane commented. Clicking on the camera to send Ilya a selfie of him and Anya curled up beside him.

He knew when Ilya looked at the photo from the sucked in breath of air. “Love you both. Get some rest moya lyubov.”

“Have fun tonight. Love you,” Shane murmured.

When he hung up, he started to cry, he let himself slide down so he was lying on the bed. Anya whined and curled up against his chest. Shane was left to wonder how much of a burden was he for Ilya?

So, with depressed determination, he promised to himself that he would go to the practice facility tomorrow and start getting ready to be on the ice.

Week 6

On returning from the next road trip, Ilya found Shane limping around the kitchen as he made a sandwich. He immediately dropped his bag by the door and rushed to Shane. “Moya lyubov, you need to sit down. It is two weeks since your cast is off.”

“I’m fine,” Shane snapped, not even turning to look at him.

Ilya recoiled, staring at Shane in shock. Watching as Shane limped over to the dinning room table, his right hand holding the plate steady, but the glass of water in his left-hand shook. Ilya went to take the glass but one look from Shane had him backing off. All week they had been talking on the phone and texting, and Ilya hadn’t gotten any indication that anything was wrong.

“Shane I am worried,” he stressed as he came to sit opposite Shane at the table.

“Why? I’m fine,” Shane retorted and then took a bite of his sandwich. He didn’t look at Ilya once. And it was wrong.

“You were limping!” snapped Ilya, not knowing what to do with Shane clearly pushing himself too much, he felt his own control fray. “You are pushing yourself too much!”

“How would you know? You haven’t been here this week!” Shane bit out, his eyes turning shiny with unshed tears. “You’ve been able to be with the team and going out with them. While I’ve been stuck here, watching you all continue to win games. Go out having fun with them. But when I’m playing you don’t, I know I don’t like going out. But you clearly enjoy going out. So, I must hold you back from having fun.”

Ilya stared at Shane, guilt stabbing his chest. Realising how isolated Shane must have been feeling. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Ilya choked out, his own eyes burning.

Shane looked down and sniffled, tears trickling down his cheeks. “Because I’ve already been a burden.” He tucked himself inward, his shoulders starting to shake.

A second later Ilya was pushing his chair back and rushing around the table. He embraced Shane from behind, hugging him tightly. “You could never be a burden moya lyubov.”

“I’m sorry,” sobbed Shane, reaching up to grasp Ilya’s wrist. “I’m being so horrible to you.”

“Shhhh,” soothed Ilya, he knelt down beside Shane. “I understand.” Because he did. Shane was left alone with the team gone, watching their games and seeing no gap where he was. No indication the team were missing him. Feeling easily replaced. And he knew that was one of Shane’s greatest fears, that and along with being not good enough. When the team were actually pushing themselves beyond their limits trying to fill the gap left by Shane.

“I began to realise that yet again you’ve given things up for me and I haven’t done anything for you,” Shane mumbled, his face tucked against Ilya’s neck.

“Shane? What do you mean?” Ilya was confused. He hadn’t given anything up; he was worried that Shane being so isolated was affecting him more than Ilya had realised.

Shane lifted his head and looked at Ilya, his eyes looked so sad and Ilya was terrified. Shane cupped Ilya’s jaw and rubbed his thumb across his cheek. “You got to go out with the team. You clearly had fun. But when I’m playing you don’t do that.”

“Because you don’t like going to nightclubs,” came Ilya’s instant reply. And then he was confused to see Shane’s expression turn even sadder. “Moye solnyshko talk to me.” He used both his hands to cup the sides of Shane’s face, desperately looking into his husband’s eyes to find out what was going on. Seeing Shane this sad was just wrong.

“But you clearly have fun at nightclubs. You not going because of me…” Shane took a shuddering breath. “I’m stopping you from having fun. I’m stopping you from doing something you clearly enjoy. For all I know you hate quiet evenings in the house and just because I enjoy it, I’m forcing you to do something you hate-”

“Hey,” Ilya interrupted Shane, seeing his husband was working himself up. “You are not stopping me doing anything.”

“But-”

“But nothing,” Ilya stated firmly. He made sure he was looking directly at Shane, so his husband knew he was serious. “Yes, I went out with the team and had a little fun. I did that because I was missing you so much. But I love coming home after good games and celebrating at home with you. For so many years I didn’t get to come home to you. But now I can, and that means everything to me.”

Shane started to sob, he leaned forward, pressing his face against Ilya’s chest. Ilya clutched Shane to him tightly, fighting his own tears. Shane then leaned back, wiping away his tears. “You’ll tell me? When you want to go out with the team?”

Ilya smiled and wiped away Shane’s tears with his thumbs. “I promise. If I feel like I want to go out to a nightclub I will tell you.” Then he got to his feet and pulled Shane up, then kept tugging until Shane got the message and jumped up to wrap his legs around Ilya’s waist. Shane bent his head and rested it on Ilya’s shoulder. Kissing Shane’s head, Ilya was shocked to realise his husband felt lighter. From his concussion making him nauseous, not exercising as he normally would and probably not eating enough when Ilya was away because he was feeling anxious, Shane had lost weight. Not enough to be worrying, but enough that Ilya knew he was going to cook all of Shane’s favourite foods for the next few weeks.

He was going to take them to the couch but decided instead to take them upstairs. Shane made a noise of confusion and went to put himself on his own feet, but Ilya clung onto him tighter, not ready to let him go, resting their foreheads together. It was a little difficult to get up the stairs, but Ilya managed. He took them into their bedroom, putting Shane down so he was sat on their bed. Then he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss against Shane’s lips. Shane gasped and Ilya used this to press their tongues together, Shane let out a light moan, reaching up to tug lightly at Ilya’s curls.

Ilya then, without breaking the kiss, gently pressed Shane until he was lying down against the pillows. Ilya lay down beside him, both of them taking quick breaths so they did not break the kiss. Shane slung his left leg over Ilya’s side, trying to bring him closer. Ilya rested one hand in Shane’s hair and with his free hand he reached down to gently massage Shane’s left ankle. Shane let out a deeper moan as Ilya massaged the tension out of his recently healed ankle.

Week 7

After Ilya returning from the last road trip, Shane had told him about all his worries, about his injuries holding him back, about feeling like he was holding Ilya back. But had also told Ilya about how going to the cat sanctuary was nice and had shown him all his photos of Fish.

“That is very cute kitten,” Ilya cooed, holding Shane’s phone and flicking through the photos. “Introduce me to Fish.” Shane had laughed, but then realised Ilya was serious.

So, they had driven to the sanctuary earlier this week. Ilya had sat on the floor beside Shane and then Fish had wobbled over, mewing excitedly, climbing over the both of them. Shane picked her up and stroked the top of her head, talking back to her every time she made a high-pitched meow. He then placed her down on Ilya’s lap. He knew his husband was more of a dog person, but seeing how gentle Ilya was with her and talking to her, Shane fell more in love with his husband.

Four days later, Shane went to practice with Ilya, sitting on the bench watching. Every member of the team skated over in excitement to see him. It lifted something in Shane, realising that he hadn’t been forgotten, just in his own despair, he had cut the team off, and they thought he was dealing with his injuries and hadn’t wanted to bother him. It was then it finally dawned on him that he wasn’t a burden.

Ilya stood on the ice and watched with a smile as he watched Shane laugh with Luca and Bryan, the other two men clearly happy to see their injured linemate. Shane then was waved over by one of the physiotherapists and taken back to rehab his ankle. Ilya noted the relaxed posture of his husband and thought back to visiting the cat sanctuary. He had seen Shane melt with Fish, his eyes were bright and moved around easily to play with her. So, unknown to Shane, Ilya had asked if Fish would be okay with dogs. The volunteer, Erin, said yes, Fish’s foster home when she was two weeks old had dogs and she was very good with them. He didn’t know why Shane didn’t ask about adopting Fish, but Ilya, looking as his husband left the bench, made the decision right there and then. After practice they would go and ask if they could adopt Fish.

Once he was changed, he waited in the car for Shane to return from rehabbing his ankle. As he watched Shane walk over to the car, he noticed a slight limp. Once Shane climbed into the car, Ilya turned to him. “Okay?”

Shane nodded with a smile. “Good. Finally feel like I am making progress.”

Ilya reached over to kiss Shane and then started the car. Shane noticed they weren’t on the route home but only looked at Ilya with curiosity. When they parked at the sanctuary Shane grinned. “We visiting Fish?” Ilya nodded with a smile, watching as Shane practically skipped out of the car. He wondered what Shane would do when he realised what Ilya’s plan was.

But once they walked in the door, one of the volunteers who was familiar with them, paused and looked at them with wide eyes. “Hello Erin,” greeted Shane. “Can we visit Fish?”

“I’m really sorry Shane,” Erin began. Ilya watched as Shane’s shoulders tightened. “But Fish was adopted yesterday.”

“Oh right,” Shane’s voice dropped and Ilya felt his stomach sink to his knees. He stepped closer to rest a hand against Shane’s back. Shane coughed to clear his throat. “Okay…well…I’ll see you later.” Shane was then turning and walking out the door.

Ilya looked at Erin who was watching Shane leave with a pained expression. She turned to him, “I tried to stall the adoption. I thought when you asked about Fish and dogs that you might want her. But my boss said we couldn’t stall just in case you decided you couldn’t take her.”

“Don’t apologise,” Ilya stated. It was no one’s fault, not even Erin’s boss. They had limited space; it made sense to let Fish be adopted when someone asked about her. It just didn’t make it any easier to see Shane so sad. He nodded and then left, through the car window he could see Shane sat slumped in the seat, his head bowed down.

Getting into the car, Ilya squeezed Shane’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Shane.”

Shane shrugged, “don’t be. I shouldn’t have gotten attached to a cat and visited her that I wasn’t going to adopt. It’s my fault.” Ilya closed his eyes in pain and then leaned over to kiss Shane’s head. He then drove them home, from the corner of his eyes, watching as Shane brought up a photo of Fish on his phone. Ilya noticed Shane’s finger hesitating over the delete button.

“Don’t Shane,” he stated firmly. At the red light, he reached over and took Shane’s phone, putting it in his own pocket.

“Why not?” questioned Shane, his voice cracking. “She’s not ours.”

Ilya didn’t have a response for that but squeezed Shane’s hand. Once they got home, Shane walked into the living room and collapsed on the couch. Anya, excited to see him, curled up in his lap. She whined when the first tears started. Ilya dropped down on the cushions beside Shane, hugging him tightly.

“I know I’m being stupid,” Shane cried. “I’m crying over a cat that was never mine.”

“She was special to you,” Ilya murmured, “she helped you when you felt alone with your injuries. It is not stupid to be sad.” Sitting there, listening to Shane cry. Ilya knew he would never tell Shane that he planned to ask to adopt Fish that day, he knew it would only make it worse. He just cursed the universe for bad timings.

Week 8

Shane was back on the ice for practice, he was saying all the right things, doing the right things. But Ilya could still see a hint of sadness in his eyes. Shane hadn’t brought up Fish for the last week. Instead throwing himself into getting fit to play again. The normal routine seemed to help. He had only gone to the sanctuary when he couldn’t exercise or practice. But still Ilya would catch him looking at photos of Fish on his phone. Ilya didn’t know what to do, so he just followed Shane’s lead, knowing his husband would show Ilya what he needed.

Ilya was taking a water break, leaning against the bench. He turned hearing Wiebe call up the second line. He watched as Shane won the face off, and how seamlessly he, Luca and Bryan worked together to get the puck through the defence and score. The three of them hugged and Ilya smiled.

“Ilya,” he turned to find Harris stood on the bench holding his phone. “Erin from the cat sanctuary is on the phone. She didn’t have your number and called me.”

Frowning in confusion Ilya took the phone from Harris. “Hello?”

“Mr Rosanov?”

“Ilya is fine,” he commented. “How can I help you?”

Erin’s voice shook with excitement. “I thought you would like to be the first to know Fish is back with us and ready to be adopted.”

Ilya paused in confusion. “Fish is back. How?” Next to him Harris was grinning and bouncing with excitement, Ilya had told him about wanting to adopt Fish for Shane and being too late. Apparently after the cat interview, Harris had always assumed Shane would adopt Fish.

Here Erin’s voice dropped to barely contained anger. “The couple that adopted her realised they wanted a ‘normal cat’, not one that wobbled all the time and couldn’t run properly.” Ilya tightened his hand around the phone, fighting the urge to crush it in anger. How could people be so horrible. Surely, they knew Fish had wobbly cat syndrome before they adopted her.

“We will be there after practice to adopt her,” Ilya stated. “Also, could you put some cat supplies aside for us to buy when we come buy. Fish would be our first cat.”

“Already done for you,” Erin stated happily. “See you in a bit!”

Ilya hung up the phone and passed it back to Harris with a grin. Harris smiled back, “you going to tell Shane?”

“No,” Ilya shook his head and then turned to look at his husband. “It will be a surprise.”

It was hard, for the rest of practice Ilya was brimming with happiness and Shane clearly knew something was up. But somehow, Ilya was able to keep Fish a secret. So, after practice he hurried Shane along, apologising to Luca and Bryan, but stating Shane couldn’t go on a museum visit today.

“Why not?” Shane laughed, watching as Ilya dumped their bags in the back of the car.

“Surprise,” Ilya stated, just stopping himself from pushing Shane into the passenger seat, but hurrying him along anyway, smiling at Shane’s laughter.

But Shane’s laughter stopped when they stopped at the cat sanctuary. “Ilya…” Shane’s voice was soft and hurt. “I can’t…”

Usually Ilya would listen to Shane, but not today. So, Ilya got out of the car and leaned through the open driver’s door. “Get out of the car,” he ordered and then walked a few steps from the car. Through the window he saw Shane braise himself and then slowly got out of the car.

Nodding, Ilya held Shane’s hand and directed him through the door. Erin was there and held up a cat carrier, from inside came a pitched meow. Shane jerked and then peered closer. “Fish?” he turned to Ilya in surprise.

“She’s going to be ours,” Ilya softly said.

Shane’s eyes brimmed with tears, and he hurriedly kissed Ilya before approaching Erin and taking the carrier from her, poking a finger through the gap and chuckling wetly when Fish licked his finger. Ilya quickly signed the adoption papers, smiling broadly as he looked over at Shane smiling and talking to Fish. “You’re going to have a big sister; I’m sure Anya will love running around with you. We’ll get you lots of toys, you’ll be so loved Fish.”

Erin helped Ilya put the supplies in the trunk of the car, while Shane carried the carrier. Ilya took the carrier while Shane got in the passenger seat and then he placed the carrier on Shane’s lap. They both thanked Erin and then took Fish home.

When they got home, Ilya let Anya out into the backyard, while Shane let Fish out of the carrier. Letting her adjust to the living room, going to smell Anya’s bed and then walking over to the back screen door. Anya was there, tail wagging. Fish and Anya both bonked the door with their heads, paws up as if it to say hello. Neither seemed angry or scared, so Ilya brought Anya in, keeping hold of her collar. Fish and Anya smelled each other, Fish licked Anya and then Shane and Ilya shrugged to each other and let Anya go. They were running around playing, and half an hour later they were curled up asleep together on Anya’s bed.

Shane hugged Ilya tightly. “Thank you.”

“No thank you needed,” Ilya stated. “I love you.”

Week 9

It was early March and finally Shane was back on the ice. It was a home game and the arena erupted into a loud roar on seeing Shane on the ice for warmup and when the game started. His parents were there somewhere in the mass crowd. They were playing Montreal, once this game would have worried him, but now Shane could greet some familiar faces and get to see Hayden.

Approaching for the faceoff, Shane grinned as Hayden skated over. “Nice to see you on your feet.”

“Feels good,” Shane grinned.

Hayden’s smile softened. “Good. But don’t push yourself too hard buddy.” Hayden then gently tapped Shane’s legs with his stick before they took their positions.

Later that night, they had won the game and Shane and Ilya were at home. Lying stretched out on the couch. Anya lying on Ilya’s chest and Fish curled up on Shane’s chest, who had purred loudly before falling asleep. Shane turned the TV off and smiled as he turned seeing Ilya asleep. His breaths even and deep, clearly relaxed.

Carefully, Shane reached out his phone and took a selfie. He was smiling at the camera, with Ilya, Anya and Fish all asleep. He then went to Instagram posting the photo with the caption: Thank you to everyone who helped me through my recovery from my injuries. But these three made the past eight weeks much easier. My family ❤️