Work Text:
“Well, listeners,” the radio host says, “now it’s time for our weekly anonymous confessions. For those tuning in for the first time, every week we take submissions from the public… something they want to admit or get off their chest. It’s a segment we created after one we did a few months ago.”
“It was such a big hit that we thought we’d continue doing it,” the female host says.
The male host clears his throat.
“As most of you know, I lost my wife of thirty-five years to cancer this past fall. She was the love of my life. So I chose this anonymous letter because it’s important. So important.”
He puts on his glasses and arranges the three-page letter on his desk before taking a deep breath and beginning.
“I never believed in true love or soulmates. I thought it was just something films and authors made up to get people to watch their movies or read their books. I thought I would never find it, even if it were real. I was always the awkward guy whose actions spoke louder than his words. My sole focus in life was hockey until I met him. He made my world tip on its axis, and I finally took a breath after drowning for so long.
“We were both so young and ambitious. We both knew what we wanted and worked hard for it. We faced each other as enemies in some ways, but also as lovers. I remember the day we met. He was smoking a cigarette outside the rink where we were both playing. His beautiful hair and eyes were the first things that caught my attention. He was guarded, but slowly loosened up. By the end of the awkward conversation, he smiled at me. I felt my heart stop at the sight of it. I knew in that moment he’d be my downfall.
“We competed against each other for years. We were professionals in a world that had no room for niceties, no matter how much we tried to steer the fans and press in different directions. We ‘hated’ each other on the ice, but after the lights went down and everyone left, we met in dark stairwells and hotel rooms. Penthouses and homes. I never said it out loud, but those were the best days of my life. Being with him in those brief moments made life worth living. He made my existence mean something outside of hockey.
“We were never supposed to be together. We were hockey players living in a world full of misogyny and homophobia. Sure, there were small wins here and there, but the same overarching issues remained. Unfortunately, we knew one day it would all have to end between us. If I’m being honest, I never wanted it to end. I wanted to keep him forever. But the league had other plans, and we had to make choices. They were willing to use any means necessary to blackmail us into conforming to the standard they had created. You either fold or fight, and I chose wrong.
“I have a lot of regrets in my life, but the biggest one was not choosing him. I chose my career over the man I loved more than anything in this world. I broke both our hearts that day when it ended. I wish things had been different, that we had met under different circumstances, in a different time. I wish I could’ve fallen asleep in his arms every night and woken up next to him every morning. I wish I hadn’t been so afraid to love him outside the darkness. If I knew then what I know now, I would’ve loved him out loud and in front of the whole world.
“It’s been many years since we parted ways. I heard he married his friend and had a couple of kids. I heard he built a beautiful life for his family. I want him to know how proud I am of him. He really did it all. He got everything he deserved. And even though we’ve moved on with our lives, we’ll always have those ten years we spent together.
“So, malysh, thank you for showing me what it’s like to be truly loved. Thank you for all the memories in 1410, 1221, and 1217. Thank you for spending summers with me even though they were ‘boring.’ You are the one who got away, and it’ll always hurt that we couldn’t have what we deserved. And if you ever decide you might’ve gotten it wrong, I’ll be waiting right here.
All my love,
Your sunshine.”
The host finishes the letter and moves on to the next segment, like they did every Friday. Nobody brings up the gut-wrenching confession that had just been read over the airwaves, but Shane Hollander can’t stop thinking about it. He wrote it to get it off his chest and submitted it believing it would never be heard.
Well, he was wrong.
Now it was out there for everyone to hear. Maybe Ilya would hear it and come find him. Or maybe he’d laugh it off.
Shane shuts off the radio for the rest of his drive home, quietly letting his tears fall.
⸻
Ilya Rozanov usually never listened to the radio, but he needed some noise on his drive home from the cemetery. He had visited his wife today, replacing the flowers and talking to her for a while. He had loved his wife, Svetlana, so much and was endlessly grateful that she had loved him and given him a family he didn’t feel he deserved.
But sometimes he still thought about Shane and wondered if Shane ever thought about him too.
After Sveta died, he thought about him more and more. He never wanted to reach out because of the way things ended, and he thought it was best to stay away. Besides, Shane had gotten engaged to a movie star. He was probably living the high life.
The host of the radio show announces a segment Ilya has only half-listened to a few times before, but as the anonymous letter is read aloud, it feels familiar. Every word sends a sharp ache through his chest.
He’s flooded with emotion when he realizes the letter is about him.
It’s from Shane.
Ilya pulls over to the side of the road and throws the truck into park before breaking down sobbing. He cries so hard his chest hurts as he listens to the beautiful words about pain and yearning Shane still carries for him.
By the time the host finishes the letter and the show moves on to the next topic, Ilya is still stuck on every word.
When Ilya arrives home thirty minutes later, he immediately calls Troy Barrett. Troy and his partner, Harris, are still heavily involved with the NHL. They supported him through Sveta’s illness and when he retired after she died. They understood that he needed to take care of his kids and that hockey had stopped mattering as much as Mila and Dmitry’s well-being.
The kids had lost their mother so young, and it felt unfair that she was gone while he had still been on the road all the time. Luckily, Cassie Boodram had helped take care of them for the rest of the season until he retired.
“What’s up, Rozy?” Troy answers on the third ring.
“Do you still talk to Hayden Pike? Or Jackie Pike?” Ilya asks.
“Nope, but Harris might,” Barrett responds. “Babe, question for you!”
After a few minutes of back-and-forth, Harris agrees to reach out to Jackie Pike and give her Ilya’s information.
“I owe you, Harris,” Ilya says, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“The only thing you owe me is time with Mila and Dmitry,” Harris replies. “How are my two favorites?”
“Mila’s in kindergarten and she’s a bit of a menace,” he says with a laugh. “And Dmitry’s in preschool. He hates it.”
“They certainly sound like your kids, Roz,” Barrett says.
“I actually have to get going to pick them up,” Ilya says.
“Don’t be a stranger, Ilya,” Harris says. “We miss you.”
“I miss you too,” he replies, swallowing back tears. “We’ll make plans soon, I promise.”
Ilya picks up Mila and Dmitry from school and brings them home. They eat dinner together like they do every night. He cleans them up and tucks them into bed before finally crawling into his own.
He sighs as he stares at the ceiling.
He never thought his life would look like this. He never imagined being a widower at thirty-three with two beautiful children. He had always wanted a family, and he felt blessed to have them.
When Sveta got sick, he had been terrified, but she had been strong and brave. She kept him grounded and always made sure the kids were okay. She still came to his home games with the children while going through treatment. Even at her sickest, she held Ilya afloat.
Ilya missed her so much.
He hadn’t just lost his wife; he’d lost his best friend. Cancer stole her best years. It stole his children’s mother. The kids were so young that they didn’t fully understand why Sveta wasn’t there anymore. Every so often, Mila would ask where her mom was, and Ilya would have to explain all over again that she was gone.
It broke his heart every time.
It reminded him of losing his own mother as a child.
As Ilya lies there thinking, he remembers the radio host reading the anonymous letter aloud. The words only Ilya understood the meaning of. Words that felt sacred.
He wished the whole world hadn’t heard them.
He closes his eyes and can still hear Shane’s voice from the day they ended things in that restaurant in Ottawa. Shane had left first, and Ilya had sat there alone for a long time afterward.
But eventually he had to pick up the pieces and return to reality.
The pain of that day still lingered, and no matter what he did, it always would.
⸻
“Jackie?” Shane says, pausing the treadmill he’s been running on. “Is everything okay? Are you okay? Is Hayden okay? Are the kids hurt?”
“God, Shane, everyone’s okay,” Jackie replies. “I’m calling because someone’s looking for you, and I’m not sure if I should give him your information.”
“Who?” Shane asks.
“Ilya Rozanov.”
Shane’s entire world stops.
Ilya is looking for him.
Did he hear the letter on the radio? Was this some impossible coincidence?
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” Shane says.
“You sound so convincing,” Jackie says sarcastically.
“Yeah, well… it’s been a long time,” Shane sighs.
“I know about it, Shane. Hayden told me what they wanted from you,” Jackie says softly. “It wasn’t fair.”
Shane swallows hard and stays quiet for a moment.
He clears his throat. “Jackie, I have to get going. I have a meeting with Rolex, so I need to finish up. Can I call you later?”
“Of course. So I can give Harris your information?” she asks.
“Yes.”
It’s the first time in his life that saying yes feels easy.
Around seven that evening, an incoming call from an Ottawa number flashes across Shane’s screen. Slowly, he answers.
“Hello?” Shane says.
There’s silence for a moment before the voice on the other end finally speaks.
“You still sound the same,” the heavily accented voice says.
“Is that good or bad?” Shane asks.
“Don’t know. It certainly brings back memories,” Ilya says. “Good ones and not-so-good ones.”
Shane closes his eyes. “Well, it’s good to hear your voice.”
A long pause settles between them.
“How have you been?” Shane asks finally.
“Life is life. Always busy. Stuff for the kids, stuff for myself. Always busy,” Ilya says with a laugh.
“I heard you got married and had a few kids. I bet they’re great,” Shane says, trying not to let his voice crack.
We were supposed to get married and have kids, like we promised.
“Mila and Dmitry are amazing. You’d love them,” Ilya says softly. “You would’ve liked Svetlana too. She was amazing, just like them.”
Shane’s heart breaks.
“She was amazing” burns like acid in his ears.
“I’m so sorry, Ilya. I really am. I had no idea,” Shane says, trying to steady his voice.
“It’s okay. She was sick for a long time. She isn’t suffering anymore, but I miss her,” Ilya says, his voice cracking.
Shane quietly listens to Ilya’s soft sobs while tears slip down his own face.
“How’s Rose?” Ilya asks after a while. “I heard you married her.”
Shane sighs. “We were engaged, but we never got married. We weren’t compatible. I never met anyone else after that. No kids… just me and my cat. Sounds kind of pathetic, but I don’t mind it.”
They sit in silence, absorbing the new truths between them.
“Can we meet?” Ilya asks quietly. “For coffee, maybe?”
“I’d like that,” Shane replies. “I’m heading to Ottawa next Tuesday before I go up to the cottage for the summer. Would you want to meet then?”
“Next Tuesday,” Ilya repeats softly. “I can meet you at the coffee shop near the rink. You remember the one?”
“Yes. Eleven o’clock?” Shane asks.
“Eleven o’clock,” Ilya confirms.
⸻
Ilya arrives at ten-thirty and grabs a coffee and a table in the back corner of the café. It’s quiet, with only a handful of seats, but Ilya doesn’t mind.
They aren’t rivals anymore.
Ilya is retired, and Shane is still playing. They’re in different phases of life now, though it wasn’t always that way.
He takes off his jacket and watches the door, wondering how different Shane will look. Ilya himself hasn’t changed much. He still makes time to work out and take care of himself while balancing life as a single father.
Shane is probably still unfairly handsome.
Maybe even more handsome than before.
The bell above the door rings, and Ilya’s eyes meet warm brown ones he never thought he’d see again.
Freckles dust Shane’s cheeks vivid against his tan skin.
Shane smiles softly and walks toward him.
Ilya stands, and they shake hands like old friends, except the touch of Shane’s hand against his feels electric.
They sit and stare at each other for a long moment before Shane finally breaks the silence.
“You look good, Ilya.”
“You look the same,” Ilya replies. “Still handsome with beautiful freckles.”
Shane laughs softly and nods. “How are you? Really?”
Ilya swallows hard. “Some days I’m good. Really good. But some days are bad. Some days I feel alone, and others I feel surrounded by love. Today is a good day.”
Shane nods quietly.
He’s never lost anyone close to him before. Both sets of his grandparents had died before he was born, and his parents were still alive. But he tries to understand.
“I’m so sorry,” Shane says. “Truly.”
“So,” Ilya says, changing the subject, “the letter.”
Shane sighs. “The letter.”
“Did you mean it?” Ilya asks. “Any of it?”
“I meant every word,” Shane says, tears filling his eyes. “They made us choose, and I chose wrong. I lost the only thing that ever mattered to me. I lost you.”
“You left me,” Ilya says, voice cracking.
“Yeah,” Shane admits quietly. “I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I had to be the one to walk away. I couldn’t survive watching you leave first.”
Ilya nods, but before he can respond, Shane continues.
“I went back to the apartment and cried myself to sleep that night. I cried every night because your side of the bed was cold. I cried after every game where I had to face you. I purposely sat out whenever we played Ottawa because I couldn’t look at you without falling apart. Then you got married,” Shane says, pausing to steady himself. “I heard you got married, and that was the end for me. It forced me to move on because it meant we truly would never be together. So I called Rose and got back together with her. But she wasn’t you, and even though I tried for years, I couldn’t marry her.”
Ilya says nothing.
“I wish we never had to say goodbye,” Shane whispers. “Because I never would’ve let you go.”
Ilya reaches across the table and gently wipes the tears from Shane’s cheeks. They sit there quietly for a while, breathing together.
Finally, Ilya speaks.
“I miss you,” he says softly. “I’ve missed you for a long time. Maybe we could try again?”
“Yeah,” Shane says immediately. “I’d like that.”
Two years later
They elope at the cottage Shane built all those years ago… the same place where they used to hide away every summer.
The wedding is small, attended only by close friends and family. Mila and Dmitry beam with excitement when they learn they have special jobs in the ceremony, and Shane and Ilya can hardly believe they finally get to have this.
To have each other openly.
Shane posts wedding photos to Instagram with the caption:
Mr. & Mr. Hollander-Rozanov.
The post is met with overwhelming support, though criticism follows too. The NHL commissioner tries calling Shane several times, but he ignores every call.
Honestly, he’d let his career end tomorrow if it meant keeping Ilya forever.
Shane stands on the porch overlooking the lake, watching the sunset while Ilya tucks the kids into bed inside.
Their kids.
At first Shane worried Mila and Dmitry wouldn’t understand him or accept him. But one day Mila casually called him Daddy, and Shane nearly burst into tears.
That was the moment he knew.
Now they are Daddy and Papa, just like they used to dream about all those years ago.
Having a family fills Shane with a kind of joy he had never felt before, and he knew it’d never go away.
“I found this while we were moving,” Ilya says quietly, handing Shane an envelope addressed:
To Him.
Shane carefully opens it. Inside is a photograph of Ilya, Sveta, and the kids, along with a folded letter.
He unfolds it with shaky hands.
To Him—
If you’re reading this, it means you found your way home to him. I’m so incredibly proud of you, whoever you are. I know things weren’t easy for either of you. Ilya told me a little about what happened, though he never really talked about you directly. I knew you were special to him, so I didn’t push.
I’ve known Ilya since we were eight years old, and I’m honored to have spent my life with him. That being said, you were always on his mind. I knew it. I held him through all the hard moments when he didn’t want to face it but had to.
You are the true love of his life. His soulmate. Your love is something rare and extraordinary, and I don’t think anything else could ever come close to it.
My time here is short, so there are a few things you need to know about Ilya and the kids.
1. Mila hates anything green. Vegetables are her sworn enemy, but I believe you’ll figure out a way to get her to eat them.
2. Dmitry is terrified of thunderstorms and always wants to be held when he’s scared. I think you’ll understand that instinct better than anyone.
3. Ilya has the biggest heart beneath that hard exterior. He’ll have good days and bad ones, but I know you’ll hold him through all of it. (Also he snores really loud so be sure to buy earplugs.)
Please take care of them. Please love them. Please cherish every moment with them.
Even though I’m gone, I’ll always be there. Maybe as a cardinal on a sunny day or a raindrop on a cloudy one. But I’ll always be watching over our family.
All my love,
Svetlana Vetrova-Rozanov
Tears stain the page, causing the ink to blur, and Ilya pulls Shane tightly into his arms.
“It’s okay, malysh,” he whispers thickly.
“God, I love you,” Shane sobs. “I love you and the kids. I love her, even though I never got to meet her. She gave you everything, and I’m so grateful for her.”
Ilya presses a kiss to Shane’s forehead and gently hushes him.
“She was a beautiful soul,” Ilya murmurs against his skin. “She would’ve loved you. Like I love you.”
He pulls back just enough to look at Shane.
Shane kisses him hard.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Shane whispers against his lips.
They spend the rest of the night wrapped in each other’s arms.
Maybe they didn’t get all the time they deserved.
But now they have forever.
Across the yard, a cardinal sits perched on the branch of a tree, watching the sunset with them.