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From the very first moment Yuna Hollander laid eyes on Ilya Rozanov, long before he and Shane became rivals, she thought to herself, “that boy needs a mom.”
When she saw him again following the MHL Draft, tailing his father tensely, she amended that statement to be “that boy needs a family who gives a shit.”
So despite years of animosity between the two boys, Yuna couldn’t help but see Ilya and Shane’s sudden friendship-turned-charity-partnership as an opportunity to open her house and heart to Ottawa’s newest resident. Yuna’s intensity wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, she knew this, but she also knew she was a damn good mother. And Ilya Rozanov had gone well over a decade without a trusted adult in his corner.
That stopped now.
David and Yuna had taken to watching Centaurs games, quickly falling into the habit of tracking Ilya’s season the way they’d done for Shane his entire career. So they saw the dirty hit by the San Jose defenseman live, watching Ilya’s eerily still form collapse on the ice like a rag doll in horror.
Yuna was out the door before Ilya was fully off the ice, laying on the stretcher with a neck brace, looking lost in a way that made him appear much younger than he was. David knew better than to question her, simply wrapping a scarf around her neck as she rushed out the door, calling “please let your engine warm up for a few minutes” at his wife’s retreating form. She did no such thing, backing out of the driveway before the door closed behind David.
In her haste, Yuna made it to the hospital before Ilya had been assigned a room. He did his best to cover his shock as she slipped through the curtain, but Yuna had surprise and what she could only assume was a hefty dose of prescription painkillers on her side.
“Mrs. Hollander, ah… how, no… why are you here?” Ilya’s speech was slow and deliberate, sounding far more like a second language than usual. While Ilya’s accent was thick and his sentences somewhat clipped, Yuna often found herself impressed with how well he navigated a language he’d learned almost exclusively through locker room talk and chirps on the ice.
“Just Yuna, honey, no need for formalities,” she said as she instinctively pressed the back of her hand to his forehead— his skin was tacky with sweat, but not feverish. “And I’m here because I thought you might like some company while you wait.” When Ilya leaned into her touch, Yuna said nothing, letting her hand linger longer than technically necessary.
Ilya looked stunned by the simplicity of her sentence. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, although Yuna couldn’t tell if English or words in general were evading him in this moment. She let him collect his thoughts, idly brushing his damp hair out of his eyes with a mother’s practiced efficiency.
“But how are you here? No visitors before I get room.”
Yuna shrugged lightly. “I might’ve let them believe I was your agent.”
This drew a sharp chuckle from Ilya. “Ah, Mrs. Hollander, you are… how do you say… crafty? Shane must not get his boring from you.”
Yuna didn’t miss the distinct fondness in his voice when he called Shane boring, and not for the first time, Yuna found herself wondering if the boys ever really were rivals at all.
“He is quite the rule follower, isn’t he?” Yuna reluctantly pulled away from Ilya, feeling her heart break a bit at the involuntary whimper he let out. Sliding the chair next to the head of his bed, Yuna acted on instinct, picking up Ilya’s hand and lacing their fingers together. Ilya softened into her touch almost immediately, squeezing her hand gently as he settled back into the pillows.
“Is there anything you need? Any calls you need me to make for you?” Yuna let her thumb rub circles on the back of Ilya’s hand as she watched his face carefully, cataloguing the way his eyebrows creased and smoothed as he processed her question and deliberated how to respond.
“Anya, my dog… I have sitter, but cannot use phone…” Ilya trailed off, gesturing in the general direction of a table just out of his sight where his phone was sitting. “Natalie,” he finished his thought, giving up on formulating a full sentence.
Yuna nodded, quickly finding Ilya’s phone on his bedside, holding it up to his face to unlock before looking up Natalie’s name just to find multiple new texts from her. She’d been watching the game as well and assumed, correctly, that her services might be needed. Yuna quickly responded, providing her own contact information so Natalie knew who to reach out to.
As she went to lock his phone, she noticed six unread messages from a “Jane 💗🥬”. Without meaning to be nosy, Yuna found herself reading the preview of the sixth message.
I know I’m not being reasonable and that you’re probably concussed and can’t look at your phone but please Ily…
Yuna’s heart clenched. She knew what it was like to worry and wait while someone you care about is hurting.
“Your Jane has texted you a handful of times. I promise I won’t look at the messages, but would you like me update her?” Yuna looked up at Ilya, unsure what to make of the vaguely bemused look on his face.
“I… yes. That will… ease her heart,” Ilya murmured, turning his head and quickly wiping his eyes.
Hi, Jane. This is Yuna Hollander. I know Ilya through his work with my son, Shane, at the Irina Foundation. I didn’t read your messages, but did let Ilya know you’ve reached out. He is alert and waiting to get transferred to a room for overnight observation, but the doctors don’t anticipate needing to keep him here more than 24 hours. Try not to worry too much, and I’ll make sure he calls once he’s settled in his room.
Yuna considered the message for a moment, reading it through for typos before hitting send. On a whim, she added,
I’ll keep him company until he’s discharged— he’s not alone.
It seemed silly, but that’s what she’d want to hear if it were Shane or David.
“I told your Jane that I’m not leaving your side, and that you’ll call once you’re settled.”
Ilya raised his eyebrows. “You Hollanders are bossy,” he chucked, squeezing her hand gratefully. “Thank you. Jane… worries.”
Yuna smiled softly at Ilya, returning his hand squeeze. “Would you like to tell me about her?”
“Jane is… so beautiful. I love… her nose freckles. And how they scrunch when… I make her mad,” Ilya paused, tipping his head back into his pillows as he searched for more words through a concussion and pain-killer induced haze. “Can I tell you secret?” He turned to find Yuna’s eyes. “She is why I came to Canada. Why I accept trade. I could not ask her to uproot her life and come to Boston and… being with her is goal. So. Canadian citizenship is natural step.”
Ilya said this as though he was telling Yuna the sky was blue and the grass was green. His love for Jane was an indisputable fact, like a simple math equation or the earth being round.
“How long have you two been together?”
Ilya’s cheeks pinked slightly as he looked down at their joined hands, fiddling with Yuna’s rings. “Ah, how do you say… on and off… since summer before rookie season.”
Yuna didn’t know quite what to do with that information. The summer before rookie season. Ilya Rozanov, notorious womanizer, had been caught up on the same girl the whole time?
She couldn’t wait to tell David this morsel.
“And how long have you loved her,” Yuna whispered softly.
“Officially? Since my last season in Boston. But… I think I was… scared… to love her before that. That does not change that I did love her.”
It was Yuna’s turn to wipe away a tear.
“I would like to meet this Jane one of these days,” Yuna said. “She sounds incredibly special.”
Ilya’s smile was bright enough to light up the room, as if there’s nothing he’d love more than to introduce his long-time, secret girlfriend to Yuna Hollander.
“I would like that a lot, Mrs. Hollander.”
“Please, honey, it’s just Yuna,” she reminded him as she glanced down at his phone to see a new notification from Jane.
Thank you for the update. And for staying with him when I can’t. It means a lot to both of us.
“Just Jane saying thank you. How about I step out for a few minutes? So you can call her?”
Ilya nodded, his eyes suspiciously wet again. Yuna quickly dialed the phone before exiting the way she entered. Jane must’ve picked up on the first ring, because before Yuna was out of earshot, she heard Ilya speak in an impossibly gentle voice.
“Hi, moya lyubov, am sorry I worried you. Yuna is here… keeping eye on me…”