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“Ilya? Honey, are you in here?” Yuna called out into the seemingly empty house. She turned back to David with a look of confusion as he entered the house behind her. Ilya was supposed to come over that evening for board game night, and it wasn’t like him to be late. Shane had called his parents that afternoon, asking if they’d heard from Ilya because he didn’t answer any of his calls or texts. After no replies to any of them, they decided to go over and check on him.
The door was unlocked and his car was in the garage, so they assumed he was home. But the lights were all off in the kitchen and living room, and the stillness felt like no one had been in the space all day. “David, I’m worried-- what do you think happened?” David placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders and ran them down her arms, trying to offer some reassurance, but he was just as nervous as she was. She pulled out her phone to try Ilya again, and held it to her ear.
Faintly, they could hear ringing coming from upstairs, and Yuna bolted up the stairs before David fully realized what was happening, and he trailed behind her.
Yuna opened the door of the bedroom and found the phone sitting on the bedside table, nearly dead and showing dozens of missed calls and messages. “Where do you think he-” she started to ask David, but stopped as she heard a groan from the bathroom. She instantly recognized a noise no mother wants to hear- the sound of someone being sick and miserable. And there’s nothing anyone can do except wait for it to pass.
She motioned to David to wait in the bedroom as she lightly knocked on the bathroom door and slowly pushed it open. She found Ilya sitting on the floor, his head hanging over the toilet. He was wearing a loose pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt that had at least twelve hours of sweat and stains on it. “Oh, Ilya, honey...” she said as she laid eyes on him. Ilya barely looked up at the sound of her voice, too weak to properly respond. He slowly shook his head at her as she approached him.
“No, Yuna, please.” he groaned. “Is gross, don’t-” his eyes went wide and he was cut off as a new round of nausea overtook him, causing him to heave bile into the bowl. Thankfully there wasn’t much there as he hadn’t eaten anything, but that didn’t make it any less painful.
Yuna stood watching with one hand over her mouth and another on her chest as her heart broke for her boy. She wanted to go to him, comfort him, tell him everything would be okay and shower him with a mother’s love, but she knew that may be too much for him to handle right now. So instead she watched from the doorway until he was done, slumping back against the wall of the shower stall.
“Sorry, did not want you to see that,” he sighed without opening his eyes.
“Nonsense, I’m a mother. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” She approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him or make him too uncomfortable. He still didn’t open his eyes, so he jumped a bit when Yuna reached out her hand to brush the sweaty curls off his forehead, but he didn’t pull away. In fact, Yuna fondly observed the way he leaned his head a bit into her touch, inviting it closer.
“You’re definitely running a bit warm,” she said as she continued to stroke his hair.
“Hmm,” he agreed lazily.
“How long has this been going on?” she asked.
“Since this morning. Woke up around three, barely made it to bathroom,” he hoarsely replied.
“Oh, you poor thing. So you’ve only been here in the bathroom all day?” He gave a small nod in reply.
“You must be exhausted.”
“Yes,” he sighed sleepily, continuing to rest his head against the wall and the touch of her hand.
“Do you think you’re done being sick, for now?”
He considered her question as he analyzed his body. His stomach muscles ached, and his throat burned. But the nausea had passed, and he was ready to simply pass out on the floor, the way he had been doing all day. “Da, for now,” he answered weakly.
“Then let’s get you to bed,” she stated simply.
His eyes widened again as he looked up at her starting to stand from where she had been crouched next to him. “I don’t think I can...” he started to protest. He knew he couldn’t stand up right now, and he was terrified of not being able to make it back to the bathroom if the need came up again suddenly.
“That’s okay,” she said. “That’s why we’re here to help.” She placed a kiss on top of his head, and then called out, “David? Could you come in here and help Ilya up, please?”
Ilya wanted to care about how disgusting it was that Yuna saw him like this at all, half-dressed and weak. He wanted to be repulsed by her lips touching his sweaty, sticky, unwashed hair. He should be mortified by her husband coming in, wrapping Ilya’s arm around his shoulders and his own hand around Ilya’s waist, and hauling him up gently but efficiently as he bore most of Ilya’s weight, being careful not to jostle him too much. David sat Ilya down on the edge of the bed, and Ilya thought he should be embarrassed by Yuna rifling through his drawers, pulling out a clean T-shirt, and having him raise his arms slightly to help him take off the sweaty one he was wearing and put on the fresh one, as if he were a small child.
But, as Yuna supported his head and gently guided him to lay down, then pulled the covers over his shoulders, he found that he simply did not have the energy to care about such things at all.
Yuna went to the bathroom and Ilya heard the toilet flush and the water running. She came back and knelt down at the side of the bed, pressing a cool, damp washcloth to Ilya’s forehead. The relief seeped through his head and down into his body, causing his muscles to relax in a way they hadn’t been able to all day. He didn’t even have the chance to mutter a “thank you” before sleep overtook him.
***
Ilya had been dreaming of his mother when he awoke suddenly. The clenching of his stomach abruptly pulled him out of sleep, and he was clumsily trying to kick the duvet off and make it to the bathroom when he noticed the plastic trash can sitting right beside the bed. He didn’t have time to be grateful for it before he was bent over the side of the bed, bringing the bin to his head and clutching it like a lifeline as he heaved into it.
Yuna came running in at the sound of him being sick again, and she perched on the edge of the bed beside him. She whispered sweet words of encouragement- “I know it hurts, baby” and “you have to get it all out.” But Ilya couldn’t hear her- he felt trapped inside the echo chamber the trash bin had become, taunting him with the sounds of his body, reminding him how weak and disgusting he was.
Finally, the heaving stopped, and he set the bin on the floor and sat up straighter as he slowly came back to his senses. He heard Yuna’s voice drifting through the dark room, and felt her hands rubbing small circles in his back and sweeping through his damp hair. As he trained all his focus on her comfort, he felt his eyes begin to water up and spill over with tears before he could stop them. Yuna wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him as his body shook with emotional release that rivaled his physical one.
He cried as he thought of his first ever travel game, when he was eight. He had been so excited for a special weekend with just him and Mama. He was away from his house, he would eat in a nice restaurant with his team, and stay in a fancy hotel. Instead, he spent the entire day in the hotel room, sick from food poisoning, and devastated to be missing the game. Mama had been by his side through all of it, holding him while he cried.
He cried as he thought of multiple times when he came home after a night of drinking. The first time, Svetlana had helped him sneak inside past his father and brother. It had only been a few months since he found his mother, and they were barely even teenagers. She helped him stay quiet so as not to wake the house. A few more times, and he learned it was easier to not come home at all. The years passed and he got better at holding his liquor. By that point, if he ever did get sick again, it was in a bar bathroom, or the room of whoever he was with that night, or on the side of the road. It never mattered. He learned how to survive on his own, and he didn’t need anybody else to take care of him.
But as he continued to cry into Yuna’s shoulder, he thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to learn how to be held again.
After what could’ve been hours, his tears finally slowed, and he sat up from Yuna’s embrace.
He looked down at the floor as he mumbled “I am so sorry, you shouldn’t--” before Yuna put her hand under his chin, guiding his face up.
“Ilya Rozanov, you look at me.” As he did, he understood why she was an excellent manager for Shane- the look on her face would make anybody do what she asked. “Don’t you dare apologize. You’re sick, so we take care of you. It’s what families do, no questions asked. Do you understand?”
He nodded, not trusting himself to be able to form words.
“Good. Now, first things first, I have a lot of faith in the power of a clean shirt. Come on, take that one off, I’ll find you a new one.” She got up and went to his dresser for the second time this evening, now knowing his room like it was part of her own home. “This one must be Shane’s,” she mused as she pulled out a navy blue T-shirt with Montreal’s logo on the right chest. “Let me find one of yours...”
Ilya looked up at the mention of Shane, and saw her holding Shane’s favorite T-shirt. Ilya realized the last time he spoke to Shane was when he called Ilya last night, looking for the shirt to pack for his road trip. Shane was relieved when Ilya found it in his drawer, because he had been afraid it was missing. (If Ilya had intentionally borrowed it from Shane’s bag before he left last time, well, Shane never needed to know.)
“Wait,” he called out. “Can I wear that one?”
“Shane’s team shirt?” She looked at Ilya with questioning in her eyes.
“Da... please.” Her face softened with understanding as she brought it over to him.
“Of course, Ilya. Here you go.” She helped him slide the shirt over his head, and she watched fondly as he breathed in deeply, finding comfort in the way the worn cotton settled over him like an embrace.
He noticed her shirt was also soiled because of him, and mumbled, “You need new shirt, too,” embarrassed to be the cause.
“Oh don’t worry, I’ll get one-- David will be back any minute.” At the look of confusion on Ilya’s face, she continued. “First he went to the store for supplies,” gesturing to the sleeve of crackers and a bottle of Gatorade Ilya hadn’t noticed were placed on his bedside table. “And now he’s grabbing some things for us from the house. So I can change as soon as he gets back, and then I’ll run a load of laundry.”
Ilya felt like his thoughts were crawling through mud as he slowly processed what she was saying. It took him too long to realize this simple conversation about life at home was happening here, in his home. Finally he was able to ask, “Wait, you’re staying?” He could hear the hope in his voice, as if it was too good to be true.
“Of course, honey. I told you, it’s what family does. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Ilya looked away again as his heart swelled.
“Now,” Yuna stated, clearly back to business, “let’s take care of the rest of this. You drink, you obviously need to rehydrate.” She opened the bottle and put in a straw, and Ilya idly wondered how she and David knew red Gatorade was his favorite. “Remember, small sips.” He took one obediently, and sighed as it helped the bitter taste in his mouth, and soothed his sore throat. “And if you can stomach it, nibble on these,” she added as she offered him one of the tan square crackers. It was exactly the type of plain, boring food he would expect from Canada, and he couldn’t be more grateful for it.
She started to reach for the trash can that still held evidence of his last episode, and Ilya tried again to stop her. “No, please don’t do that, is much too gross. I can take care of it,” he pleaded.
Yuna dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Ilya, I’ve been the team mom for more hockey teams than I can count. There is not a single smell, illness, or injury that could bother me at this point. And besides, I’m pretty sure I’m immune to everything by now. If the germs on a bus full of 14 year old hockey players didn’t kill me, nothing will.” Well, Ilya thought as he took another sip, she had a point.
He continued to nibble on his crackers as she took the bin into the bathroom, flushed the contents, and rinsed it out in the shower. While he waited for her to return, he picked up his phone for the first time that day, and looked at his notifications.
7:03AM, Shane: Good morning, my love 😘
8:35AM, Shane: Leaving now for flight to NY. Text me when you’re up and I’ll call when I can.
9:02AM, Shane: Boarding now- love you!
10:30AM, Shane: Wow- we just landed, and no missed calls or texts from you? Enjoy your sleep in, babe 😁
10:32AM, Shane: We’re headed to the rink to review tape, then practice after lunch.
12:17PM, Missed Call: Shane
12:18PM, Shane: Ilya, is everything okay? I just want to hear your voice before practice. Call me, please.
3:35PM, Missed Call: Shane
3:35PM, Shane: Rozanov, text me and answer your fucking phone.
3:36PM, Shane: I’m going to assume you lost your phone or it’s dead or something, because I’m starting to freak out.
3:36PM, Shane: I’m calling as soon as we get to the hotel and you better fucking answer.
4:15PM, Yuna: Hey Ilya, David’s on his way to the store. Any requests for which ice cream flavor he should pick up for tonight?
4:20PM, Missed Call: Shane
4:21PM, Shane: Ilya, I’m trying not to have a panic attack in this NYC hotel room. PLEASE call me, I just need to hear your voice!
4:48PM, Yuna: Shane just called me and said he hadn’t heard from you all day. I reassured him you probably just went for a run and forgot to bring your phone. Try to call him soon, he’s really worried.
4:50PM, Yuna: Oh, and David got rocky road 😁 See you at 5:30!
4:56PM, Missed Call: Shane
5:02PM, Pike: Hey man, is everything okay? Shane’s freaking out in our hotel right now, IDK how to help him. Just call him or something.
5:15PM, 3 Missed Calls: Shane
5:20PM, Missed Call: Yuna
5:21PM, Yuna: Ilya, honey, we’re worried. Shane’s very upset and no one has heard from you all day. Please just let us know you’re on your way over.
5:37PM, Missed Call: Yuna
5:41PM, David: You on your way? Yuna is nervous, she says Shane’s a wreck.
5:42PM, Missed Call: David
5:45PM, Missed Call: Yuna
5:46PM, Yuna: Ilya, we’re coming over to check on you. Please text us.
5:49PM, Missed Call: Shane
5:58PM, David: Pulling up now, son.
6:01PM, Missed Call: Yuna
6:15PM, Shane: OH MY GOD ILYA
6:15PM, Shane: Fuck
6:15PM, Shane: Dad just called me
6:16PM, Shane: Babe I’m so sorry you’re sick, but so relieved you’re at home. God, I was terrified something happened.
6:16PM, Shane: Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again. Next time you’re sick at least bring your goddamn phone to the bathroom.
7:02PM, Shane: Sorry
7:02PM, Shane: Didn’t mean to sound mad
7:02PM, Shane: I’m not mad at you
7:02PM, Shane: I was just so fucking terrified and so relieved to hear you were okay.
7:02PM, Shane: Well not okay I guess
7:02PM, Shane: But like safe at home at least.
7:03PM, Shane: God being sick sucks.
7:03PM, Shane: At least you have mom and dad to help, they’re the best. Mom always made me feel better when I got sick.
7:03PM, Shane: Her hugs are like magic, idk how she does it.
7:04PM, Shane: Fuck, I wish I could hold you right now. I can’t fully believe you’re okay until I feel you for real.
7:04PM, Shane: Please call me tonight, if you can. Love you ❤️
10:34PM, Shane: Mom said you passed out as soon as she got you to bed, so I hope you’re getting some rest. I’m going to try and sleep now, too. I love you, Ilya. Goodnight.
Yuna came out of the bathroom with the clean bin and a fresh cool washcloth, and saw Ilya crying again as he looked at his phone. She rushed over to him, holding out the trash can. “Here honey, I’ve got you, you can be sick again if you need to.”
He shook his head in response. “No, no, is not that.”
She placed the bin on the floor and sat beside him again on the bed. She wondered if he might want some physical space, but she saw the way he gravitated towards her. He willingly let her pull his head to her shoulder, and his eyes closed as she stroked his hair again. She tried not to dwell on how touch starved he must have been for most of his life, especially from a parent. If this simple act of love is comforting to him, she’ll never withhold it. “Then what’s the matter?” she asked, drawing her thoughts back to the present.
“I read the texts from today,” he replied. “Shane was so scared, and you too...”
“Of course we were scared, we were so worried about you. We’re just so glad you were here, and nothing happened to you.”
Ilya hummed in agreement, sighing contently as Yuna continued to offer grounding touch along his head and back. With his eyes closed, and in the quiet of the room, he could almost pretend it was his own Mama.
After a few minutes of sitting peacefully, he spoke up again. “Sorry for making you scared. But is nice, in a way, to have someone worry about me. No one has cared about me like that in... in very long time.”
Yuna’s heart broke again as she heard the pain and longing in his voice. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, as if one hug could squeeze a lifetime’s worth of a mother’s love into him. “We’re here for you now, Ilya. Always. And we’re never going away,” she whispered.
“Yes, I think I am starting to know that now,” he replied. “Thank you.”
***
Ilya awoke slowly the next morning, sunlight streaming through the windows. He sat up carefully, taking inventory of his body without putting too much strain on it. He was still achy and sore, but like he had done an intense ab workout the day before. The worst seemed to be over. He got up and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, put his phone in his pocket (which he hadn’t remembered plugging in- Yuna must’ve done that, too), and then looked down and laughed out loud. Next to his bed, there was a pair of novelty slippers, shaped like moose, each wearing a Canadian Mounties police hat. They were the most ridiculous things he had ever seen, and he loved them and slipped them on instantly. He padded downstairs, being mindful of his new footwear.
He walked into the kitchen and was greeted by the sight of David making breakfast, while Yuna sat at the island on her phone. “Ilya, you’re up!” Yuna greeted him enthusiastically as he entered. “How are you feeling?” she asked, seriously.
“Much better, now. Still sore, but think I am done being sick.” He sat down next to Yuna, leaning over to allow her to feel his forehead.
“Good, good. And your fever’s gone, so I think we’re in the clear. But I still want you to take it easy today, okay?”
‘Okay,” he agreed with an easy smile. “What is for breakfast?” he asked, turning to David. “Smells delicious.”
“Simple for you- toast, maybe some scrambled eggs,” David answered as he gestured with the spatula to the eggs he was preparing.
“Sounds perfect.”
They settled in comfortably around the kitchen counter, enjoying the easy breakfast. As the conversation continued, David said, “I see you found the slippers.”
“Yes, they are great, thank you. They are...” he trailed off, not sure what he was trying to say, when David stepped in.
“They’re a bit unique, yeah?”
“Da.”
“Ridiculous is more like it,” Yuna added.
“I’m glad you like them,” David said. “I saw them as I was about to leave the house and threw them in the bag last minute. I thought you could use them.”
“Tell him the story, David!” Yuna prodded.
Ilya’s smile widened across his entire face, as it did any time he got to hear a new piece of Hollander lore. “Da, tell him the story, David!” he echoed.
David started telling Ilya how Shane had brought them home from a school trip when he was eight. He had been so proud to buy his parents the perfect souvenirs with his own money. “His ‘grown-up’ money, he called it,” Yuna added.
He presented the gifts to his parents (Yuna got a refrigerator magnet), and David dutifully wore the slippers that first evening. “Well, the next night as I’m getting him ready for bed, he just starts throwing a tantrum out of nowhere. Screaming about how we don’t love him any more, and why would we do this to him... it took me forever to get him to calm down enough to figure out what he was talking about, and why he was so upset.”
“The damn slippers,” Yuna said. “Shane acted like those things were the only way we could prove we loved him. David put them on, and Shane calmed down and went to sleep almost instantly.”
“After that, I was stuck with them for life. For years, I wore those stupid things every night around the house, or else face Shane’s wrath,” he said with a fond sigh.
“Now, tell him the best part!” Yuna says, excitedly.
“There’s MORE?!” Ilya gasped. He had been laughing along to the whole story, hanging on to every word like this was the juiciest piece of gossip he’d ever heard.
“So, we’re sitting on the couch one night, watching a hockey game on TV- Shane’s probably 14, 15... and during a break he looks at my feet, and asks me why I wear those, and I quote, ‘God awful, stupid slippers every damn day.’”
“No!” Ilya gasped out loud. “He didn’t remember?!”
“He didn’t even remember!” Yuna repeats, slamming her hand on the counter for emphasis. They all continued to laugh about the story, sharing how the slippers would come out every once in a while in the years since to tease Shane. Ilya clutched his still-sore stomach, but he didn’t mind the pain. He realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed this hard.
Finally, as the laughter died down, David looked like he was thinking about something. “You know, Ilya, you can keep them if you’d like. They’ve always been a symbol for how much we love Shane, and we’d love for you to share in that tradition, if you want.”
Ilya was touched by the gesture. He certainly had never inherited anything worth keeping from his own father. And he was not only excited about the silly slippers, but he was thrilled Shane’s parents trusted him enough with them. It was the exclusive club of people who loved Shane Hollander unconditionally, and Ilya had been welcomed into the group with open arms. “I would be honored- thank you.”
Ilya moved to the couch and took out his phone, seeing a good morning text from Shane. He took a picture of the slippers on his feet, and sent it to him, saying “You have excellent taste in footwear.” Immediately, his phone lit up with a Facetime request.
“Ilya! Oh my god, Ilya, are you okay? How are you?”
“Good morning to you too, dorogoy. I am better now for seeing you.”
“Fuck, Ilya, I was so scared...” Ilya let Shane ramble on for a few minutes about how much he missed him and how much of a mess he had been not hearing from him for the whole day. Ilya replied with a few phrases of “I’m sorry” and “I missed you, too,” but Shane didn’t need much encouragement to keep going. Ilya was more than happy to listen and watch Shane as he spoke.
Eventually, the conversation turned to this afternoon’s game. “I just don’t think I’d be able to play if I hadn’t heard your voice,” Shane said.
“Well now you have, so you can go beat Scott Hunter’s ass.” Shane just laughed. “Seriously, he is so old, I could have beaten him yesterday from the bathroom floor.”
“Ilya, he’s one of the best players in the league,” Shane scolded.
“Hm, but not the best,” Ilya said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “That would go-”
“-to me.” Shane finished the sentence with him, claiming the honor together.
“You’ve even got our team spirit,” Shane said with a smirk as he noticed Ilya wearing his shirt.
“No, is not for team, is just for you. I will never cheer for Montreal, pleh. But I will always cheer for you.”
“Aww, Ilya...”
“And I will cheer for anyone who will put Scott Hunter into retirement home.”
“There it is.”
***
The day continued as they waited for the game to start. Ilya rested on the couch, napping and scrolling on his phone. Yuna and David sat at the kitchen table with their laptops, getting work done. Ilya noticed, not for the first time, how grateful he was to have people around, living their simple everyday lives- lives that now included him. Years ago, he would have thought that being called “boring” was one of the worst insults imaginable. Now, he was growing quite fond of it.
Yuna brought lunch over to him, simple chicken noodle soup and a cold ginger ale. Ilya laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Really? Ginger ale?”
“What? It’s great to settle an upset stomach, so it’s better for you right now than your usual Coke. That’s why it’s Shane’s favorite, he had them all the time as a kid.”
“Why all the time?” Ilya asked, interested.
Yuna told Ilya how Shane would often come home from school or after hockey practice complaining of a stomach ache. She would give him a can of ginger ale, and after sipping it quietly for a while, he would usually open up about whatever it was that had upset him that day. “It was never before a game, or anything like that. Of course Shane was never nervous about playing hockey. No, we realized it was always around something social. We started giving him a can before we went to any event, to help calm him down in advance.”
Ilya smiled fondly as he listened to the story. Of course his boyfriend, who folds his clothes before sex and can’t sleep on dirty sheets, was an anxious child. Of course when he identified something that reliably calmed him down, he stuck to it religiously. Every new thing Ilya learned about Shane was like a puzzle piece clicking into place, making the picture he already has of Shane even more perfectly complete.
He remembered the day they first met, and realized Yuna may not have heard the story.
“Did you know, the day we met, he was so nervous introducing himself to me that he shook my hand twice?”
Yuna snorted. “Yea, that sounds like Shane.”
“Yes, it does.” Yuna watched the way the smile spread across his face with the memory. “I didn’t know it then, but that was the moment I fell in love with him.”
The game started, and for the first time in her life, Yuna had something to watch that was more interesting than hockey. Of course she paid attention to the game, and watched every move Shane made on the ice. But she also watched Ilya watch the game, and she was in awe. She was making sure Ilya was okay, of course. She could tell he wasn’t moving as fully as he usually does, still mindful of his aching muscles. But she watched the way Ilya tracked every play, how he paid attention to the way Shane dodged every opponent and obstacle, and held his breath during every face off.
Yuna tried very hard not to beat herself up for the years Shane and Ilya had kept their relationship secret. It was in the past, and now all she could do is move forward and do everything in her power to make them both feel as comfortable and accepted as possible. It wasn’t hard, as she loved them both unconditionally. But seeing Ilya now, she wondered how she and the rest of the world could ever have been so blind to the love Ilya and Shane have for each other. She watched how he cheered when Shane scored the first goal of the game, throwing his arms up but then wincing as he tried to ignore his sore abs. She was thrilled to see the light in his eyes- It was a dramatic improvement from the haunted look he had given her from the bathroom floor, not even 24 hours before. When Shane winked directly at the camera, Ilya looked like he could have melted into the carpet. Yuna and David shared a knowing glance, clearly thinking the same thing. This boy was going to be a part of their family forever.
***
They celebrated Montreal’s victory, then finally finished tidying up the house and packing their overnight bags back into the car. Yuna lingered in the entryway, staring openly at Ilya. She took in his slippers (which had not been removed all day), his phone still open to texts with Shane (who was driving over immediately after the plane landed), his Montreal T-shirt (which she suspected Ilya might start wearing for every game), and finally his face (which had a healthy color back to it). She tried to be as nonchalant as possible when she reached up to brush his hair back and feel his forehead one more time. She knew his fever was long gone, but it was an easy excuse to touch him again when she couldn’t scoop him into her arms and hold him forever like she wanted to. She was about to say something when Ilya surprised her by wrapping his arms tightly around her, squeezing her into a tight hug.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” he whispered into her shoulder.
“Of course, sweetheart. Thank you for letting us,” she responded, then pressed her lips into his curls again.
Ilya let her go and took a step back, studying her face. He was still figuring out how much he wanted to share about his mother. For over a decade, he had kept his feelings about her locked away from even his own family- it was hard to be open about her. But now, for the first time, he had people he wanted to share her with. He wanted Shane to know who she was and how much she would have loved him, and now he realized he wanted the Hollanders to know, too. Yuna and David deserved the chance to get to know the woman who raised their second son.
“My mama took care of me when I was little, but then I had to hide anything my father would have called ‘weak.’ I had to learn to take care of myself. Mama would be so happy to know there are people to take care of me again.”
“Oh, Ilya…” Yuna’s eyes were shining with tears she refused to let fall in front of him. “I wish we could have known her.”
“Me, too. But I think maybe, in a way, you already do. I am glad to have so much of her in me. And you are so much like her in the very best ways.” Now Yuna wasn’t shy about letting the tears spill over as she wrapped her arms back around him. Ilya reached his other arm out to David, who had been watching from the doorway, and brought him into the hug, too. He said a silent prayer as he wrapped his arms around his family. Thank you for sending them to me, Mama.
David finally managed to drag Yuna out the door after a ridiculous amount of promises to eat the leftovers and call them if they need anything and let them know how he’s feeling in the morning. Ilya let out a breath as he rested against the closed door, and was surprised to find more tears in his eyes to wipe away. He was a world class athlete in one of the most violent sports possible, and this damn family was turning him soft and making him cry more than he ever had in years. He added it to his mental list of “favorite things about the Hollanders.”
He trudged upstairs in his slippers, and realized the bed had been remade with his nicest sheets. His fluffiest towels were folded at the foot of his bed, as if he were a guest in his own home. He was starting to wonder if Yuna was a literal witch. It was the only way she was able to know everything about him and take care of every little detail.
He got in the shower and soaked under the spray, letting it wash away the day-old layer of grime and filth. He was in tune with his body at a professional level, and was relieved to find he no longer felt like it was betraying him. He was still achy and tired, but in a way that could now be healed with proper rest. He considered jacking off to thoughts of Shane, but the realization that he was too tired even for that had him turning off the water and toweling off. He pulled on a pair of boxers, sent a goodnight text to Shane, and snuggled in for the night, the most at-peace he’d felt in a long time.
In his dream, Yuna and Irina were chatting by the lake at the cottage. He was watching from afar when he was gently pulled away, and he heard Shane’s voice calling out to him. “Sorry baby, I didn’t mean to wake you. You can go back to sleep,” Shane whispered as Ilya stirred at the feel of the mattress dipping beside him. Ilya just scooted closer to him, wrapping his arm around Shane’s waist to hold him as close as possible. Ilya pressed his cheek against Shane’s chest, and rested where he could hear his steady heartbeat.
Ilya smiled as Shane not-so-subtlety felt his forehead by running his fingers through his hair, and then pressed a kiss to the top of his head. It was exactly the same thing his mother had done just hours ago. Shane learned from the best. “How are you feeling?” he whispered into the dark.
“Better,” Ilya sighed as he fell back to sleep, resting comfortably in the love that enveloped him.