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Nearly ten months had passed since Ilya and Shane retired, and life was treating them very well.
Having two children kept them busy at home, along with their son’s youth league practices and games, the PTA at his school, the foundation, and renovations at the cottage. They maintained enough celebrity outside of hockey that a few brands had kept them on as ambassadors and they even gained new deals with contractual duties that never took them further than Montreal. Shane was constantly contacted regarding consulting for MLH and minor league teams, while ESPN was offering Ilya a blank check to accept a sportscasting position in time for the next season. And just a few days ago, Yuna had received an email from Netflix who wanted them to host a home cooking show after a few clips she’d taken of them bickering one second and then being playful and lovey dovey the next while making Christmas dinner went viral on Instagram. They had a lot of options to weigh, and the future looked nothing but bright.
One of Ilya’s favorite things to do post-retirement was pick Leo up from school. Morning drop off wasn’t as fun, but he and Shane did their best to go together every day. But the rising temperatures made him desperate to get rid of his long curls he’d let grow out for a couple years, so long he could tie them into a low bun, and he was able to squeeze in with his barber after a last minute cancellation. So Shane had gone without him, and Ilya beat them home by just a few minutes and counted down each one until they returned.
When the front door finally opened, the sounds of his family filled their home and filled Ilya with warmth. The tap of Anya’s claws in the foyer merged into the baby’s sweet babbles and Shane’s Wow and Oh really as Leo recounted his adventures at recess. But it all came to a halt when they found Ilya in the kitchen, and Shane and Leo gasped simultaneously.
“Papa, what did you do??” Leo shouted in Russian, eyes and smile wide.
Ilya grinned at him and then over at Shane, his wide eyes identical to their son’s but the way his mouth hung open hinted at something different from the delight on Leo’s. Shane looked like he wasn’t breathing. Ilya hadn’t informed them of his plan. If he had, Shane would’ve talked him out of it. It was no secret that his husband was obsessed with his hair, Ilya was too, he was vain enough to admit it. It was part of his signature, his brand. One of the first deals Yuna ever negotiated for him was a three year agreement with TRESemmé, including several campaigns and commercials, but that had wrapped a long time ago, and he was no longer obligated to keep the long locks and was more than ready for another big change.
Leo tossed his backpack and lunch box on the dining table and dashed across the room to stand before him, his hands out making grabby motions. Ilya bent down obediently and Leo began petting over his shaved head.
“It feels weird. Like a kiwi.”
Ilya chuckled. The feeling was definitely strange. But the clean and close cut also felt free. He felt lighter and cooler. And he wouldn’t need to spend so much time on styling and upkeep and they would save so much on hair care products.
“But does it look good?”
“Looks mad cool!”
Ilya praised and then slightly corrected his pronunciation of a slang word that he must’ve picked up somewhere in Ilya’s Russian rap playlist, and then he smacked a kiss into his fringe.
Their son was brilliant. He was so big now, almost seven, a natural leader on and off the ice and an incredible big brother. Ilya had offered SJ as his first option for a name, Shane Jr. A joke mostly, one that became a retroactive prophecy when he was born. But Ilya had already suggested Leo by then, and Shane loved it, a perfect fit for their bright and brave boy.
Ilya stood up right and set his gaze on Shane and their daughter in his arms.
Lyla only stared back at him, completely frozen and silent. Ilya’s heart sank.
She was born on the day they won their very last cup, exactly an inch longer and a little over a pound more than Leo. The first bloom of tiny freckles were sprinkled across her nose and her eyes were the exact shade of brown as Shane and Leo. As fate would have it, she inherited a headful of C-shaped curls from David’s side of the family, honey blond from their surrogate, and so much like Ilya’s before he’d cut them all off.
He had tied two little pigtails in the top half of her hair that morning, each side like golden leaves sprouting upward. She had smiled and giggled the entire time he’d done her hair and changed her into an adorable peach colored dress, and afterwards when he kissed her cheeks and tickled her belly where little flowers were embroidered.
But now, Ilya was horrified to see the bottom lip she’d also gotten from Shane start to tremble just moments before she unleashed a wail and fat tears began falling down her round cheeks and onto the poofy tutu of her dress.
“She doesn’t recognize you,” Shane said, snapping out of his daze as he cuddled her close.
Anya hadn’t either initially. But that only lasted for a second before she caught his scent and recognized his voice.
“Leylochka, it’s me, papa,” he said and approached them.
If he could just hold her, she would know.
He got one hand under a thrashing little arm before her shrieks grew louder and he flinched away, like he’d been burned.
Shane patted over her back until the cries turned to pitiful hiccups and sniffles. Ilya hated seeing his children cry, being the cause of it was a type of agony he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
“Lyla,” he called softly, “Moya zvezdochka.”
But she turned her head away defiantly, looking over Shane’s shoulder.
There was a tug on the back of Ilya’s shirt, and Leo was there behind him with his arms raised. Ilya only hesitated for a second or two before his brain understood and he picked him up, mirroring Shane with their daughter.
“Look, Ly-ly,” Leo said. “It’s papa.”
Lyla peeked over at him as Leo smushed his cheek against Ilya’s and rubbed his hand over what little hair he had left.
“He got a hair cut, so he looks different but it’s our same papa. He made us banana pancakes for breakfast, remember? They were so good, papa!”
Ilya squeezed him in a hug, because they didn’t get to hold him like this much. More often than not, Leo was the one trekking around the house with Lyla on his hip.
“I’m glad you liked them, lvyonak.” Ilya kissed his hair again before he set him down and instructed him to get a snack.
Anya creeped out from where she’d hidden under the table to follow him to the fridge.
Lyla continued to stare with those dark, doe eyes, and even with Leo’s encouragement, she still looked at Ilya like he was a stranger. He couldn’t bear it.
Suddenly, he was struck with a brilliant idea thanks to his brilliant son. If she wouldn’t let him hold her, then maybe…
“Come here, solnyshko.”
Shane approached cautiously. When he was within reach, Ilya crouched and grabbed the back of his thighs.
“What are you- Ilya!”
Ilya lifted him up, Lyla along with him.
The plan went to shit immediately when she started crying again just as Ilya’s muscles started to scream. The added twenty pounds of baby threw off his balance and it was not as easy as carrying Shane alone. Shane kept one arm secure around a wiggling Lyla and the other gripped tightly around Ilya’s shoulders until it started smacking at him to be put down, which was far from his usual reaction.
He quickly set Shane back on his feet but held onto his waist and arm while he gathered his bearings. Lyla’s cries only intensified. He could just make out laughter coming from Leo at the kitchen table.
“Oh my god,” Shane shouted, “you could’ve made me drop her!”
“I don’t know what else to do!” He shouted back and then regretted it instantly, arms drooping at his sides in guilt and defeat.
“Not that!” Shane tucked Lyla’s face into his neck and exited the kitchen to get her to settle.
Great, now two of the people Ilya loved most in the world were mad at him.
Anya let out a whine of disappointment, suggesting the true number was three, but Leo was grinning even with a long pouch of yogurt hanging from between his teeth.
Ilya pointed a finger at him. “Not funny.”
“Sorry, papa,” he said but didn’t look very. “What’s for dinner?”
Lyla steered clear of him for the rest of the afternoon, no matter how hard he tried to get close. She played with Leo and Anya while Ilya moped from the other side of the living room. She cuddled with Shane in the office while he checked their emails and Ilya sat in silence on the other side of the desk, like a student in the principal’s office. He tried to distract himself from the ache in his chest by starting a new lego set with Leo, but even their six year old could tell that his mind wasn’t in it and he was content to just let Ilya hold the instruction manual.
She wouldn’t let Ilya buckle her into her car seat, and he didn’t even try to get her out when they arrived at Yuna and David’s for dinner. But fortunately, Shane wasn’t actually mad at him, instead had kissed Ilya’s hand and then kept his own on the back of Ilya’s head, gliding over his fuzzy hair the entire drive there.
Lyla unleashed a frantic chant of nananana the second she spotted Yuna in the kitchen, smaller and more rustic than theirs at home. She all but flew from Shane into her nana’s arms, likely relieved to see someone she recognized, and hid her face in Yuna’s long hair. Ilya rounded the island, putting some space between them so he didn’t make her feel worse, even though he felt like he was being ripped in half.
Leo went to David, sniffing at the pots on the stove. The tension in the car had gotten to him too, and there had been no I’m here, Nana and Grandpa! when they walked through the front door, like always. Ilya’s face felt heavy and he couldn't manage the hint of a smile for his in-laws.
“What’s going on?” Yuna asked, expression riddled with concern.
“Papa got a hair cut,” Leo stated matter of factly, then climbed on the step stool David, whose expression matched that of his wife, brought for him and took over stirring duties.
Shane came to Ilya’s side and explained what happened, and Yuna looked like she was trying not to laugh as she brushed her fingers through Lyla’s curls, comforting her in the way Ilya wanted to.
“You reacted like this, Shane,” David said, keeping a steadying hand on Leo’s back. “After the second or third time, I kept my hair the same way until you were older. Thankfully, you got over it pretty quickly. It was usually just that initial shock.”
David hadn’t changed his hair much in the twenty years since Ilya first saw him at the draft, it was just more gray. But he had seen many photos from David’s youth, and the impressive curls that would be present if he chose to grow it out again. Ilya almost managed to lift the corner of his mouth at the thought of grumpy baby Shane made even grumpier by his dad getting a haircut, but not quite. Not when he was currently living that nightmare with his own child.
“How long was that exactly?” Shane asked before he could.
David looked at Lyla, then Ilya, and back to Shane, before he admitted, “Just a few minutes.”
“It’s been hours!” Ilya cried and Shane’s arm around his waist kept him from face planting on the island.
“It’s going to be okay, son.”
Yuna nodded in agreement. “I think you look very handsome, honey.”
The compliment would be nice if Lyla wasn’t hiding from him still.
“Mom, not helping.”
“It’s true.”
“Let’s eat,” David cut in with his eyes on Ilya, something encouraging within them, but Ilya couldn’t receive it, not with the cloud of misery hanging over his head.
“If she lets me sit at the dinner table,” he said.
Shane hushed their eldest when he snickered from the stove.
Lyla did allow everyone to sit at the table, eventually. That pouty bottom lip trembled and trembled until Ilya was at the opposite end from her booster seat in between Yuna and Shane. She watched him like a hawk, and he barely ate any of his dinner, even though it smelled and looked amazing.
Usually quick to stuff handfuls of food into her mouth, Lyla sat perfectly still and waited for her Dada or Nana to feed her. Ilya wanted to do that. Wanted to kiss her little cheeks because Yuna got her some new bows, white with little cupcakes charms in the center and clipped one onto each of her pigtails, and she was so cute, even though she’d probably bite him with her four tiny teeth if he got close again.
The drive home was no better. Lyla pointedly looked out the window when she wasn’t occupied by Leo.
When they got home, Ilya helped their son with bath time, ensuring that he didn’t forget to scrub a couple places he often did. He tried to do the same with Lyla, but she was not having it. So he leaned against the vanity, envying Shane for getting to wash her hair, until squeaky clean Leo came looking for him so they could keep working on their lego project, an elaborate NASA spaceship. Ilya made an effort to be more involved this time, and then he tucked him into bed when he dozed off with the half finished replica in his hands.
Ilya stood in the doorway of Lyla’s nursery as Shane got her to sleep in one of the rocking recliner chairs they saved from Leo’s next door. It had been a few years since the beautiful safari mural in Leo’s room was replaced with vertical stripes of the Centaurs’ colors, at Leo’s behest. But for Lyla, they had hired the same local artist to install a night sky on the wall behind her round crib. Full of swirls of pastel blues and purples. Countless stars, four floating whales, fluffy clouds, and a perfect circle of a white moon in the center above the crib.
They made a beautiful scene in front of the ethereal world and in the dim light of the moon lamp on the dresser. When Shane had shared the one name he thought would be fitting for their daughter and the specific way he wanted to spell it, Ilya had shed tears. Even more when Shane added the middle name that would honor his mother who their daughter would only know through photos and the stories Ilya shared with her. His eyes watered then too as he watched them, completely lost on the outside.
“Ilya,” Shane called out gently.
Ilya took a stuttering breath.
“My heart is breaking.”
“Baby,” Shane sighed and got up. He carefully placed Lyla in the crib, and then he crossed the room and pulled Ilya into his arms.
“She’s just a little scared.” Shane’s voice was low as he ran his fingers over his head. After a few more quiet moments, he tugged him back to look at him.
Ilya sniffed.
“You do look very different.” Shane’s fingers came to rest just behind his ears, holding him in between his grasp, the tips pressing in slightly, and Ilya recognized the mesmerized look in his wide eyes. “I am a little mad that you didn’t let me say goodbye. But you look so fucking good. Even sexier, though that should be impossible.”
Ilya sniffed again and pouted, “Now is not the time for flirting.”
Shane smirked before kissing him, for what had to be the millionth time and still felt brand new.
“She knows who you are,” he said, certain and adamant. “She will remember by tomorrow. Or we will go buy a wig.”
Ilya groaned into Shane’s chest and let himself be held.
He was still wide awake in the middle of the night, long after Shane effectively distracted him and showed him just how much he loved his new look with his entire body.
When cries cut through the silence from the baby monitor, Ilya jolted. Because Lyla had been regularly sleeping through the night well that past few months. A nudge against the side of his bare chest told him that Shane woke instantly, per usual, but wanted him to go. He was going regardless.
He made it into the hall, before something occurred to him and he doubled back and darted into the closet. He quieted Shane’s mumbles of confusion at the ruckus as he flung open the bottom drawer on his side, though the boundary was very loosely enforced, and pulled out the first thing he saw that technically was his, a zip hoodie with the 1990s Centaurs logo over the breast, a gift from Yuna.
The hood was secure over his head before he set one foot into the nursery.
Lyla stood at the front of her crib, hands gripped around the bars, cheeks pink even in the artificial moon light.
“Hi, my love.” Ilya kept his voice low and soft. “It’s papa. You’re my favorite girl. I love you.”
He held his hands up and slowly crept forward as he continued to speak gently until he stood beside the crib.
Lyla was weary, wet eyelashes stuck together. The dark eyes framed by golden lashes were, somehow, even more devastating than they were on Shane and Leo. But maybe it was because this was his youngest, his baby, his little girl.
She blinked up at him, but she didn’t fight when he got his hands under her arms and carefully picked her up.
Her body was unbelievably tense, heart racing.
But then her hand slid over his own racing heart and upward until it curled around his gold chain, right beside the cross, just like Leo had done as a baby and still did sometimes when he was sick and needed a cuddle.
Lyla whimpered and sort of collapsed onto his shoulder, nuzzling under his chin like she was trying to get as close as she could.
“Oh,” Ilya gasped in relief. “Yes, I’m your papa. My little star. My baby. I’m sorry. I love you. I love you... I love you... I love you.”
She quieted down as he hummed a Russian lullaby and swayed gently around the room. He made sure she didn’t need a diaper change and even when she was back to sleep and her hand fell limp from his necklace, he didn't put her down, didn't sit. Just pressed his lips into her soft curls and kept her warm in the folds of his hoodie for another minute, and then another and another.
He wasn’t sure how long he was there when he noticed his husband in the doorway, his eyelashes wet too.
“I am never getting my hair cut again,” Ilya told him.
Shane wiped his eyes as he made his way to them and wrapped his arms around them both.
“I mean it, even if I become Rapunzel. You remember that movie Leo watched every day last summer? You will braid my hair, yes?”
Shane chuckled.
“Of course, but she might be more scared of you then.”
Ilya shot daggers at him.
“I’m sorry. It’s not funny. We will do what Dad said. No dramatic haircuts until she’s old enough not to be confused.”
“I am a terrible-“
Shane kissed him, a firm and warm press that stole his breath.
“Don’t finish that sentence. Ever, okay?”
The sincerity in Shane’s voice and eyes was unmissable, inescapable.
“Okay,” Ilya whispered and received another kiss, longer and deeper, the final stitch repairing his heart from the trauma of the day.
“I will cancel my appointment next week with the barber. And Leo’s.”
“You haven’t already?” he nearly shouted but caught himself at the last second, so it came out as more of a squeak.
Shane shushed him and kissed his cheek and then Lyla’s. Then he ushered Ilya back to their room, their daughter along with them.