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Shane Hollander is smiling.
Sure, that’s not inherently strange. Shane smiles at a lot of things. He smiles when the team plays well, and when Hayden gets back from the bar with beers for everyone and a ginger ale for Shane without him having to ask, and when Hayden’s kids call him “uncle”.
But Shane never smiles at his phone. The only people he texts outside of Hayden are his parents and his manager, and he doesn’t smile much at any of those conversations. Hayden thinks he probably gets Shane to laugh sometimes, but seeing as Shane is currently standing in front of Hayden, this smile is not his doing.
Shane turns his phone off and puts it in his pocket while he gathers up the rest of his things. Hayden thinks about asking him who he was texting, but he knows he won’t get a response. He texts Jackie that he’ll be home soon and leaves the rink without mentioning it.
It’s probably just his mom or something.
⪛⪛⪛
The smile continues to grow. Every morning at practice, Shane checks his phone obsessively right before leaving the locker room and right after getting back from the ice. Hayden notices him sitting in his car for several minutes before leaving, smiling down at his phone in his lap.
At some point, Hayden beats Shane back to the locker room and notices his phone buzzing in his cubby. The notifications are from a contact named Lily, but Shane has that setting on that blocks text previews when the phone is locked. It’s a constant, uninformative stream of “Lily: iMessage”.
Lily.
So Shane has a girlfriend.
Or Shane is, at least, talking to a girl. A girl named Lily. But if Hayden knows Shane—and he really hopes he does, after all these years—he doesn’t do casual. So odds are, this is a girlfriend. A girlfriend named Lily.
Hayden’s kind of mad that Shane hasn’t told him about her. He’s mostly happy that Shane is connecting with people that aren’t him.
Shane gets back to the locker room and picks up his phone immediately, smiling at just the name on the screen; he doesn’t even have to unlock it. Hayden watches out of the corner of his eye, hoping to catch a glimpse of the texts, but Shane puts the phone in his pocket without checking them.
When Hayden leaves, he sees Shane sitting in his car, grinning at his lap.
⪛⪛⪛
He gets an opportunity during an intermission in a game against Ottawa. No one’s worried about this game; they don’t need to spend this time strategizing. So when Shane’s phone on the bench between them buzzes with the all-too-familiar “Lily: iMessage”, Shane picks it up.
“Who’s Lily?” Hayden asks when Shane puts the phone down again.
“Hm?” Shane looks up at him. He definitely heard. He’s covering.
“Lily,” Hayden repeats, nodding to the phone. “You smile like an idiot every time she texts you.”
“Do I?” Shane shrugs, glancing away. “She’s a friend.”
Hayden rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Bet you smile like that every time I text you, too.”
But the next time Shane picks up the phone, Hayden gets a glimpse of the screen:
Lily: hat trick
Shane: Don’t jinx me.
Lily: jinx you? sahne hollander?
Lily: oyu cannot be jinxed
Shane: Are you drunk?
Lily: what makes you think that
Shane: Don’t stress me out when I have a game to play.
Lily: i a home
Lily: drinkign to cope with wathing you play
Lily: butn othing is going on don’t worry
Shane: Right, you can’t handle watching me play sober.
Lily: is painful
Lily: your backhand is so weak
Lily: it phyiscally huts me
Shane: Fuck off.
Shane: And go turn your autocorrect on.
Lily: no 🖕
Hayden frowns. Some of that reads like flirting, sure, but the rest of it reads like chirping. This is not the way he would imagine Shane treating a girlfriend. Shane is so quiet and kind—if he can be endlessly sweet to Hayden, surely he would treat a girl like a fucking angel.
But it’s not like Hayden would really know. He’s never seen Shane with a girlfriend. And he’s never seen Shane smile at his phone screen like that.
⪛⪛⪛
“Lily’s texting you,” Hayden calls into the hotel bathroom. Shane’s phone is carelessly tossed onto Hayden’s bed next to him; it’s lit up with at least four “Lily: iMessage” notifications.
Hayden’s started pointing them out, every time he notices a Lily text, in the hopes that it will normalize this enough for Shane to tell him about her (and because it’s fun to watch Shane squirm). So far, Shane continues to deflect and deny.
Shane appears from the bathroom and snatches the phone up. There’s that smile.
“What’s she up to?” Hayden asks. Small talk. Normal small talk.
“Nothing.”
Fuck.
Hayden rolls his eyes. “Dude, it’s been, like, at least a year that she’s been texting you all the time. Who is this girl?”
Shane shrugs. “No one. A friend. A hookup.”
A hookup? Hayden’s eyebrows immediately shoot up. Shane doesn’t do hookups. Also, hookups don’t make you smile like a fool when they text you.
But that’s better than “a friend”.
Hayden scrolls on his own phone, not really looking at anything. Just trying to perform, like, an air of nonchalance. He’s not sure it’s working. “I feel like you can’t still classify someone as consistent as Lily as a hookup, but okay.”
“It’s nothing,” Shane mutters. “I’m, uh, heading out.”
Now that is even more surprising than Shane having a casual hookup. “Where to?”
“Nowhere,” he says, sending off another text and already heading for the door.
“Lily’s?” Hayden teases. Obviously, Lily lives in Montreal. They’re in Boston. Maybe he’s going to meet his other casual hookup, if he’s really not the Shane Hollander that Hayden thought he knew.
“It’s nothing,” Shane mutters.
Hayden gives him a suspicious eyebrow. “Sure sounds like it.”
Shane leaves. Hayden stares at the door when it closes after him. Who the fuck has his best friend acting like this?
Hayden isn’t awake when Shane gets back to the hotel room that night. He manages not to bring up Lily the next morning, even as Shane’s phone lights up over and over again. He resists the entire day, right up until he glances over at Shane’s phone in the locker room before the game.
Lily: have fun losing ;)
Shane: Fuck you.
Shane: Marlow’s out, anyway. We’re not losing.
Lily: keep thinking that
Lily: sex is more fun when you’re angry
Shane: Fuck off.
Hayden looks away before the texts can get more explicit. This girl is fascinating. She’s sleeping with Shane Hollander, consistently, and has been for a long time now, but seems to drive him crazy. He smiles more than Hayden has ever seen at her texts, but answers her with the same aloofness and frustration he displays on the ice. And, most baffling of all, she sounds like a Boston fan. At least, decidedly not a Montreal fan. Unless she’s just riling Shane up for fun. But ribbing Shane about hockey is markedly different from making fun of his obsessive organizational standards or early bedtime—these aren’t the kind of jabs someone would make for the flirty fun of it. Hayden wouldn’t have thought that was something Shane would put up with in a partner.
She must be fucking gorgeous.
Hayden bumps his shoulder against Shane’s. “Ready to fuck up Boston, Captain?”
Shane cracks a smile, powering off his phone. “As ready as ever.”
“It’ll be easy,” J.J. comments from a few feet away. “They’re missing one of their star players.”
“They’ve still got Rozanov, though,” mutters one of the rookies.
“And we’ve got Hollzy!” J.J. exclaims. “I’m not worried.”
“No pressure,” Hayden mutters, getting a laugh out of Shane, who’s already back to his phone. Hayden decides to push his luck: “is Lily watching?”
“Hm?” Shane glances up. “No—I mean, yeah, probably. Not, like, here. I don’t know.”
“Yeah, obviously not here,” Hayden laughs. “She lives in Montreal, right?”
“No.” Shane’s distracted again. He’s flushed—Hayden doesn’t want to know what kind of filth is on his phone screen right now. Hayden does not want to think about Shane Hollander sexting. Any more than he’s already had to, at least.
“No?” Hayden raises his eyebrows. “Dude, how’d you meet this girl?”
Shane frowns. “Like we’re not on the road all the time.”
“Right. But you don’t leave the hotel.”
Wait.
Wait.
“Shane,” Hayden whispers, so that no one else will hear him. “Does she live here? In Boston?”
Shane doesn’t answer him. Which is a good enough answer.
“Oh my fucking god,” Hayden laughs. “We’ll talk about that later. That’s fucking crazy, dude.”
“I probably won’t be back until late tonight,” Shane mutters. If at all, Hayden supplies in his head.
“Dude, what do you mean you don’t know if she’s watching the game? You’re telling me that she lives in Boston and she’s not in this fucking rink right now? For what’ll probably be your best game of the season? Does she even like you, man?”
Shane shrugs. “I told you, it’s casual. It’s not like she has any obligation to be here.”
The way his thumbs are racing across the phone screen is decidedly not casual. But Hayden’s not going to push his luck.
It is Shane’s best game of the season. He hardly steps off the ice. He wins two face-offs, both against Rozanov. Rozanov spends the entire game chirping at him, and Shane reacts, but clearly not as much as Rozanov would like him to. Rozanov slams Hayden into the boards during the second period—Shane skates over to check on him immediately. He's fine, so Shane leaves with a reassuring squeeze to Hayden's shoulder and a renewed fire in his eyes.
After, the team is jubilant. In this unfamiliar locker room, they cheer and holler and clap each other on the backs. Nearly everyone comes up to Shane with some variation of "Fucking killed it, Hollzy!"
With each new congratulation, Shane's responses become more and more clipped as he tries to push people away. He's back on his phone. Hayden nudges his shoulder. “You’re popular tonight.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Hollander!” Someone calls from across the locker room. “You coming out to celebrate?”
“Where are we going?” Hayden asks before Shane can answer; he gets at least three different responses, so the rest of the team divulges into an argument about locations and forget that they ever asked Shane in the first place.
With everyone else sufficiently distracted, Hayden asks Shane, “you coming back to the hotel before Lily’s?”
Shane frowns at him. “I’m not—”
“Dude, stop fucking lying to me. You can have a girl in Boston, I really don’t care.”
Shane starts putting things in his bag—everything has a particular spot and goes in a specific order; Hayden’s memorized it after all these years. “Yeah, I’ll drop my stuff off.”
Hayden nods, throwing things into his bag in a much more haphazard way. “I think I’m gonna head straight back. Call Jackie and the kids.”
“Okay,” Shane says. This is the kind of meaningless small talk he’s never really engaged in. Hayden’s trying to open up the conversation—sometimes, all it takes to get Shane talking is to start on something safe and mundane. Today, unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to be buying it.
“I’ll see you there, then,” says Hayden, squeezing Shane’s shoulder as he steps away.
“See you,” Shane echoes.
Hayden opens his phone in the driver’s seat of his rental car to a flood of congratulatory texts, and Jackie and his mom checking in on him after that check from Rozanov. He tells Jackie that he’ll call her as soon as he’s back at the hotel and texts his mom a thank you and a reassurance that he’s alright. Just as he goes to put his phone down, a text comes through from Shane.
Shane: I won’t be back until later, actually.
Shane: Sorry.
Hayden: Don’t apologize weirdo
Hayden: I’m not your mother
Hayden: Tell Lily I say hi
⪛⪛⪛
Hayden wakes up one morning to photos of his best friend plastered across the tabloids. This isn’t inherently unusual, sure, but these aren’t photos of Shane on the ice, and these aren’t the publications that would normally report on him. These are gossip magazines posting photos of him and some girl, holding hands on the streets of Montreal. The headlines identify her as Rose Landry, an actor that Hayden’s sure he’s seen in something but who has never really made an impact on him.
This is an impact.
Hayden: SHANE
Hayden: Why the fuck am I finding out you have a girlfriend from the fuckign news
Hayden: These are things you should tell a guy
Hayden: I know you’re awake text me back asshole
Hayden: DO NOT LEAVE ME ON READ
Shane: Sorry.
Hayden: THERE YOU ARE
Hayden: Tell me everything
Shane: There’s not a lot to tell.
Hayden: Well you’re serious enough about her to be seen in public
Hayden: That is an actual consideration you’re both famous
Shane: Well, we met at a restaurant. So it wasn’t really a private thing to begin with.
Hayden: You’re so confusing dude
Hayden: You have one girl who you’ll barely even mention in front of people for YEARS and then the next one you’re all “oh this movie star? Yeah we’re going on public dates so what”
Hayden: You’re so weird
Shane: Rose doesn’t really care. So
Hayden: What’s she like
Hayden: She’s fucking hot
Hayden: Good job there
Shane: Do I need to call your wife?
Hayden: I can acknowledge that your girlfriend is hot
Hayden: The entire world knows your girlfriend is hot she’s famous
Hayden: Your girlfriend is not the woman I have 3.5 kids with
Hayden: Tell me about her!!!
Shane: She’s great. She’s funny. We share a lot of interests.
Hayden: You are so weird
Hayden: Congrats or whatever
⪛⪛⪛
Hayden sees Rose at a total of two games before she disappears completely from their rinks and Shane’s conversations. After about a week of her being conspicuously absent, Hayden confronts Shane.
“How are you and Rose?”
Shane blinks up at him. They’re back in Montreal for a few days, so the two of them have taken Hayden’s kids to a park to give Jackie an afternoon to herself. Shane’s sitting in the grass with Arthur. “We’re fine.”
“You just haven’t been talking about her much.”
“I mean, she’s in France. Filming. So, like, time zones. We haven’t talked much. Did I talk about her much in the first place?”
“You mentioned her. Like, ‘I’m going on a walk so I can call Rose.’ ‘I can’t hang out this weekend, I’m going out with Rose.’ You literally haven’t said her name in a week.”
“Well, I just don’t think about her that much right now.”
Hayden is, honestly, really impressed by Shane’s inability to read subtext and yet mastery of speaking in riddles. Giving up, he flat-out asks, “Did you break up?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Something like that.” Shane blocks Arthur crawling away with his arm, and his gaze drifts to the girls on the swingset nearby. Hayden’s been watching them out of the corner of his eye. They’re not fighting, so everything’s fine.
“Jesus Christ, you don’t tell me anything.” Hayden sits back on the bench, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you, like, good? You really liked her.”
“I told you we’re fine,” Shane repeats, like it’s obvious. “We’re friends. We’re good.”
Hayden raises a suspicious eyebrow. No one should be this nonchalant after a breakup. Even stoic Shane Hollander. “You still hooking up?”
Shane stares at him blankly. “She’s in France.”
Hayden rolls his eyes. “Besides that.”
“Just because you’ve never dealt with a breakup like a responsible adult doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t,” Shane laughs. “We can just be good friends.”
Hayden groans. “I’m so glad I’ve never had to deal with a breakup as an adult. Everyone says dating as an adult is hell.”
“But we can’t all marry our high school sweetheart.”
“Did you have a girlfriend in high school?” Hayden asks, giving up on getting more information about Rose.
“No,” says Shane. “I played hockey.”
“So did I.”
Shane hums in agreement, dropping the conversation. Always so painfully vague. Hayden gets up and goes to check on the girls, leaving Shane and baby Arthur alone.
That night, Jackie, Hayden, and Shane are sitting around Hayden’s kitchen table with a glass of wine, a beer, and a ginger ale respectively. Jackie has been chattering about what they’ve all been up to while the team has been gone; about the WAG meetups and Shane’s parents stopping by to watch games with the kids. Hayden has watched Shane slowly check his phone more and more frequently, no doubt counting down the minutes until he can acceptably excuse himself. Shane starts leaving the phone on the table instead of putting it back in his pocket, and it starts lighting up with texts.
Lily: iMessage.
Jesus Christ. The man just broke up with his famous movie-star girlfriend and he’s already back to the secret Boston hookup girl. The one that Hayden still knows so little about. She lives in Boston, but she doesn’t come to his games there. She’s mean to Shane. She’s not a Metros fan. She drinks, probably fairly heavily. Her name is Lily.
Shane likes her enough to keep going back to her, after, or maybe even during, what was a very happy relationship for him.
Well, Hayden thinks, if he’s still having phone sex with his secret girl, that would explain why he’s taking the breakup so easily.
⪛⪛⪛
There’s no better feeling than a victory on home ice. And there’s definitely nothing better than that victory being against Boston.
Shane was hardly even on his phone before the game. The whole team was pumped up on adrenaline, and that paid off on the ice. Now, people are shouting and shoving each other around the locker room in celebration; Hayden instinctively stands closer to Shane in their corner to guard him from the majority of the chaos.
Not that Shane needs guarding. He could probably throw Hayden over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes if he wanted to. But he doesn’t like noise. Or, like, movement. He really doesn’t like the pressure to go out and drink after a big game. So Hayden does what he can, and makes it just a little harder for people to get into their corner.
“Good game,” Shane says, low enough that only Hayden hears him over the din.
“Damn good game,” Hayden laughs, nudging Shane’s shoulder. “Go text your Boston fan.”
“Hm?”
“Lily.” Hayden shrugs. “I mean, she lives there. This must be a big conflict of interest for her. Home team loyalty.”
“Oh, yeah.” Shane laughs a little, unlacing his skates. “She’s got that. For sure.”
Woah. Hayden has Shane talking about Lily. This is uncharted territory. He has to step so fucking carefully. “Yeah, so go gloat.”
“She’ll be pissed,” Shane mutters. There’s a certain fondness in his voice—like there’s something endearing about how little this girl seems to care about his sport. Well, it’s not like Hayden can blame him. It must be nice to have someone who doesn’t see him as the fucking hockey god that the media calls him. He is everything that they say, but that doesn’t mean he needs to think about it outside of work all the time.
“As long as she’s not a Rozanov fan, I’m sure you’re fine,” says Hayden.
Shane grins. It’s almost devilish. “Yeah. I’m sure I’m fine.”
⪛⪛⪛
The very next morning, J.J. strolls into the locker room after practice and declares, “Rozanov’s out of the Nashville game.”
Every head in the room turns to him.
“What?” Hayden asks.
J.J. shrugs. “He didn’t fly to Nashville. With his team.”
“Why?”
“He’s still in Montreal?”
J.J. rolls his eyes. “I don’t know. ESPN is saying he didn’t fly to Nashville. That’s the whole story.”
“Maybe he’s sick,” someone muses.
“He’s not,” says Shane, who has just appeared behind J.J. His brow is furrowed as he brushes past him and toward his locker. “I mean—he seemed fine, yesterday.”
“Did he get hurt?”
“We’d have noticed if Rozanov got hurt yesterday.”
“Maybe he got too drunk and is nursing a hangover.”
“I’m sure the rest of his team is, too. That’s no reason not to fly.”
“Is he still here? Or did he fly somewhere else?”
“Are you plotting to burn down his hotel or something? Why do you need to know?”
“I hope he’s out for the rest of the season. That’ll knock them out of the playoffs, for sure.”
“Dude, don’t go wishing bad luck on people. We don’t know what happened.”
“That witchy girlfriend is getting to you. I’m not, like, manifesting anything. I’m just saying that it’d be nice to not have to fight Rozanov for the playoffs.”
Hayden stops focusing on the conversation to notice Shane, who is on his phone, frantically sending off texts. With the brightness turned all the way down and the screen angled away from him, Hayden can only see a wall of blue messages; he can’t make out any words, or the contact at the top of the screen. Someone without a profile picture, but knowing Shane, he’s the kind of freak who wouldn’t have anyone saved with a profile picture.
“You okay?” Hayden checks.
“Hm? Yeah. Fine. That’s weird, right?”
“What?”
“Rozanov,” Shane clarifies, shoving his phone into his bag. “It’s weird that he didn’t fly with the team.”
“It wouldn’t make the news if it wasn’t.”
“Yeah. I hope he’s okay.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Shane Hollander?”
“I just—I just don’t want anything bad to happen to anyone. He’s a good player. It’d be a real loss to the league if he wasn’t playing much.”
“And a real win for us. Stay on your team’s side, Captain.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Shane shrugs him off. “I just hope it’s not anything bad.”
⪛⪛⪛
They’re in a hotel in Chicago when the news breaks that Rozanov is in Russia for a funeral. Hayden sees the headline as he’s absently scrolling on his phone, files it away as something that will probably be relevant in the future, and moves on. He clicks over to answer Jackie’s texts, which have been complaining about Ruby’s picky eating all day. The hum of water through the pipes fills the room as Shane turns on the shower.
Hayden’s phone lights up with an incoming call, and he answers it immediately. Jackie’s face fills the screen, bringing an immediate smile to Hayden’s face.
“Hi!” She chirps, closing a door behind her. “I thought you might be out.”
“We have practice in the morning,” says Hayden.
“Like that’s ever stopped you guys.” Jackie sits down on their bed, propping the phone up in front of her. “I just put all the kids to bed. How was your day?”
“Good. The flight was easy. Not much else. What’d you do?”
“Played housewife,” Jackie sighs. “I’m going to fuck off to America for a week in the off-season and let you deal with these three on your own just for the fun of it.”
“You’d be right to,” Hayden agrees. He knows it’s a joke—Jackie’s the one who keeps wanting more kids, and she’s more than capable—but he does feel bad every time he’s traveling for a long time. He feels even worse now that she’s pregnant again; luckily, Jackie has a lot of support from the WAGs, her sister, the moms in that one Facebook group she’s always on, and Shane’s parents when they drive in from Ottawa.
Jackie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to see you. And I have, like, a baby due in the off-season. Maybe next year.” She shrugs. “Yuna was around to drop something off at Shane’s, so she came and hung out. That was nice. You should tell Shane to hurry up and find a girl so she can have her own grandchildren instead of adopting ours, though. I really thought things were promising with Rose. Did you ever find out what happened there?”
“He doesn’t tell me anything,” Hayden sighs. “They still talk. He keeps complaining about time zones and shit.”
“They still talk in a friend way or in an on again way?” Jackie demands.
“Friends,” Hayden says confidently. “I think he’s talking to his Boston girl again.”
“The one from, like, a fucking decade ago?”
“Yeah, it’s something like that.” Hayden frowns. “I don’t know. Every time I ask, he tells me that it’s casual, but all he ever does is text her. All the time. Not just when we’re in Boston.”
“Doesn’t sound very casual to me.”
“That’s what I keep saying! And he went right back to her after Rose. Like, especially for Shane, this doesn’t seem like anything casual.”
“I bet she’s scared to commit,” Jackie hums. “You know Shane would in a heartbeat. He’s the most consistent person I’ve ever met. But he’s, like, Shane Hollander. And if she’s not already in the public eye, that’s a big fucking step to take.”
“Sure,” Hayden agrees, “but leading him on for years?”
“Maybe she’s not leading him on. Maybe they’re perfectly clear about it. I mean, if he tried to commit to someone else and just ended up going back to her, he’s probably happy just to have her and is willing to let it be whatever she wants.”
“You’re saying all of this way too confidently for how little information we have,” Hayden laughs.
“Our information is that Shane is smitten. All of this makes sense in that context.”
On the bed next to Hayden, Shane’s phone starts buzzing with a call. The water is still running, so Hayden reaches over and picks it up, to make sure it’s not his mom or their coach or anything important like that. His eyebrows shoot up as soon as he reads the screen. “Speaking of,” he says, showing the screen to Jackie: Incoming call: Lily.
Jackie hesitates for a moment, then whispers, “answer it.”
“No,” Hayden scoffs, tossing the phone back on Shane’s bed.
She groans, dropping her head back against the headboard. “You’re too nice.”
“It’s Shane! I can’t just invade his privacy like that.”
“It’s Shane! The godfather of our children! It’s fine!”
The shower turns off. Hayden rolls his eyes. “Okay, shut up, he’ll be back in here in a minute.”
“Fine.” Jackie glares at him. “You’re too nice.”
Jackie starts recapping the show she’s been watching to him, and Hayden settles in to enjoy getting to hear her voice. They’re not very consistent about calling when he’s away, because of time zone differences, his game schedule and her responsibilities with the kids, so it’s nice when their schedules do line up well.
After a few minutes, Shane appears out of the bathroom, wet hair falling into his eyes. He registers Jackie’s voice and smiles at Hayden, but doesn’t interrupt.
Hayden nods to Shane’s phone on his bed. “Boston Lily called.”
Shane stares at him. “What?”
“Lily called. Like, ten minutes ago. I was very respectful and didn’t answer it.”
Shane snatches the phone up, brows knitting together with worry. Hayden frowns right back. “Is that…concerning?”
“No, I just—she’s had some…stuff. Going on.”
Hayden hums in acknowledgement. “Emotional support boyfriend.”
“We’re not—”
“Yeah, you’ve told me.” Hayden watches as Shane tugs on a pair of shoes. He’s never seen him this frantic.
Shane grabs his phone and heads for the door. “I’m just gonna go…call her back.”
“Don’t have an aneurysm.” Hayden barely gets to finish the sentence before the door slams shut behind Shane.
There’s a very, very long silence.
“What the fuck was that?” Asks Jackie.
“We’ll probably never know,” Hayden sighs.
“You should—”
“I’m not going to find out.”
“You can try!”
“I make no promises.”
⪛⪛⪛
Boston.
Rozanov’s back on the ice. There’s been a renewed fury in his eyes since he came back from Moscow; Hayden’s terrified for this game.
Shane, on the other hand, is more distracted than Hayden has ever seen. He can’t keep his eyes on the puck. He’s not playing like Shane Hollander, Hockey Superstar. This is only adding to Hayden’s fear.
But even half-assed Shane is better than what most teams in this league get. Even if he can’t focus, most of the game comes second-nature to him. It’s muscle memory. He skates across the ice and makes perfect goals without even watching where he’s going.
That is, until he collides head-on with Cliff Marlow and slams onto the ice, knocking into his head and shoulder at a genuinely horrifying angle. The game stops. The entire arena stills. Hayden skates up to Shane to check on him, but is ushered away by medics immediately swarming onto the ice.
Fuck.
Hayden skates back to his bench, but doesn’t step off the ice. He stands next to the boards and watches, hands shaking.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Hayden’s seen a lot of falls. He’s seen a lot of injuries. He hasn’t seen a lot worse than that.
There’s blood on the ice. Shane’s responsive, but barely. There’s a stretcher. There’s a horrible ringing in Hayden’s ears, drowning out any noise around him.
People try to pull Hayden off the ice. He won’t go.
“Pike, he’s fine,” says someone in Hayden’s ear. In the distance, he makes out their coach’s voice, calling Shane’s parents.
Shane is being carried off the ice. The blood is being cleaned off the ice. Hayden’s teammates are dragging him off the ice.
Ilya Rozanov is still on the ice.
He has been, this whole time. He’s been hovering as close to Shane as they’ll let him get.
Fucking sadist.
Hayden knows why he’s there. He’s making sure that his competition is out. He’s trying to gauge Shane’s injuries, to know if he’ll be back for the playoffs.
Fuck, Hayden hopes he isn’t out for the playoffs.
Having seen that fall, he’s probably out for the playoffs.
Everything passes in a blur until he’s back in the locker room. The rest of the team is quiet, and no one dares step near Hayden in his and Shane’s corner. His phone is lighting up with texts. Jackie, worrying about Shane. Yuna Hollander, updating Hayden on the hospital that Shane is in, confirming that Hayden’s allowed to visit despite not being family, and telling him that they’re coming in on the first flight in the morning.
Shane’s phone, for once, is not lighting up constantly after a game. When Hayden turns it on, there are several unread “Lily: iMessage”s from before the game and one from about five minutes ago.
Hayden gathers up Shane’s things as well as his own and sends off a text to Yuna.
Hayden: Do you know Shane’s phone passcode?
Yuna: Try 1005
Hayden: 6 numbers
Yuna: 100591
Hayden: That’s it. Thank you
Hayden goes back to his hotel to leave most of his things and several of Shane’s, then heads for Massachusetts General Hospital. The front desk updates him on Shane’s condition and directs him to a room where Shane is asleep. He looks okay, all things considered. Hayden settles into a chair, texts Jackie and Yuna, and hesitates only a moment before pulling out Shane’s phone and typing in the passcode Yuna gave him, clicking over to find Lily at the top of Shane’s messages.
He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help but scroll back and read a few messages.
6:41 PM
Lily: good luck ;)
Lily: and keep your eyes on the puck
Shane: I always have my eyes on the puck.
Lily: not when you play with me
Lily: i’m too pretty :)
Shane: I’m not coming over tonight.
Lily: booo
Lily: i know you miss me
Lily: play good, hollander
7:59 PM
Lily: call me as soon as you can
Hayden frowns as he clicks on the contact to pull up the number. Does Lily play hockey? Do these two have recreational hockey-playing dates? Well, they’re not dating, so maybe it’s recreational hockey-playing foreplay. That’s the kind of weird shit Shane would do, anyway.
He picks up his own phone and copies the number over, typing up a text.
Hayden: Hey Lily, it’s Hayden Pike. I got your number from Shane’s phone. I’m assuming you were watching the game? Shane has about four contacts and you’re the only one who’s not currently getting updates, so I thought I should reach out. He’s okay, he’s at Mass General with a concussion and a fractured collarbone, but it’ll be fine
Hayden: Sorry if this is weird. I know you guys are really private. But he’s been talking to you for years, so I thought you might like to know
The three little dots on Lily’s side of the screen pop up and disappear a few times. Hayden watches, afraid that he’s overstepped. Eventually, a text comes through:
Boston Lily: thank you
Boston Lily: i did see. it looked pretty bad
Boston Lily: it is not weird. thank you
Boston Lily: are you with him?
Hayden: Yeah
Hayden: He’s asleep
Hayden: His parents are flying in tomorrow, too
Boston Lily: okay
Boston Lily: good
Hayden: You live in Boston right?
Boston Lily: yes
Hayden: Do you want to come visit him?
Hayden: Like during visiting hours tomorrow
Hayden: I can let you know when his parents won’t be here, if you don’t want to cross paths with them
Hayden: I don’t know how much they know about you guys
Boston Lily: they do not know
Boston Lily: that would be nice
Hayden: I’ll get out too if you want
Hayden: Shane seems determined for us not to meet
Boston Lily: i do not think you would like me much
Boston Lily: thank you
Hayden: I’m sure I’d like you plenty
Hayden: If Shane likes you, you can’t be that bad
Boston Lily: yes well
Boston Lily: i am bad influence
Boston Lily: you will tell me if there are updates?
Hayden: Yeah for sure
Hayden: I’ll text you after I talk to his parents
Boston Lily: thank you
Hayden clicks out of the text thread, but doesn’t have anything else to do. He sits back in the chair and crosses his arms over his chest. He stays until Shane wakes up, but he doesn’t have a lot to say with the amount of painkillers he’s on. When Hayden’s sure he’ll be fine, he heads back to the hotel for a few hours of sleep. He picks up Shane’s parents from the airport in the morning and they head to the hospital together. He pries into their schedule until he gets something concrete enough to text Lily, then leaves and makes himself busy to avoid the urge to go back to the hospital while he knows Lily is there.
⪛⪛⪛
Late that evening, Hayden goes back to the hospital in the hopes that Shane will be lucid enough to talk before he has to fly home the next morning. The door is securely closed when he gets up to Shane’s room, so he knocks briefly before pushing it open.
At first, Hayden doesn’t recognize the man beside Shane’s bed. Maybe that’s because he’s sitting in a way that Hayden has never seen him, with his legs folded up under him, to make his large frame as compact as possible so that the chair can be pulled right up next to Shane’s bed. Or maybe it’s because he seems so perfectly comfortable, in a casual gray hoodie, scrolling on his phone, shoulders relaxed and turned slightly towards Shane’s head. Or maybe it’s just because there’s no reason in hell for Ilya Rozanov to be sitting in this room, late in the evening, while Shane sleeps peacefully with his hand inches from Rozanov’s knee.
Rozanov glances up briefly when Hayden opens the door, then goes right back to his phone like he’s not probably here to murder Hayden’s best friend.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Hayden demands. He has enough sense to close the door behind him before he starts cursing Rozanov out, but he stays right there, leaning against the door handle in case he needs a quick escape.
“The same thing as you, probably,” Rozanov says. His voice is tense, but it doesn’t sound particularly angry or malicious.
“I’m visiting my friend,” says Hayden, because that is decidedly not what Rozanov is doing. Because he and Shane aren’t friends. He and Shane are rivals, at best. It’s probably more accurate to call them, like, mortal enemies. Fated since the dawn of time, or something along those lines.
“Yes,” says Rozanov, like Hayden is stupid.
“My friend who is here because of an injury that you caused,” Hayden adds.
Rozanov stares at him. “Do I look like Cliff Marlow to you? Do you need to get your eyes checked?”
“Fuck off,” Hayden mutters. “Why are you here?”
Rozanov shrugs, going back to his phone. “You did not tell me you were coming back. Or I would have left.”
“How would I have told—why would I have told you what my plans were? What the fuck, Rozanov?”
“Pike, you were texting me—” Rozanov clicks over to a different app to check something—“four hours ago.”
“I—what?” Hayden stares at him. The only people he’s texted all day are Shane’s parents, Jackie, and Boston Lily, who had told him that she was going to stop by to visit Shane a couple hours ago. Maybe Rozanov scared her off. “Dude, what’s going on? I’m so fucking behind.”
Hayden doesn’t get an answer because Shane stirs, eyes locking on Rozanov. His mouth curves into a smile and he whispers, “Ilyaaa. You stayed.”
Rozanov’s attention is immediately diverted to Shane. His face is turned away from Hayden now, but he can hear the smile in Rozanov’s voice. “I said I would.”
Shane frowns over at the door. “Who’s here?”
“Hayden,” says Rozanov. Hayden has never heard his name on Rozanov’s lips—it curls strangely in his accent.
Shane groans. “Nooo. He can’t know.”
Rozanov chuckles. “I don’t think that is something to worry about right now, Hollander.”
“No, Ilya, he thinks you’re a girl. He says, ‘Shane, Boston Lily is texting you.’”
“Yes. Because you can’t keep a fucking secret.”
Shane scrunches up his nose. “Because you text me all the time.”
“Yes, maybe.” Rozanov shrugs. He glances back at Hayden. “My whole team knows about my ‘Montreal girl’,” he says, like it’s a secret that Shane doesn’t need to hear. “They know so much about her.”
“What’s her name?” Hayden asks, starting to put the pieces together.
“Jane,” says Rozanov, turning back to Shane.
Shane blinks at Rozanov. “Your Montreal girl?”
Rozanov sighs. “Go to sleep, Hollander. I will tell you all about my Jane when you are sober.”
Shane’s hand reaches out blindly; Rozanov seems to instinctively catch it with his, squeezing gently. Shane smiles dopily. “Will you still be here?”
“Yes,” says Rozanov.
Shane hums. “Good.” His voice drops to a whisper: “Remember: don’t tell Hayden.”
“Don’t tell Hayden what?” Rozanov whispers back, smirking.
“Don’t tell Hayden,” Shane repeats, brows knitted together, hand tight around Rozanov’s, “that I love you. He’ll laugh at me.”
Rozanov swallows thickly. “Go to sleep, Hollander.”
Shane closes his eyes contentedly, and it only takes a few moments before his breathing evens out and his hand goes slack in Rozanov’s. Rozanov takes a deep breath and looks back at Hayden. “You go to sleep, also. He will be fine.”
Hayden coughs awkwardly. “Yeah, I just…wanted to check on him.”
Rozanov takes his hand back and settles back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go back to your hotel. You have empty room—call your wife.”
Hayden settles his hand on the door handle. “I’m flying out in the morning. But I’ll, uh, let you know if I hear anything from Shane’s parents. You, like, definitely don’t want to cross paths with them.”
“Thank you,” says Rozanov. “You are a good friend.”
Hayden opens the door and goes to step outside.
“Pike,” says Rozanov, at the very last moment. Hayden looks back at him. He sounds like he’s trying to be his usual assertive self, but his forehead is creased with worry. “This does not leave this room.”
Hayden stares at him. “Fuck, yeah, obviously. I’d never say anything.”
Rozanov nods curtly. “Thank you.”
Hayden closes the door behind him.
He immediately texts Jackie.
That doesn’t count as saying anything. Jackie’s basically an extension of him. That’s how marriage works.
Hayden walks to his car and starts it, but can’t convince himself to drive away. He’s not sure he’s focused enough to be safe on the road, anyway. His mind is spinning. Honestly, the longer he sits there and thinks about it, the more the puzzle pieces start to line up. Boston Lily is Ilya Rozanov. Of course she is. Of fucking course.
A secret that Shane won’t say anything about to anyone? Check.
Playing hockey? Check.
Being mean to Shane? Check.
Living in Boston, drinking heavily, and not treating Shane like he’s God’s gift to hockey? Check, check, check.
Having “stuff” going on the week that they were in Chicago? Check.
It’s too perfect. It makes too much sense. Not only do all of the clues line up—of course they do, because Lily is Rozanov, this isn’t some bullshit conspiracy built on half-truths—but the whole thing lines up for Shane. Everything that he knows about Lily and everything that he knows about Rozanov line up to make Hayden somehow understand how he has Shane wrapped around his finger.
And from the conversation he just witnessed, it seems like Rozanov might be equally obsessed.
Hayden hates that.
Because all of this, and all of this making sense, might mean that he has to stop hating Ilya Rozanov.
⪛⪛⪛
Hayden: How’s your head
Shane: Fine.
Shane: My mom keeps yelling at me for being on my phone.
Shane: Like I’m not a grown adult.
Hayden: Lmao
Hayden: You have Boston Lily to text anyway
Shane: I hate you.
Hayden: You love me
Hayden: Not as much as you love Ilya Rozanov
Shane: STOP
Shane: How’s Jackie?
Hayden: Mad at me 100% of the time
Hayden: So. Normal
Hayden: Eager for this kid to be born already
Hayden: Nine months is a long fucking time to sit around and wait
Shane: Does she have a name yet?
Hayden: Jacks wants to call her Amber
Hayden: So yes that’s her name
Shane: I like that.
Hayden: You’re sure you don’t want to come over for the game tomorrow?
Shane: I still shouldn’t be driving that far.
Shane: You’re welcome here. My parents would be glad to see you.
Shane: But Jackie probably won’t let you leave.
Hayden: I’m trapped until the season starts again
Hayden: The kids miss you!
Shane: You literally can’t guilt trip me. I have a concussion.
Hayden: But you’re their cool gay uncle
Shane: I’m actually disowning you and your entire family.
Hayden: Does that count the unborn child? Cause we’ll have to find her a new godfather
Shane: Don’t demote me!! I didn’t mean it!
Shane: In the event of a horrible accident I want custody of all four of them :)
Hayden: Why do I feel like you’re going to orchestrate a horrible accident
Hayden: Have your own kids and stop trying to steal mine
Hayden: Fuck I can’t make those jokes anymore
Hayden: Wait can I
Hayden: Wait is it homophobic to say that I can’t
Hayden: YOU CAN HAVE CHILDREN
Shane: Don’t say that like you’re manifesting it.
Hayden: I did not mean to say that gay people can’t have kids
Shane: I wasn’t worried.
Hayden: I did mean to say that I can’t make those jokes when they’re encouraging you to have children with Ilya Rozanov
Shane: WE’RE SERIOUSLY NOT TOGETHER
Hayden: You literally said that you loved him
Shane: I WAS DRUGGED
Hayden: THAT MAKES IT MORE TRUE
Hayden: I am my most genuine self on morphine
Shane: When the fuck have you been on morphine?
Hayden: Part of the job
Shane: Rose is calling me. I have to go.
Hayden: Oooh
Hayden: Do I need to tell Lily
Shane: DELETE HIS NUMBER
Hayden: No :)