Archive of Our Own

2022

Rozanov Homestead changed a lot over the years since Ilya Rozanov’s first farmer’s market opening. Since he first bought the plot of land and fixed it up into a decent starter farm, and put long months of additional work into a house of his very own. In the years since, Ilya acquired more acreage, leveled out more crop fields, and incorporated new and interesting plants into his rotation every year.

What started as just a few fruit trees blossomed into a small grove for various apples, pears, cherries, and some juvenile concord grape vines. He added more peach trees too, since they seemed to be a hit and always flew fast from his market table, and once they were mature and producing large meaty fruits, Ilya could feel better about keeping some peaches for himself. The greenhouse saw the addition of some tropical flavor and flair with two new passion fruit vines, and one of the outer fields sprouted a pumpkin patch for a few years in a row now.

Some hired hands worked alongside Ilya during the peak summer months or whenever it all got to be too much to handle alone. The group consisted mostly of a handful of the local rural high schoolers looking to make an extra buck over the summer, especially the ones looking for experience in farming and livestock. They not only picked and fertilized and maintained the fields and the barn, but would take a couple days out of the week to operate the farm market booth in Little Italy, at the same stall number as when Ilya first arrived, so Ilya could have a deserved day or two off.

The farm had been crazy successful, and Ilya was the happiest he’d been years.

Perhaps the most noticeable of changes, the ones that sank welcomingly into Ilya’s overflowing bursting-with-love heart, was the addition of a black silicone wedding band on his finger and the little toy tractors and plushy farm animals that began to make an appearance in his quaint farm house over the last three years. It was the home he had filled with love from the people who began to matter most to him, who made the house feel like home, and the main source of fuel for his unobstructed happiness. It was the pride that stemmed from the person who brought home game winning pucks and replica hockey trophies from major personal achievements and team championships.

It was the soft pitter patter of small feet that filled the house with activity and bedtime stories and giggles. Playing hide and seek between the corn stalks and in the equipment shed. Picking strawberries and blueberries and finding a tiny mouth and chubby cheeks stained with the bright colors of the fruit juices that revealed more eating than filling a basket.

The joys of day to day life on a farm with a family, the very love Ilya lost many years ago, had come back to him tenfold.

Shane Hollander knew what he wanted as soon as Ilya reentered his life, and perhaps felt it from the start, deep down and way back in the years of their youth, before and after Ilya had vanished. He wasn’t about to let Ilya slip away again. There was a fair share of fear and anxiety that came from being with Ilya in the beginning, since being out wasn’t something that had ever been done before in professional hockey. Words had always been thrown around carelessly in practices and games for as long as Shane could remember, not directed at him or anyone in particular, but just used as banter, although it didn’t harbor the most welcoming environment wherever Shane played once he knew he fell into the specific categories of the banter. And banter was an insulting way to gloss over the fact that the words were, in fact, slurs.

But Shane felt stronger about Ilya than a few people’s opinions and their banter could try to darken, and a year after he clinched the Cup with Ilya in attendance he went public about his sexuality and that he had been in a committed relationship with a man, adding that it hadn’t hindered his ability to play hockey or be a good teammate. Especially after he brought the Cup back to Montreal for a second consecutive year. The back-to-back was a terrific way to punctuate his “fuck you” to those in the hockey world that had anything to say about him or his personal life.

His agent helped bat away the worst of the vitriol, which was a great show of support and weight off his shoulders. Ilya despite his better efforts couldn’t stay anonymous for long when other patrons of the farmers market noticed Shane Hollander frequently spending more time at one particular farm stand. He didn’t mind much, but once in a while an overbearing fan would come up to the table and want to chat and ask too many personal questions, so he’d come up with something to do back in his truck and have someone else assist them, organizing crates or cleaning up his sales ledger, so as to not entertain those types of people.

Shane and Ilya did it together, and they came out stronger for it. Though, their souls felt so tight knit and intertwined that it would have taken quite a lot to sever them. Both men were fixtures in the community for their own reasons anyways: Ilya for his high quality homegrown produce that everyone in Montreal was trying to get their hands on, and Shane for his elite level of success and loyalty to the city and their beloved hockey team, and the reception was mostly good, great even. Shane’s team was accepting overall too, and if they weren’t they knew better than to talk back to their captain.

The condo in Montreal was soon sold and Shane moved out to the country. He gained a longer commute to games and practices but also a warm body, a loving embrace, and a full heart to come home to every night, which was well worth everything he’d left behind in the city. It was a no-brainer, really. He’d never ask Ilya to give up his livelihood and move to the city. Shane admired Ilya’s humble way of living and his passion for it (and his big strong body) and felt that keeping the farm running was a lot more inspiring than slapping rubber disks with a stick over a sheet of ice, as skilled and specialized as he was in that department.

They turned their little farmhouse into a retreat, a haven away from the blinding lights of the rink and the harsh scorching sun and bitter snow of the seasons. Items in cabinets multiplied, the closets filled with double the clothing. Two brushes by the sink, two cars in the winding gravel driveway, two hearts beating for each other under one roof.

The game-winning puck from his first professional championship and the Russian nesting doll from their youth were featured front and center on the bookshelf in the living room.

Shane proposed one summer when they took leave to his lakeside cottage, in the evening on the dock with all the stars in the sky illuminating them, ethereal in all their blissful softness with each other. The campfire crackled far behind them on the patio and later enveloped them in warmth as their fingers tangled together on the fireside couch. They spent the night laying with each other, kissing and twirling the ring on Ilya’s finger and letting it sink in that they were forever.

Wedding bells rang (figuratively speaking, through someone’s iPhone on the sound system) one summer later, and the two got hitched on the farm in front of a small group of friends and family (mostly Shane’s, but Ilya was never envious because everyone there felt more like family more than his own family ever did, apart from his mother) and some of the other out professional hockey players, who’d formed a small community of love and support for each other.

It was a beautiful ceremony in the flower gardens of their country refuge, at the outer edge of the property where the fields met the woods. Ilya donned his dressiest black cowboy hat with his charcoal suit, which Shane had protested against a little in the beginning of planning, but actually seeing him waiting at the end of the aisle with the hat on made the most sense. That was his Ilya, his humble farmer, his true love and long lost soulmate from childhood, and he didn’t want Ilya to be anything but purely himself. Shane wore a cream colored suit with some monochrome floral embroidery hidden in the lapels and cuffs of the jacket, his brown eyes glassy and big with all the emotion of the day.

Shane’s teammate Hayden’s twin girls served as flower girls and his only boy as the ring bearer, and they were suspiciously well behaved, only for Shane to find out Ilya had promised them a whole tier of cake to themselves if they held it together during the ceremony. Hayden’s wife Jackie was heavily pregnant with their fourth, and the hormones combined with her adoration of Shane and Ilya’s relationship and seeing her babies perform their duties so well reduced her into a weeping mess for the entire day. Shane’s parents, Yuna and David, sat dressed to the nines in the front row, dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs as their son proudly committed himself to the boy he spent so many years worrying over and loved before he even recognized the feeling or knew the name, the boy they welcomed into their family as one of their own, the boy who was plunked right back into Shane’s life fortuitously and probably just as much the other way around.

Ilya had a lot of fun with the kids that day. He was tender and patient with them as they told him outlandish stories about the farm and how they knew there were cows sleeping in the corn fields at night (because, duh) and the scarecrow in Ilya’s berry patch came to life and did a dance (thanks, Wizard of Oz), and he came up with some fun fantastical stories of his own that had them as engrossed and awed as if he’d told them he knew Santa Claus personally.

Seeing Ilya on the kids’ level with the twinkle in his eye tugged at Shane’s heartstrings as he nursed a ginger ale while mingling on the sidelines. How amazing would it be to have a family with this man, if Ilya was going to be as wonderful with his own kids, their kids, the way he was with those of Shane’s teammates and family. The topic was something they’d touched on here and there over time, but it had been hard to imagine the reality of it until now, with children clambering all over Ilya and sitting in his lap at one of the tables.

Shane got his man now, and together they could dream of the next big step.

After the honeymoon, they got their wedding photos back. They sat down one afternoon in the kitchen and perused the gallery. Some of their favorites, apart from the two of them posed together, were of course the candids the photographer got of Ilya and the kids getting ready for the ceremony and during the reception. The joy on Ilya’s face and the tender gaze of Shane watching their interactions from a distance in the pictures was very obviously special, and made for the perfect segue into the conversation Shane desperately wanted to have.

“I want to start thinking about having kids,” Shane began, tracking his eyes longingly between the photo on their laptop and Ilya. “Or, well, one to start with. It’d be fun, right? A little bug running around the house.” He’d rested his head on Ilya’s shoulder, breathing in the warmth of his sun-kissed skin and the spiced cologned hair product in his curls. “I want that with you.”

“Da, I want this with you too,” Ilya said quietly, turning and kissing the silky black hair on the crown of Shane’s head. “You will be a great dad.”

“You will too, Ilya,” Shane said. He grabbed Ilya’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’ll be an incredible dad. I love you so much, and I can’t even explain how much I’ll love seeing you in that role. Seeing you with Hayden’s kids just… you were so good with them. I want that for us.”

Ilya’s eyes were wet when they met Shane’s, overcome with the love he was somehow lucky enough to stumble into. Shane had given him everything he never thought he would have again, after losing Shane the first time right after the devastating loss of his mother and leaving behind the cruelty of the rest of his broken family to start his own journey alone. Adding a child of their own to this whirlwind of a life would be the cherry on top of the already perfect slice of heaven they had worked so hard for.

They took their time to research and worked through the decision of whether to adopt or to provide their own specimen to an egg donor for a surrogate, to have a child that was biological to at least one of them. There were a lot of late nights spent poring over paperwork, long phone calls, tedious forms that they could fill out in their sleep after so long, all while juggling a full-time farm and a hockey career. None of the stress would matter in the end though as long as they had a healthy baby to love and nurture.

The only setback was the unfortunate backwards minded folks in charge of vetting potential adopters, guided by callous policies set by agencies that were still not fully onboard with a queer couple adopting a child. As highly as Shane was revered in the community, old biases couldn’t be looked past after they had filled out countless applications and got background checks and they were painfully turned away. It was frustrating, to say the absolute least. Many nights Shane and Ilya spent wrapped in each other’s arms, tears in their eyes, as they wondered when this would happen for them. When they’d be allowed to be parents.

Going the other route of surrogacy seemed to not have as many setbacks, despite a similarly long timeline. Money was no object to Shane, which meant he had the means to pay for all the necessary tests and screenings and the time of a very selfless young woman, a friend of one of Shane’s teammates’ wives, who offered to carry their baby. They could make sure she was comfortable, accompany her to doctors appointments, and support her along the way as well as after the pregnancy, to ensure she recovered well, adapted back to her regular routine, and paid for a nice vacation after such a long, life altering journey whenever she was ready.

The situation couldn’t have worked out better in the long run, and it was how the Hollander-Rozanov’s ended up with a precocious, giggly curly blonde haired tyrant named Estelle running their house.

Estelle Irina Hollander-Rozanov had each of her dads wrapped around her finger from the moment she was born one crisp October day, already with a full head of hair, deep cocoa brown eyes, and by some miracle, a face full of starry freckles. It was like somehow she impossibly got a little bit of both of her dads in her genetics. She definitely took after Ilya besides her golden locks, with her spunk and sassiness and eagerness to get outside in the dirt as much as possible once she was talking and mobile.

They were smitten watching her grow into her own little person, pushing their buttons to get her way (it wasn’t too difficult to give in), discovering the big wide world around her.

Summers were the best, when the farm was bustling and Shane was done with hockey until the fall and they could just be together. Every morning Shane would wake up after Ilya was already out tending to the fields, and he’d scoop Estelle from her crib to go to the chicken coop and collect eggs - some for breakfast and some for the farm stand. She’d shriek in response to the clucking and Shane let her tiny hand fist a pinch of pellets to sprinkle on the ground for them to eat. She babbled at them and clapped her chubby sticky fingers with pellet crumbs still clinging to them, and they’d be back to the house just in time for Ilya to come inside for some coffee and fresh scrambled eggs.

During hockey season on the days Shane was off, he took Estelle outside the house to visit papa at work. With work being at home they didn’t ever have to look too far. Shane liked to joke that Ilya was a stay at home dad and it earned him an eye roll and a kiss every time. Estelle shook her arms with excitement when Ilya finally pulled up alongside them in his tractor, reaching out to her papa to hold her.

“Yeah, baby, that’s your papa!” Shane held her close to his face with a big smile plastered on him, pointing at the behemoth piece of equipment rolling toward them that dwarfed his husband, the legendary big burly farmer Ilya, in the driver’s seat. Estelle thrust herself up and down with her chunky baby legs, bouncing in Shane’s grasp with her bright eyes tracking her papa and mimicking her dad’s pointing with her own outstretched arm. They’d wave and Ilya would hop down from the cab and take them both into his arms to plant a big smooch on them.

Right after she’d started walking, Ilya built Estelle her own garden bed and taught her to plant seeds in it. She had gotten a little watering can, and toddled after her papa, following his lead and watering the sprouting green beans and wildflowers he’d helped her plant so they could grow big and strong like her.

“How big are you, moya zelonaya fasolinka?” Ilya asked while crouched in front of Estelle and her pint size garden. She raised her arms to the sky and flashed a half gummy, half toothy grin. “Sooooo big!” Ilya’s fingers darted out to tickle her every time and she filled his ears with the most delightfully musical squeals and laughter. How he loved his big girl.

Ilya loved the opportunities to return the favor when he could bring Estelle to a Metros game every now and again to see Shane play. He stood in the zamboni corner of Centre Bell with some of the team wives and their kids, holding Estelle up to the glass during warmups. The arena was loud, not only from the masses of screaming fans, but from the music and subsequent thumping bass that ripped through the air during warmups and the breaks between plays. To keep her delicate ears intact they bought a pair of purple noise-cancelling headphones to protect her. Shane skated by, mouth open as if he were screaming, waving to them as she kicked her legs out, her headphones teetering off her tiny head. Ilya made sure she always wore her baby Metros jersey with “Daddy 24” on the back and a pint sized captain’s C adorning the front.

The very first time Estelle came to a game, Shane had to stop himself from dropping to his knees and turning the whole rink into a puddle of his happy sappy tears. Seeing his handsome husband, their baby girl and their matching golden mop of hair watching him behind the plexiglass was crazy in the best possible way, filled him with so much pride for the little family he was so lucky to have and that they could come out to cheer him on. Estelle was too young that first game to wave on her own but Ilya picked up her little hand from where she rested in the baby carrier on his chest and flapped it for her as Shane skated around. As she got older, she eventually learned to wave on her own, and every game the waves got more wild, more excited, and Shane’s heart swelled even bigger.

It was a cozy, fulfilling life they’d built, and sometimes still entirely unbelievable.

July 2022

Shane awoke early with the warmth of Ilya at his back. It was a rare occasion when he slept in, having been hard-wired with early starts on the farm for so long. They had just returned from a family getaway to the cottage in Ontario, and Ilya decided one more day of rest couldn’t hurt. It’s why he had hired help, after all. Ilya had sent them to open the farmers market that morning in his place.

Shane nuzzled his face back toward where Ilya’s was hooked over his shoulder, and Ilya stirred, grabbing him a little tighter. Neither spoke, perfectly content with their bubble of quiet before—

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump. Louder louder louder.

“Daddy! Papa! Up up up!” Estelle shrieked when she burst through the door and threw herself at the edge of their bed. Her bed frizzed golden hair sprayed all over her face, aptly themed chicken pajamas wrinkled and slightly askew on her small frame. “The chickens are hungry.”

Both Shane and Ilya groaned and then broke out into laughter, their short-lived peace interrupted by the little love of their life. Shane hoisted Estelle up onto the bed with them and he along with Ilya attacked her with tickles and smooches, and she screamed and kicked and giggled.

“The chickens will have to wait until our morning tickle time is done,” Ilya bellowed as he dove back in to pinch her belly while she screeched. Once everybody needed to catch their breath, Shane and Ilya laid back down and Estelle sat up with her arms crossed.

“No, Gerard is starving. I can feel it,” Estelle stated plainly, in reference to her favorite hen she gave the moniker to. Ilya laughed again, his eyes closed like he wanted to fall asleep again. Estelle tugged Shane’s hand. “Come onnnnnn daddy!”

“Why doesn’t papa take you? I think he wants me to start some coffee.”

“Noooo, papa doesn’t know how to feed the chickens!” she protested. Ilya cracked an eye and looked over at her, amused. In her defense, Shane had always been the one taking her out to gather eggs and for feeding. To Estelle, that wasn’t Ilya’s area of expertise.

“Ah, yes malysh I do not want to feed chickens wrong,” Ilya said in a low voice, leaning over to ruffle her hair and kiss Shane at the corner of his lips. “Will be the start of a great and terrible disaster. Fires and famine will spread across the province.”

Shane huffed out another laugh and conceded.

“Okay my little star, go put on your outside clothes and I’ll meet you at the back door.” Estelle hopped right off the bed and eagerly ran back to her room to change while yelling about how she wasn’t little anymore. Ilya leaned over and caged him on the bed between his arms.

“Shane Hollander,” Ilya began and kissed him sweetly. “Big sexy superstar hockey player. Perfect husband. Hot dad. Now you have ‘chicken whisperer’ added to your resume. Metros give you a million dollar bonus on your next extension for your new skills, ah?”

“That’s Shane Hollander-Rozanov, Chicken Whisperer Extraordinaire, to you,” Shane corrected with a smirk and pulled him down into a deep kiss.

“You are absolutely right, my bad.”

“Daddy, let’s gooooo!”

Shane laughed against Ilya’s lips before rolling out of bed. “I guess that’s my cue.” He threw a pair of joggers on and one of the threadbare shirts he wore around the farm, and stretched over the bed to press a chaste kiss to Ilya’s mouth once more while he was still under the covers. “We shan't upset the lady or keep Gerard wasting away for another moment.”

“I’ll make coffee, moya lyubov,” Ilya said while Shane lingered over him.

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Ya lyublyu tebya. Big hot daddy.” Ilya tapped his cheek and grinned.

“Shut up.”

The morning greeted them with warm air and a soft breeze, the sky streaked with oranges and pinks with the sun coming up over the fields and the trees. The leaves rustled quietly in the wind. Shane made his way to the chicken coop with his basket and the feed in one hand and Estelle’s tiny hand gripping his other. She skipped at his side and let out a still too tired yawn, anxious and hurried to see her beloved chicken and make sure she was not the subject of animal cruelty (all the chickens were fed the night before, they were just fine). Shane had tamed her hair somewhat before they walked out the door into two petite pigtails and they bounced with her movements all the way to their destination.

Gerard, sure enough, was waiting at the gate of the wire fence surrounding the coop for her morning visit and vittles once they got around the barn. She was a very patient, docile hen that Estelle took a shine to once she was a steady walker and allowed to explore on foot amongst the chickens. The bird was big fan of following along after her little human around the nooks and crannies the barn when she wasn’t busy laying eggs and pecking off the ground. Neither Shane nor Ilya really knew where their daughter came up with the name, but it stuck and Gerard became a legend of the household.

“Lock your fingers,” Shane instructed once they got to the edge of the chicken wire. Estelle threw her arms in the air and linked her fingers together so Shane could lift her up and over into the pen.

“Wooooooo,” she cawed from her mini flight through the air and touched down in the grassy dust. “Mornin’ everybody!” Shane followed her into the pen right after.

Immediately the little flock of chickens surrounded her in a chorus of bawking, bobbing their necks like stiff theme park animatronics and shifting their beady eyes. Gerard bullied her way through the crowd to stand at Estelle’s feet.

“H’llo Gerard, my darling!” Estelle exclaimed and leaned forward to hug her chicken and plant a loud open mouthed toddler kiss to her neck. “Mwah!”

“Gentle, baby,” Shane reminded her. Estelle giggled and tugged on his pants, her bright brown eyes twinkling up at him, signaling that she was ready to give them their food.

Shane crouched down beside Estelle and let her scoop handfuls of pellets to toss on the ground. The chickens rapidly dispersed to collect their breakfast so father and daughter could be left alone to invade the coop for their eggs. There were just over a half dozen they were rewarded with inside the coop. Estelle delicately grabbed them one by one and set them in the basket very gingerly after another reminder from dad, so they didn’t crack.

When it was time to go back to the house, Estelle pouted and no longer wanted to walk. Ever gracious toward his precious baby, Shane carried her back on his hip with her face buried into the crook of his neck. He managed to open the door to the house with the hand that was supporting Estelle’s weight, the other hand carrying the basket of eggs, and passed through the threshold with a kiss on her cheek. They came in to find Ilya in the sunny yellow kitchen with pine brown cabinets, and he turned around from the coffee pot with two full mugs, setting them down right away to take the basket from Shane, a look of concern pointed at the three year old.

“Saying goodbye to Gerard is never fun,” Shane murmured in a quiet explanation, rolling his eyes sarcastically.

“Ah,” Ilya hummed, a small crooked smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He hunched over just a tad to meet Estelle at eye level and brushed her curly pigtail out of her face. “Moya zvezdochka, do you want eggs and French toast for breakfast?”

“Da, papa,” she answered shyly. “I want Fruitsloops crust please.”

“Ah, my specialty,” Ilya acknowledged. He made her French toast once upon a time with a crumb coating of some crushed Fruit Loops cereal that was at the end of the bag, not enough for a whole bowl, and she raved about it for days. It grew to be a frequent request of hers or sometimes used as little trick to pull her out of her sour morning moods. Shane gagged at the sight of it. “Of course, my love. Can you help me?” Estelle nodded, reaching her arms out to be taken and he grabbed her. “You need to have some real fruit too, how about klubnika?”

“Da, papa.”

The two got to work whisking eggs and slicing bread. Estelle sat on the counter and Ilya poured a small handful of cereal in a zipper bag for her to smash. Shane sipped his coffee, his back resting against the opposite countertop, and felt overwhelmingly in love at the sight. It never got old.

After breakfast, Ilya spent some time reviewing his finances, doing some balancing and pre-planning for winter crops while Estelle got some TV time and Shane cleaned up the kitchen. Shane finished his tasks first and found Ilya at his desk in the den, draping his arms over his shoulders and Ilya leaned back into him. Ilya tipped his head back, lips pursed, and Shane chuckled softly at his silly face.

“Gimme kiss.” It didn’t take much for Shane to give in to him either.

Estelle had followed Ilya out into the tool shed in the late morning, clad in a too large tee shirt under some mud stained overalls, to retrieve a plastic beach pail and shovel, and waddled back to her personal garden bed. She had accumulated some other tin buckets a year ago from someone’s driveway that they were throwing out, and just because she was her father’s daughter she begged to go back and get them for the plants she wanted to grow. Ilya helped arrange them around the raised bed and filled them with soil for her flowers. This year she picked black-eyed Susans and Russian sage, and whatever ended up blooming from a packet of random wildflower seeds. They were a hardy, wispy bunch of flowers to match their hardy, wispy, wild girl.

She walked up to Shane, who was parked at the top steps of the porch.

“Papa said if I pick weeds in my garden I can have ice cream in the pool.” Estelle stated this as if it were everyday conversation, so plainly and confidently, like obviously this was the normal reward for picking weeds. Her little wading pool was waiting in the yard for a fresh splash of cool water from the hose on a hot day like today.

“Did he now?”

“Mhmmm.” She nodded her head over-dramatically, tight lipped, bright eyed. It melted Shane. Turning quickly on her heel, Estelle traipsed back to her garden box and began digging around amongst the cherry tomato vines, which were growing tall in their cages, and stalks of sprouting bell peppers, her produce of choice for the summer.

Shane’s eyes lifted across the yard where Ilya was in front of the barn doorway in the dirt, almost finished replacing the cords on the weed whacker. Ilya met his gaze naturally and sent him a casual wave, and Shane shook his head, laughing into his hand. Ilya put the gadget away and walked back to the porch, sitting down next to Shane.

“I take it you’re filling her pool this afternoon?” Shane asked as they laced their fingers together. Ilya brought his hand up and kissed his knuckles. “And there’s ice cream involved?”

“She cannot keep a secret,” Ilya laughed. His head fell forward and curls dangled in front of his eyes. They were slightly damp with sweat near the roots. “She has to show me full bucket of weeds or else no deal.”

“You’re a good farmer,” Shane said softly. He leaned over and knocked Ilya’s shoulder with his. Estelle was still busy in the distance filling her bucket one by one with the pesky weeds. They could hear her faintly gabbing to herself. “You’re an even better dad.”

“I am just lucky.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Rozanov. I’m the one who got lucky. She’s you. I got two of you.” Shane turned his head towards Ilya, eyes up to meet his husband’s. “My two loves.”

Shane was even more in love with Ilya now since they became dads, and he never thought it was possible to feel that way. As much as he heard it from everyone else - from his parents, teammates, from Hayden and Jackie, from other guys around the league that chatted with him about their families at the All Star games or during warmups - until he experienced the eruption of his heart and tsunami of emotions firsthand, he was hard pressed to believe a word of it.

As soon as he watched Ilya hold their baby girl in his arms for the first time he was gone. Estelle was a clone of Ilya, a near spitting image. Having one of Ilya had been a dream come true, but two now? The love that blossomed was too much to put anywhere, he didn’t know what to do with it in that moment other than cry. Cried the happiest of tears. Ilya wrapped him up by his shoulder and snuggled close with the baby, letting some tears of his own fall. Through every passing day since, the feeling got bigger and hadn’t stopped, it just snowballed and eventually Shane learned somehow to manage it, but it never ceased to amaze him how much he could feel for two people.

And of course, watching Estelle take after Ilya on the farm was special. Estelle loved watching her daddy play hockey but was never really interested in trying it herself. They put Estelle in skates as a test run at Centre Bell after a morning practice and she cried, yet as soon as she was back on the other side of the boards watching Shane skate around and practice she was happy as a clam and cheering ‘go daddy go!’ with Ilya. She was ever happier when she was back in the dust and dirt around the barn and the fields, jumping in mud puddles, digging her hands in the soil. Riding in Ilya’s lap on the tractor, befriending the chickens and the barn cats with her squeaky voice and gentle nature.

Where toys were concerned, Estelle loved farm trucks like the ones her papa had. The pint size plastic versions of Ilya’s equipment zoomed around the living room in lieu of a boring stationary dollhouse. For a couple of birthdays Estelle was gifted a few Barbies from the Pike girls and Grandma Yuna and Grandpa David but they weren’t used for fashion shows or playing house, nope - they were exclusively for driving around on her mini tractors, and sometimes they helped her water her plants outside, clutched in her grip. A little red barn with a plethora of farm animal toys were constantly littered in hallways and getting tucked into bed with her. And she had one mini hockey stick that pretty much was left in the toy corner of her room (which was okay on all accounts by Shane and Ilya that she wasn’t swinging that thing around, breaking stuff).

Shane was pulled from his daydream of memories when Estelle ran clumsily over to the porch to show off the contents of her pail. It was filled to the top, and quite a bit of dirt was taken with the weedy leaves and grass clippings in a clever effort to fill the bucket faster.

“Look daddy!” she squealed. “I got eight and one blizzillion hundred weeds!”

“I’m so proud of you baby!” Shane scooped Estelle up onto his lap and attacked her cheek with kisses. She shrugged her shoulders and grinned at the praise. “You did a great job. Look how many that is!”

“Yeah. I’m ready for ice cream now daddy.”

All they could do was look at each other and laugh. She certainly knew how to rule the roost.

Two hefty scoops of ice cream and one thirty minute session in the kiddie pool shortly after lunch, and Estelle was ready for nap time. Eyelids started drooping in the pool where she sat and the ice cream bowl tipped lazily into the water, melted vanilla cream swirling in the ripples. Her collection of rubber duckies floated around in the mess. So Ilya added washing the pool out to his list as he scooped Estelle up in a towel against his chest and carried her inside to her big girl bed.

When she was in dry pajamas and softly breathing in a deep sleep, Ilya found Shane in their room for a round of their own version of nap time. He crowded over Shane on the bed, drawing him into a fervent kiss.

“I still can’t believe this is all real sometimes,” Shane whispered, looking up with his big brown eyes. Ilya’s gold chain hung swinging over him.

“Believe it, malysh,” Ilya quietly urged, pressing another kiss to him, down his neck, and tugged at his shirt. “Now take your clothes off. We do not have much time before the queen returns to rule the kingdom.”

A summer rain shower rolled in and kept them inside the rest of the evening once nap time was over. Ilya prepared a few pork chops and some asparagus for dinner, and when Shane came back from feeding the chickens and closing them up in the coop he whipped up a mixture of mashed cauliflower and potatoes to sneak in some extra vegetables for Estelle. She was picky about certain flavors but potatoes were the perfect disguise for certain things she wouldn’t eat on their own. Sometimes it was carrots in the potatoes with some cheddar cheese and sour cream, sometimes it was cauliflower and parmesan like tonight.

The air outside was still warm after dinner despite the precipitation, and they got cozy on the screened porch, listening to the pitter patter of the rain on the roof. Estelle laid on the little rug and colored pictures of animals, and Shane and Ilya relaxed on the loveseat, curled up together, watching some reruns of House Hunters. Everyone on that show nitpicked the silliest most fixable things about every house or apartment they toured, and the two found it very humorous. The international spinoff was fun too, seeing old world charm in Paris or Rome and imagining a life there in another universe. They wouldn’t trade what they had in real life though, so it was all in good fun.

But now that Estelle wasn’t a baby anymore, maybe they could take some trips in the near future and pretend.

Soon it was time for a bath and fresh jammies, toy clean up, story time with papa, and goodnight kisses. Moments before Shane finished tucking her in, Estelle wriggled her way out of the blankets and stood up on the bed to yell “GOODNIGHT GERARD!” out the window.

They cleaned up the rest of the house after that, stealing a kiss or a graze of their fingers in the hallways, doing laundry, and one last couch cuddle, talking about life and the next season and anything and everything, before turning in for the night.

That’s how most days went during Shane’s summer break from hockey. Quiet, peaceful, domestic life with his family. His favorite days.

October 2022

Training camp meant the summer was coming to an end, as it did every year. The days moved quickly, and suddenly it was preseason, and suddenly it was the regular season. Summer blooms wilted, Estelle’s garden box cleared out and the old plants put to compost, the chickens moved into the warmth of the barn, the farm starting to get on its way to being winterized.

The change in season brought a change in routine, and meant Ilya spent more mornings with Estelle since Shane had to leave early for practices and team meetings. Estelle had to learn to be okay with Ilya feeding the chickens with her if Shane was already gone. The first few mornings were rough, with plenty of directives and “no, like this papa!” given by the little girl, and got better once she trusted that papa knew what he was doing.

This morning, Ilya managed to sneak out to feed the chickens on his own while his employees loaded the truck for the farmers market. He got back to the house and checked Estelle’s room, she was still sound asleep. Even Shane was still in bed; it was not yet time for him to get up for practice. He washed his hands and began preparing her Fruit Loops French toast and bowled up some raspberries for her birthday breakfast in bed.

When he cut the food up into bite sized pieces and put everything on a tray with a cup of juice, he woke Shane, who groggily joined him to surprise Estelle with a wake-up call and birthday song. She was already turning four, her short life so far flying by in a flash. In the blink of an eye, their tiny, delicate newborn was almost ready for pre-k, picking out her own outfits, writing her own name, and keeping her dads in check like a drill sergeant (to be fair, she had been doing this since the start but now she had words instead of baby babbles).

“Estellechka, good morning,” Ilya crooned in a soothing voice. “Wake up for your special day, lyubimaya.”

Estelle stirred beneath her blankets, furrowing her brow and pouting her lip with eyes pinched closed. She kneaded her eyelids with little fists.

“M’rnin’ papa and daddy,” she mumbled, blinking slowly. Shane sat at the edge of her bed and brushed her wild hair aside.

“Happy birthday, Estelle, my little star,” Shane said wetly, blinking away some water that mysteriously pooled in his eyes. He did this every year, always overwhelmed by the idea their little girl was growing up, too soon for his heart to keep up with.

Ilya knelt beside Shane and put an arm around him, and together they sang Happy Birthday to their baby while they each held one of her hands. It was slightly out of tune but Estelle’s smile grew with each word of the song and she giggled when Ilya booped her nose at the final note.

“I made your favorite breakfast, malyshka,” Ilya said, holding up the tray. “Would you like to sit up and eat?”

“Da, papa. Spasibo.”

“Of course, my darling.”

Shane got off the bed and sat cross-legged on the floor so Ilya could situate the tray in her lap. Ilya ended up holding the juice to keep it from spilling and Estelle put nibble after nibble of French toast in her mouth followed by handfuls of berries. Every bite had her humming mmmmm mm mm. Ilya plucked a couple berries from the bowl for himself.

“Daddy you have to eat too. You want a berry?” Estelle asked, holding her bowl out to Shane. God, she was sweet.

“Thank you, Stell, I’d love one.” Shane reached into the bowl to take a couple. Estelle watched him until he ate them and then went back to her toast bites. “Hey listen kiddo, do you want to help papa at the farmers market today?”

Estelle’s eyes grew three sizes bigger and smiled wide between the two of them, clearly thrilled with the idea. She started to bounce where she sat and Ilya took the tray back so it didn’t flip.

They had gone to Disney World over the bye week in Shane’s hockey schedule earlier in the year and she hadn’t even been this excited about that.

“Yeah yeah yeah yeah!”

“I have to go to practice this morning so you have to be a big help to papa. Best behavior, okay?”

“Yes, daddy. I’m always good.” She started to clamber off her bed and ran to her dresser to rifle through some clothes for her big day. Shane’s head followed her across the room. Ilya looked on tenderly, snacking on the bits of toast she didn’t finish.

“Okay, because you’re coming to my game tonight, right? And even though it’s your birthday you still have to be good to come to my game.”

“You are gonna score eleven goals daddy. I’m your lucky charm.” Estelle stepped back over to Shane, her tongue concentrated on her lower lip, with her pair of neatly folded jeans, a pint sized Metros tee shirt, and a cowboy hat that matched Ilya’s in her little grasp.

“Eleven? I sure hope so.” Shane took the clothes from her and helped her start to change.

“Yes, eleven,” she confirmed like it should be a piece of cake.

“Daddy is very talented, I bet he could do this,” Ilya confirmed. Shane glowed and shook his head with a small laugh. He started combing her hair with his fingers to give her a curly little ponytail on top of her head.

Ilya’s phone buzzed then. Estelle continued to gab to Shane about his game that night.

Troy: Morning sir. The truck’s loaded for you.

He shot back a short message.

Ilya: Thank you Troy. Should be all for today.

Troy: Alrighty. See you tomorrow then. Happy birthday to that spitfire of yours.

Ilya smiled.

Ilya: Thank you, I will tell her.

He put his phone away and clapped his hands once before rubbing them together and stood.

“Okay Estellechka, Mr. Troy says happy birthday. Our truck is ready to go. Say see you later to daddy.”

Ilya upgraded his truck before Estelle was born from his old rickety single cab to an extended cab, so her car seats could be secured safely in the back seat. He put on a tool cap as well, to contain all his harvest during transport, allowing him to stack the crates high, to the roof of the thing, without needing to tie anything down. Shane had wanted him to get a new truck sooner, seeing the old rusty one chipping away after every long haul to the city, but it was so sentimental to Ilya, symbolizing his fresh start in the outskirts of Montreal when he first bought this plot of land, that he just couldn’t do it until he absolutely needed to.

Troy pulled the truck up to the house before he left. It was outside waiting for them when they turned the porch lights on. Estelle bounded out the door with her activity bag, Ilya in tow soon after he pulled Shane up against him for a long kiss, their eyes soft for each other. It was still mostly dark out, which still sometimes felt like a cruel and unusual change from the summer when the sun would have already been illuminating the sky by this time. But, the changing of seasons was necessary to bring along the rebirth of the prosperous summer.

“See you at the game tonight,” Shane murmured, wrapping his arms loose around his husband and sleepily resting his head on his shoulder. “Sorry I have such a busy day to be away from you both.”

“Tsk tsk, no no, dorogoy,” Ilya tutted, brushing his hair soothingly with his fingers. “We are very proud of our hockey star. We will have bigger celebration when you have a day off. You know she is always just fine to have a party thrown in her honor and be the center of attention any day of the week.” Shane chuckled, his shoulders rattling.

“I know, I know. It still doesn’t make it easy,” Shane sighed, then nuzzled in further to the crook of Ilya’s neck. Ilya’s blonde curls tickled his nose. “Thank you for everything you do for us.”

“I will always do everything and more for you, lyubimyy.” Ilya’s lips found his cheek. “And for her. For as long as my heart beats.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, my Shane.”

Shane waved and watched them drive off, the dust stirring and clouding behind the truck down their long drive to the country road. He went back inside to clean the few breakfast dishes and start a light workout to warm up until he needed to leave for practice. Just prior to leaving, he moved the stack of birthday presents for Estelle into her room for later.

Morning skate was decent enough, too long for a day like today though when other things were at the front of Shane’s mind. Normally the rink was where he could go to quiet his mind, putting all his attention in his blades and his stick and the whistles and shouts of his coaches, but when all the guys kept coming up to him to smack him on the shoulder and talk about his daughter’s birthday between drills it was hard to not be a little blue. He hoped Estelle was being good and helpful for her papa. He knew she would be, since she was basically copy pasted from Ilya, but still sometimes with a toddler those mood swings could come out of nowhere.

Shane lingered in his car, hand on the keys in the ignition before starting it. He had been excused from the team meeting and game tape review. His coaching staff knew what day it was and told him to go enjoy some extra time with his daughter, so now he had some hours before he needed to take his pre-game nap and yoga. Ilya was probably still at the market, nearing the tail end of their operating hours. Tuesdays always ran shorter than the late week and weekends.

Still, his brain hadn’t quite shut off from hockey and it took him a moment to reset and recalculate the time he now had open in his schedule. A bad thing for someone as superstitious as he was about game day routines. Having a kid had relaxed his superstitions ever so slightly, because he needed to be flexible for the itty bitty girl who depended on him for everything. Despite his gratefulness to his coaches for gifting him this precious time, his routine being interrupted had him in a brief paralysis.

He shook himself out of it, started the car, and turned out of the player parking garage in the direction of Little Italy.

For a Tuesday close to closing time, the market was bustling when Shane arrived to mosey through the crowds. He couldn’t believe he’d been coming here already for just over a decade. Right around seven years since Ilya made his first appearance. It felt like home.

One of the patisseries that sold here still had some items left in the display. Shane stopped there first and got a vanilla cupcake packaged up for Estelle, then continued on his way through.

Half of the farms that were represented today had pumpkins galore. Halloween was right around the corner and they were a hot item for carving and baking. Ilya had taken a fair amount from home for his tabletop, and when Shane rounded the corner he could see most had been picked through.

For a few minutes he leaned up against a support beam and watched his husband and daughter work together. Estelle was putting a bushel of apples one by one into a bag held open by her papa for a customer. Ilya had her wearing gardening gloves so patrons didn’t think a toddler with grubby snotty little hands was touching all their produce. The customer paid and Estelle gave them a full face scrunchy toothy grin, and she galloped to the back of Ilya’s truck to pull her abandoned coloring book kit down from the open tailgate, obviously satisfied with her work and deserving of a break. She plopped herself on the ground and reached for her marker.

The coloring book was short lived, and honestly never stood a chance, because as soon as Ilya began bagging up some smaller gourds and eggplants for the next customer she was back, tugging his sleeve and asking to help. He ruffled her head and told her what else to get for the customer.

Shane could sit here all day and watch the two of them working together, but he wasn’t given the afternoon to watch, it was to give his time back to his birthday girl. He approached the table slowly in the sea of people milling about. Ilya locked eyes with him first and a wave of surprise washed over him, turning into a blushing grin. Shane put a finger up to his mouth to have Ilya keep his surprise appearance a secret. Estelle was looking at the table counting the eggplants and peppers that remained in the baskets, and eventually she took notice of a figure looming in front of her and her attention shifted.

Her eyes widened, bright and twinkling, mouth agape in the biggest smile when she realized it was Shane.

“DADDY! DADDY!”

Estelle jumped off the empty crate she was perched on and crawled under the table, hugging Shane’s legs tight when she made it to the other side.

“Daddy did you see me?! I was helping papa!”

“Yes baby, I saw you! You were doing such a good job, papa loves having your help.” Shane picked her up and gave her a long kiss on her forehead, balancing her on his hip.

“I gave out soooooo many orders, like three glabillion. And Grandma Yuna and Grandpa David called to sing to me!”

“Holy cow that’s a lot of orders,” Shane said, exaggeratedly shocked. “That was really nice of Grandma and Grandpa to call. What song did they sing?”

“Daddyyyy! They sang happy birthday to me, silly goooose!” Shane clapped his palm on his forehead and Estelle broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Of course they did! Silly me.”

“What’s in the box daddy?” She pointed down to the bakery box he was clutching.

“Well, it was a secret but I think since you’re the birthday girl, I can tell you. What do you think?”

“You can tell me,” she whispered loudly, her hand masking her mouth. “Pleeeeeeease!”

Shane whispered back into her ear and her face lit up again.

“A cupcaaaaake!” she shrieked. Shane made eyes at Ilya, nodding his head to the side at her lack of ability to keep a secret. Ilya snickered and shrugged, shaking his own head.

“It’s for later though, alright? Because you can’t get messy here in case papa still needs your help.” It was a good deflection, even though Ilya was about ready to clear his booth.

“Okay daddy.”

Estelle settled and wrapped her arms around Shane’s neck, resting her head on him. She was probably closing in on her nap time crash. So best to save the cupcake for later after all.

“Malysh, what are you doing here?” Ilya asked with a soft smile. He reached across the table and took Shane’s hand gently, rubbing his thumb on his knuckles.

“Coach gave me the afternoon off for birthday fun,” Shane explained. “Although I’m not sure how much nap time constitutes as fun.”

“Ah, he does not know what fun nap time is, anyways,” Ilya added with a wink. “We have had plenty of fun during nap time.”

“Shut up. Last I checked it’s not your birthday. So no fun for you,” Shane teased.

“Boooooo,” Ilya moaned. “Oh, also Grandma Yuna said they want to come to visit when you are back from next road trip for birthday dinner with the queen and her peasants. And probably with truckload of presents.” Shane smiled something ridiculous.

“Yeah, something tells me she wasn’t the one calling us ‘peasants’,” Ilya grinned between this statement and the next. “I’ll text her and coordinate. That will be awesome. And some of those toys will be going right back home with my parents, our house is already overflowing.” Shane paused. “Um, do you want me to take her home? She’s probably ready to go down. Then you can pack up without having to worry about her.” Estelle was quickly getting heavier in his arms as she began to doze off.

“That would be perfect, lyubimyy,” Ilya answered. “I am pretty much done here so I will not be far behind you. Thank you.”

“See you at home then, baby.”

“Da, see you at home.”

Ilya walked into the house and dropped his truck keys onto the entry table about an hour and a half later, after breakdown and the drive. It was still, silent and calm through the hallways. The cupcake box had been left on the kitchen counter.

His and Shane’s bedroom door was cracked as he walked further into the house, the visible sliver of the room darkened like the curtains were drawn. Ilya placed his hand on the knob and peered in to find Shane asleep, his pregame nap well underway. Estelle was sprawled out next to him, covered in her favorite floral blanket from her room and her tiny arms wrapped around the thick athletic muscle of Shane’s arm. What a sight it was.

Some real estate was still available on the bed, and knowing he was going to Shane’s game tonight after an early start, Ilya tucked himself into the other side of the bed. He draped an arm over Shane’s midsection and Shane shifted, eyes remaining closed but a hint of a smile pulling at his lips, and nosed into Ilya’s curls to settle back in.

They left in the same car together to head to the arena when it was time. Estelle watched a show on her tablet in the back seat and sang a song to herself, kicking her feet out, in her own little world. Ilya sat in the passenger seat, tangling his hand in Shane’s over the gear shifter, their hearts warm and cozy. Ilya kissed his knuckles like he always did on a drive.

Shane had to get right to a pregame workout and check ins with the trainers on arrival. He kissed Ilya as they parted in different directions of the building. The group of Metros WAGs had planned a special surprise party for Estelle in the family room of the arena. Even Ilya hadn’t known about it, and both he and Estelle were promptly surprised and thrilled when they walked into a room of foil balloons with the number 4 and Happy Birthday clinging to the far wall, various other colored streamers and balloons spread across the ceiling and tables, and a long table with cake and presents and pizza waiting for the guest of honor.

The WAGS decked Estelle out in a plastic tiara and satin sash which Ilya said was going to do terrible things to her ego, and she tore through her gifts which were all very personal and thoughtful. Jackie and Hayden had even custom ordered her a pair of pink cowboy boots to wear around the farm, and Ilya could only massage his brow and laugh and gripe about how spoiled she was becoming. He joked that he hoped Shane’s car was big enough to fit everything they got her. Estelle joined in on some games with the other kids and ate one too many pieces of cake until puck drop, when everyone would go up to the family suites.

For a little bit while she was distracted, the ladies gave Ilya an extra gift bag to open himself. Inside was a hard clamshell case containing two matching corded bracelets, one for him and one for Shane, with Estelle’s birthstone attached to them. His eyes instantly watered and he didn’t quite know what to say. Each lady got a big hug from him as he tried not to cry too hard.

Their level of kindness was unmatched, and still sometimes threw him for a loop, even after several years with the group of them, given that his marriage was still treated like some kind of novelty in the world of men’s professional sports and often dissected and inspected by the media to this day, which he stayed far away from for sanity. This group of ladies welcomed him and involved him in whatever he was available for and they didn’t bat an eye that he, a man, was married to Shane Hollander. It didn’t keep him from feeling like the oddball of the group sometimes, but he was incredibly grateful because he could have easily been made an outcast. Some of the other teams WAG groups were known to be quite cliquier.

Shane scored a hat trick tonight, and if he could hear Estelle over the roar of the crowd, he would have heard her screeching ‘Go daddy go!’ while jumping in her little jersey and the pink boots she insisted on wearing already, and bragging to the other kids that she was her daddy’s lucky charm. His final goal was the go-ahead goal, breaking the tie late in the third period and was officially the game winner once the clock hit zeroes. Shane pointed up at the suites after each goal, reminiscent of his Cup clinching goal when Ilya was in attendance all those years ago. It was amazing how far they’d come since then, and life had treated them well all things considered.

After the game, Ilya stood in the hall outside the locker rooms with Estelle, waiting for Shane to shower and dress to head home. Estelle was getting sleepy again, but she was a trouper staying up past her bedtime. Hayden and JJ left the room together with one of the younger defensemen and they stopped to say happy birthday.

“Can you tell them how old you are today?”

Estelle held out four fingers, three on one hand and one on the other for some comical reason. She practiced so hard the last year getting her three right that she probably forgot she had other fingers to use on one hand.

“Fourrrrr.” She latched onto Ilya’s pants and smiled sheepishly even though she knew these guys well, her little space buns that Ilya fixed her up with partway through the game bobbing around on her noggin.

All three players held out their hands for a high-five, and Estelle gave them, albeit unenthusiastically, but they all chuckled about it before saying goodnight.

Shane emerged not long after, back in his suit and hair wet from the showers.

“Hi pumpkin,” he said, picking Estelle up for a hug and a kiss. Ilya leaned closer with a pout and Shane kissed him too. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“You scored, daddy,” she said, the exhaustion clear in her pipsqueaky voice.

“I sure did,” he confirmed. “Did you see how many?”

”Ummm… fffree!”

”Yes, baby. I saved the pucks from my hat trick for you. My lucky charm, just like I told you.” He rubbed her arm and smiled down at her droopy sleepy face. “Do you want to put them up on your shelf when we get home?”

“Okay daddy. But maybe tomorrow please.”

“Alright, we can do that. Ready to go?”

“We are all ready,” Ilya chimed in. “Good game, dorogoy.” He took Shane’s hand in his. “Jackie is waiting for us outside, she has the keys.”

Shane looked at him a little puzzled.

“Ah, yes, all the girls spoiled our girl rotten,” he shared. He pointed to the pink boots on Estelle and Shane smiled, rolling his eyes. Of course they did. “Big surprise party. They loaded everything up for us.”

They said goodnight to Jackie and Hayden and the other WAGs lingering in the parking garage and drove off for a good nights’ sleep at home. Estelle closed her eyes as soon as her head leaned back on the headrest of her car seat, and Shane and Ilya chatted quietly together up front along the journey.

They changed Estelle into her pajamas at home and she went right back to sleep in her bed. Her presents were left in the car to be dealt with in the morning. Both of them crowded together in the bathroom to clean up and sunk into bed with the glow of the moon cracking through the gap of the curtains.

“I’m really glad you both were there tonight,” Shane whispered, caressing Ilya’s cheek in the dark.

“We will always be there for you, Shanyechka.” Ilya crowded in closer to seal their lips together, and emitted a low groan. “It helps when you score though otherwise we would leave.”

“Fuck you, you wouldn’t leave.”

“You are right. We are accustomed to certain lifestyle now, could not leave,” he added cheekily.

“You’re the biggest asshole,” Shane said and folded into Ilya’s chest.

“If I stopped being an asshole, you would leave. You love it,” Ilya said humorously. “So our arrangement is, ah… mutually beneficial.” Shane laughed and shook Ilya with him.

“God, I love you so much, Ilya.” Shane kissed over his heart. Ilya kissed him back, on the crown of his head, and closed his eyes with a satisfied hum.

“I will always love you, my Shane. Always.”

December 2022

The holidays crept up sooner than they were ever ready for, between the various lengths of road trips Shane found himself on with the team. The family newsletter was sent out that a holiday skate date was selected, for the players to bring their wives and kids or girlfriends out for a night of fun on the rink.

Ilya began skating with Shane not long after they reconnected and had gotten decent enough over time. He felt fortunate that Shane pushed for him to try years ago, because now he was so excited to skate with Shane and their daughter while Jingle Bell Rock flowed through the arena’s sound system and colorful string lights were draped along the boards, and one of the equipment managers dressed up as Santa for the kids and family photos. The years prior they hadn’t held the event due to lingering concerns from the pandemic, so this was the first year they were all together as a family on the ice.

There was almost a hitch in their night out when earlier in the week, Estelle came down with a bit of a cold. It seemed to be one of those 24-hour bugs, but it took a lot out of her little body regardless, down for the count for several days.

She spent most of the week hogging the big couch all to herself, her mop of curls wild as ever, buried under blankets and various plush cows and ducks and horses, munching on saltine crackers and sipping ginger ale out of her lidded cup. Shane checked on her and got her refills, swapping for water every other time and changing over the DVD she was watching once it ended. Estelle went through a constant loop of Ratatouille, The Aristocats, and the old classic stop motion Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer movie all day long, every day, and by the end of the week both dads could probably recite each from start to end from memory. At some point too, Ilya came by when Shane wasn’t looking and smuggled her frosted animal crackers as a fun treat instead of boring saltines.

She was rarely this stationary unless she was sleeping through the night, so while she rested and recovered it gave Shane and Ilya some time to make the house festive. Half of it they probably wouldn't have bothered with if it wasn't for their kid, because people couldn't see the house too well from the road anyways. But the magic of the holidays was a delight to see reflected in Estelle’s face, so they did it for her.

String lights ran along the gutters of both the house and the barn, electric candles in the windows, “reindeer food” consisting of carrots and apples sprinkled in the yard (fortunately the whitetail deer would come and eat it, and Estelle looked out the window first thing every day in wonderment to see if the reindeer came). The tree loaded with lights, candy canes, garland and ornaments, including some that Estelle made with her handprints and paints and dried noodles and pipe cleaner, dated from her summer day camps when they did a Christmas in July theme. A Christmas countdown hung on the kitchen wall, nutcrackers and holiday painted Russian nesting dolls adorned the bookshelves. Snowsuits and hats hung by the back door, mittens on the table and boots on the floor mat.

The house smelled like pine and peppermint when they were done and crashed into the armchair together.

Estelle was back to her usual self by the time the holiday skate rolled around. Shane took her with him to morning practice the day of family skate and she hung out with Margot, the team’s social media manager for the brief couple of hours so Ilya could go Christmas shopping without a moody demanding toddler in tow. Ilya had been sent with a list from Shane and then had his own list for himself. Together they were gifting Yuna a certificate to her favorite luxury spa in Montreal and a new bottle of her favorite YSL fragrance. For David, a bottle of local whiskey from a new distillery and a bespoke leather wallet they ordered a while ago to be ready in time, so he needed to go find the shop and pick that up. At home they had a basket for both Yuna and David, containing a collection of jams and pepper jellies from the farm. The jars were stuck with special labels decorated by Estelle, that both of Shane’s parents would argue was better than anything they could be bought, because it was homemade.

Montreal was decked out in festive lights and wreaths as Ilya drove around the city. The snow on the ground wasn’t too magical or wondrous anymore with all the roadway grime that stirred into the slush, and he ran his windshield wash too many times to count to combat the salt that sprayed up on the truck. The bitter chill as he walked between stores reminded him of winters with his mother back in Ontario on her beloved Rozanov Farms. During the happy moments of the season that bled through the angry tirades of his father and coldness of his brother. Ilya touched his necklace and thought of her, a frequent habit but an especially tender one at this time of year. He always wished she could have been around now with Estelle. The two would have been two peas in a pod together. Always gardening, making Russian delicacies in the kitchen, doing all the things Ilya loved doing with her while she was alive.

He knew where his mother was laid to rest, but he hadn’t visited her because it had been too hard to go. When Estelle was old enough to understand, he thought he might like to take her to the cemetery and talk to her about her babushka and find comfort in keeping her memory alive through his daughter, rather than the pain of all these years without her. Estelle looked a lot like Ilya, which meant she looked a lot like Irina too. Estelle was so bright and happy in the innocence of her childhood, which was exactly how he was at that age and a little older. He hoped he always looked that way to his little girl, and never like the bleak dark sadness that overtook his mother. Becoming a parent gave him the lens to attempt to understand the struggles Irina must have faced and the pain she felt to do what she had done when her babies weren’t yet done growing and still needed her. Imagining Estelle in a few more years facing that kind of loss, not that he had any thoughts or plans of that nature, was impossibly terrifying.

He wanted to make his mother proud more than anything if she was watching over them, and he had the best odds to do that with Shane by his side offering the spousal support and love she was cruelly never blessed with in her lifetime. Irina had deserved far better.

The heat was on blast in the jewelry store when he walked in, melting his cold holiday mental spiral. A man behind the counter greeted him and went back to assisting one of the various couples in the store shopping.

Ilya quietly perused the display cases of men’s jewelry and honed in on a collection of chain bracelets. Shane had been wearing the cord bracelet the WAGs gave them on Estelle’s birthday and often commented in passing that he wanted something else to stack with it on his wrist. Gifting jewelry between couples at the holidays, to Ilya, always seemed like a cop out or laziness from the perspective of the giver, something easy you didn’t have to think about. Just something expensive and shiny and distracting. But if Shane wanted something, Shane was going to get it if Ilya had anything to do with it. And it was going to be really goddamn beautiful.

Ilya loved Shane’s freckles. Well, he loved everything about Shane. But one of the first things he noticed as a boy when Shane started stopping by his mother’s roadside farm stand was his freckles. It was the feature he first recognized when Shane came up to him at the Montreal farmers market while they were too chicken to say they remembered each other. Shane’s freckles sparkled during their wedding ceremony, when he was out helping Ilya in the summer sun, when he was sweaty after a hockey game and freshly showered after sex. They twinkled like the night sky over their farm. They showed up in glittering speckles on the cheeks of their daughter, who didn’t share any DNA with Shane but might as well have with how close their patterns matched, and how they both captivated Ilya with every glance.

Diamonds twinkled and sparkled and glittered and glistened exactly like that. Ilya huffed a sigh that he was resorting to buying diamond jewelry for his partner but the more they shone under the glass of the display case the more he found it growing on him, the more he felt himself drawn to it.

And so he wasn’t without freckles of his own, he bought himself a matching piece, gold chain with a diamond inlay.

Ilya was surprising himself.

Several thousand dollars later, he returned home to drop off and lock up all his purchases (primarily the costliest ones) and changed into his wooliest sweater for the holiday skate.

“Papa, I wanna skate,” Estelle stated, tugging the sleeve of Ilya’s sweater. Shane had left the ice to freshen up from practice and put on his own holiday garb.

“You want to skate what?” He gestured his hand in the air like he was waiting for something.

“Pleeeease!”

“We have to wait for zamboni but you can absolutely skate this year, lyubimaya,” Ilya answered.

It was the first time Estelle was actually asking to skate and it caught him off guard. It saddened him, stupidly, because he had been looking forward to carrying her around with him on the ice. In the next couple years she was going to be too big for that, and the cancelled parties of the years prior robbed him of it while she was ever so tiny. He wondered how long she would last once she got out there but Shane would be thrilled to see her try.

Estelle had chosen a red sweater with white pom pom accents on the sleeve cuffs and the neck, green tights, space buns with jingle bell clips in her hair. She looked like a little elf and in a bout of random energy she sprinted back and forth along the player bench, making funny vrooming zooming noises. Ilya straddled the bench with his skates leaning on the inner wall when Estelle charged right into him with a thunk, wrapping her arms around his hips.

“Oof, malyshka, you are bulldozer,” Ilya gruffed, thinking maybe she had a future as a linebacker if she did pursue athletics. He lifted her up in the air. Estelle screeched out a laugh and jingle jangled as he waved her from side to side like an airplane.

Shane emerged then from the tunnel at the same time the zamboni started making passes to smooth out the rink. He was in joggers and a candy cane striped sweater, and thought too late after he left home about the types of comments Ilya might make at him for it.

“There you both are,” Shane called out. Ilya lowered Estelle back to the ground and she immediately charged into Shane.

“Daddy! Papa said I can skate today.” Shane’s eyes got big and looked at Ilya in a slight confusion. He cradled her around his legs where she latched onto him. “After zam- um the zamboneyyyy.”

“You’re gonna skate today?”

“Yes daddy!”

“She asked,” Ilya corroborated with a shrug. “Out of nowhere.”

“Baby, that’s so exciting! I can’t wait to skate with you,” he exclaimed and kissed the top of her vivid blonde head. “Let’s go sit with papa until everyone’s ready. I’ll go find you some skates.”

Other families started arriving and lacing up while Shane was gone. Estelle and the Pike kids teetered on tiptoes behind the boards and watched the zamboni until it was done, pointing and squealing at the driver. Jackie began borrowing each of her kids back from the compelling ice resurfacing entertainment one by one to slip their skates on and Ilya noticed, and jumped in to help. Shane didn’t take too much longer to come back with the smallest skates he had ever seen and asked Estelle to sit still to put them on.

Loud holiday music with sleigh bells streamed out of the speakers hanging from the rafters, a yule log video projected on the jumbotron, and families took the ice together, some with little infants and all ages in between up to the Pike twins at twelve years old. Some of the players without kids raced around with the youngsters who thought they could skate fastest or just hung out on the side wall with their girlfriends to take posed pictures for Instagram. The atmosphere in the arena was nothing short of merry, and that was the whole point, to spend time with those important to them and remember the fun of being on the ice.

Estelle took her first wobbly steps off the bench clinging to the hands of her dads. Shane and Ilya both flanked her, encouraging her that she was okay, and even if she fell they’d be right there to help her back up. They let her skate a few strides and then swung her in the air, hooting and hollering along with her giggles.

Eventually she asked to use the skating trainer because the Pike twins were zooming around and she wanted to go faster on her own. Shane brought one out and demonstrated how to use it. He was a little weepy watching her go off on her own, his baby finally showing interest in the ice.

Ilya slid up behind him and took his hand. “That’s our girl,” he whispered.

“Yeah, sure is,” Shane croaked, still blinking back tears.

“You look very good in that sweater, Shanyechka,” Ilya said after a moment, hooking his chin over Shane’s shoulder. “Will you let me lick your candy cane later?”

“I fucking knew you’d say that,” Shane grumbled, not well enough to mask his flustered amusement, and shoved Ilya away before skating off.

“Shane! It is Christmas and that language is not appropriate for family environment,” Ilya expressed with a laugh and caught back up to Shane, as if he hadn’t already let a sexual innuendo loose with a bunch of children in earshot. Then, quieter and pouty, “Is my Christmas wish to see your North Pole later, please do not ruin Christmas for me lyubimyy. Or, I guess is your South Pole. I will show you mine too.”

“Family friendly, Rozanov,” Shane warned at the same time he blushed the same color as the stripes on his sweater.

“Rozanov-Hollander,” Ilya drawled. He wrapped himself around Shane’s waist from behind and spun around with him. “Too bad you are stuck with me.”

“Lucky me.”

Five minutes later Estelle skidded to a halt at center ice and shouted out, “Okay daddy I’m done!” Shane skated right over to her.

“Are you done done or do you want to skate again with me and papa like before?”

“No, I’m done.” Oh boy. Shane let his head droop toward the ice and sighed, which turned into a chuckle. He scooped her up to carry her back to the bench when he caught eyes with Ilya. All he could do was shake his head and mouth ‘she’s done’.

Ilya keeled over laughing at her short-lived yet perfectly self-satisfied run on the ice after the time Shane spent hunting for skates and lacing them up for her.

“Did you have fun at least?” Shane asked when he plopped her down on the bench to unlace her skates and put her sneakers back on.

“I don’t know.”

“It sure looked like you did for a minute. But that’s okay, I’m so proud of you for trying it,” he praised. “Do you want to leave the skating to daddy?”

“Yes please.”

“Do you want papa to hold you while he skates?”

“Yes pleeeease,” Estelle said excitedly, her grin stretching wide. She bounced off the seat and went as far as the door to the bench. “Papa come and get me!”

Ilya was more than thrilled to enjoy Estelle in his arms while he did laps around the rink with Shane. They exchanged her a few times when she got too heavy, and then Ilya got the idea to sit her on his broad shoulders, which made Shane a nervous wreck for a while. No one was in hockey mode, no one was throwing body checks, it was a leisurely friendly skate and she would be fine, Ilya argued. He returned to holding her like normal and they asked Jackie to take a photo of them on the ice together. Shane looped his arms around Ilya to cocoon them, their heads sandwiching Estelle’s in the middle, her grin big as ever.

After an hour of skating, the Metros GM came down to thank everyone for coming and for their hard work so far that season, and everyone paused to listen much to the relief of almost all their fatigued limbs. Everyone except the players themselves, who were used to this. The GM announced that he had arranged a snack spread back in the family room and a small gift bag for all the families, and Santa was also ready for pictures. Anyone could skate longer or return to skate later, the rink was theirs for the night.

They got pictures with Santa (Estelle asked for a fluffy cow once she could get a word in) and Estelle put away more cheese cubes than they thought was possible for someone so small. Home was calling once she got drowsy, so they bid farewell to everyone that was still there and began the long drive back along their country roads for a cozy evening in.

Rozanov Homestead was blanketed in white, a dreamy wintery vision that Shane and Ilya were lucky enough to call home for the past six years, and luckier to share with their little girl. Something was really enchanting about the shimmering snowflakes falling from the clouds as Shane took the rumbling drive up to the house, Ilya tailing him with Estelle, who was likely asleep in her car seat.

Eight years ago, or even at the very start of his MLH career, Shane would have never pictured this life for himself. If not for Ilya, Shane would have remained a city dweller, a hockey robot that went through the motions and kept doling out excuses not to go out with his teammates or meet anyone, not to settle down. He wouldn’t have known what, or who, he was waiting for, but in hindsight during those years that Ilya was gone, he could feel a big chunk of himself missing. If not for Ilya, he would have been hollow, a shell of his potential self.

Ilya made him better. Ilya gave him renewed purpose and a love for the little things, for simple living. Hockey would always be important to Shane, he’d never blow up his career by slacking off just because he found other things to smile about. But it wasn’t the only thing that mattered anymore, in the best of ways.

Shane felt the magic of his life deep within his core every time Ilya looked into his eyes, every time he saw Ilya at his game or behind the table at the farmer’s market, in every “I love you”. He felt it every time he walked into the new nursery in their house, and with every evolution of the room for each stage of Estelle’s young life, every time she called for her daddy and every time he could do nothing but gaze at her in disbelief that this little person was real and theirs.

His life was every bit as beautiful and magical as the snow outside his windows, and he had it all thanks to one humble farmer.

Christmas came in a flash. Ilya drove the three of them with a truck full of wrapped gifts and suitcases to his in-laws in Ottawa for the holiday. Yuna and David had quite the stack of gifts already laid out for their granddaughter under the tree, and instantly Shane protested profusely. Estelle had more toys than necessary for any kid her age, or ever, and Yuna tutted because it was her only grandchild, so of course she was going to go all out.

The events of Christmas morning were as insane as anyone could imagine when a four year old and about a hundred noisy new toys and sugar were involved. Estelle ate exactly one pancake that had gone swimming in maple syrup and decided it was time to open presents, and when it was determined she still had a little too much energy, Grandma Yuna and Grandpa David took her out to go sledding in the backyard, where David had plowed snow into a makeshift hill for her.

Shane and Ilya enjoyed a short break in the quiet house while everyone else was outside. Shane picked a stray hair off Ilya’s nose, his legs draped over Ilya’s thighs and a fleece blanket stretched across them both.

“Do you want your present, malysh?”

Shane scoffed, rather weakly.

“Ilya… I’ve told you before I don’t need anything,” Shane stated, lazily caressing his cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I already have you. And Stell.”

“Shanya I am flattered but maybe what I got you is better than both of us combined,” Ilya joked. He leaned forward to capture Shane’s lips, a soft, lingering, smiley kiss.

“No chance, Rozanov.” Ilya muttered ‘Hollander-Rozanov’ quickly under his breath.

“Well I have something for you now, and something for later,” Ilya wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Shane shoved him, his classic blush instantly pigmenting his face, “but now is here.” He handed Shane a small square package. “You are very obvious hint dropper.”

Shane smiled with a fair amount of curiosity flashing through his eyes. Under the paper was a clamshell jewelry box, and he clicked his tongue like he always did when Ilya did too much for him. He held his breath as he pried it open to reveal the gold and diamond chain bracelet.

“Ilya…. This is way more than I would ever ask you to spend on me. This is gorgeous…. Just. Wow. Oh my god.”

“You wanted another bracelet to stack, no? It twinkles like your freckles.” Ilya had been watching him handle the bracelet out of the box, helped him affix it to his wrist above the other one, and lifted his eyes at the same time Shane raised his own.

“I love it. I love you. And you have freckles I love too.” Shane let his hand slide down Ilya’s covered chest, tracing the patterns of marks he had memorized across Ilya’s torso, the shimmering of the diamonds dancing in the bright light of the sun that reflected off the snow outside. Ilya’s breath went ragged for a moment. “But now my gift for you looks cheap in comparison.”

“Lay it on me, Hollander. I am sure is perfect.”

Shane handed him a slightly larger slim box wrapped in gold paper and sat back anxiously. It felt like a book, a hardcover by the weight of it. Ilya grew inquisitive and tore the paper back. It was backwards, and upon turning it over he discovered Cyrillic writing embossed in the front, the translation reading: Estelle and Papa’s Book of Everything. Blank pages upon pages filled the spine, some meant for plant and field guides, some with pockets for photos and some clearly formatted for recipes to be written. Ilya stared at it, Shane thought either stumped about what it was or at a loss for words or - cruelly - disappointed that it was just a blank notebook.

“It’s like an everything journal,” Shane explained, laying his hands on top of Ilya’s over the book. “I know you didn’t get to take what you wanted of your mom’s when you guys left after she died, and even with all the money I have it’s been impossible to try to find anything of hers that may be floating around out there. But you can use this to make something with Estelle that she can carry on with her for the rest of her life, and pass down to her kids if she decides, but it’s like a keepsake of all your memories and farming tips and recipes so she’ll always have a piece of you with her.”

Tears began flowing freely down Ilya’s cheeks by the time Shane had finished explaining the purpose of the book. He sniffed and choked back a sob, and wiped his face into the shoulder of his sweatshirt.

“You can be in it too, yes?” he asked wetly.

“What do you mean?”

“Estellechka and me… we can put you in our book too? She should have both of us in the book.”

“Yeah, I mean of course. You can put anything you want.” Shane rubbed his arm comfortingly and sniffed back his own runny nose.

“I did not want anything of my father’s. Nothing he had was worth keeping. But our Estelle has two incredible parents to look back on someday and she should keep pieces of both of us for her future.” Ilya gazed at Shane gratefully before collapsing forward into his chest.

“You are incredible,” Shane murmured against his shoulder, stroking his messy curls still rumpled from sleep. “I hope you know that and believe that.” A sob ripped through Ilya as Shane held him, but it was not sad. There was some inevitable pain of his grief in it, but also mountains of love and relief at this chance to create something like this with his daughter. To give her what he was never afforded with, so she didn’t end up empty handed in the far off years, so she wasn’t stuck like he was with only the memories of his mother in his mind that faded over time, nothing tangible, no keepsakes.

“I love you so much,” Shane followed up with, hugging him tighter.

“Ya tak sil'no tebya lyublyu, moy Shanyechka. Navsegda.” More sniffles. “This is the best gift I have ever received. It is not cheap at all, Shane. It is rich with what it means for me. For us. Priceless. My bracelet seems shallow now.”

“No, the bracelet is perfect. It really is. I’m so excited to wear a piece of you every day,” Shane insisted, curling his neck to find Ilya’s eyes buried in his sweater.

Ilya raised himself up, two hands planted on either side of Shane’s legs on the couch, and drew him into another long kiss. It was shaky, with Ilya still struck by emotion from his Christmas gift. Shane cradled his head in his hands and pulled him closer until he was laying on his back, sliding his mouth along the intoxicating curve of Ilya’s cupid’s bow as he went down, Ilya hovering over him on the cushions. Hands brushed and found each other, gently threading fingers together. Ilya’s tongue sank past the seam of Shane’s lips and stayed there until they heard the click of the back door and the thud of snow boots on the floor.

“Thank you, baby,” Shane whispered up at him, his pink lips shiny and swollen.

“Spasibo, dorogoy.”

The two sat back up into a less compromising position when Estelle bounded back into the room, singing a singular shrill note the entire way. She scaled the couch and leapt on them, punching the air out of them when she landed.

“Estellechka, you are a brute,” Ilya groaned dramatically, kneading his temple. He betrayed himself with a big smile. “How was sledding with Grandma and Grandpa?”

As she babbled on about sledding and Grandpa David pulling her up the hill and how deep the snow was (like the ocean), Yuna and David returned and sat down, sharing a fond look across the room at the little family. Shane found their gazes and smiled knowingly.

Shane could still picture it vividly. An image of a wooden table, piles of beets and onions and potatoes. A rusty well loved Pontiac sedan sitting beside a yellow shack at the edge of the road and flaking red paint on a sign displaying a name that would become woven into the fabric of his identity. Yuna peeling back corn husks and David inspecting baskets of peaches while Shane smiled at the boy on the other side of the table and tried to talk to him about hockey.

How lucky Shane was to have his farmer, and the bountiful joys of this life that came with him.