Chapter Text
Taking a deep breath, Shane manages to keep himself from hurling his phone at the furthest corner of the room. He isn’t sure he can keep up this level of self-control if he reads yet another variation of the Shane Hollander, GAY?! headline that has been popping up on his screen for the past two days. He turns it off instead, flinging his duvet over his head. As if that’s going to help.
What a stupid, stupid mistake Florida was.
Two weeks ago, a month away from turning 30 and itching for something. He already knew sleeping with some random guy wouldn’t quite scratch that itch. That itch hadn’t been scratched since 2017, before Ilya Rozanov stepped into his apartment and said, “I don’t think we can see each other again.”
Still, Shane had been about to turn 30 and in Florida, where no one gave a damn about hockey. Especially not in a gay bar. Which is exactly where Shane went to find more trouble than he’d bargained for.
Now, two weeks later, here he is, his entire world coming to a screeching halt.
What a stupid, stupid mistake.
—
“You could deny it,” his mom suggests gently, patting his arm, the three of them sitting around the table.
Shane came out to them the summer of 2017, after Scott Hunter kissed his boyfriend on international TV. Ilya’s texts were burning a hole in Shane’s pocket. did you see Scott Hunter? Honestly, who hadn’t? And, ??? Later, after a missed call, Please, call me.
Shane didn’t want to talk. They were over. That was that.
But he did feel like he had to do something. Because Scott Hunter did change something. So, instead of replying to Ilya, Shane turned to his parents and said the two words that scared him the most, “I’m gay.”
Now, four years later, his parents are looking at him, saying, “We’ll support you, no matter what.”
Now, four years later, the three of them know there is no point in trying to deny it. There have been rumours about Shane for a while know, and too many people know the truth. Besides, his plan had always been to come out after he retired. Not publicly, but, at least to not hide it, like he does—did—until now.
His mom claps her hands. “So, we make a statement, we make a plan.”
It forces a chuckle out of Shane, that his mom is still so very much his mom in the face of all this mess.
“We’ve got you, Shane,” his dad says, squeezing his hand.
—
are you OK? texts start rolling in on the third day after Shane is outed, the radio silence from his side all but confirmation that the Shane Hollander, GAY?! headlines are, in fact, true. He even gets one from Scott Hunter, hang in there, kid. Call whenever, if you wanna talk.
Rose calls. After a minute or two of asking how he’s feeling, she not so subtly lets him know Miles is still single and, “He’s a catch, and you’re a catch, and when this whole thing blows over, who knows.”
Hayden and JJ come over, armed with beer and ginger ale and pre-cooked bird food that Jackie sent over. Hayden looks apologetic as he says, “She had to stay with the kids, but wants you to know she’s on your side.”
And Shane’s parents have booked a room in a hotel nearby. “Whatever you need, Shane,” his dad says, giving him the hotel calling card.
All in all, Shane supposes it could be worse. He could’ve been outed before he’d told Hayden and JJ and Rose. Before he told his parents. Before he’d even told himself.
But there is also a quiet discomfort starting to roll in the pit of his stomach. It gets louder when a few of his teammates text some version of saw the news, man. No questions, no feelings, just that simple fact.
It starts screaming when a text from Lily flashes on his screen, are you ok? And louder still at, I can drive over, if you want.
Then, it goes deadly quiet when Coach Theriault texts, Can you come in on Monday?
—
In retrospect, Shane should’ve waited until his Monday meeting before saying anything publicly. In retrospect, Shane should’ve done a lot of things—or rather, not done a lot of things.
—
“Honey, I think we should prioritise Rebook,” his mom says over eggs and toast on Thursday, glasses on as she clicks over her tablet. “They’ve been sponsoring you since you first started, and I’m telling you, they were pretty fast in their response when Farah sent out the statement.”
“Yuna,” his dad warns, “maybe this can wait until after breakfast? Let’s give Shane a break.”
While Shane smiles at his dad in thanks, his mom presses on, “I don’t think so, it’s already been almost a week, we need to get a hold of the narrative. Shane?”
Taking a steeling breath, he nods. “Yeah, OK, let’s do Rebook first.”
“And, I think we should do one of the sports shows. So it doesn’t look like you’re only making statements for sponsors, but also talking to the community more broadly.”
“The community?”
“Yes,” his mom replies easily, click clicking away on her tablet. “The LGBTQI+ community. I’m thinking, Man in the Crease, they were very good when Scott Hunter came out and—”
“Jesus, mom, really?” He interrupts, head in his hands. Stop, just, stop.
“Honey, it’s very important we get ahead of all the gossip going around. This is a career-defining moment for you.”
“Oh, God,” Shane all but moans into his hands.
“Okay, okay,” his dad starts, “We have agreed to give out the statement with Rebook’s press people, which is scheduled for tomorrow, right?”
“Tomorrow?” Shane repeats, stomach dropping.
“Yes, tomorrow. And I’m pretty confident we can get Man in the Crease right after, and on Saturday, I believe—”
“Yuna, please, let’s go a bit slower? Shane can do Rebook on Friday, Man in the Crease on Saturday, and perhaps we play it by ear next week? How does that sound, Shane?”
“‘Play it by ear,’ David, really?”
Before his mom can say anything else to convince either him or his dad to pack the weekend with interviews for Shane to come out and “speak to the community,” he pipes up, “Yes, Okay, Rebook on Friday, Man in the Crease on Saturday, I can do that, and then, please mom, I need—please.”
His mom gives him a long look before saying, “Okay, I’ll get us scheduled.”
—
To Shane’s relief, the Rebook photoshoot goes remarkably well. Sure, he spends half of the time shifting on his feet, trying to ignore the obnoxious amount of rainbows he’s surrounded by. Like, does there need to be one on the wristband they ask him to wear? When there’s already one on his Rebook-provided t-shirt? And a rainbow flag in behind him? Shane is half-surprised the rainbow Oreos don’t make a “random” appearance.
Other than that, though, the Rebook people are nice, asking him how he’s doing, if he’s comfortable, would he like more water? Deep breath in.
He leaves with his parents with armfuls of rainbow merch, tired, but feeling, for the first time that week, like his world as he knows it isn’t completely over. He can be gay and a great hockey player. The best hockey player.
Also, his mom was right to start with Rebook. Man in the Crease is not so nerve-wracking after the photoshoot. And, like Rebook, it goes well, as far as Shane is concerned.
The studio is cozy, full of hockey paraphernalia, new and old, making Shane smile as he recognises faces from the games he used to watch as a kid. The Man in the Crease people greet him warmly on the mics before they start the interview with softball questions his mom prescreened with him the night before. “How are you holding up, Shane?” and “If you could say something to young kids in hockey, what would you say?”
He tries to talk about hockey, mostly. About Man in the Crease second, thanking them for their support of Shane and his community. And finally, awkwardly, he talks briefly about being forced to come out.
“It’s not ideal,” he hears himself say as though from far away, the words rehearsed so many times he might as well be on autopilot. “But I would be lying if I didn’t say a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I get to be my authentic self. And I hope—I hope I inspire other athletes, younger than me, older than me, I hope I can inspire them to be their authentic selves, too.”
Later, in Shane’s kitchen, his mom hugs him tight. “I think that went really well, honey.”
Later, when Shane is alone, he checks his messages, smiling a bit.
That was very graceful, Shane, loved your interview from Rose.
Man, who knew you could be that polished, congrats, Hayden.
Ah la la, Capitaine, they’re gonna be fawning over you this season, JJ.
He texts them all back. Takes a moment to reach out to Scott Hunter, too, you inspired me. And it’s the truth.
He realises, staring down at his phone and the messages from his friends, that everything he said in his interview is also true. Especially about feeling like a weight is being lifted off his shoulders. And again, he feels like maybe this isn’t the worst thing to have happened. He can be gay and a great hockey player. The best hockey player. He can be.
Just as he’s about to put his phone away for the night, a final message comes through. that was very brave from Lily.
A swell of anger runs through him. Seriously, how—how pedantic. He opens the conversation to make sure Ilya’s text is marked as read, same as all the others from before, his thumb lingering over the name.
He can’t stop thinking about what Lily meant to him, before. How receiving a text from Lily used to feel, the rush, the happy twirl in his stomach. Lily is a name from Shane’s memory. Lily is not a name of Shane’s present. It doesn’t have to be, and Shane doesn’t want it to be. To hell with Lily.
It takes three seconds to change the name to Ilya Rozanov. Full name, the way Shane saves acquaintances he barely remembers on his phone.
—
Of course, just because Shane, his parents and his friends all think Shane handled things pretty decently over the weekend, this does not mean everyone agrees. This much becomes very clear on Monday, the second Shane steps into Coach Theriault’s office.
Coach Theriault grunts his hello running a hand over his face, making Shane feel like a schoolboy sent to the principal’s office. “Sit, please. I have Commissioner Crowell on the phone.”
“Oh, I didn’t realise—” Shane starts, but Crowell is already on speaker saying, “Good morning all.”
And Shane really hopes he’s imagining the grave tone in Crowell’s voice. His hopes are short-lived.
“Shane, listen,” Crowell is going on. “Initially, we were quite pleased with how you were handling the situation.”
“Initially?” Shane asks.
“Yes, all last week, really. Until the weekend, that is.”
“So, you mean you were pleased when I hadn’t said anything?” Shane asks, clarifying, again as his heart drums loudly in his ears.
Panic starts rising in his chest and he can barely listen to the conversation around him. He can be gay and a great hockey player. He can be, except—
“It was the most responsible thing to have stayed quiet. To give everyone time to—agree on a narrative.”
Hadn’t his mom talked about a narrative, too? Isn’t that what Shane spent his weekend doing, taking care of the narrative?
“If you had stayed quiet,” Coach Theriault mumbles under his breath, sending a shiver down Shane’s spine.
“Yes, well, that interview, really, it—it was ill-advised,” Crowell replies over the phone. “You see, we very much respect and welcome the LGBT…and all those other letters, you know, we respect them. But all this activism, really. Between you, and Hunter, it’s getting out of control.”
Nauseous as this conversation is making him feel, it doesn’t escape Shane how Crowell says he respects a community but cannot even get its name right.
“Listen, Hollander,” Coach Theriault says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re treading very dangerous waters here. We’re trying to make sure the League’s, which also means your, best interests are protected.”
“Right. As Theriault said, exactly right. We’re just trying to protect you and the League here.”
Mostly the League, Shane thinks.
Except, when the colour starts draining from Coach Theriault’s face, he realises he’s said it out loud. Shit.
“The League’s best interests are your best interests, Hollander,” Coach Theriault says through gritted teeth, like Shane is too dumb to get it.
It’s meant to make Shane scared, make him fall in line. And Shane is scared. He’s terrified because he can almost feel his hopes falling through his fingers like water. He wants to be able to be gay and a hockey player. And he is so fucking scared of losing it all right now.
But, he knows, deep in his bones, he knows, falling in line is not what he needs. It’s not what he has to do. Not after last week, not after all the messages, and all the support, and the overwhelming, life-altering relief.
“No,” Shane says, surprised his voice isn’t shaking. “I don’t think you have my best interests in mind.”
Crowell clears his throat over the phone. “Now, Shane, there is no need to get unpleasant, here. What we want—”
“What about what I want?”
“What you want doesn’t matter,” Theriault finally snaps.
The conversation that follows is blur. Shane is dizzy by the time he leaves Theriault’s office. Dizzy and sick to his stomach, and all that runs through his head is Will I ever play hockey again? on an infinite loop.
—
If his world had come to a screeching halt when he was outed, it is now being turned on its head. Because Shane may not be able to parse much from the conversation in Theriault’s office, but he does remember how it ends.
Later, Shane finds himself heaving wet, ugly, angry sobs in his mom’s arms. All he hears himself say is, “I’m being traded.”
—
Gossip about Shane’s conversation with Theriault and Commissioner Crowell spreads across the League and its media like wildfire.
Farah and his mom do their best to contain the floodgates, but Shane still gets the tail-end of the hate. Who let all these dick-sucking pussies into the league? and he’s such a selfish, childish faggot, good riddance. He tells himself it doesn’t matter. It’s just noise. It shouldn’t matter.
He has his family on his side. Rose, and Hayden and JJ on his side. It shouldn’t matter.
Except it does. Because as Farah starts discussions about his trade, it becomes quite clear Theriault and Crowell have made Shane toxic. No one wants to deal with the player who’s made a nemesis out of the Commissioner.
And it really fucking sucks.
—
5 May 2021 - 9:55 PM - Ilya Rozanov: how are you?
5 May 2021 - 10:05 PM - Ilya Rozanov: want to talk?
5 May 2021 - 10:41 PM - Ilya Rozanov: it will be OK
Read at 10:45 PM
—
Shane’s summer is a blur of press conferences, photoshoots with brands and statements released on any and all sports channels that his mom and Farah can get to. His mom asks for his input at lunch, over coffee, in the morning and late evening. On and on.
Farah discusses trading strategy with him. Between her, his mom and the half of Shane still able to be present, they decide aggressively marketing as the “new face of gay hockey” is the way to go.
“We’ll make it a lot harder for anyone to reject you,” his mom tells him confidently.
“Oh, we’ll make it so everyone thinks they’re homophobes for choosing the Commissioner over you,” this comes from Farah, defiant.
“It’s not like that’s even lie,” his mom says. “Not even an exaggeration at this point.”
And Shane listens, all he can make himself do is listen.
Mostly, Shane thinks they’re probably right, even if Farah calls later to say LA and New York are both a bust.
—
Shane’s mom takes one look at him and sighs. “Let me fix your tie.” Dusting off his shoulders, she adds, “Remember, stick to what we have practiced and you’ll be just fine.”
His dad watches them out of the corner of his eye, adjusting his own cuffs but ready to step in and placate at any sign of dropping gloves.
It grates on Shane’s nerves that they are like this. His mom pushing, Shane barely holding himself together, his dad ready to pick up the pieces.
“Shane,” his mom calls. “Are you even listening to me?”
Shane stares from his mom to his dad. They stare right back, expectant in the fancy clothes. He starts feeling sick.
“Yes, mom.”
There’s a noise ringing in Shane’s ears, bile rising in his throat.
“Then what did I just say?”
He needs some air.
“To remember to talk about being true to myself.”
He really, really needs some air.
“And?”
Shane’s heart is loud in his chest. Can anyone else hear it?
“And—I don’t know—talk about wanting to inspire?”
“Shane, come on, we’ve been over this, honey,” his mom says, at the same time that his dad goes, “Yuna, please, I think we’ve rehearsed this enough.”
“I think I need to step outside.”
“Shane, we can’t be late, this is important.”
“I know, just—”
“Shane, honey, I know it’s tough, but you can do this. You’ve got this.”
“I know, just a moment, I—”
“Shane, we really can’t—”
“Jesus, mom, just a fucking minute,” Shane snaps under his breath, cutting right through the noise and everything else in the room.
A second goes by, then another.
“I know you’re under a lot of pressure,” his mom says.
But it’s Shane’s dad who calls him out, disappointment thick in his tone. “You cannot talk to your mother like that. We’ll wait for you in the car.”
—
It goes on and on and on. An infinite loop of being true to myself and want to play my best hockey, show the world it’s possible.
He pulls his curtains shut the second he is alone in his apartment. His mom makes sure they are wide open for breakfast.
He doesn’t shower or eat unless someone tells him to. He doesn’t read the news or check his phone or watch TV. It’s supposed to be good for him, to take a break from all the commentary.
The truth is, Shane simply doesn’t have the energy for any of it.
And it goes on and on and on.
—
One week before the trade deadline, Shane signs his name on a new deal.
And just like that, he is traded to the Ottawa Centaurs, where Ilya Rozanov has been Team Captain for the past two years.