Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationships:

Luca Haas & Shane Hollander, Luca Haas & Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Luca Haas & Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike

Characters:

Luca Haas, Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Gilbert Comeau, Hayden Pike, Theriault (Game Changers), Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Young (Game Changers), Yuna Hollander

Additional Tags:

shane hollander is a dad, ilya rozanov is a dad, Luca Haas gets adopted by Shane and Ilya, Found Family, Luca Haas-centric, Luca Haas Needs a Hug, POV Shane Hollander, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Heated Rivalry (TV), Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Luca basically gets adopted by Ilya and Shane, basically if Rachel Reid wrote book 7 about Luca Haas, Luca Haas gets hurt and his dads protect him, Gilbert Comeau Being an Asshole, Soft Ilya Rozanov, Protective Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander Needs a Hug, Protective Shane Hollander, Angry Shane Hollander, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Being Assholes (Game Changers), Supportive Ottawa Centaurs (Game Changers), Anxious Shane Hollander, Luca gets adopted by hollanov

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of Growing Outward Series

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-24 Words: 5,103 Chapters: 1/1

Home Ice Advantage

Summary

Luca Haas moves in with Ilya Rozanov for his rookie year and slowly gets adopted by Hollanov. Not even three months into their arrangement, Luca gets injured in a game against the Voyageurs. Shane is there to pick up the pieces while Ilya is busy fighting the guy that did it.

 

This is a one shot that was requested by a commenter (ohshereallydidthat) on my main fic, "Growing Outward." They wanted a Shane POV of the incident in Chapter 15 so here we are! Could also be read as a standalone.

Hope you enjoy :)

Notes

TW: Brief mentions of violence and blood. PTSD flashbacks.

Any dialogue in italics is spoken in French (but still written in English for simplicity lol).

Ottawa, December 2020

Shane slumped back into his stall at the Canadian Tire Centre with a scowl on his face. It was the end of the first period and they were somehow losing to the Ottawa Centaurs. He immediately blamed himself; maybe he wasn’t pushing hard enough, maybe his leadership was lacking. Maybe he shouldn’t have urged Coach Theriault to move Comeau down to the second line.

No, that was a stupid thought. Of course he needed to move down to the second line.

Shane wiped a towel over his face as he thought back to the last time they’d played the Centaurs. He remember the chill that had run down his spine as he sat with Ilya on their bed, Troy Barrett on the phone. Apparently Luca had an incident outside of the club; an incident with Comeau that left him distraught. Ilya left the apartment immediately after he heard just how broken Luca was. 

To this day, Shane didn’t know the specifics of what happened. Just that Comeau had some choice words with Luca in that alleyway, when the rookie was all alone and slightly intoxicated. Then he’d seen Comeau show up to practice the next day with a black eye, likely Troy Barrett’s doing, and Shane was pissed. 

It’s not like he could do anything about it. That would expose too much, open him up to too many questions, but he could be sneaky about it. Tactical, Hayden had corrected him, when Shane ran the idea by him in their practice the week before. So he pulled Coach aside, insisted that Comeau couldn’t keep up with Luca’s speed on the ice, as demonstrated in their previous match up, and Comeau had been pushed down to the second line tonight.

“What’re you thinking about?” Hayden nudged his knee from the stall beside him. Shane shook his head a bit, unaware that he'd been staring off into space just moments before. He warily glanced over at Hayden.

“What? Oh, nothing.” Shane squeezed some more water in his mouth. Hayden could tell that he was lying. He always knew when he was lying. It pissed Shane off sometimes.

“I watched the documentary last night.” Hayden offered, taking another bite of his banana, “Jackie wanted to watch it.”

Shane hummed noncommittally, “Oh yeah?” 

He'd watched it too, with Ilya and Luca. It was emotional, at times hard to watch, but it was also really nice. Luca had opened up to them about how much he looked up to them throughout his childhood--how knowing about the truth of their relationship would've meant even more to him than they already did. It touched Shane and he figured that it meant a lot to Ilya too, who had stiffened at Luca's honest admission. Shane didn't want to know what else was going on inside of Ilya's head, too worried that he might bring up the one topic that always sent Shane into a spiral; coming out, being honest, letting the world in on their well-kept secret. The thought terrified him.

“Yeah,” Hayden continued, “Not bad. Not great. They missed a lot.”

Shane glanced sideways at Hayden who was just smiling smugly back at him. He nervously looked around the locker room; none of the guys were paying attention, all in their own conversations. They had a bit of privacy so Shane entertained the topic.

“It was...a lot.” Shane sighed. Hayden raised his eyebrows at him, encouraging him to continue, “My incident in 2017? I'd never seen the footage." 

Hayden frowned down at the half-eaten banana in his hands.

“Oh yeah. We had to fast forward that part.” Hayden admitted quietly. 

The incident had been hard on Hayden too. He immediately tried to fight Cliff Marlow, one of the biggest guys in the MLH, for laying him out. It looked like a scrappy chihuahua trying to fight a gorilla as Cliff grabbed a fistful of Hayden's jersey and held him at an arms-length, Hayden's arms still swinging angrily. It was an accident, just a bad hit. It happened. They all got their bell run eventually, Shane had reminded himself throughout recovery. He was on good terms with Cliff, now, after he'd apologized many times. 

Shane sent Hayden a tight-lipped smile just as their Coach bounded through the door. It slammed against the wall with a loud thud and Shane flinched. Coach Theriault looked mad, his face a permanent shade of red. Shane wondered if his neck tie was cutting off his circulation.

Theriault was a good coach but he was also stern--a no nonsense kind of guy. He’d developed his coaching style at least twenty five years ago, long before most of these guys were alive, and he stuck to it, even if it was out of date. Even if it made the locker room uncomfortable at times.

The locker room chatter came to a halt when Theriault assumed his position at the front of the room, clipboard tucked under his arm.

“What the fuck is going on out there?” His voice had a natural volume to it, one that Shane still wasn’t used to after all these years on the team, “Can someone explain to me how we are losing to the fucking Centaurs right now?”

He scanned the room, waiting for someone to answer him. Shane averted his eyes to the empty space just ahead of his skates, letting them go blurry around the edges as silence filled the room. He took a deep breath.

“That’s right. There’s no explanation. So fix it.” Theriault barked.

With that short and sweet pep talk their coach left the room again. Only the Voyageurs remained, still consumed by a deafening silence as they absorbed Theriault’s words. Shane knew he had to say something to motivate the guys. This part was always a bit of a challenge for him but he stood up anyways and released a shaky breath as he walked over to the empty spot that Theriault had left behind.

“Okay, listen up.” He cleared his throat and scanned the room, “We’re leaving the first period behind us. Fresh start. We go out there, do what we always do, and we win this thing.”

It was a feeble attempt at a motivational speech but it’s all that Shane had in him. Hayden hyped it up anyways, then JJ, and then the rest of the guys slowly followed suit. When they got back out onto the ice they had a new energy about them. The game wasn’t over yet.

///

“Hollander, you are slow today.” Ilya joked as he lazily skated to a stop in front of Shane.

They were well into the third period now and the Voyageurs had yet to score a goal. Luckily the Centaurs hadn't either but that didn't stop Coach Theriault from taking a fresh strip off of them in his second intermission speech. Shane was starting to feel defeated. It’s not that he’d given up entirely but he was sick and tired of the heavy feeling in his chest whenever he was in the Voyageur’s locker room. There was something there that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He pushed the thought aside as he glanced up at Ilya.

“Whatever, Rozanov.” Shane muttered under his breath. He leaned down for the face-off across from Ilya, already mapping out what path he’d take to the net.

Ilya scanned Shane’s face as he bent over for the face-off. He had a glint of something in his eyes that made Shane look away. Ilya could tell that something was off. He wouldn’t address it, not here anyways, that would be a conversation for later; when they went home and tried to forget all about the world for one fleeting night.

“Oh come on, I know you can do better than that.” Ilya insisted. The smug grin on his face lit something in Shane’s belly, something that he’d been lacking all night. 

Shane couldn’t stop the small smirk that came to his face as the ref blew his whistle. Within a few seconds of the puck hitting the ice, Shane immediately gained possession and found his way towards the net. The Centaurs defense tried their best, but in the time it took them to blink, the puck had soared under Wyatt’s glove and into the back of the net. Shane smirked over at Ilya as his own teammates came to celebrate around him. 

“That’s how you fucking do it, Cap!” Hayden screamed in his ear.

Shane grinned around at his teammates who looked relieved more than anything as they skated back to their bench to celebrate with their team. There was a new energy amongst them now. They had something to work with, something to fight for. They were hungry and Shane took pride in giving that to his team. Now all they had to do was keep their heads down, do what they always did, and get another goal by the time the clock ran out.

The Centaurs had other plans. Within a few minutes, Barrett scored again, making it 2-1. Shane tried not to let it get to him, pushing even harder on the ice and yelling at his teammates to keep their head in the game. They listened–-skated faster, took more shots-–but nothing came of it. The Voyageurs grew more and more frustrated as the clock neared zero. The more frustrated they became, the sloppier they became. And the sloppier they became, the more angry Theriault got. It was never good when Theriault was angry, it always led to something bad.

Shane glanced up at the clock. Only two minutes remaining. He let his eyes fall back to the ice where their second line was battling in the neutral zone. A young Centaurs rookie had possession at center ice and Bood went flying towards the bench. In an instant, Luca was on the ice and flying down the side of the rink, towards the Voyageurs bench. He was calling out to the other rookie who didn’t even have to look at Luca to know where to send the puck. He passed it perfectly ahead of Luca who could’ve easily cut in and had a breakaway towards the net.

Then, it happened.

Just as Luca’s stick connected with the puck, Comeau came out of nowhere. He abruptly stopped in Luca’s path and checked him with a dirty shoulder to the head. Luca’s body crumpled into the boards awkwardly and he fell like a limp rag doll towards the ice. 

Shane’s heart stopped. The whole arena gasped and then broke out into a series of loud boos as the whistle blew. It didn't matter. The entire Centaurs bench had thrown themselves over the boards and charged directly for Comeau. The Voyageurs bench didn’t hesitate as they clamored onto the ice as well. They each found a dancing partner and went at it.

Shane couldn't take his eyes off of Luca. He swung both legs over the boards and darted over to him, pushing guys out of the way--both Centaurs and Voyageurs, alike–-in an attempt to get to him faster.

“Luca!” Shane tried to yell over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. Luca wasn’t moving.

Shane shoved one of the Centaur’s third linemen as he approached Shane; he didn’t want to fight, he just wanted to get to Luca. He needed to get to Luca, to protect him. As if on cue, Hayden came out of nowhere and grappled with the Centaurs player, allowing Shane a clear path to the young boy.

JJ and Troy were exchanging lazy punches back and forth right beside Luca's limp body, not really trying to hurt each other but putting on a good show nonetheless. When they got a bit too close to Luca’s legs, Shane yelled at them. They both froze, wide eyes flickering first to Shane and then down to Luca, who was still motionless on the ice.

“Get the fuck out of here.” He shielded Luca with his body and they obliged, taking their fight a few meters away.

“Luca?” Shane asked cautiously and fell to his knees beside the rookie, “Can you hear me, buddy?”

Luca’s head rolled to the side. Shane reached out a shaky hand and placed it on the boy’s chest.

“Luca, please.” He tried to keep his tone even but he was terrified, “Medic! We need a medic!” His voice cracked as he yelled across the ice, flailing his free arm so that someone would be able to see him amidst the brawls all around them.

Luca’s eyes rolled around behind his eyelids and Shane's breath hitched in his throat. A wave of relief washed over him; Luca was conscious. Shane leaned over the boy, trying to shield him from the bright lights and people all around. He was most definitely concussed, if not worse, and Shane’s thoughts trailed a mile a minute as he tried to think back to his own incident just a few years prior. He could remember the pain behind his eyes, the way that his lungs wouldn't quite fill with air, and all of the questions that the medics asked him. A new panic rose in Shane's chest as he looked down at the boy, wondering just how many of those things he was experiencing at this very moment. He didn't know what to do, how to fix it, as he waited for some sort of sign from Luca. 

“Luca?” He asked breathlessly, “Luca, it’s me. It’s Shane.”

“Shane?” Luca groaned. 

Shane smiled a bit. His eyes had started to water but he refused to let a tear fall. Not here. 

“What happened?” Luca slipped into his mother tongue with ease.

It took a moment for Shane's brain to catch up amidst all the panic. He realized that French would probably be much easier for Luca to understand right now. He let go of a shaky breath.

“You got hit. You were on a breakaway and Com–” Shane cut himself off abruptly before continuing, “One of my teammates hit you.”

Luca nodded his head then, to let Shane know that he understood him, but then he hissed.

“Okay, too much.” Luca raised a hand to his forehead slowly, his whole face scrunching up uncomfortably, “Everything hurts.”

“I know, buddy.” Shane reassured him. His eyes darted over to the side of the rink where the medics were trying their best to get to them, “You’re safe, Luca, the medics are on their way.”

Shane's heart was still pounding against his ribcage as he urgently waved at the medics, trying to get them to Luca faster. When he looked down again, he saw that Luca’s hand had come to rest on top of his own. Shane wanted so badly to squeeze it, to tell him that he was going to buy him as much mint chocolate chip ice cream as he wanted, that he'd have a warm cup of tea waiting for him when he got home that night. But he couldn’t do that, not here. Not with the medics present. 

“Luca?” One of the medics kneeled on the other side of his head, “Are you okay? Can you tell me what hurts?”

“He’s having a bit of a hard time with English.” Shane interjected. 

“Can you ask him if he can open his eyes?” The medic asked patiently. So Shane did and Luca winced.

“It hurts, Shane.” His accent bit down on the words awkwardly, like it was an effort for him to get it out. Shane explained these observations to the medic who, even though they couldn't understand them, probably could've picked that up. Still, it made him feel helpful; like he had a reason to stick by Luca's side.

“Take your time, buddy. There’s no rush. You’re okay. You’re safe.” Shane reassured him, applying a bit more pressure to where his hand was still under Luca's on his chest. It was a subtle movement, one that the medic probably didn’t even pick up on, but Luca seemed to sense it through his gear. The corners of his lips twitched upwards a bit at the feeling.

“My sister is going to be so worried.” Luca admitted after a few moments of silence. 

Shane chuckled which made the medics look at him funny. He didn’t care.

“It’s not your sister you need to worry about.” Shane replied, hoping that Luca would understand the nuance to his words. 

They both knew how intense Ilya was, and his own mother, who was probably already blowing up their phones from where she sat in the stands. Even though she could see them on the ice, clearly a bit preoccupied, and without their phones. Luca seemed to understand the sentiment. He snorted.

“Can he move his legs?” The medic interrupted them, a bit restless. Shane translated it for Luca and he swished his legs around like he was making snow angels. Shane chuckled. 

“Okay, there’s no need to show off.” Shane joked.

“I tried that already. How do you think I got in this situation?” Luca chirped back. 

Good, so his memory was fine. Shane explained this to the medic who was insisting that they needed to get them off the ice, already flagging over a stretcher. Shane took the opportunity to look around the rink. Most of the fights had been defused but some of the guys still held onto one another just in case things got rowdy again. There were so many bodies around them that it took Shane a moment to find Ilya. In true Ilya fashion, Shane heard him before he saw him.

“Not so tough now, are you? You piece of shit.” Ilya’s thick accent cut through the cold air like a knife.

Shane snapped his head in the direction that the sound was coming from and he watched as one of the refs gently pushed Ilya away from Comeau. His teammate looked like absolute shit from what Shane could see of him slumped over on the ice. There was a lot of blood and one of the medics quickly rushed over to him with a towel. Shane bit the inside of his cheek to steel his expression. 

He had it coming, Shane thought to himself.

He looked away from Comeau to Ilya who was searching around the ice for Luca in a panic. When his eyes finally landed on them, he skated over quickly and came to a clumsy stop beside them, kneeling beside Luca’s head.

“Luca? Luca, can you hear me?” Ilya asked breathlessly. He reached out his hands to touch Luca but stopped when he saw the blood on them. Shane’s heart panged. He placed a careful hand on Ilya’s upper back, entirely aware of the cameras that were likely on them, as he consoled his boyfriend in a friendly manner.

“He’s okay.” Shane answered for him. Ilya searched Luca's face for any sign of pain and, as if on cue, Luca’s eyes fluttered open.

“Ilya?” He rasped out.

“I am here, Luca.” Ilya exhaled. 

Luca finally looked up at them with his big blue eyes. They were dazed and glossy as they focussed first on Ilya and then Shane. The medics insisted again that they needed to get him off the ice but they all ignored them. 

After a moment, Luca’s lips twitched up.

“I should’ve cut in on the inside.” Luca joked, in English this time. That got a watery laugh out of Ilya and a wide grin from Shane, who didn't quite get the joke but had such a fondness for the rookie that he couldn't help but smile at him. Leave it to Luca to find humour in such a terrifying moment.

Ilya wiped his nose across his sleeve before he replied, “Da, Luca. You should’ve listened to me.” 

Luca smirked up at them. It looked a bit more like a grimace than anything else and Shane realized that they really needed to get him off of the ice--it had been long enough. If they stayed there any longer it would cause more media frenzy; more photos, more social media posts, more analyses of the comfortability between the three of them. Shane carefully removed his hands from the two of them as he sat back on his heels. He debated skating back to his bench but he couldn’t leave just yet; something kept him tethered to the spot right beside Luca.

Luca's eyes fluttered open and closed a few times, almost like he was making sure he could still do it, before he decided that he should get up. 

“Are you sure?” Shane asked. 

Ilya finally turned to look at him but Shane kept his eyes on the boy. He knew that the moment he looked at his boyfriend it would be over for him; the emotions that he'd been so carefully hiding all night would finally bubble over and he would be an absolute panicked wreck. His heart was still pounding in his chest, hands only stilled by their firm grip in his lap, as they waited for Luca’s next words. 

“Yeah, just help me. Please.” Luca grimaced. 

The medics had a stretcher on the way but Luca insisted he could do it himself. Shane was hesitant when Luca started to get up, but he and Ilya quickly got on either side of the boy to carefully support him. When he was fully upright, they held onto his forearms and carefully guided him back over to the Centaurs bench. The whole arena clapped for Luca as they slowly got him off the ice, where the medics took over and helped him into the tunnel. Shane let go of a shaky breath as they watched them retreat into darkness. 

Ilya cleared his throat, “Thanks, Hollander.” 

Shane snapped his head over to his boyfriend. Ilya’s hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach out and touch him. Shane wanted nothing more than to console Ilya in that moment; to wipe away his tears or run a calming hand through his hair. Instead, he stayed firmly in place and sent him a small, tight-lipped smile. Then he turned to the Centaurs bench, who were watching their interaction closely, and sent them a quick nod. 

As he skated past, he could’ve sworn that the rookie who had sent Luca the initial pass–-the one right before he got laid out by Comeau–-was crying. Maybe he was just seeing things but the thought tugged at him. He was fairly confident, however, that he’d heard Wyatt make a comment about him as he skated away; something about being a nice guy, which made Shane’s heart swell. The Centaurs guys were so kind; Shane always left with that feeling whenever they came to their summer camps. It was a sentiment that Ilya always echoed in whatever story had told Shane. It brought him some comfort knowing that Luca was in good hands as he skated back over to his own bench. The air was different over here, colder. His own teammates watched him without saying a word. He didn't even bother looking at Coach Theriault, he already knew what facial expression he would be met with, but he could feel the man's icy eyes on him. He slid his gloves back on with shaky hands and picked up his stick from where he'd left it on the bench.

Shane played the rest of the period in a daze. Everyone did. There were so many penalties called out that it was basically a wash, and the Voyageurs ended up losing the game 2-1.

As suspected, he was immediately tapped for media after the game. Just a quick interview, Shane agreed tiredly, as he stood in the hallway just outside of the visitor's locker room. He did everything in his power not to look down the other end of the hallway, at the door that led to the Centaur's facilities. He wanted nothing more than to go find their doctor's office, to see if Luca was okay, to see if Ilya was okay. He quickly pushed that thought aside when the TSN interviewer started asking him questions. 

"You went right to Luca Haas after the hit. Why's that?" 

He saw the question coming from a mile away but it still made him tense. In his fuzzy state he was grateful for all of the media training that Farrah and his mom had run him through. He was made for this, the media's golden boy. He leaned on that as he gave a half-assed answer.

"It's never nice to see a rookie get taken out like that. I wanted to make sure that he was okay." Shane kept his voice monotone, letting the interviewer know that he didn't want any more follow-ups. The interviewer didn't seem to care--they needed a headline.

"You stayed with him for a while." His tone was pointed, wanting Shane to fill in the blanks.

"The medics weren't bilingual and Luca is a native French speaker. I was just lending a helping hand." 

"Thank you, Shane."

Shane was almost surprised that there were no questions about Ilya, about the way that the two of them had practically carried Luca off the ice. He didn't let that show as he politely nodded and walked away without another word. The interviewer wrapped up the segment with some comment about sportsmanship in the MLH and how there were still no updates on Luca's condition. 

Shane trudged back into the locker room with a schooled expression on his face. He wanted nothing more than to quickly shower and get the hell out of there. Coach Theriault didn’t say a word to them after the game; that’s how they knew that they had fucked up. They’d pay for it at their next practice but Shane tried not to think about it as he stripped off his gear.

The energy from the game had followed them into the locker room. Everyone was silent. Shane knew that he should probably say something but there was nothing that he could say to change what had happened. So he did what everyone else did and quickly went through his post-game routine.

When he went to leave the locker room, someone scoffed loudly from behind him.

Shane froze in place. Surely that wasn’t for him? He went to leave again but only made it a few steps before Comeau spoke up.

“Fucking pussy.” He muttered under his breath.

His tone was venomous as it cut through the silence of the room. Shane froze again, heart pounding in his chest as he shrugged his bag off his shoulder and let it fall to the ground. He spun around slowly. Some of the guys were watching him, others averted their eyes, as he scanned the room. His eyes finally landed on Comeau who was staring at him with pure hatred in his eyes. Well, eye-–singular. The other one had closed over and turned slightly purple from where Ilya had punched him repeatedly.

“What was that?” Shane’s tone was surprisingly even as he took a few steps closer to Comeau. 

“You heard me.” Comeau spat.

Shane nodded slowly, eyes scanning the room again. Hayden had stood up slowly from his stall, eyes never leaving Comeau as he assessed the defensemen’s anger. Comeau wouldn’t try anything, not after tonight. Shane knew that for certain. He liked to hide behind his words instead.

“And why exactly am I a fucking pussy?”

The words sounded foreign in his mouth. He hated the locker room talk, the homophobic undertones of the insult, but he needed to know. He tried to stay calm but he couldn’t stop the hairs that had risen on the back of his neck. Comeau stood up as well, taking a few steps closer to Shane so that they were only a few feet apart. Hayden took a step forward as well.

“Because while the rest of your team was fighting, you were fraternizing with the enemy.” 

“Fraternizing with the enemy?” Shane scoffed, “Oh you mean protecting the rookie that you took out because you were upset about getting pushed down to the second line?”

You could hear a pin drop with the silence that filled the room. Some of the guys were shocked at Shane's bluntness--his willingness to defend himself. It's not something that Shane did often, if at all. No one challenged Shane like this. Sure guys would try to chirp him on the ice but that was a part of the game. This? This was entirely different. Shane could feel it in the way that the guys all looked at him; in their cowardice to say anything to defend him. 

“Shane,” Hayden said cautiously. Comeau was breathing heavier as he stared him down but it didn’t intimidate Shane. He was angry, his own heart ringing in his ears now. Comeau decided to fuck around and he found out. Fast. That wasn’t Shane’s fault.

“I know you’ve taken a few hits to the head, Comeau, but what you did tonight was fucking stupid. Even for you.” He took another step towards Comeau. Their breath mixed together as Shane continued, “Number one rule: don’t touch the fucking rookie.”

Something flickered across Comeau’s eyes. Hatred? Embarrassment? Insecurity? Shane couldn’t quite place it but Comeau didn’t say anything else. It was the first smart decision he’d made all night.

“Does anyone else have anything they want to say?” Shane heaved, eyes never leaving Comeau's.

It was a rhetorical question. No one was stupid enough to answer it.

“Didn’t think so.” Shane spat. He walked back over to where he’d discarded his bag and threw it over his shoulder again. Then he left the arena without another word. 

When he slid into the driver's seat of his car, he leaned his forehead against the cool steering wheel and took a few moments to breathe. 

In, two, three. Out, two three. 

Shane wouldn’t let this ruin his night. He would go to the grocery store, buy that mint chocolate chip ice cream that he’d mentally promised Luca, and call his parents before they had a heart attack. He would share a bed with his loving boyfriend and then he would wake up the next morning, eat a peaceful breakfast with them, and go about their day like none of this happened. Well, as best as they could, depending on what state Luca was in. 

He checked his phone. No texts from Ilya. A billion texts from his mom. 

Shane sighed and clicked on her icon to call her, mentally preparing for all of her questions, before pulling out of the parking garage.