Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Character:

Original Characters

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV Outsider, hollanov NOT outed and get to come out on their own terms, Sports Journalism

Language:

English

Series:

Part 5 of The Cens Beat Reporter

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-20 Words: 5,834 Chapters: 1/1

NDA for a Beat Reporter

Summary

“Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander specifically want you to write an exclusive article about them. I don’t know what they want the article to be about. I had to sign an NDA from their lawyer just to get this assignment.” Joseph looked at her. Really looked at her. “I don’t know what the fuck this is going to be about, but it’s gonna be big. It’s pretty fucking huge that they asked for you specifically.”

Casey swallowed. “So don’t fuck it up?”

Joseph waved. “Please, I don’t think you’re capable of fucking anything up.”

--

What if Shane and Ilya got to come out on their own terms, and Ilya had a good working relationship with a queer reporter he trusted?

Notes

I want you to, for a brief moment, live with me in a world where Shane and Ilya are NOT outed, and they DO get to come out on their own terms. And let’s say, for instance, that Ilya had a good working relationship with a queer reporter that’s been covering him his whole career that he trusted to break the news?

Enter my OC, Casey Williams-Singer. This will be both an AU of canon and an AU of my own fic, because in my fic, Casey doesn’t come out as a lesbian until after Shane and Ilya are outed. But for the purposes of this fic, we’ll say that she came out after Troy came out.

If you haven’t read my previous fics in this series, don’t worry, I’ve written in exposition at the beginning so you can hop on the ride, too. Okay, everyone walking in stride with me? Great.

In the decade that Casey had been a sports journalist, she’d never had to sign an NDA.

She blinked at her boss, sitting in his high back leather rolling chair. She felt like she’d stepped into an alternate reality. She was a beat reporter for the Ottawa Citizen, it wasn’t exactly the New York Times. She covered hockey, and occasionally box lacrosse. The highest profile thing she’d ever covered in her career was the Bears Cup win in 2014 when she still lived in Boston. She’d never even seen an NDA before. 

“Why do I have to sign it?” She asked again.

Joseph, an older man who’d been a pretty good boss in her time on the Citizen, had run out of patience for her. “I told you, I can’t give you anymore information until after you sign it.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Casey. I’m not throwing you in a van. We have a high profile client that wants an exclusive interview with you, and a non-disclosure agreement was part of the deal. So sign the fucking thing so we can move on with our lives.”

She stared at the paper again. Who would even know she existed? She was a nobody, in the world of sports journalism. She was no Elliott Friedman—thank god for that—and she wasn’t even sure any high profile players knew her name.

Well, okay. That was a lie. There was one top paid player that definitely knew her name.

Casey had gotten the job at the newspaper in Boston the summer before Ilya Rozanov’s first NHL season, and they’d always had an easy-going relationship. When Casey had moved back to Ottawa in 2016 to be closer to her family, she was sad to say goodbye to her favorite player and his antics. And then, for some un-fucking-known to the universe reason, Ilya Rozanov signed in Ottawa not long after. It’d been nice to have his energy in the locker room again, and she’d almost dare to think that maybe they were kind of work friends. Was it him asking for an exclusive?

A weird pang of fear gripped her heart. It was summer. Was Ilya retiring? Oh, God.

She signed the damn thing. 

“Thank Baby Jesus,” Joseph pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander specifically want you to write an exclusive article about them.”

Ilya and Shane Hollander? What the fuck. 

Apparently she’d said that outloud, because Joseph sighed again. “I don’t know what they want the article to be about. I had to sign an NDA from their lawyer just to get this assignment.” Joseph looked at her. Really looked at her. “I don’t know what the fuck this is going to be about, but it’s gonna be big. It’s pretty fucking huge that they asked for you specifically.”

Casey swallowed. “So don’t fuck it up?”

Joseph waved. “Please, I don’t think you’re capable of fucking anything up.”

Her cheeks heated. This was all pretty overwhelming. “So what next?”

“You got anything going on tonight?”

“My wife and I were going to watch–”

“Not anymore,” Joseph crossed his arms. “You’re headed to Rozanov’s house with your equipment. I’ve got an address for you here.” He held up a piece of paper. “We were denied the request to send a full camera crew with you, so we’re sending one of the nicer cameras with you to take some photos. Oh, and Rozanov had a note for you,” Joseph looked through the papers on his desk for something until he found it, and readjusted the spectacles on his face. “Tell ‘pee-chka’ I’m sorry she can’t prepare questions in advance,” Joseph read, butchering the pronunciation. He looked at her over the top of his coke-bottle lenses. “What the hell is a pee-chka? Is that a pokemon?”

“Ptichka,” Casey corrected. “It means little birdy, I think.”

He stared at her.

She stared back.

“Because of how much I—”

“Because of how much you tweet, sure,” Joseph leaned back in his chair. “Any further questions?”

“Like, so many.”

“Great,” Joseph said. “I can’t answer any of them for you. Have fun.”

It wasn’t like, uncommon for a reporter to do an exclusive interview at a famous person’s house. That was a thing Casey had read about, sure. She’d seen interview clips from other players who had done big interviews in their homes. Hell, she was pretty sure that some of the interview clips from the Hollander/Rozanov rivalry documentary had been shot in their own houses. And she’d read articles before where the reporter had said something like “[insert name here] looked at ease in their rustic mid-century decorated kitchen” or some bullshit. This was normal. She’d signed an NDA. This was normal.

Casey sat in Ilya Rozanov’s driveway with her hands gripping the steering wheel. 

Please, this was anything but normal.

With a deep breath, Casey unclicked her seatbelt, grabbed her bag from the passenger seat, and headed towards the front door. 

When Ilya swung open his door, Casey was immediately greeted by the most important princess in the world: Ilya’s dog Anya.

“Oh my goodness,” Casey dropped down to make sure the adorable puppy got all the head scratches. “I nearly forgot I would get to see Anya!”

“Hi, Casey,” Ilya said, grinning from the door. “Thank you for coming by.”

“Anything to see this princess,” she said, smacking a kiss to Anya’s forehead. When she did eventually stand up, Anya yipped at both of them and then went running back into the house. Ilya held the door open for her, and cautiously, Casey stepped inside.

Ilya’s house was nice. Like, millionaire nice. Obviously. It was pristinely decorated, had beautiful hardwood floors, and it made Casey’s apartment she shared with Olivia look like a closet. 

“Your house is beautiful,” she said as she kicked off her boots by the shoe rack in the hall.

“Thank you,” Ilya tucked his hands in his pockets and looked around. He seemed nervous. “We like the privacy.”

Casey nearly fell over taking off a boot. She caught the we as easily as it had been dropped. As far as she knew, Ilya Rozanov was single and lived alone. Was that not the case?

What the fuck was going on?

As Ilya led her through the rest of the house, her eyes caught little details. Two mugs left on the coffee table. A couple of moving boxes in a corner. A lot of picture frames off the walls, their nails sticking out. “Are you moving out soon?” She asked, her voice hesitant. 

Ilya snorted. “No, someone else is moving in.”

She was even more confused, but then Ilya led her into the dining room, where Shane Hollander was sitting waiting for them. She’d kind of forgotten he was supposed to be there too, but his name had indeed been on the NDA as well. 

She held out her hand to him. “Hi, Hollander. I’m Casey.”

“Shane is fine,” he said, shaking her hand. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Of course,” she said, and then awkwardly started pulling things out of her bag in silence. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out what both of them could possibly have to announce together. Ilya sat next to Shane and Casey sat across from them, laying out her audio equipment, the camera she was sent with, her notebook and her favorite pen. She started the audio recording, clicked her pen, and looked at the two men across from her.

They looked about as nervous as she was. 

“Okay,” She said. “I’m here today with Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. It’s August 11th, 2021. My name is Casey Willaims-Singer.” It was honestly kind of pointless to be saying all of that for the sake of the recording. She’d never done that before in her life, but the moment felt like it needed it? Sure. 

Across from her, Shane had his forearms on the table, and was anxiously tapping the fingers of one hand against the other.

“So, gentlemen,” Casey said in the silence. “What would you like to talk about today?”

Across from her, Ilya reached over and took Shane’s anxiously tapping hand into his own and intertwined their fingers. 

Casey blinked.

“Shane and I are married,” Ilya said.

Casey dropped her pen.

She blinked again.

Shane and Ilya stared back at her.

“To each other,” Ilya added. 

Casey’s eyes flicked down, and wow, sure enough, they were both wearing matching wedding rings. 

Shane looked like he wanted to throw up.

“Okay,” Casey picked her pen back up. “Wow. First of all, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Ilya said.

“Okay,” Casey put her pen back down. “Sorry, I’m just processing.”

“We know it’s a lot,” Shane said, and she didn’t miss the way he squeezed Ilya’s hand. “We kept the relationship a secret for so long, we know it’s a lot to process.”

“No, I mean, yeah,” Casey leaned back in her seat. “I mean, that too. To be clear, I am genuinely thrilled for the two of you. I’m just sort of processing that I’m about to write a career-defining article that will possibly change the world.”

Ilya snorted, and they both seemed to relax a little.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Shane said.

“Yes, please,” Casey said.

“So, you’re married to each other,” Casey sipped on the warm cup of coffee Shane had put in front of her. It seemed to wake up her brain a little. “I’m assuming that I’m here today to help break the news to the rest of the world?” Shane and Ilya nodded. “Want to tell me a little bit more about that?” Casey tilted her head.

Shane and Ilya exchanged a look, and Shane drew in a deep breath. “Ilya and I have been in a committed relationship for a long time. We got married this summer in a private ceremony with our friends and family, and we’re building a life together. Hiding the secret of who we are to each other was exhausting, and we want to come out.”

“We have been together for many years,” Ilya added. “Longer than people would realize. It has always helped us to see other players come out, and we hope we can help make hockey a safer place by doing the same.”

“Wow, that’s huge,” Casey exhaled. “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to keep it a secret for that long.”

“You have no idea,” Shane said.

“Okay.” The corner of Casey’s mouth tugged up. “So give me an idea, Shane Hollander.”

It turns out, Casey really had absolutely no fucking idea.

“Ilya and I have been seeing each other casually, off-and-on, since the summer of 2010.”

“But that’s–” Casey nearly dropped her coffee mug, which would have been a shame, because it was a nice coffee mug. It was probably handmade, too. 

“Before our rookie season? Yes.” Ilya smirked.

“I didn’t even know I was gay back then,” Casey said, which got the first real smile she’d seen out of either of them during this. “How much of your history are you willing to share?”

Ilya leaned back in his chair, and reached down to pet Anya. Casey could hear the dog’s tail thump against the carpet. “We do not want to share private details,” he said. “But we want people to understand how long this has been weighing on us.”

“We were casual until the summer of 2017,” Shane said, like that wasn’t an insane thing to say. Seven years? That’s crazy. “And have been only with each other since then.” He hesitated for a moment. “It’s important that people know we never cheated. Not on each other and not on any one else.”

Casey read between the lines. “Rose Landry?”

“We were on a break,” Ilya rolled his eyes.

Shane cut him a look. “That was one of our off again moments,” he said, turning back to Casey. “Rose wound up helping me figure out my sexuality, and she’s still one of my best friends. She was even at our wedding.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Casey said. “I’ve always been a huge fan of hers.” Little bit of an understatement, to be honest. Casey occasionally joked that Rose Landry was one of her gay awakenings, but Shane didn’t need to know that. 

“I don’t want people to hate her or think the wrong thing when this gets out,” Shane swallowed. “There was no foul play and she didn’t do anything wrong. Neither did we.”

Casey caught his nervous eye, and hoped her sincerity was coming across. “I’ll make it as clear as possible in the article.”

Some of the tension in Shane’s shoulders released. “Thank you.”

“Okay,” Casey took another sip of her coffee. “Why don’t we start at the beginning? Tell me as much or as little as you want. And anything you don’t want included, even after you’ve said it, don’t be afraid to say something. I want to hear the whole story first, and then I might have some follow up questions.”

Shane inhaled and exhaled, and nervously looked at Ilya, who reached over and squeezed the back of Shane’s neck. He murmured something softly in Russian, which Casey didn’t understand and didn’t plan on translating, and Shane relaxed a little. 

“Okay,” Shane exhaled, laying his hands flat on the table. “The beginning.”

For the next hour or so, Casey heard about the first seven years of their relationship. Well, situationship might be a better way to put it, but she wouldn’t write that. She heard about the first time they met each other, in a cold parking lot by a No Smoking sign, and their first impressions of each other. Ilya had sweetly thumbed gently at Shane’s cheeks when recounting his first memory of his husband’s freckles. 

She heard about the draft, the first time they felt sparks—and shame—in their feelings towards one another. They didn’t share the details of the first time they… connected with one another the summer before their first season, but Casey could read between the lines. They very carefully (and a little awkwardly) danced around the fact that apparently, Hollander and Rozanov were having casual sex for half a decade before it got serious. 

It was kind of blowing Casey’s mind. For years, all they had was an hour or two every few months. She couldn’t imagine living like that, honestly. She wouldn’t have been able to handle it. But, well, honestly it sounded like they hadn’t handled it super well, either. 

She heard about the Olympics, the pressure Ilya had been under in Russia and then the months of silence at the other end of the phone. How it soured between them, both of them certain that they’d fucked it up before coming back together at the NHL awards that summer. How they managed to settle into a sweet spot of casually seeing each other without a deep emotional investment for a while. She heard, in restrained detail, of a time when things got too personal between them, and it had all fallen apart. How Shane had tried to prove so desperately that he was straight, and in the meantime had formed a close friendship with one Rose Landry. How he’d mistaken the friendship for attraction, and how no matter how hard he tried, it just wasn’t the same with her.

“I was miserable,” Shane admitted. “Rose was perfect on paper, everything I should want, and all I could think about was Ilya.”

Ilya, who’d looked like someone had pissed in his cheerios throughout the whole Rose Landry saga, crossed his arms. “I was miserable, too,” he admitted. “Their faces were plastered everywhere. I couldn’t fucking escape it, no matter how hard I tried.”

“But then,” Shane reached over and tugged on Ilya’s arms until he un-crossed them and took his hand into their own. “Rose talked some sense into me, and very kindly broke up with me. And then Ilya and I reconnected at the All-Star Game and we…”

The married couple stared longingly into each other’s eyes. Casey didn’t know it was possible to stare longingly at the person you’d married sitting half a foot away from you.

“We talked,” Ilya said. “Maybe for the first time ever, we talked.”

“We got on the same page,” Shane added. “Maybe not about everything, but it was the first time it felt like we both… we both wanted it and didn’t run away from it immediately.”

“And that’s when you went official?” Casey asked, scribbling down notes. 

“Not quite,” Shane’s smile was tight. “But it wasn’t long after.”

“We still had a bit to go first,” Ilya leaned back in his chair. “My father passed away, and I went back to Russia for the funeral. I had a huge fight with my brother and cut him off. I was stuck in Russia, which didn’t feel like home anymore, and all I could think about was this slow fucking hockey player.” Shane grinned at his husband, like an inside joke shared between them. “I knew I was in love with him, and that was terrifying,” Ilya said. “I was so scared of what it meant for my life, if I would ever be able to go home and see my mother’s grave again.”

Ilya’s voice cracked, and turned his head to the side. Casey made herself busy with her notebook for a moment, giving him a moment to recover. 

“It weighs so heavy on us,” Ilya said, wiping his eyes. “We know how serious it is to be together. What we have to lose because of it.”

“We almost didn’t have it,” Shane passed his husband a handkerchief, because of course Shane Hollander was the kind of guy that carried around a handkerchief. “We almost didn’t let ourselves have it.”

Ilya exhaled, and it sounded a little shaky. “I was prepared to end things with Shane, and then…” His jaw worked. “And then he got injured on the ice right in front of me, a week after I buried my father.”

“Oh, honey,” Casey let slip, and then cringed internally. “This sounds like it was so much on you, I can’t even imagine.”

“It was terrifying,” Ilya looked across the room. “I had no way of knowing if he was okay, was terrified I would never get to see him again.” Shane murmured something softly to him, and clasped their hands together. 

“We can take a break, if you want,” Casey interjected, and Ilya shook his head. 

“We are almost at the best part,” Ilya pulled himself together. 

Shane raised an eyebrow. “The part where you almost dumped me?”

“Yes, exactly,” Ilya said, and Shane rolled his eyes. “But you were high as fuck in that hospital and too cute to resist.”

“Fuck you,” Shane said with a grin, and Ilya literally pinched his cheek. Casey scribbled that down. “I invited him to come stay at my cottage for the summer,” he explained. “And I guess I was a little high during the conversation.”

“And I was still so uncertain. I only said maybe, not yes,” Ilya said. “But…”

“Something changed?” Casey raised an eyebrow.

“Scott Hunter came out,” Ilya shrugged. And wow, fuck, Casey had kind of forgotten about that, in the timeline of things. Which is wild, considering that’s the biggest piece of gay hockey news to happen like, ever. 

“It changed something for me, to see Hunter’s bravery.” And then Ilya made a face. “Ugh, do you have to put that in the article?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Casey said.

Shane smacked his husband’s arm. “Don’t be petty, he’s literally the reason we’re together.”

“Do not put what he just said in the article,” Ilya glared. “It was more than just Scott Hunter kissing his pretty boyfriend.”

“I know, I’m just saying–”

“You can put in first line, not second,” Ilya pointed a finger at Casey, and Shane cracked up laughing. It seemed to diffuse some of the tension in the room, which Casey was grateful for. This was all so emotional, so heavy, it was nice to see them laughing again. 

“Anyway,” Shane pushed Ilya’s finger away. “Scott Hunter coming out sort of, changed the game for us. It gave us hope. I literally got a call from Ilya while Scott and Kip were still on the ice saying he would come to my cottage that summer.”

“I could not wait a second longer,” Ilya admitted. “Once I let myself believe it might be possible.”

Casey nodded. “So then you spent the summer together?”

Shane shrugged. “It was only a couple of weeks but…” He looked at Ilya, and Ilya looked back at him, and they both had such stupid hearts in their eyes that Casey felt her chest squeeze. “It changed everything.”

“To finally get to spend that much time together, after years and years of only an hour or two at a time,” Ilya nodded. “It was everything I had ever wanted and more.”

So Casey heard about their time at the cottage. The joy of just getting to relax with each other, the first love confessions through teary eyes (“Do not put in the article that I cried. I have a reputation to uphold.”), the way Shane’s parents accidentally found out, and the way they made a plan to move forward. 

Casey had gone through something similar, in a way. When she moved from Boston back to Ottawa, she’d had to have a serious conversation with her then-girlfriend-now-wife Olivia about what it meant for their future. She knew how terrifying and exhilarating that kind of conversation could be to plan your life with someone, and could barely wrap her head around how that kind of basic relationship conversation must have been even more emotionally heightened for two closeted NHL players. It was a similar situation but an entirely different ballgame with different stakes, one that could have been career ending. Or maybe it wouldn’t have, they’d never really know. But with a commitment that fresh, she could only imagine what they had been feeling.

“And we’ve been committed to each other ever since,” Shane said. 

“Wow,” Casey took a sip of her cold coffee. “That’s quite a fucking story, Mr. Hollander.”

“Tell me about it,” he smiled. 

“So, what have the last few years been like?” Casey picked up her pen again, and the couple started talking again.

They talked about the drive back and forth between Montreal and Ottawa. How they spent less time with their teammates for the sake of late nights and long weekends together. How the hiding from the world negatively impacted both of them–-Shane with exercising his need for control on unhealthy eating habits and Ilya’s severe depressive episodes. How the isolation and secrecy seemed like it was going to kill them before they ever got a shot at real happiness. How staying closeted seemed to unintentionally drive a wedge between them. How picking fights and not understanding each other and a lack of communication soured even the sweet times.

“So what changed?” Casey asked. “What changed, and…” the question she’d wanted to ask since the moment she found out the news. “Why now? Why come out now?”

“Well, I almost died,” Ilya said nonchalantly.

“Ilya,” Shane hissed.

Ilya threw up his hands. “Well, I did!”

Casey just watched with amusement as they bickered, and as Anya came between them with a huff.

“What happened,” Shane gave their dog the head scratches she demanded and looked at Casey. “Was that the Cens plane almost went down, and it put a lot of things into perspective for us. For me, specifically,” he said. The glare he’d been giving Ilya during their bickering had turned into something softer, more vulnerable. “If the plane had actually gone down…” Shane exhaled shakily, and Ilya reached over to cup the back of his head.

“It did not. I am here,” Ilya murmured, and Shane reached up to squeeze Ilya’s wrist. 

He nodded at his husband. “It just seemed so pointless,” Shane continued. “All the years of secrecy and hiding. If he’d died that day, I would have died with him.” He swallowed, blinking rapidly. “I would have had to grieve him and no one would have even known we were together. Keeping our secret and putting our lives on hold until retirement seemed pretty fucking stupid.” He gave Casey a small smile, his unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. Casey was trying to blink back tears, too, which was embarrassing. “I didn’t want to wait for the future. I didn’t want to have to hide how much I loved him anymore. So the next time I saw him, I proposed.”

“It was very beautiful,” Ilya’s voice was soft. Reverent. “And a total fire hazard.”

Shane snorted as he wiped at his eyes. “They were electric candles, you asshole.”

“He proposed, and I said yes,” Ilya ignored him. “We made a plan to get through the season, get married, and then come out on our own terms. And now, we’re here.”

“Wow,” Casey sat back in the chair. Her head was spinning from the last few hours. “What was the wedding like?”

“Small,” Shane shrugged. “We got married in the backyard with a few close friends and my parents.”

“It was perfect,” Ilya rested his arm along the back of Shane’s chair. “It was a perfect day.” 

“It was exactly what we wanted,” Shane nodded. “We’d been together for a decade, more or less. The ceremony wasn’t as important as everything else to come.”

Casey nodded, and scribbled that line down in her notebook. She’d had to flip the page a few times for all the things that had stood out to her, thoughts pinging in her head of the things she’d want to capture later. This was likely going to be a long fucking article, but it was going to capture over a decade’s worth of a relationship. Years and years of heartbreak and agony and love and hope. You couldn’t trim that down easily. Not when Shane and Ilya were so overflowing in their love for each other.

Because really, it was almost overwhelming. A few hours ago, she would have thought that they were casual buds who worked together. Now after spending a few hours in their house, she felt engulfed in the depth of their love. She felt how precious it was, how hard they’d worked to protect it for a decade. She felt that protectiveness rise up in her, on their behalf.

God, there were so many horrible people in the world of hockey, in the world that would work to tear them down. People that would say hateful, homophobic things. Untrue things, nasty things, to smear their names and drag them through the mud. There were going to be people who would take every ounce of softness and sweetness and attempt to sour it, to ruin it. There would be calls to kick them out of the league, to strip them of their titles and awards. It was going to be nasty. It was going to be hateful.

She could see why they’d kept it secret for so long. 

But…

There were going to be so many people whose lives were changed by this. Young queer people, hell, queer people of all ages, who would be moved by their story. People who never got to come out while they were in the league, and who would feel a little less alone. Young athletes coming up in the sport who felt like they had to shove the loveliest parts of themselves in a closet in order to be accepted in the locker room, in order to make it to the big show. 

Casey had once been that young athlete, closeted and nervous and feeling alone in the world. She would have given anything for a drop of hope in the horrible bucket of toxic hockey culture. Would have given anything to know that there was a place for her at the rink to shine openly, and be surrounded by support. Would have given anything to feel a little less alone. 

This story was going to change lives. It was going to save lives. 

“You okay?” Shane asked, and Casey sniffled. 

Fucking embarrassing to be cry in front of the people she was interviewing about their lives. 

But, also, wasn’t that the point of this? The culture they’d all grown up in, all three of them, had tried to beat the softness out of them. Had tried to squash any sign that they were different, taking anything outside of what was considered “normal” as a threat. Casey, and Shane, and Ilya, had all spent years and years thinking that feelings were embarrassing, that their queerness was something to be ashamed of, that they couldn’t have their happily ever afters and have hockey, too.

But Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov were sitting in front of her, holding hands. 

Her wife was waiting for her at home.

Maybe, just maybe, hope was not something far off in the distant future.

“I’m just thinking,” Casey wiped her eyes. “That this is going to change a lot of lives. And that I wish younger me knew how much better things were going to get.” She gave them a small smile. “I know it’s not easy for the two of you to bear such heavy burdens, and maybe it’s not even fair, considering the amount of backlash that’s going to happen. But it’s going to make a difference.”

“We want that,” Shane said, and Ilya nodded. “And we also just want to be able to live our lives. We’ve spent so much of it in hiding.”

“But not anymore,” Ilya brought their intertwined hands up to kiss Shane’s knuckles.

“Do you have a plan for what happens next?” Casey asked, wiping her snot on her sleeve in a way that was not particularly professional.

Shane and Ilya exchanged another look. “We do,” Ilya said cautiously. “And we’re hoping to have this article come out before any other news breaks.”

Casey frowned. “You’re not retiring, right?”

“Jesus, no,” Shane said. “But…” He bit his lip and looked at Ilya. “There might be some roster movements upcoming.”

She knew her eyes had to be wide as dinner plates. “Are you going to try and be on the same team?”

Shane hesitated, and nodded. 

“Holy fuck,” Casey said. She didn’t think she could still be surprised.

“Nothing is set in stone yet,” Shane said. “So…”

“So we want to control the narrative,” Ilya said, and gestured to Casey’s recorder. “Incase it does not go how we want. Is why we called you.”

“Wow,” Casey rubbed her forehead. “A married couple on an NHL team. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Let’s hope that you do,” Shane grimaced. “Regardless, we’re keeping the house in Ottawa. This is where we’ll retire, eventually. Several years from now.” He bit his lip. “Can you leave the what comes next stuff out of the article? We don’t want the focus to be on that while our agent is still working on getting things done.”

Casey scribbled that in her notebook. “You got it. And I’ll send a draft over for you and your team to review and give notes before the article goes live. Might be over doing it a touch, but I want to make sure you both feel comfortable about what I write.”

“Thank you,” Ilya nodded. “We really appreciate it.”

“I can’t believe you asked for me,” Casey said. “It means a lot, Ilya.”

“Of all the reporters I have worked with, you are the only one I trust,” he said back earnestly. “You have never tried to make me feel like an idiot, even when I was young and spoke shitty English.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your English was never that bad.”

“That’s what I tell him, too,” Shane grinned. “But we also knew we wanted another queer person to write the article.”

“Well, you’ve got your friendly neighborhood lesbian beat reporter at your service,” she laughed. “Okay, I have a lot of follow up questions. Is that okay? I know we’ve been going for a while.”

Shane stood up from the table, and squeezed Ilya’s shoulder. “Why don’t I heat up some dinner, and we can keep talking?”

“Yes, let me just text my wife I’ll be home late,” Casey reached over to pause the recording.

Ilya frowned. “We don’t want to keep you.”

Casey waved her hand. “Please, Olivia will understand. Once the article drops, she’ll lose her mind.”

“If you’re sure,” Shane said, halfway to the kitchen already.

“If you’ll have me, I’m staying,” she shot off a text to Olivia, and then reminded her wife she’d signed an NDA and couldn’t give her any gossip yet.

Ilya stood up from the table too, Anya nosing at him. “Can I get you anything to drink? Water, ginger ale?”

Casey exhaled. “You got anything stronger?”

Ilya grinned, and snapped his fingers. “I will get the good vodka.”

Casey watched as Ilya slipped into the kitchen after his husband, and pressed a gentle kiss to Shane’s cheek. Ilya squeezed his shoulder, and Shane leaned into it before they both set off to get things in the kitchen. She turned back to her pages and pages of notes, flipping through them with her head spinning. 

She felt a little puppy nose bump into her thigh, and looked down to see sweet Anya begging for attention. She scratched the dog’s ears, and exhaled.

“Girl, what have I gotten myself into?" she sighed. And then laughed. And then looked back at her notes again.

~*~

Casey Williams-Singer Re-Tweeted: The Ottawa Citizen @OttawaCitizen - August 17, 2021

THE LONG GAME - @casey_williams sits down for the exclusive with Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov to discuss their decade-long secret relationship and building a life together. [LINK]

Casey Williams-Singer @casey_williams - August 19, 2021

I feel very fortunate that the Hollander-Rozanovs have trusted me with their story. That kind of trust only comes from a decade of working with Rozanov, and the safe space of being with other queer folks. I’m so grateful, every single day. 

Casey Williams @casey_williams - September 1, 2021

BREAKING NEWS. After 11 years, Shane Hollander is no longer a Montreal Voyager. In his free agency, the hometown boy has signed with the Ottawa Centaurs.

↳Casey Williams @casey_williams - September 1, 2021

From what I’ve heard, Hollander’s time in Montreal did not end well, or with a lot of support from his team. And I imagine he’s excited to be joining his long-time partner Ilya Rozanov on the ice.

↳Casey Williams @casey_williams - September 1, 2021

You know, I’ve seen you guys lose your minds in my comments before, but somehow that all seems like child's play to how everyone is losing their mind right now. Please remember to drink water.

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