Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander

Additional Tags:

Post-Book 2: Heated Rivalry (Game Changers), Pre-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Established Relationship, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Being Assholes (Game Changers), POV Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Needs a Hug, Angry Shane Hollander, shane hollander burns it all to the ground, Shane hollander knows who the F he is, Medical Inaccuracies, Author doesn't know hockey, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Good Friend Hayden Pike

Language:

English

Series:

Part 1 of Shane speaks up

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-28 Updated: 2026-02-06 Words: 11,313 Chapters: 4/5

Nothing That Can’t Wait

Summary

Shane has always trusted the Montreal Voyageurs, but it seems that trust was misplaced. In a post-game interview, a reporter informs him that his parents were in a car accident before his team ever did, and everything fractures in that moment.

Months of patterns that have excluded him finally come to a head. Shane makes a decision that detonates across the league — and his life.

A two-shot of Shane being ready to burn it all to the ground and finally choosing himself!

Notes

So this is an idea that I've had for the past month. I've read a couple of fanfics where Shane is outed and sort of takes the High Road, and I don't want that. I want a Shane Hollander who is ready to burn it all to the ground because he knows who he is and refuses to let anyone else hold back. I want an angry Shane who says, "Don't mess with me," and that's where this story came from. It's my first one in this fandom, and I hope you guys enjoy it.

Timeline-wise, this takes place after Heated Rivalry but before Game Changers, so Ilya has moved to Ottawa, and the foundation exists, but they were never outed.

Chapter 1

Shane was exhausted.

The good kind of exhausted, the kind that came after a win, after your body had been wrung dry and still somehow delivered when it mattered. His legs burned. His shoulders throbbed. His jaw ached from clenching his mouthguard too hard during the last defensive shift.

But they’d won.

Another win. Another step closer to the playoffs.

That part felt good. That part always felt good.

He followed the rest of the Montreal Voyageurs down the tunnel, skates clapping against concrete, sweat cooling rapidly against his skin now that the adrenaline was fading. The roar of the crowd dulled behind them, replaced by the familiar smells of rubber, metal, and sweat that meant locker room, meant routine, meant safety.

All he wanted was a shower. A clean hoodie. His phone. A call to Ilya. Then his bed.

And unfortunately, his spreadsheet.

He grimaced just thinking about it.

He hadn’t meant for it to become this. It had started innocently enough a few months ago, tracking hits, minutes on ice, line combos. Just curiosity. If he saw it on paper, he could be proven wrong; it would prove it was all in his head. But it only proved his thoughts and fears correct, and since then, it had morphed into something else.

Now it felt less like analytics and more like evidence.

He rolled his shoulders as he walked, trying to loosen the stiffness settling into his muscles. He was almost at the locker room door when he heard his name.

“Shane.”

He looked up.

Coach Theriault stood near the entrance with a team media rep, arms crossed, expression unreadable in that maddeningly calm way that had once made Shane trust him without question. That trust had thinned lately. Stretched. Frayed.

“Before you go in, we need you to do media.”

Shane blinked. “Now?”

“Yeah. They’re already set up. Big win. You had a hell of a game. Let’s keep the momentum.”

Shane glanced longingly at the locker room door behind him, already imagining hot water pounding against his shoulders, the weight of the night washing off him.

“Fine,” he said, nodding. “Sure.”

One of the equipment managers came over and helped him out of the outer layer of his gear, leaving him in his compression shirt. They took his helmet, stick, and skates, handing him the shoes from his stall.

He ran a hand through his hair a few times, trying to tame it.

What was another ten minutes?

He followed the media rep down the hallway, jaw tight, shoulders heavy. The media room hit him like controlled chaos, voices overlapping, chairs scraping, camera shutters clicking, lights already blazing.

Too bright. Too loud. Too much.

He took his seat at the podium, resting his forearms on the table, folding his hands together to keep them from shaking. He wasn’t sure why they were shaking. Fatigue, probably. Adrenaline crash. Nothing unusual.

Postgame interviews always blurred together.

“How did it feel out there tonight?”

“Talk about that third-period push.”

“What adjustments did you make defensively?”

“Three points tonight, what was clicking?”

Ask, answer. Ask, answer. Keep it short. Keep it neutral. Say something without saying anything.

He was already halfway back to the locker room in his head when the last question came.

“Shane.”

He looked up.

She was new. Young. Early twenties, maybe. Hair pulled into a tight bun, fingers clenched around her notepad like she was bracing herself. Nervous, but determined.

“We know how dedicated you are to the game,” she said carefully, “is that why you’re not at the hospital right now?”

The room went silent.

Not the polite pause before a response. The sharp, brittle kind of quiet that came when something went wrong.

Shane frowned. “What?” he said. “Hospital?”

She hesitated, eyes flicking down at her notes before lifting again. “We’ve received reports that your parents were in a car accident earlier tonight, around the start of the game. I assumed the organization had informed you.”

The words didn’t make sense.

Car accident.
Parents.
Hospital.

They didn’t fit together in his head. Not in his life. His parents were careful. His parents were healthy. His parents texted him every single game night without fail. Good luck, honey. Love you. Be safe.

“My parents were…” His mouth moved, but the sentence collapsed halfway out. “What?”

“They were in a collision,” she said softly. “They’re at St. Mary’s. I’m so sorry.”

“I, ” Shane looked down at his empty hands, then back up at her. “I don’t have my phone on me.”

And suddenly everything clicked.

Assistant coach Marc is running to the boards during the second period, phone in hand, leaning over to speak to Coach Theriault in urgent whispers.

Theriault’s face tightened.

The way both of them had looked straight at Shane.

The way Marc had moved toward him like he wanted to say something, and then Theriault stopped him with a sharp shake of his head.

His stomach dropped.

“I need to go,” Shane said hoarsely.

He stood, chair scraping loudly against the floor, and walked out as voices exploded behind him.

“Shane, ”

“Captain, ”

“Are they okay?”

He didn’t stop.

He broke into a run.

The locker room door slammed open.

“Shane, man, I just saw!” Hayden said from his stall, pointing at the screens along the wall replaying the interview.

Shane didn’t answer. He went straight to his cubby and grabbed his phone.

The screen lit up.

Missed calls.

So many missed calls.

Mom.
Dad.
Unknown number.
Ilya.
Unknown number again.

His chest tightened.

He opened the thread with his dad.

Earlier that day:

Dad: On our way to the game. Good luck, love you!

Then nothing.

Then:

Dad: We’re okay at the hospital. Come when you can.

Shane sucked in a sharp breath.

They’re okay.
They’re okay.
They’re okay.

He repeated it like a chant, as if saying it enough times would make his body believe it. His chest still felt tight. His pulse still raced.

He switched to the group chat with his parents.

Mom: We were hit at an intersection. Ambulance taking us to St. Mary’s. Don’t panic.
Dad: They’re checking Mom for a concussion. I’m fine. Please don’t worry.
Dad: We told the hospital you were playing, and that’s why they can’t reach you. We gave them your coach’s number. They said they’d contact your team.
Dad: They spoke to someone named Marc, assistant coach, I think? He said he’d make sure you were told.

Marc.

Assistant coach.

The room tilted.

Shane’s hands shook so badly that he had to sit down hard on the bench.

They told the team.

The hospital had contacted the organization.

His parents had been sitting in a hospital room, waiting, trusting that someone, anyone, would tell him.

And no one had.

He typed with trembling fingers.

Shane: Hey, I just heard. A fucking reporter told me. Are you sure you guys are okay? Is Mom okay?

The reply came almost immediately.

Dad: She has a small concussion and some light bruises. Doctors aren’t worried. They want to keep us a little longer to monitor her. But she’ll be fine. Just sore and cranky. She can’t look at screens for a few days.
Dad: I promise, son, we’re okay.

Shane closed his eyes.

Concussion.
Fine.
Fine.

His heart still felt like it was trying to tear its way out of his chest.

Shane: I’m coming as soon as I can. I’m so sorry no one told me until the media room.

Dad: Your mom says don’t apologize, and I agree. We know you were playing. We just wanted you to know we’re okay.
Dad: We love you.

His throat tightened.

Then another message came in.

Dad: Also, the doctor just came in, and I asked again; the hospital definitely called the team. They said they’d pass it along to you immediately.

Shane stared at that line until the words blurred.

Immediately.

He lowered his phone, hands clenched around it, breathing too fast.

“They’re okay,” he whispered. “They’re okay.”

But his body wasn’t calm.

Because okay wasn’t nothing.
Because a concussion wasn’t nothing.
Because the accident wasn’t nothing.
Because thirty-two minutes ago could have been something else entirely.

His phone buzzed again.

Ilya: I heard from your parents.
Ilya: Driving to hospital now.
Ilya: Call me when you can.

Shane’s chest twisted.

Ilya knew before he did.

Everyone knew before he did.

He swallowed hard and typed back.

Shane: Thank you. I’m leaving the rink now.

Ilya: Good. Be there soon.

Shane: I think I’m about to do something either very smart or very stupid. Either way, I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t. I’m done.

He locked his phone without waiting for a response and stared at the floor.

Nothing that can’t wait.

The words replayed in his head.

Nothing that can’t wait.
Nothing that can’t wait.
Nothing that can’t wait.

He remembered sitting on the bench, breath fogging his visor, sweat dripping down his spine, hearing Marc murmur something urgent to Coach Theriault.

Remembered the way Theriault had glanced at him, quick, sharp, and shaken his head.

Remembered Marc starting to step toward him, then stopping.

Shane had leaned over. “Everything okay?”

Theriault had barely looked at him. “Nothing that can’t wait until after the game.”

His jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

“Shane?”

He looked up.

Hayden stood nearby, concern etched into his face.

“Your parents, man, are they okay?”

Shane didn’t answer.

Instead, he stood and started ripping off the rest of his gear, throwing it into the bottom of his locker. He grabbed everything from the top shelf and shoved it into his bag.

“Whoa,” Hayden said. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” Shane said flatly.

Across the room, J.J. looked up. “Dude, is now really the time? Don’t you need to get to the hospital?”

“My parents texted. They’re okay. I’m headed there in a few minutes,” Shane said, not looking up.

He didn’t stop.

He pulled on his sweats and hoodie, shoved his phone charger, wallet, and keys into his duffel, making sure he grabbed every personal item from his cubby. He didn’t shower. Didn’t ice. Didn’t treat the bruise blooming along his ribs. None of it mattered.

“Shane,” J.J. said, walking over. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Shane said too fast. “Everything’s fine.”

It wasn’t.

He slung the bag over his shoulder.

“Man,” Hayden said carefully, “you sure? Give me five, and I can come with you to the hospital.”

Shane paused.

Hayden was the only one who’d asked about his parents. The only one who’d offered to go with him. The only one who’d actually spoken to him like this mattered.

He looked around the room.

At his team.

At the guys he’d bled with. The guys he’d trusted. The guys he’d led to three Stanley Cups. The guys who’d watched him take hit after hit tonight and hadn’t stepped in.

The guys who hadn’t thought, Hey, maybe the captain should know his mom is in a hospital bed.

The spreadsheet flashed in his mind.

Hits taken: +23%.
Defensive coverage: -19%.

All that meant was consistent breakdowns in protection.

Nothing that can’t wait.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m sure.”

He walked out.

But he didn’t head toward the exit.

He turned back toward the media room.

His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might crack his ribs. His hands shook around the strap of his duffel. His brain screamed at him to stop, to breathe, to think this through.

But if he stopped, he’d talk himself out of it.

And he was done talking himself out of things.

He shoved the media room door open.

Heads snapped up.

Cameras swung toward him.

“Shane?” someone said. “We thought you left.”

“I have an announcement,” he said.

The room froze.

Coach Theriault stood near the back, already scowling with a look that screamed What are you doing?

Shane ignored him.

He scanned the room until he found the reporter who’d asked about his parents. She looked startled, but not guilty. Just surprised.

Good.

He dropped his bag at his feet.

“I wanted to give you an update,” he said. “I texted with my father. My parents are doing well.” He saw Theriault visibly relax. “My mother has a concussion. My dad has some bruises, but nothing major. Since I found out about my parents being in a car accident on national television, I figured you’d want to know how they’re doing on national television.”

The words tasted hollow, but he kept going.

“But that’s not all I need to say.”

The room leaned in.

“I have another announcement,” he continued, voice tight but steady. He glanced at the cameras, confirming the red lights were on. “One that I know I’ll get fined for, or worse. But I don’t care.”

“Effective immediately,” he said, standing to his full height, shoulders squared, “I am waiving my no-trade clause.”

The room inhaled as one.

“As of tonight,” he continued, “I will never step foot in this building as a Montreal Voyageurs player again. I will never play for this team again.”

The eruption was instant.

“What?”

“Are you serious?”

“Captain, ”

Coach Theriault stepped forward sharply. “This interview is over.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Shane said, not even looking at him. “He’s no longer my coach.”

Theriault stopped short, jaw tightening.

“Because tonight,” Shane continued, “in the second period, with seven minutes left, your assistant coach, Marc, came over to you. He told you something. You both looked at me. You both looked scared. He tried to walk toward me, and you stopped him. Check the footage. It’s on camera.”

Shutters exploded.

“I asked you,” Shane said, finally turning toward him, “while I was sitting on the bench, ‘What was that about? Is everything okay?’ And you said, and I quote, ‘Nothing that can’t wait until after the game.’”

Theriault’s face flushed.

“Tell me,” Shane said, voice rising, “that he didn’t just tell you my parents were in a car accident. Tell me the hospital didn’t contact this organization. Tell me you didn’t know my mother might have a concussion while I was on the ice, and you refused to tell me. Marc tried to tell me, and you stopped him.”

“Shane, ” Theriault started.

“Fuck you,” Shane said.

The room went dead silent.

“Fuck you and fuck this organization,” Shane continued, turning back to the reporters. “And don’t stop recording. I don’t care what he says. You keep filming. I don’t work for him anymore. The world should know what this organization stands for.”

Theriault’s lips pressed into a thin line, eyes darting to the cameras, to the reporters, to the hallway filling with bodies.

“At the beginning of this season,” Shane said, turning back to the microphones, “falsely believing this team was my family, that you were my brothers, that you had my back, I came out to my team as gay.”

The word dropped into the room like a weight.

“Since then,” he continued, “my protection on the ice has dropped by over twenty percent. Same enforcers. Same pairings. But I’m getting checked into the boards more. My ice time has decreased. That’s not a coincidence. That’s data.”

He paused.

“I track it. Every game. Every hit. Every missed block. And tonight? How many openings did the other team have to check me into the boards without anyone stepping in?”

Murmurs rippled.

“I helped build this team,” he said. “And since I came out, I’ve been excluded from recruitment meetings. From strategy sessions. From film review. Meetings I’ve been in for years. Suddenly I’m not invited, but other people are.”

His eyes flicked to the doorway, where his teammates stood clustered.

“J.J.,” Shane said sharply. “Assistant captain.”

J.J. stiffened.

“Did you think I didn’t notice?” Shane continued. “That I didn’t realize that you and Gilbert Comeau were getting leadership responsibilities I used to have?”

“Shane, ” J.J. started.

“Don’t,” Shane snapped.

He turned back to the cameras.

“I realized a week after I told my team this would be my last season with them,” he said, “their reactions told me everything I needed to know. I just thought it would end with respect. With dignity. Not like this.”

He laughed bitterly.

“But since you want to fuck me over. Since you want to hide the fact that my parents were in a car accident to keep me on the ice and play your hockey game. Since you want to use my body to win you awards but not respect me enough to care about me as a person, ”

He took a breath.

“Fuck you,” he said clearly. “Fuck this team. Fuck this organization.”

Theriault looked like he might explode, but he didn’t move. Cameras were everywhere.

“You have no idea what could’ve happened to them,” Shane continued. “They could’ve died tonight. And you didn’t care as long as I was still useful.”

He pointed at Theriault.

“If any other player’s family had been in a car accident, you would’ve pulled them off the ice immediately. You would’ve shown them that respect. But we all know why you didn’t for me.”

The word hung between them.

“Homophobia.”

“That’s bullshit,” Theriault snapped.

“Check the stats,” Shane said coldly. “Check the meeting logs. Check social media. Check how many times they’ve said my name this year versus the last three. They’ve been slowly trying to phase me out.”

Reporters leaned forward.

“I’ve been quietly removed from promotional photos,” Shane said. “From team spotlights. From campaigns. Unless I’m scoring, I don’t exist. I know I don’t go on social media much, but I have people who do.”

Ilya.
His mom.
Rose.

“They noticed,” Shane said. “You stopped promoting me. You slowed it down. And that doesn’t just come from him.”

He gestured upward.

“That comes from higher up. Because they don’t like my life.”

His voice broke.

“I brought this team three fucking Stanley Cups.”

Silence.

“And because I’m gay,” he said, “you’re slowly edging me out.”

“Shane,” J.J. said hoarsely, “that’s not, ”

“Fuck you,” Shane snapped. “You knew. You knew they were preparing you for captain next year. Don’t pretend you didn’t. I would never have done this to you. I thought you were my friend, but at the first chance for promotion, you were willing to let them screw me over. Tell me I’m wrong.” He scoffed. “You know, if you just spoke to me and told me what was going on, I would help you. I knew the writing was on the wall a week after I falsely trusted this team. I would have ensured a peaceful handover for you because you were my friend. I wouldn’t have wanted you in the middle, because it wasn’t your fault they lost their faith in me, or that they wanted to get rid of me. You have been an amazing assistant captain, and I would have helped you to take the job they no longer wanted me for because you are good, and you deserved it. That, at least, since I was being pushed out, someone who was a good person would have the team. But you actively worked with them behind my back and lied to my face whenever I asked. You let them know you were okay with lying to me, with screwing me over. TELL ME I’M WRONG!” he roared.

J.J.’s mouth opened then closed, and He looked away, shame covering his face.

That was answer enough.

Shane looked at Gilbert Comeau. The man was glaring at him, but Shane felt nothing but rage.

“Enjoy it,” Shane said flatly. “You can have it.”

He turned back to the cameras.

“Trade me,” he said. “Don’t trade me. Fire me. Rip of my contract. I don’t care because I know I gave this team everything. I bled on this ice. I was in some of your weddings. I hung out with your families. And only Hayden never changed. He was the only one who treated me the same since I came out. The rest of you just showed me how expendable I was, how everything I put into this team didn’t mean a damn thing to anyone once I didn’t fit the mold you wanted me to be.”

He bent down and picked up his duffel.

“I’m not an idiot. I always knew this was a job, and I’m incredibly lucky to play this game I love at this level. That is not lost on me one bit. But I’m no longer willing to play for a team that doesn’t value me as a human being.”

He lifted his head.

“I will never step foot on this ice as a Montreal Voyageurs player again.”

Then he walked out, leaving the chaos in his wake. 

Chapter 2: The Fallout

Chapter Summary

Shane broke the internet.

Chapter Notes

Wow, I was not expecting the reception I received. Thank you all so much!
Enjoy the Fallout.

Shane hadn’t slept.

Not really. How could he? He’d basically blown up his life the night before, and while he didn’t regret a single word, that didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified of the fallout.

The drive to the hospital had been a blur — headlights, wet pavement, his hands locked tight on the steering wheel. By the time he made it to his parents’ bedside and heard Ilya’s quiet, “They’re alright,” the adrenaline finally crashed.

He remembered running straight into Ilya’s arms, hugging him hard, kissing him without thinking, then turning immediately to his parents, needing to see them with his own eyes.

And just like that, his mother knew something was wrong.

She saw it in the way his hands shook. In how he couldn’t sit still. In how his eyes looked like he’d already lived through something awful before he even said a word.

So he told them.

Everything.

Everything he’d said. Everything he’d experienced over the last few months. Everything he’d swallowed and carried alone.

Ilya stayed quiet while he talked, but his presence never wavered — shoulder to shoulder with Shane, hand resting warm against his knee.

His mother, if she hadn’t been in a hospital bed, would’ve already been on her way to the Voyageurs offices to rip them apart.

He refused to let them turn on the TV or check social media. He just wanted the night. The four of them. Breathing the same air. Letting the fear drain out slowly.

So there he was now — still in his parents’ hospital room — lying on the uncomfortable cot they’d wheeled in for him and Ilya, the same thought looping endlessly through his mind:

They’re alive.

Every time he opened his eyes, they were still there. His mother tucked into bed, faint yellow bruises blooming along her cheekbone beneath the fluorescent lights. His father in the bed across from her, one arm in a sling, face pale but steady.

“You’re staring again,” Yuna said softly.

Shane blinked. “Sorry.”

She smiled. “You’ve been doing it all night.”

He shrugged. “Just making sure you’re real.”

“Unfortunately,” David said dryly, “very real.”

That earned Shane a weak laugh — the first real sound he’d made in hours.

The room was quiet — the good kind of quiet. The kind that came after terror and settled into something survivable.

He glanced at Ilya, asleep beside him. He looked uncomfortable, twisted slightly toward Shane, but he hadn’t left their side all night.

Shane’s chest tightened.

He loved that man. God, he loved him.

Ilya had given up everything — moved to one of the worst teams in the league — just to be closer to him. Shane blinked hard, forcing the sting behind his eyes back where it belonged.

The door opened, and a nurse stepped in with a tablet.

“Good morning, Hollander family… and friend,” she added, nodding toward Ilya’s sleeping form. “I spoke with the doctor. She’s approved you both for discharge today.”

Shane’s chest loosened instantly. “Really?”

“Yes,” she said warmly. “Mrs. Hollander, your concussion is mild. We’re sending you home with strict instructions to rest, limit screens, and no heroic multitasking.”

Yuna made a face. “I can multitask responsibly.”

“Absolutely not,” David said.

The nurse smiled and continued, “Mr. Hollander, your bruising looks good too. Your ribs should heal on their own. You’ll both be sore for a few days, but nothing concerning.”

Shane exhaled long and slow, like his lungs had been waiting for permission to work properly.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

When the nurse left, Yuna reached for his hand. “See? You can relax now.”

“I don’t know how,” he admitted.

David studied him. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Some,” Shane lied.

Yuna raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he said. “Not really.”

She squeezed his fingers. “You don’t have to hover. We’re okay.”

“I know,” he said. “I just—”

“—needed to see it,” David finished gently.

Shane nodded.

“Now that this crisis is over,” Yuna said, fixing him with a look, “we can focus on our other crisis.”

Shane groaned. “The nurse just said no multitasking.”

“It not multitasking,” she said firmly. “It is focusing only on you. We need talk to your sponsors, see fallout.”

“My agent can handle it,” Shane said. “I’ll call Farah later and grovel for the lack of sleep I’ve caused her. She can deal with it while you heal.”

“Shane,” Yuna prompted.

“No,” he said gently. “Mom, just be my mom right now. Heal. Your brain needs to heal, not stress about my career.”

A sleepy voice came from behind him.

“Yes. No worry. He still second-best hockey player.”

Shane turned. “Really, Ilya?”

“No frown,” Ilya said, sitting up and dropping a kiss to Shane’s forehead. “Moy lyubov. Is okay.”

Shane sighed, leaning into his chest. It wasn’t okay — not yet — but it would be.

ESPN BREAKING NEWS

MONTREAL VOYAGEURS CAPTAIN SHANE HOLLANDER WAIVES NO-TRADE CLAUSE MID-SEASON, ACCUSES ORGANIZATION OF HIDING FAMILY EMERGENCY AND SYSTEMIC DISCRIMINATION

Footage looped on every sports network.

Shane at the podium.
Shoulders squared.
Eyes burning.

“Nothing that can’t wait.”
“They knew my parents were in a car accident.”
“Because I’m gay, they’re slowly edging me out.”

Cut.
Replay.
Again.
Again.

TSN — HOCKEY CENTRAL LIVE

The panel sat frozen for a beat after the clip ended.

“Okay,” the host finally said, rubbing his hands together. “That’s… unprecedented.”

“Unprecedented doesn’t even cover it,” former defenseman Mark Levesque said. “You don’t see captains torch their teams live on camera in a temper tantrum. Ever.”

“No,” analyst Priya Singh cut in sharply, eyes flashing. “Let’s not dismiss what just happened by calling it a temper tantrum. Shane Hollander has been a consistently calm leader. If even half of what he’s alleging is true — about his parents’ accident, about internal retaliation — this is a long time coming.”

“We’re talking about a three-time Stanley Cup captain,” another analyst added. “The face of your franchise for nearly a decade. This isn’t some fringe player melting down. This is the guy.”

“And he had a hat trick tonight,” Priya added quietly. “Which makes this even more surreal. That emotional whiplash? A person can only take so much.”

“He played one of the best games of his career,” the host said. “And then walked away.”

SPORTSNET ALERT

BREAKING: Hospital confirms Montreal Voyageurs organization was contacted during the game regarding the Hollander family emergency.

Video confirms assistant coach Marc DuBois reportedly spoke with Coach Theriault in the second period. Footage shows Marc walking toward Hollander before being stopped.

Hollander was not informed.

Developing Story

THE ATHLETIC — PUSH ALERT

Inside the Shane Hollander Bombshell: What We Know So Far
By Marie Deslauriers

Multiple league sources confirm St. Mary’s Hospital contacted the Montreal Voyageurs organization during tonight’s game after Shane Hollander’s parents were involved in a motor vehicle collision. According to internal staff, assistant coach Marc DuBois received the call and relayed it to head coach Theriault during the second period.

Hollander was not informed until a reporter raised the issue during postgame media availability.

NHLPA representatives have confirmed they are in contact with Hollander. League officials are reviewing organizational protocols.

“This is a player welfare issue,” one source told The Athletic. “Not just hockey.”

BACK TO TSN

Richard frowned. “I want to address something already exploding online.”

He turned to the camera.
“People are calling this unprofessional. Selfish. Saying he should’ve handled it privately.”

Mark shrugged. “I mean — there’s an argument there.”

“No,” Priya snapped. “There isn’t.”

He blinked. “I’m just saying—”

“He found out about his parents being in a car accident from a reporter,” Priya cut in. “After his organization was already informed and chose not to tell him.”

“Video confirms Assistant Coach Marc tried to speak to Hollander, and Theriault stopped him,” Richard added. “That’s not hockey anymore, that's something darker.”

“But blasting teammates?” Mark said. “Throwing names around?”

“They’re adults in a professional organization,” Priya said. “Not toddlers who need protection from accountability. People idolize these men. What message does it send when you ice out someone because they live differently from you?”

“And let’s not ignore the discrimination allegations,” Richard added. “If the hit differential stats he referenced are real—”

“They are,” Priya said immediately. “Two analytics departments already confirmed it. His defensemen weren’t protecting him. Is that who you want your kids looking up to?”

Mark exhaled. “Okay, but—”

“But nothing,” Priya said. “If a player says their safety declined after coming out, that’s not drama. That’s danger.”

TWITTER / X — THE MOMENT IT GOES NUCLEAR

@HockeyCentral:
🚨 BREAKING: Shane Hollander waives NTC mid-season, accuses Voyageurs of hiding parents’ accident + discrimination. This is seismic.
(812k views in five minutes)

@MontrealSportsNet:
Hospital confirms team was contacted during the game. Hollander was not informed.
(1.1M views)

@QueerInTheCrease:
Shane Hollander walked into that press room with NOTHING left to lose and told the truth anyway. That takes guts. I’m glad his parents are okay. Absolute legend.

@PuckDad47:
This is locker room business. Airing it out like that is selfish.
↳ @PrideOnIce
So is letting your captain play while his mom’s in a hospital bed.
↳ @PuckDad47:
We don’t know the whole story.
↳ @StickTapper:
Yes, we do.

@ShanesJawline:
You don’t keep something like that from your CAPTAIN. Fire Theriault immediately.

@HockeyCentral:
BREAKING: Sources confirm Assistant Captain Jean-Jacques Boiziau will be named interim captain following Shane Hollander’s departure.

@StickSideJustice:
So J.J. was supposed to be Shane’s friend and watched Shane get iced out, and said NOTHING? And now he gets the C?? Naw.... not my team.

@StatsDontLie:
Hollander said his protection dropped by ~20% after coming out. I ran the numbers. He’s right. Thread 👇
(2.4M views)

@StatsDontLie (1/14):

Here are the hits taken per 60 pre- and post-coming-out…

@Voyageurs4Life:
Downvote me all you want, but this feels like ego. You don’t embarrass your team like this.
↳ @QueerHockeyFan:
You don’t embarrass your captain by hiding family emergencies.
↳ @Voyageurs4Life:
That’s assuming it was intentional.
↳ @QueerHockeyFan:
Negligence is still negligence.

@RespectTheGame77:
In my day, we handled this in-house. The game comes first.
↳ @RainbowRink:
Your day also didn’t let queer players exist safely, so have several seats.

@RainbowPuck:
Toxic hockey culture has a reckoning coming, and Shane Hollander just lit the fuse.

@MontrealMom84:
If my employer hid news about my kids from me, I’d burn the building down, too. I’m with Shane.

@NeutralZoneNerd:
Shane Hollander gave that team everything, and J.J. couldn’t even give him the truth. That’s not leadership.

@HollanderDefenseAttorney:
People saying “he should’ve kept it private” — what private channel did he have left when his own org wouldn’t tell him his parents were in danger?

@Voyageurs4Life:
We don’t know what J.J. was told or what he was allowed to say.

↳ @RainbowRink:
Being quiet while someone is being harmed is still a choice.

↳ @ProtectOurPlayers:
Assistant captain = leadership. Leadership = responsibility.

@HockeyMom42:
If my kid’s teammate hid news like that from him, I’d never forgive him either

TRENDING

1. #ShaneHollander
2. #NothingThatCan’tWait
3. #Voyageurs
4. #TheriaultOut
5. #ProtectOurPlayers
6. #HockeyCulture

REDDIT — r/hockey

🔥 32.7k upvotes | 11.9k comments
[BREAKING] Shane Hollander waives NTC after accusing Voyageurs of hiding family emergency + discrimination

u/BlueLineBandit (15.4k upvotes):
If my employer hid the fact that my mom was in a hospital bed so I could finish my shift, I’d burn the place down too.

u/PowerPlayProblems (12.1k upvotes):
People calling this “unprofessional” are wild. Professionalism doesn’t mean silence when your safety and family are involved.

u/VoyageursDieHard (9.8k upvotes):
He could’ve waited until morning.

u/QueerOnIce (14.7k upvotes):
His parents could’ve died that night. “Morning” isn’t a neutral suggestion.

u/IceOldTimer (6.2k upvotes):
This is why teams stop giving players power.

u/StatsBeforeFeels (11.9k upvotes):
I pulled his hit data from public sources. The 20% spike after coming out is statistically significant.

u/LockerRoomGuy (4.8k upvotes):
I’m in a pro locker room. If a teammate’s family was hurt, everyone would expect him to know. This is fucked.

u/DevilsAdvocate101 (5.1k upvotes):
Devil’s advocate: maybe they didn’t want to distract him mid-game?

u/QueerOnIce (13.3k upvotes):
You don’t get to decide that for someone else.

u/HabsForever77 (8.7k upvotes):
Theriault should be fired immediately.

u/PuckDad47 (3.2k upvotes):
This feels dramatic.

u/MontrealMom84 (10.9k upvotes):
So would your kid not know you were in an accident?

THREAD LOCKED BY MODS
Moderator Note: Bigotry and harassment will result in bans. Discuss the story, not each other.

REDDIT — r/hockey

🔥 21.3k upvotes

Title: J.J. still being named captain after what he did to Shane is wild

u/HatTrickHysteria (12.8k upvotes):
You can’t convince me a guy who watched his teammate get betrayed and stayed silent deserves the C. That’s not leadership.

u/PuckRomanceDept (10.4k upvotes):
Shane trusted him. That’s the part I can’t get over.

u/VoyageursDieHard (4.1k upvotes):
We don’t know what went down internally.

↳ u/QueerOnIce (15.7k upvotes):
We know enough. He didn’t tell Shane. Period.

u/StickTapeTherapy (9.2k upvotes):
The betrayal angle hurts worse than the organizational failure. Systems fail. Friends choosing the system hurts.

u/DevilsAdvocate101 (3.3k upvotes):
Still think this should’ve stayed internal.

↳ u/MontrealMom84 (11.9k upvotes):
Nothing internal about hiding family emergencies.

THREAD LOCKED BY MODS

REDDIT — r/LGBTQ

🔥 24.2k upvotes
Title: NHL captain comes out about discrimination after team hid family emergency

u/goalieshavefeelings:
This is why queer people leave spaces quietly rather than fight. Glad Shane didn’t.

u/StillClosetedAtWork:
Watching straight fans argue “tone” while queer fans argue survival is exhausting.

u/ProudDad1982:
My kid plays hockey and came out last year. Tonight mattered.

u/QueerStats:
The hit differential thread is horrifying. That’s not culture. That’s danger.

TUMBLR — COLLECTIVE MELTDOWN

sticktaps4shane.tumblr.com
shane hollander saying “nothing that can’t wait” and then detonating his entire career over it is poetry actually
(81,493 notes)

rainbowrink.tumblr.com
queer people don’t get “locker room business” we get silence until it kills us
(94,112 notes)

goalieswithfeelings.tumblr.com
the way he said “i brought this team three cups” and still wasn’t safe… yeah
(67,004 notes)

hockeycultureisdead.tumblr.com
“he embarrassed the team” yeah well the team embarrassed itself
(102,331 notes)

TUMBLR — HAYDEN CORE

goalieswithfeelings.tumblr.com
hayden being the one Shane thanked, is making me feel insane in the best way

(51,209 notes)

rainbowrink.tumblr.com
Hayden staying when everyone else folded is my Roman Empire. That bromance is legendary.  

(63,887 notes)

sticktaps4shane.tumblr.com
The fact that Shane trusted Hayden enough to name him out loud in front of the entire league is everything

INSTAGRAM

@nhl:
🚨 BREAKING: Shane Hollander waives no-trade clause following emotional press conference. More to come.

💬 Comments:
@hockeydad23:
Keep politics out of hockey.
↳ @LetShaneCook:
This isn’t politics. It’s humanity.

@sticksandpride:
Protect queer athletes.

@voyageursforever:
Unprofessional.

@protectourplayers:
Unethical.

SPORTS RADIO — LIVE CALL-IN

Host: “This is CJFM Montreal Sports Radio. Lines are open.”

Caller 1: “He betrayed his team.”
Caller 2: “Were we watching the same interview? They betrayed him first.”
Caller 3: “I played junior hockey. You don’t hide stuff like this. Ever.”
Caller 4: “Why does everything have to be about sexuality?”
Caller 5: “It’s not about sexuality. It’s about safety. But his safety went out the window when they found out his sexuality.”
Caller 6: “My kid came out last year and loves hockey. Tonight mattered.”

BACK TO THE MEDIA

CBC SPORTS — LIVE PANEL

“I’ve been around hockey for thirty years,” retired goalie André Marchand said, shaking his head. “You don’t withhold that kind of information from a player. Ever. Doesn’t matter if it’s Game Seven of the Finals.”

“But this goes deeper than that,” journalist Amara Patel said. “Hollander didn’t just accuse the Voyageurs of negligence. He accused them of discrimination.”

“And if the numbers he mentioned about defensive protection are accurate—”

“They’re disturbing.”

“There’s precedent here,” Amara added. “Not for something this public, but for queer players experiencing subtle isolation — meetings they’re not invited to, ice time changes, marketing pullback. It doesn’t always look like slurs. Sometimes it looks like silence.”

“And silence,” André said, “can hurt just as much.”

RINKSIDE INSIDER — EXCLUSIVE

“This has been building all season,” a source says

A locker room source close to the Voyageurs told Rinkside Insider that Hollander has been “visibly frustrated” for months and had privately raised concerns about declining on-ice protection and exclusion from leadership meetings.

“He’s not the type to blow up,” the source said. “This wasn’t impulsive. This was boiling over.”

“Some guys are shocked. Some guys are scared about their prospects. Some guys are pissed.”

NHL COMMISSIONER STATEMENT

No comment.

BLEACHER REPORT

“Shane Hollander Just Changed Hockey”

In a league built on silence, toughness, and tradition, Hollander chose transparency. Whether every allegation is substantiated or not, the culture conversation has arrived — and it isn’t going anywhere.

THE GLOBE AND MAIL — FRONT PAGE

CAPTAIN ACCUSES VOYAGEURS OF NEGLIGENCE AND DISCRIMINATION
League launches investigation. Coach Theriault is under review.

NHLPA STATEMENT

“No player should ever feel unsafe, unheard, or expendable. The NHLPA is in contact with Shane Hollander and reviewing the situation.”

TWITTER — LATE NIGHT

@MontrealSportsNet:
Sources: Coach Theriault placed on administrative leave pending investigation.

@OldSchoolHockey:
Soft league.
↳ @RainbowRink:
Accountable league.

@Voyageurs4Life:
Still think this could’ve been handled privately.
↳ @FrozenForPike:
Privately where? With the people who already didn’t tell him? After he’s traded or hospitalized because his team didn’t protect him?
↳ @HollandersThighs:
Don’t get mad because your favorite team sucks morally.

@StatsDontLie:
Update: Two independent analytics firms confirm that Hollander’s hit exposure increased significantly post-coming out.

@ProtectOurPlayers:
Silence is not professionalism. It’s harmful.

@RinksideReport:
ICYMI: Shane Hollander publicly thanked teammate Hayden last night, calling him “the only one who never turned on me.” Hockey Twitter noticed.

@NeutralZoneHeart:
Hayden staying solid while that locker room imploded?? That’s character, actually.

@PlatonicallyObsessed:
Shane naming Hayden as “the only one who stayed” and the timeline immediately going YEP THAT’S HIM

@HockeyParentLife:
If my kid ever plays hockey, I hope they get a teammate like Hayden.

@ShaydenNation:
Normalize being the Hayden in toxic rooms.

@PrideOnIce:
Hayden is minding his business and standing beside Shane anyway? Yeah. We see you.

@StickTapRoyalty:
Hayden backing Shane publicly while fans melted down = king behavior.

@CreaseFeels:
Shane didn’t thank Hayden for optics. He thanked him because that man stayed loyal when it was dangerous and loud when it mattered.

TRENDING

#TeamHayden
#RealOnesStay
#ProtectOurPlayers
#NothingThatCantWait

REDDIT — r/hockey (SECOND THREAD)

🔥 19.8k upvotes
Title: Ilya Rozanov seen entering St. Mary’s Hospital where Hollander’s parents are being treated

u/VoyageursDieHard:
Hope his parents recover. Still think he handled it wrong.

u/QueerOnIce:
Both can be true. One matters more.

FINAL PANEL — TSN

“No matter how this shakes out,” Richard said, “this changes hockey.”

“For Shane Hollander.”

“For the Montreal Voyageurs.”

“And,” Priya added quietly, “for every player who’s been told to stay quiet and be grateful.”

Chapter End Notes

I hope I did justice! I had to use a username generator for the hockey names. I just couldn't figure those out.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

First,
I need to say thank you. I am in literal tears at the response I have received to this story. I expected maybe 100 or 200 hits, but you guys have blown me away, and I am so, so thankful.

I think maybe I might have a total of 5 chapters in this story, so let's see where this story goes because we're going to be experiencing it together.

You can thank the art of dictation for how fast this chapter was completed!

Don't expect the future chapters to all be this fast

But enjoy.

Discharging his parents from the hospital went smoother than Shane expected.

There were papers to sign, instructions to follow, nurses to thank, and the quiet relief of watching his parents pull on real clothes instead of hospital gowns.

They were alive.

That was enough.

Originally, Shane had planned to drive them straight to Ottawa to get out of the city and the mess he had created, but the second he imagined his mom sitting in a car for hours with a headache and his dad bracing through every bump in the road, he scrapped it.

He could not justify putting them through that for him, because he knew they would endure it for him if he asked, but he could not let them.

Instead, they went back to his apartment in Montreal.

A few days of rest would allow them to get past the worst of the healing, and then they would go to Ottawa.

Staying in Montreal also meant Shane would be close enough to handle the fallout from the press conference, whatever that ended up looking like, without abandoning his parents while they were still healing.

They pulled into the underground garage without paparazzi, mercifully unnoticed, and Shane felt something in his chest loosen for the first time since the rink. He pulled into his parking space, and before he could unlock the doors, Ilya was already there, opening Yuna’s door and helping her stand.

“What am I, chopped liver?” David joked as Shane came around and opened his door.

They walked as a unit, Ilya steadying Yuna by the elbow and carrying their bags without being asked.

Shane watched him from behind, the way Ilya moved so carefully with his mom, and felt his heartbeat only for him.

“Yeah, he’s a good one,” David whispered to Shane, nodding.

He really loved that man. The way he dropped everything to come. To be here.

It was a quiet ride up the elevator and into his apartment.

“I think I just want to lie down for a bit,” Yuna said, rubbing her forehead. “That drive took more out of me than I expected.”

“I think I will as well,” David agreed.

Okayy,” Shane nodded, taking their bags to the guest room.

Once his parents were settled, water on their nightstands and phones on the chargers, Ilya and Shane left the room, and Ilya immediately dragged Shane into his bedroom.

The door barely clicked shut before Shane was pushed up against it.

“You were beautiful,” Ilya murmured between kisses, mouth warm and urgent, hands everywhere, Shane’s waist, his shoulders, his face, like he could not decide what part of him to hold onto first. He kissed him like he was trying to climb inside him.

“Ilya,” Shane breathed, laughing helplessly into the kiss, fingers clutching at his shirt. “Baby.”

“Moy lyubov,” Ilya whispered, voice low and wrecked. “So beautiful. So strong. Standing up for yourself. Like the second-best hockey player.”

He spun Shane around, pressing his chest into Shane’s back, mouth at his neck, his hand roaming down the front of his body.

“You feel what you do to me?” Ilya murmured, pressing himself right where Shane wanted him. “When you remember who the fuck you are?”

Shane groaned softly, painfully aware of how it made him feel.

“Ilya,” he said breathlessly, “we can’t. My parents are literally down the hall. They could need something at any moment.”

“They understand,” Ilya said seriously. “My man is sexy. My sexy man must be rewarded.”

“Ilya.”

He spun Shane again, pushing his back against the wall, and dropped to his knees.

“So sexy,” Ilya muttered reverently, hands already working at Shane’s jeans.

“Ilya, no,” Shane said quickly, catching his shoulders.

Ilya looked up, instantly pouting.

“Why?”

Shane closed his eyes, a moan escaping him as he felt Ilya’s hand slip in anyway, wrapping around him, squeezing lightly.

“It does not feel like you want me to stop,” Ilya said devastatingly.

“Shower,” Shane blurted. “I haven’t showered since the game. I’m dirty. I need to shower.”

Ilya blinked, considered that, then grinned.

“We shower together,” he said. “Save water. Good for environment. Very boring. You will love.” He added solemnly, hauling himself back to his feet and dragging Shane toward the bathroom, pulling their clothes off along the way.

“There is literally a hamper,” Shane protested as Ilya kicked his clothes onto the floor.

“Yes, Shane,” Ilya moaned approvingly. “Stand up to me.”

The shower was running before Shane could argue again, steam filling the bathroom as Ilya pushed him gently back against the tile.

“Let’s get clean,” Ilya murmured, pressing his forehead to Shane’s, softly kissing his lips. “Then I can have my fun.”

Thirty minutes later, Shane emerged into his living room in sweatpants and a T-shirt, damp hair, cheeks flushed, soul rearranged.

Ilya was in the kitchen making sandwiches for everyone.

“Did you two have a nice shower?” Yuna asked innocently from the couch.

Shane’s face went hot at the sight of his mother sitting there.

“Yes,” he said weakly. “I never showered after the game. It was time.”

“That is good,” Yuna said approvingly.

“We save water. Very good for environment,” Ilya called from the kitchen. “Very boring.”

“Ilya,” Shane hissed.

“It’s all right, honey,” Yuna said cheerfully. “Your father and I were like that, too, and Ilya is right, it’s good for the environment. Your father and I saved so much water when we were your age.”

“See, boring runs in family,” Ilya agreed.

“Can you two stop, please?” Shane begged, his face feeling like it would be permanently red.

Thankfully, he was saved by his dad walking into the room.

“Your mother and I watched the interview while you were in the shower,” David said, taking a seat next to Yuna on the couch.

Shane froze. “Mom, you have a concussion.”

“I listened,” she said. “Your father watched.”

Shane stared at them. “Why would you do that?”

“Because we’re your parents,” Yuna said gently. “And because we are so proud of you. But darling, why didn’t you tell us it was that bad with your team?”

He exhaled and dropped into the armchair across from them.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he admitted. “It wasn’t your job.”

“It is literally our job,” David said flatly. “You are our son. Ours to protect.”

“I know,” Shane said softly. “But I’d already decided to waive my no-trade clause when the window opened. I was going to tell you later when I had a plan, but last night just…”

He scrubbed his hands over his face.

“They didn’t tell me about the accident,” he said quietly. “They knew. And they didn’t tell me. Everything before this had been hockey-related, and I could deal with that. With being kept out of the loop on hockey things. But this was different. This was malicious. Keeping me from my family.”

Yuna’s face hardened.

“And I realized,” Shane continued, “that they didn’t respect me as a person. They didn’t care about me. Not really.”

He swallowed.

“I knew they were uncomfortable once I stopped being their perfect little token. But I never thought they’d keep something like that from me. I never thought they’d let me play while my parents were in the hospital.”

His voice cracked.

“What if something happened to me? Would they care enough to get me help? I realized I would never be safe on this team. I would never feel safe around them again. I would never trust them with anything.”

Silence fell.

Yuna reached across the coffee table and took his hand.

“Well,” she said firmly, “you are not wrong to walk away.”

“Have you spoken to Farah yet?” David asked.

“No,” Shane admitted. “I turned my phone off when I left the rink. I’m not ready to turn it back on.”

“You may not have a choice,” Yuna said gently. “How about we call her from your father’s phone?”

Shane hesitated, then nodded.

David handed over his phone, and Shane dialed.

“Hey, Farah,” Shane said the second she picked up.

“Shane,” she said immediately. “Thank god, I’ve been trying to reach you. How are you? How are your parents doing?”

“I’m doing okay, my parents are doing well, and they are here as well.”

“I am here.” Ilya called from the kitchen, and Yuna and David gave their hellos.”

“Have you been online since last night? Farah asked.

“I haven’t been. Hospital. Parents. Crisis avoidance,” he answered.

“Good,” she said. “Before we get started, I have to say, in the future, if you ever decide to take the nuclear option again, you will warn me first. You will give me at least an hour’s notice. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Shane agreed.

“If I need to add that to your contract, I will.”

“I’ll sign it.”

“Good. That being said, Shane, I need you to remember that I am your agent. It is my job to work for you. Why did you never tell me it was this bad? I cannot protect you if you do not let me protect you.”

“I’m sorry, Farah.” Shane sighed. “I was going to schedule a meeting with you in a couple of weeks to start talking about waiving the no-trade clause. Last night everything just came to a head.”

“I understand that, but I cannot do my job if you do not let me. Always remember that I do not care how minor you think something is. I do not care if you think you are protecting me or anyone else. My job is to have your best interests at heart. Never leave me out of the loop again.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Well, since you haven’t been online, you haven’t seen the chaos that erupted. You basically broke the internet.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You are trending across Twitter, Instagram, Reddit, and Tumblr, and the general consensus right now is that the public is on your side.”

Shane blinked. “Really?”

“You gained half a million followers overnight across all platforms,” she added.

Shane dropped his head into his hands.

“You are becoming the face of queer hockey,” Farah said.

“That wasn’t my goal.”

“I know,” she said gently. “But by standing up for yourself, you blew open what was acceptable in this league. Scott Hunter started the conversation when he kissed his boyfriend on national television, and you took it to a whole new level. His team, the Admirals, rallied behind him. Showing the positive side. Unfortunately, you are showing the other side. You are Shane Hollander, one of, if not the best, hockey player-”

“Second best,” Ilya said, joining them and putting a plate down in front of Yuna and David.

Shane glared at him, and Farah continued.

“The face of a franchise just accused his team of discrimination and negligence. That changes things. You are one of the top names in this sport. You are one of the best scorers in the league. You hold records. And you are letting it be known that you will not allow your team to treat you terribly. That sets standards for other people. People who may not have felt strong enough to speak up. People whose voices were drowned out by those in power. Regardless of what anyone else says, you should feel very proud of yourself. You are starting a conversation that needs to be had. You are reminding the world that you are more than just a hockey player. You are a person first.”

He swallowed. This was a lot. Way more than he had ever expected.

“Now,” she continued, “the bad news. Montreal is pissed.”

“Montreal is stupid,” Ilya said, rejoining the room and putting a plate in front of Shane before taking a seat in the armchair. “They throw away their best player.”

“No one is disagreeing with you,” Farah said, “but I have heard from their head office. While they are upset, they know they will not get you to apologize.”

“Absolutely not.” Shane snapped.

“I told them as much,” Farah said. “You have data. Receipts. The hit differential. The exclusion from meetings. The social media pullback. Nothing you said was false. And now there will be an investigation. I let them know that under no circumstances will they ever receive an apology from you. They are the ones who need to issue an apology and straighten out their office.”

Shane nodded as she continued.

“So I need everything,” she continued. “Every spreadsheet. Every email. Everything you have.”

“You’ll have it.” He agreed.

“Good. Now I am reviewing your contract. If they knowingly allowed you to take more hits without protection, or failed to meet the letter or the spirit of the law, that could be a breach on their part. Which means you might get out as a free agent. I am working on getting them to buy you out.”

Yuna leaned forward. “Are there other teams interested if he becomes a free agent midseason?”

“Yes,” Farah said immediately. “Seven teams have put out feelers so far.”

“Seven?” Shane sputtered. It had not even been twenty-four hours.

“Seven. Some big. Some small. And I am confident more will come.”

“And they want me?” Shane asked quietly.

“Shane,” Farah said firmly, “besides the fact that you are one of the top three players of your generation, a top scorer, a guaranteed All-Star, a franchise player who brings in new fans, you proved you have integrity. Teams respect that. I will say that some teams already have captains who are not stepping down anytime soon.”

“I don’t need to be captain,” Shane said quickly. “I just want to play. I do not want that responsibility again, not for a while at least.”

“That is perfect,” Farah said. “Let me review the contract more closely and see how we can execute this. I would prefer to make you a free agent rather than deal with a trade. If Montreal is smart, they will buy you out. It is the quickest and cleanest way to save face.”

“What about sponsors?” Yuna asked. “I haven’t been online yet. Have any reached out?”

“I have heard from some,” Farah said, and Shane felt his stomach drop, felt Ilya’s hand settle at the back of his neck, grounding him. “They want to release statements that they still support you. Some have already reached out about wanting to have you in their upcoming Pride campaigns.”

“Really?” Shane said softly.

“Yes. You underestimate yourself, Shane, and I am going to work very hard to make sure you and the world do not forget who you are.”

“I tell him this all the time,” Ilya said. “He is Shane Hollander. Second-best hockey player.”

Shane laughed despite himself.

“Isokayy,” Ilya said, dropping a kiss on his head. “World loves you.”

“They do,” Farah agreed. “Now I just need to find you a new team so your new fans can buy new jerseys.”

“Thank you, Farah. And I’m sorry if I kept you up. I’m really grateful for everything you’re doing.”

“It is genuinely my pleasure, Shane. Now I need to go meet with our legal team. I should have more information for you in a couple of hours. Should I call your phone, your mother’s phone, or your father’s?”

“You can call either of my parents. I’m not sure I’m turning my phone on yet. I need a little more time before I face the world.”

Okay, but by tomorrow, I will need you to issue a statement. I will send a couple of drafts. The public wants to know how you are feeling. You need to talk to them.”

“Understood. I’ll be ready.”

“Good. I will be in touch. And remember, if you have any more nuclear ideas.”

“I will call you first,” Shane finished.

“That is all I ask. Yuna and David, I am so glad you are both doing well. I will talk to you all soon.”

The call ended.

There was a beat of silence before Yuna spoke.

“Well, I could not have asked for a better outcome. And the fact that sponsors want to increase your deals and involve you in Pride campaigns opens up so many new doors.”

“Mom,” Shane said gently, “can we not? Can I just have until Farah calls back to not talk about this? I just want to focus on you and Dad. We can focus on me later.”

Okay,” Yuna said immediately. “We will wait until she calls back. I just want to say one thing. You do not want to lose momentum. That is all.” She mimed zipping her lips.

Shane shared a look with his dad, who shrugged like, " You know, your mother.

Ilya reached over, grabbed the plate he made for Shane, and handed it to him. “Eat. I made your sandwich boring, just like you like. Eat and then nap. You did not sleep well in hospital. You think better after rest.”

Shane took the plate, leaned into Ilya’s side, and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply.

He was right.

Food. Then sleep.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Chapter Summary

A little domestic conversation plus social media fun.

Chapter Notes

I wanted to write a little scene of only Ilya and Shane. I hope you enjoy it!

Later that night, Shane lay on his bed scrolling through social media. Something he wished he could avoid a little longer, but Farah was right. He had to face the music.

And it wasn’t all bad.

There were people on his side. People who understood. Even some sports correspondents are backing him up. It eased the tight bubble of anxiety that had taken up residence in his chest. People weren’t reacting to feelings alone. They were reacting to facts. To data. To tangible proof.

He had already sent the spreadsheet to Farah, refusing to send it to his mother, knowing she would absolutely break the no-screen rule to study it obsessively. He did not need his mom to have a setback from a minor concussion because she decided to go full mother bear on his old team.

“What are you doing?” Ilya asked, sliding in beside him.

“Finally facing the music,” Shane said, motioning to his phone.

Ilya gently took it from his hand and placed it on the nightstand before cupping Shane’s cheek and making him look at him. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Shane said, not believing the answer himself.

“No. You are not,” Ilya said softly. “I know you. You are not fine. I did not bring it up in front of your parents, but I know you are not ok. Talk to me.”

Shane groaned and rubbed his palms over his eyes before sinking back into his pillow. “You’re right. I’m not.”

“That is okay,” Ilya said immediately, soothing him. “It is okay to be upset. Okay to be angry. I am very proud of you for standing for yourself. For who you are.”

He brushed his thumb across Shane’s cheek. “But it is also okay to mourn. To feel loss. No matter how they treated you, you loved that team. You supported that team. They drafted you. You feel a connection to them. I understand this. I felt sadness when I left Boston. But Montreal, they are stupid. So stupid to lose you. To treat you the way they did. You are Shane Hollander. You won them three Stanley Cups, and they throw you away.”

His voice softened. “You must feel these feelings. It is okay to be upset, hurt, and angry. But you will prove to them how stupid they are. And they will regret this.”

“I don’t know if they will,” Shane said quietly. “I didn’t even realize how toxic it was until it was pointed out to me. I can’t believe how blind I was. How I let myself not see it.”

“But you did see it,” Ilya said gently. “And you pointed it out for the world to see the truth. You forced them to learn hard way. When fans leave. When wins stop. They will see truth of their actions. You forced change.”

“The fans aren’t all going to leave,” Shane said, rolling his eyes.

“Enough will,” Ilya insisted. “Enough will follow you. And they will see team was only great because of you, not because they were great.”

“You love me. You’re supposed to say that,” Shane scoffed.

“It is true,” Ilya said firmly, kissing him quickly on the lips. “No matter how I feel about you, anyone with eyes can see they are fools to let you go. To treat you as they did. To treat anyone the way they treated you. Do not worry. I will make sure they feel pain next time Centaurs face them.”

Shane snorted softly. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I just need to focus on releasing my statement in the morning.”

“Did you review what Farah sent?”

“Yeah.” Shane reached for his phone again, opening his email and ignoring everything except Farah’s name. “She sent a few, but I think I like this one best.”

He read it to Ilya.

Ilya nodded slowly. “Is good statement,” he said. “May I see others?”

Shane handed him the phone. Ilya scrolled for a moment, then looked up. “You are right. This one is best. Sounds most like you.”

“I’ll have Farah release it on my account,” Shane said, emailing her the approval. “One more night of hiding, then I face the world.” He placed the phone back on the nightstand. “I don’t think I ever said thank you for being here.”

He glanced over at Ilya. “Don’t you have to go back? You guys have a game in like two days.”

“I will miss game,” Ilya said quickly, holding up a hand before Shane could protest. “Already spoke to my coach. Family emergency. You need me here, so I am here.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Shane asked softly.

“Being second best hockey player,” Ilya said seriously.

“Oh, fuck off,” Shane laughed, pulling him down. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my love,” Ilya said, kissing him slowly before pulling back, before they fell into each other.

Ilya rested his forehead against Shane’s. “There is something I want to talk about.”

Shane blinked. “Okay.”

“It is very early,” Ilya said carefully, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. “But today I spoke to Coach Weibe. He had a question. Wanted know how I would feel. Because of question, I had to be honest. About us. Not everything. But enough.”

“What was the question?” Shane asked, instantly alert, sitting up to match him.

“The Centaurs were one of the teams who reached out.”

Shane froze, blinking. “They were?”

“Yes. Very early stages. He wanted to know how I feel about playing with you. He knows we are more friendly now because of the foundation, but wanted to know if I would be okay with you joining the team. I felt it was right thing to be honest and say we were more than friends. He promised it stays with him,” Ilya added quickly.

“So what did you tell him?” Shane asked.

“I told him it would be great for team,” Ilya said quietly. “We would be stupid not to try. Ottawa is your hometown. Your parents are there. I'm there. We can afford you without losing anyone. We would be a strong contender.”

“Ottawa wants me,” Shane said, stunned as warmth bloomed in his chest.

“Ottawa is good team. Family. They will love you,” Ilya said.

Shane nodded slowly, heart racing. Some small part of him had hoped Ottawa would be one of the teams that called. He and Ilya had spent years on opposite schedules, on opposite flights, in opposite hotel rooms, stealing hours wherever they could. The thought of waking up next to him every morning, traveling together, living together, playing on the same ice again felt unreal. Like something he was afraid to want too badly.

His mind flashed to their first All-Star games together, the way they had dismantled defenses, the way they seemed to know where the other would be without looking. It had felt effortless. It felt right. Like it should have been.

“I think I like that offer,” Shane said softly.

“Yeah,” Ilya said, smiling.

“Yes, I really like the idea. I would love to play with you,” Shane said.

“I would be your captain,” Ilya teased.

“My captain,” Shane smiled.

“You will have to do what I say on ice,” Ilya said, trying to sound stern.

“I can listen to you.” Shane lied through his teeth

Ilya huffed. “You do not.”

“I do when you are right," he laughed. "And you are a great captain. I would be honored if you were my captain.” Shane said, smiling up at him. “I think this is something we could get right. I’m so tired of being away from you half the time. I’m tired of finding an hour here or a day there. I just want to be with you.”

“I want that too, my love,” Ilya said.

He leaned over and kissed Shane. Then again. And again, until they merged into one breath and they shifted closer together, tangled and content, because while they did not know what the future held for certain, right now he had the man he loved, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure they could be on the same ice together and have the life they deserved.

~

@OfficalShaneHollander

(Image, Shane standing in a suit at the last NHL Award Banquet)

“At my last game with Montreal, I released a brief statement about my departure from the Voyageurs. Hockey has been my life for as long as I can remember, and in all my years playing this sport, I have never stood for any team treating a player differently because of who they are or who they love. “For ten years, I proudly wore the jersey of a team that, when I needed them most, no longer supported me. I did not plan to come out to the world the way that I did, but sometimes statements must be made to challenge the toxic culture surrounding them. “I am a man who loves hockey and who also happens to be gay, and that fact should never dictate the safety I am owed on the ice. I can no longer stand to support a team that, when it came down to it, would put my safety at risk because they no longer deem me worthy of respect. I want to thank my fans, my sponsors, and everyone who has stood beside me. I promise I do not take your support lightly, and I promise I will work to never let you down.”

@HockeyForAll
I support you Shane. Thank you for standing up for players who never get to feel safe in this sport. This matters more than people realize.

@RainbowRink
You don’t understand how much this means to me. Seeing the best player in the league say this out loud changes everything. You’re changing the game forever.

@PrideOnIce
Thank you for demanding a safe space for ALL players, no matter who they are or who they love. This is how culture changes.

@AdmiralsCaptainScottHunter
Proud of you, Shane. Speaking your truth and standing up for your safety and your rights takes real courage. Wishing you nothing but the best wherever you land. Also, you’d look real good in Admirals colors...just saying.

@OldSchoolPuckFan
I respect Shane Hollander a lot, but I wish he hadn’t disrespected the team that gave him ten years. There’s a way to handle things without burning bridges.

@NeutralZoneNate
You can be proud of Shane and still feel sad about how it ended in Montreal. Both things can exist. But nobody deserves to feel unsafe at work. Period.

@HollanderHive
Montreal didn’t lose a player. They lost their entire legacy. That man carried your franchise, and you fumbled him.

@GoalHornGirlie
Not to derail, but Shane Hollander in a suit talking about justice and accountability is doing something to my nervous system.

@shanesbestfriendwannabe
Not Scott Hunter shooting the Admirals shot in Shane’s comments.  

@CentaursFan29
Centaurs front office, if you’re not already on the phone with Shane Hollander, what are you even doing with your lives? We can bring him home! Ilya and Shane were a force together at All Stars!  Same team! It could be our year!

@IceColdTakes
People mad that Shane “disrespected” Montreal but not mad that Montreal disrespected Shane and risked his life is wild behavior.

Chapter End Notes

I'm not 100% sure about the next chapter, but make sure to check out my oneshot (Love, Out Loud) for a sneak peek at their future.

Also, I didn't realize how much fun it would be to write the social media section. I have been reading so many fics for inspiration.

FYI, Scott Hunter's shot out was a little shot out to this fic I'm currently obsessed with. (Back and forth from New York by alphalupi https://archiveofourown.org/works/76283091/chapters/199644731) This fic has also been a huge source of inspiration for the social media aspect.