Summary:

Now that he could finally recognize who the man in front of him was, everything flooded back into the forefront of his mind. The nights he spent in Moscow poring over hockey content on YouTube, how watching the teen that was poised to be his rival stirred up newfound ambition to become the greatest instead. He remembered that career-ending hit as well, the way Shane’s body crumpled on the ice, tiny and unconscious, body contorted unnaturally as his teammates crowded around him. He remembered the disappointment he felt at not having anyone else to best, to directly compare himself against. Time had passed, and so too did that disappointment in favor of achieving the greatness that Hollander promised. And with that time, Shane Hollander was just another name of the past. But now he was right in front of him, freckles all in the same spots and gear replaced with ugly knit sweaters. Or In which Shane Hollander never became the hockey legend he was supposed to. Ilya Rozanov did. Somehow, in the midst of a blizzard, their stories intertwined once more.