Summary:

He hadn’t meant to look. Honest. He really hadn’t. But Shane was in the shower, and Hayden had picked up what he’d thought was HIS phone. In his defence, the phone in question had been tossed onto the bed closest to the window, which they both knew was always his bed. Both of their phones were the same model, and neither of them had bothered to change the ringtones from the default notification. He’d picked it up without a second thought and, well, had immediately realized his mistake. But it was too late. Hayden had seen the text chain. OR Hayden starts to put the pieces together and figures things out much sooner than expected. He’d met Shane in 2008. It was the International Prospect Cup, and they’d hit it off almost instantly. Hayden had seen his raw talent and knew, even then, that he’d go far. He’d joked around with a very shy eighteen-year-old Hollander, calling him the new Crosby, who had himself once been dubbed the new Gretzky. It was a sort of passing of the generational torch, if you will. And anyone who’d ever watched Shane Hollander play hockey had to admit there was no denying he was their generation's Great One. Of course, some contested that, predicting Russia’s Ilya Rozanov as the next Great One of hockey. But Hayden knew, like the rest of the world should, that the greatest players were always Canadians. It was their sport after all; no stupid, arrogant, pain-in-the-ass Russian asshole was going to take that title. He had been ecstatic to learn they’d been drafted to the same team. Growing up in rural Ontario, Hayden had always had a soft spot for Toronto, but ultimately didn’t care where he got drafted as long as he got drafted. So, learning that a Canadian team had chosen him was an incredible moment. But learning he’d be teammates with none other than Shane Hollander had been surreal. They’d become fast friends. In the beginning, Shane had been fun, and he’d enjoyed going out with the team after games or particularly gruelling practices. Though he rarely drank, he’d still show up and have a good time. It had been on one of those nights out that Hayden had met Jackie. He’d been sipping a beer with Shane, watching Drapeau make a fool of himself on the dancefloor, when two gorgeous girls slid into their booth. A peppy little redhead had plopped herself next to Shane, while her stunning brunette friend dropped in next to Hayden. He’d bought a round for the table, then took his shot with the girl smiling up at him. Shane had been a killer wingman, politely chatting with the other girl as Hayden and Jackie drank their asses off and tore up the dance floor. An exhilarating few months later, they were Mr. and Mrs. Pike, and Hayden could hardly believe his luck. Shane had stood up with him, of course, supporting the relationship everyone else told him he’d rushed into. But Shane could see their connection; he could see how happy Hayden was and how amazing Jackie was and how perfect their life together would be. He understood and supported Hayden. “I just want you to be happy, man,” Shane had said, “if Jackie makes you happy, then fuck what anyone else says. Be happy.” And Hayden was. He had the woman of his dreams and the career of a lifetime. Nothing could touch him. They’d gone from good friends to best friends after that. Shane had been there to help put his new place back together after the housewarming party got a little out of hand. Shane had been there to celebrate the birth of all of Hayden’s kids. Shane had been there to console him when he’d traded in his sweet-ass Hummer for a Dodge Caravan. And Shane had been there countless other times. Hayden had tried to be a good friend in return. He’d repaid the favour when, after Shane bought his first place, some of the guys from the team had shown up to the housewarming with a keg. It had gotten a bit rowdy despite Shane’s best efforts, and Hayden had stuck around till morning to help him clean up the mess. Unsurprisingly, that had been the last time anyone from the team had been invited to Shane’s condo, aside from J.J. and himself. It was why he had jumped at the opportunity to be invited to Shane’s cottage the summer it was completed. He’d packed up the minivan with Jackie and their kids, then driven out to spend Canada Day long weekend at Shane’s ridiculously fancy, custom-built, lakeside cottage. Suffice to say, Hayden and Shane were best friends. Ride or die. A True bromance. Which was why he noticed when things were … off with Shane long before anyone else. It had started with a simple text message. LILY > Come over He hadn’t meant to look. Honest. He really hadn’t. But Shane was in the shower, and Hayden had picked up what he’d thought was HIS phone. In his defence, the phone in question had been tossed onto the bed closest to the window, which they both knew was always his bed. Both of their phones were the same model, and neither of them had bothered to change the ringtones from the default notification. He’d picked it up without a second thought and, well, had immediately realized his mistake. But it was too late. Hayden had seen the text chain. LILY > Come over > will be worthwhile > 2886 Beacon > Text me. I will let you in There was a moment of silence that stretched for several minutes before another series of pings, and Hayden couldn’t help but look down at the phone he’d still been holding. LILY > You are coming, yes? > Do not make me beg > SHAAAAAAAAAANE He’d snorted at the girl’s desperation, but immediately felt bad for looking. Shane was notoriously private and probably would have been pissed if he knew Hayden had seen. Plus, at 10¢ a message, she must really like Shane. Or at the very least, really want Shane. Damn, Hayden was impressed.