Summary:

“Hollander,” Rozanov breathes. His voice curls down the phone line like shavings of dark chocolate, and the phone pressed to Shane’s ear makes it sound as intimate as a whisper. Shane clears the crackles of sleep from his throat and props himself on one elbow. “Is everything okay?” he asks, taking a deep breath. They’ve never called each other. That’s not something they do. Ilya calls Shane after Boston wins the Stanley Cup.