1 – 1 of 1 Work in Hockey Moms' Weekend
- Hockey Moms' Weekend ×
-
He was used to being without her. The pain never went away but the sting became manageable; something he could tuck away and avoid ever thinking about. Except when he couldn’t. Like during Hockey Moms Weekend. Ilya’s mother had died when he was twelve. By the time he was truly an orphan, Ilya had spent most of his life without her than he had with her in it. He was used to being without her. The pain never went away but the sting became manageable; something he could tuck away and avoid ever thinking about. Except when he couldn’t. Like during Hockey Moms Weekend. It was a tradition across the league where the players’ mothers came for the weekend, spending time with the team for a brunch, a skate and some fun activites, and then traveling with the team to cheer them on at a game. It was fun! Everyone loved it! It was a way to appreciate the women in their lives who sat in the cold to watch them play and drove them to practice early in the morning and nursed their many bumps and bruises along the way. Not that Ilya would know. It wasn’t his first time, of course. His whole childhood he had gotten used to not looking up. Not as his classmates cheered at the sight of their mothers picking them up from school. Not as a child when he had gotten hurt and wanted someone to comfort him like other children got when they skinned their knees. Not as his teammates turned into babies the moment they scored their first professional goals and saw their mothers in the crowds or heard their proud voices over the phones. No. Ilya had trained himself. He had gotten used to keeping his eyes fixed on what was in his hands and Ilya had always made sure there was something in his hands. A phone, a puck, tape. Something in his hands to keep him occupied so he didn’t have to listen to what he never had. In Boston it had been his gear and then his phone, texting Jane and wondering if Shane turned into the same gushy child the rest of the players in the league got the moment their mothers stepped into the locker room with skates in their hands. His rookie year, the social media girl had admitted that she had made sure her team of interns knew not to pester Ilya that weekend for content. Her name had been Eliza and she had been kind. She hadn’t made a big thing of it. Just quiet gave Ilya some peace when he’d been dreading it for weeks. Ilya had made a fool of himself eating disgusting American snacks for a video for her to make up for the thoughtful gesture. But Ilya couldn’t hide away anymore. Not now that he was in Ottawa. For one, he was the captain and that came with a certain level of expectations. He was meant to set an example. Some people didn’t know how lucky they were to have mothers who embarrassed them. For another, his new team was annoyingly perceptive of his mood. In Boston, his teammates knew when to avoid him and not push for more. Ilya never told them and no one ever asked and he’d liked it this way. But the Centaurs were a different team. They cared about him and he loved them more than he thought himself capable of loving a group of people. The Centaurs were practically vibrating with excitement as the weekend steadily approached and Ilya didn’t want to ruin it. So, he put on a smile and tried not to wince at the sharp pain bursting behind his ribs as he forced himself to watch the first wave of mothers that came through the door for the team brunch. Wyatt and Evan waved down their mothers as if they couldn’t see them from ten feet away. Nick Chouinard took his mother’s luggage while playfully teasing her about over packing. Bood picked his mother off her feet in a hug that made even Ilya’s bones ache just watching. Each of them, elite athletes in their primes who had knocked out a few teeth and had mouths that could make even him blush sometimes. But they were all just big softies at heart. Ilya tried to stay out of his own head. He played his part. He stood up and greeted every one of their guests, charming and assuring them that yes, their darling boys absolutely did not get up into any trouble at all in the hotel rooms. They were perfectly good, well behaved angels who were always in bed on time and never in threat of being arrested ever. Each and every one of them cooed and awed over him until their sons got jealous and then Ilya made his excuses to find a quiet corner to nurse his headache and the ache he couldn’t shake from his lungs that made it hard to breathe. The room was a labor of love. The conference room had a wall of windows that looked out over the skyline of Ottawa where snow was trickling from some soft grey clouds in the sky. Several round tables were draped in table clothes with the team colors. Strings of fairy lights had been wrapped around center pieces of beautiful flower arrangements of white roses and sprigs of lavender. Several of the mothers had made a stop at the mimosa bar where freshly squeezed orange juice was waiting next to bottles of champagne and garnishes of raspberries and cranberries and strawberries and pretty much any berry catering could get their hands on. Brunch was a relaxed affair with a buffet of eggs, waffles, bacon, sausage, steamed asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and more fruit arranged in the shape of a peacock. There was an entire table dedicated to chocolate sweets and cheese. Music was playing softly in the background and Harris had set up a photo booth where Ilya was sure many of the mothers would be dragging their sons after a few more mimosas.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,058
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76188861