Chapter Text
Beads of sweat covered Shane’s face as he slowed into a light jog. His hair was wet, almost as if he had been running through a storm, and his shirt had stuck to his body like it was holding on for dear life.
These morning runs had become routine by now. They kept his body healthy enough to still play professional hockey at 35 years old, without any major injuries bothering him. He liked knowing that he could trust his body. He knew what it needed.
And right now? He needed to get back home and take a shower before the team meeting in two hours.
He unlocked his door and was met with the familiar sound of tiny paws and gentle barks. Those adorable floppy ears and large brown eyes made it impossible not to smile. He closed the door behind him and crouched down, extending his arms.
“You missed me, huh?” He cooed and let himself be jumped by this soft and tiny creature who had him wrapped around her finger (paw?) She licked his face and wagged her tail, making Shane laugh. “Alright, Anya. Slow down, sweetie.”
Anya didn’t slow down.
This too was routine. Being attacked with love by Anya each time he came home, no matter how long he’d been gone for.
After a steady twenty minutes, Anya seemed to be satisfied with her warm welcome for Shane, and she retreated to the living room and the toys scattered around the floor. Shane smiled after her, she was just too precious.
Anya was a rescue.
Harris, the social media manager of Shane’s team, The Ottawa Centaurs, had brought her one day. Randomly.
He’d just showed up on Shane’s doorstep with his husband Troy, and a tiny puppy-version of Anya in his arms. It didn’t take much convincing on Harris’ side to get Shane to adopt her. After all, Shane lived in a too-big house all alone. He needed someone.
He needed someone. And in Hayden’s words, “If you’re not gonna have a man, then at least adopt a dog or something before you start talking to yourself like some loon.”
So, it was a win-win.
Shane showered quickly and got dressed. Thankfully, coach Wiebe was a very relaxed and kind coach, so none of The Centaurs were ever forced into suits for team meetings. It was a big change from the Metros, but it was a change that Shane had welcomed with open arms.
He threw on a pair of sweatpants and a Centaurs-sweatshirt and fixed his hair before he decided that it was a lost cause, and threw on a plain black cap instead. He felt comfortable. He allowed himself to be.
He went down to his kitchen and made himself a smoothie with extra protein, making sure that he’d be energized enough to manage two hours in the gym after the meeting.
Tomorrow, they’d start working again after a short break, which was exciting. This season was gonna be the best one yet. Shane could feel it.
Ever since he, very reluctantly, joined The Centaurs, he’d learned that he actually loved playing with them. They were a good group of guys, open and accepting of each other. That was more than he could say about The Metros.
Because here in Ottawa, no one cared that Shane was gay.
It felt strange at first, being brought into conversations about dating and sex by his teammates, even though he was gay. And when he talked about men, sex, or anything regarding his sexuality, his teammates listened and talked to him as if he was no different from them.
Shane loved that about his teammates.
He sat down on his couch with his smoothie in one hand, his phone in the other. He had around twenty minutes to kill before he’d have to head to the rink. The absent mindedly scrolled through his recent conversations on Grindr, nothing new there. He wasn’t very bothered though. His last hookup had been with a very handsome businessman in his forties, and Shane had felt on top of the world.
He wasn’t usually very keen on dating and relationships, but this man sparked his interest and he was more than willing to meet him again.
That is, until he learned that the man had a wife of fifteen years and three children.
Shane had absolutely no interest in being someone’s dirty secret.
He sighed and exited the app, deciding to scroll through Instagram instead.
It took him three seconds before his smoothie slipped through his hands and fell to the floor, and splattered all over the carpet. Anya perked up and jumped onto the couch, snuggling into Shane, as if checking what was wrong.
And something was definitely wrong.
Because he’d just seen a post by the official Ottawa Centaurs instagram account.
A post where Ilya Rozanov was posing with coach Wiebe, dressed in official Centaurs merch.
The caption read;
Ilya Rozanov makes his return to the NHL, signing a one-year contract with The Ottawa Centaurs!
It took less than a minute from the time Shane had parked his car to him barging into coach Wiebe’s office.
Coach Wiebe met his eyes with confusion. “Shane? You good, man?”
Shane could only scoff, because no. He was not fucking okay.
He was, but also, no. No, he wasn’t.
Wiebe seemed to get the hint, because he quickly gestured for Shane to take a seat on the couch. Shane wasted no time, he was far too riled up to do anything else.
“What’s going on, Shane? Did something happen?”
Shane took a deep breath. It was either that, or he’d scream.
“Why the fuck did we sign with Rozanov?”
Wiebe laughed and shook his head, which gave Shane the impression that Wiebe definitely didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.
Then again, no one knew about his past with Rozanov, so how could he?
“Oh God, Shane. That’s it? That’s the reason you barged in here?”
Shane scowled. “Yes. Why is that funny?”
Wiebe shook his head and couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “I thought something had happened to Anya or something. This was…not what I was expecting.”
Of course Wiebe wasn’t expecting this. But neither was Shane, and he was getting seriously riled up over a Russian hockey player with an infuriatingly addictive smile that would apparently be sharing the ice with him from now on.
“Rozanov and I are not–”
“You used to be rivals, I know. But that was what? Ten years ago?”
Nine, Shane thought. Not that he cared.
“Yes. Exactly. Which is why this is a terrible idea. He hates me and he’s probably just here to sabotage us, and I just think that…” He didn’t actually know. But Wiebe looked at him expectantly, so he had to come up with something. “I think he’s here out of spite.”
Wiebe laughed again. “Out of spite.”
Shane groaned. “I don’t fucking know! He’s not here to play nice, that’s for sure. He’ll…he’ll get us all in trouble. And I feel that it is my responsibility as the Captain of this team to express my concerns to you before he destroys us. Because he will.”
“I don’t think he will.”
Shane was in shock. This was so not happening. He was prepared to fight his coach, when he spoke again. “He’s here for one year, and he’s damn excited for it.”
Shane scoffed. “Excited? That’s a load of bullshit.”
“Yes, he’s excited. He’s willing to put the work in, and with him…well, our team would be unstoppable.”
Shane sighed. “We’re already unstoppable. We have me, Hayden, Troy–”
“And Rozanov.”
Shane wanted to scream. Because what was going on? The Centaurs had just won the Stanley Cup last season and that’s when Ilya Fucking Rozanov decided to appear after being radio silent for nine years? The timing was diabolical.
“Give it a try, will you? It might work better than you think.”
Shane knew it would work, that was the worst part. He’d played on the same team as Rozanov once, at the All Star Game. The game that changed everything. The game where they met in his hotel room and sort of confessed their feelings for each other. The game that made them both realise that their relationship went deeper than physical attraction.
They were a fucking power couple on the ice.
Fuck.
“There he is!” Hayden grinned as Shane entered the locker room. Shane barely managed to force a smile, which made Hayden raise his eyebrows. “Someone woke up on the wrong side today, huh?”
“Not in the mood, Hayd.” Shane huffed as he sank down onto the bench next to him.
Normally, Hayden would be the perfect person to bring Shane’s mood up, but this was an entirely different situation. Because to Hayden, Shane would just be pissy about Rozanov joining. About being on the same team as his former rival. About spending time with someone he was supposed to hate.
Not about Shane having a full on existential crisis about meeting his…meeting Rozanov.
“Shit, that guy really did a number on you…”
Shane’s head whipped around so fast he thought he’d get whiplash for a second. “What?”
Hayden frowned and chuckled. “That business-dude? What was his name? Albert?”
“Alex,” Shane said, tightlipped, and relaxed ever so slightly. “No, not about him. He’s…whatever. Just a hookup. Doesn’t matter.”
Hayden put a hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Shane, it’s okay if you’re upset about that. I’d be upset too if a married man–”
“Okay, nope. That’s…let’s just leave it.”
Hayden laughed and shrugged. “Alright man, if you say so.”
Shane wanted to die. On the spot, preferably.
But he couldn’t. So instead, he just stayed silent while Hayden started talking about his kids, and how his wife Jackie is the sexiest woman on the planet. It was easy to tune out. He knew Hayden well enough by now to nod at the right times and let out a quiet snort every now and again. It’s not that he didn’t want to listen, his mind was just currently being held hostage by a Russian spy.
Rozanov could possibly be in the very same building. He could possibly show up to the team meeting in twenty minutes. He could possibly make Shane lose his shit.
Fuck, this was not gonna end well.
Shane dragged his feet to the conference room, Hayden walking in front of him. He could already feel the pit in his stomach, and his head was spinning. Surely, if he just pretended to faint right here he could…no. Terrible idea.
Instead, he swallowed hard and lifted his gaze.
And because their whole thing had always been weirdly magnetic, Shane’s eyes instantly landed on his.