THE NEW SHADOW
THE NEW SHADOW
11. IN PLAIN SIGHT
The locker room was half full. Some players were still changing, others already heading out, and the constant noise—zippers, laughter, sticks hitting the floor—filled the space without really interrupting anything. Shane dropped down in front of his locker, letting his helmet fall beside him with a restrained sigh. His pulse was still high.
—Good pace today.
He looked up.
Hayden stood a few lockers away, calmly removing his gear like he hadn’t sweated through practice just as much as everyone else.
—Yeah…” Shane replied with a small shrug. “Felt faster.”
—It had to,” Hayden added. “If we keep playing like that, we’ll be solid for the next game.”
Shane shifted his gaze slightly.
—Against Toronto, right?
—Yeah.” Hayden shut his locker with a soft thud. “Then we travel. Three straight games.”
Shane exhaled quietly through his nose.
—Perfect… exactly what we needed.
A small silence settled between them. Comfortable. Natural. The kind that doesn’t ask to be filled. Until—
—Hey.
Shane looked up again. Hayden was watching him now. Directly.
—What are you doing tomorrow night?
Shane hesitated for barely a second.
—Nothing… I think. Why?
Hayden shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.
—Come over.
Shane looked at him, more surprised than uncertain.
—Tomorrow?
—Yeah. Something small. The kids’ll be there, my wife’s cooking… nothing crazy.
Shane nodded slowly.
—Yeah. Sounds good.
And for one second, it did. Until Hayden added, without changing his tone:
—Bring Rozanov.
Shane went still. Didn’t overreact. Didn’t do anything obvious. But the hand searching for a clean shirt inside his locker… stopped.
—Uh…
He lowered his gaze, like he was searching for the right answer.
—I don’t know if he—
—Look,” Hayden interrupted, now with a half-smile, “you can come dressed like always. Athletic, comfortable… like a little freak.”
A short laugh escaped Shane.
—You’re an asshole.
—I know,” Hayden replied with a shrug. “But seriously. Nothing formal. Just food, wine… that’s it.”
Pause.
—What does Rozanov like?
That one hit differently.
Shane looked up too fast, like the question had arrived before he was ready.
—What?
—Food,” Hayden clarified calmly. “Anything he hates or…?”
Shane opened his mouth. Closed it again.
—No… I don’t know.
Too quick. Too flat.
—I mean… no, I don’t know. I can ask him.
Hayden watched him a second longer than necessary. Not uncomfortable. But attentive.
—Ask him,” he said finally. “So we don’t accidentally cook something he hates.”
Shane laughed softly.
—Yeah… I’ll ask him.
A player walked past behind them laughing with someone else, completely unaware of the conversation. The noise filled the room again. But there, between the two of them… something had shifted.
—Dinner’s getting made either way,” Hayden added, slipping back into his lighter tone as he grabbed his bag. “So somebody better eat it.”
Shane let out another small laugh, quieter this time.
—You’re not really giving me a choice, huh?
—Never did.
Hayden winked and started walking away. But before disappearing into the crowd, he paused slightly.
—And Shane…
Shane looked up.
—Relax.
A faint half smile.
Barely there.
—It’s not that serious.
Then he left.
Shane stayed sitting there. Staring at his locker. Not really seeing anything. He pulled out his phone. Turned it once between his fingers. The screen stayed dark. He didn’t type anything. But he already knew exactly what he wanted to say.
The apartment was quiet. Shane dropped his keys onto the dining table and stayed standing there without moving. The metallic sound disappeared quickly, like the place itself didn’t want to hold onto anything for very long. He dragged a hand through his hair. Exhaled. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just dinner.
…right?
He pulled out his phone. Opened the chat. Closed it. Opened it again. Stared at the name for a few seconds before pressing video call. One ring. Two. Three—
—Finally.
Shane couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared. Ilya came onto the screen, leaning against the kitchen counter, shirt half on, hair still damp. Relaxed. Like the world outside him didn’t exist.
—I was busy,” Shane replied.
Ilya lifted an eyebrow.
—Sure. Of course.
Brief silence.
—What are you doing?” Shane asked.
—Trying to decide if I’m gonna eat something decent or ruin my life with the first thing I find.
—Always dramatic. You’re gonna end up eating a tuna melt sandwich.
—I’m Russian, my love. It comes with the package.
Shane laughed quietly, shaking his head.
—And you?” Ilya asked. “You seem… weird.”
There it was.
Shane looked away for a second.
—I’m not weird.
—Shane…
Not a question. Shane exhaled through his nose.
—It’s just…” he started, then stopped halfway.
Ilya didn’t push. Just watched him. Waiting.
—Tomorrow…” Shane tried again. “Do you have anything?”
—No.
Pause.
—Why?
Shane hesitated.
—Hayden invited me over.
Ilya didn’t react immediately.
—And?
Shane swallowed.
—And… he asked me to bring you.
Silence. One second. Two.
Ilya tilted his head slightly.
—To his house… with his family?
—Yeah.
A slow smile appeared across Ilya’s face. Not uncomfortable. Interested.
—Wow.
—Don’t do that,” Shane said, raising his eyebrows.
—Do what?
—That face.
—What face?
—That “this is entertaining” face.
A low laugh slipped out of Ilya.
—Maybe a little.
Shane shook his head, though he couldn’t fully hide the smile tugging at his mouth.
—You don’t have to come,” he said more quietly this time. “Seriously.”
Ilya looked directly at him.
—I want to go.
Simple. Straightforward. And Shane blinked.
—Really?
—Yeah.
Pause.
—But on one condition.
Shane closed his eyes briefly.
—I knew it.
Ilya smiled faintly.
—If you’re making me drive from Ottawa to Montreal… on that dark lonely highway…
He leaned slightly closer to the camera.
—I think I deserve a reward, don’t you?
An incredulous laugh escaped Shane.
—You’re an idiot.
—Answer me.
—No.
—Then I’m not going.
—You’re unbearable.
—But I’m yours.
Shane looked at him, trying not to smile. Failed immediately.
—What do you want?
Ilya’s smile shifted slightly. Slower now.
—I want us fucking until sunrise.
Shane shook his head, laughing under his breath.
—You’re never gonna change.
—Don’t want to.
—You’re an asshole.
—And you still called me.
Shane rolled his eyes.
—So… yes or no?
Shane held his gaze.
One second longer than necessary.
—Yes. You know I’m yours.
Soft. Unprotected. Ilya didn’t answer immediately. But that half smile…
—Good.
The air between them shifted. Lighter. Heavier.
—Ilya…
—What?
—It’s a family dinner.
—I know.
—There are kids.
—I know.
—Hayden.
—I know that too.
Ilya looked at him calmly.
Confident.
—I’ll behave.
Shane narrowed his eyes.
—I don’t trust that.
—You should.
—I’m charming.
—You’re dangerous.
Ilya smiled slightly.
—That too.
They stayed on the call a few more minutes. Talking about nothing. About everything. Like always. But after they hung up…
Shane kept staring at the dark screen. At his own reflection. Still. Thinking. Not about the condition. Not about the night. But about tomorrow. The table. The looks. What could go wrong. And what he wouldn’t be able to hide forever anymore.
The doorbell rang once. Shane held the bottle of wine with both hands, like he needed to make sure he didn’t drop it. Beside him, Ilya looked completely relaxed, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark coat, staring at the door like he was walking into any random place… not something that already felt far too personal to Shane.
—Stop looking like that,” Ilya murmured without really moving his lips.
—Like what?
—Like you’re about to run away.
—I’m not running away.
—Yet.
Shane shot him a quick look just as the door opened.
—Hey!
Hayden appeared with an easy smile, stepping aside immediately to let them in.
—Come in, come in.
Shane walked in first.
—We brought this,” he said, lifting the bottle slightly.
—You didn’t have to bring anything.
—I know.
Ilya extended a hand.
—But we wanted to.
Hayden shook it firmly.
—Good answer.
The living room felt warm, lit by soft yellow light. There were toys in one corner, a folded blanket over the couch, and that kind of organized mess that only exists in homes where people actually live.
—Make yourselves comfortable,” Hayden’s wife called from the kitchen, leaning out with a kind smile.
Shane slipped off his jacket. Simple light-colored shirt. Dark jeans. Nothing special… but everything fit exactly right.
Ilya, meanwhile, looked like he’d put less thought into his outfit, and somehow stood out more anyway. Black button-down shirt, slightly open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Clean. Simple. Too confident.
—Nice house,” Ilya said, glancing around.
—Thanks,” Hayden replied. “Chaotic, but functional.”
—Feels real,” Ilya added.
Shane glanced sideways at him. That word… was not helping.
One of the kids ran past them laughing, another chasing right behind him. Ilya watched them for a second. Curious.
—They don’t bite,” Hayden said.
—I hope not,” Ilya replied.
—Only when they’re hungry.
—Then we’re in danger,” Ilya added.
Shane exhaled through his nose.
—Behave.
—I am behaving, boring.
Shane looked at him quickly.
Hayden noticed.
Didn’t say anything.
—Want something to drink?” Hayden asked, motioning toward the kitchen.
—Yeah, thanks,” Shane answered quickly.
—Same for me,” Ilya added. “Always whatever he’s having.”
Shane closed his eyes briefly.
—Don’t do that.
—Do what?
—That.
Ilya smiled faintly.
They stayed in the living room for a while. Light conversation. Fragmented. Nothing deep… but everything observed.
—So how’s Ottawa been?” Hayden asked, leaning against the back of the couch while looking directly at Ilya.
Ilya shrugged.
—Good.
—Yeah?
—Different.
—Fair enough.
—Miss Montreal?
Shane looked up slightly. Ilya didn’t answer right away.
—Sometimes.
Simple.
—But the change was necessary.
Hayden nodded.
—That’s what they say.
Brief silence. Not uncomfortable. But attentive.
—Dinner’s ready,” Hayden’s wife interrupted from the kitchen.
—Perfect,” Shane answered immediately.
Too quickly.
The dining room table was already set. Plates served. Glasses lined neatly. The wine already opened. Shane sat down first. Ilya beside him. Too close again.
Conversation started calmly. Food. Small details. Nothing uncomfortable… yet.
—I’ve been hearing a lot about your team this season,” Hayden said casually while cutting into his food. “Especially one of the new guys.”
Shane lowered his gaze toward his plate. No. Not now.
—Yeah?” Ilya replied.
—João Costa.
There it was. Direct. Shane turned his head slightly, like he already knew where this was going.
—He’s good,” Shane said quickly before Ilya could answer. “Really good.”
—That’s what I hear,” Hayden added.
Ilya rested his fork against the plate.
—He is.
—He’s got presence.
—Confidence,” Hayden added.
—Too much confidence,” Ilya corrected.
—For someone that new.
Ilya’s phone vibrated against the table. Clear this time. The screen lit up. Shane saw it. Not fully. But enough. João. He looked away immediately. Too late.
—Who exactly are we talking about?” Ilya asked casually.
Shane looked up, confused. Hayden answered first.
—João. Are you two close?
Silence. Small. Heavy. Ilya shook his head slightly.
—No.
Pause.
—But he insists.
Shane’s jaw tightened.
—Insists on what?
Too direct. Too fast. Ilya turned calmly toward him.
—Talking.
Silence.
—Getting closer.
Shane set his fork down.
—He’s a rookie.
—I know.
—He’s learning.
—I know that too.
Pause.
—It’s not complicated.
—Doesn’t seem like it.
Another uncomfortable silence. Now the tension… was visible.
—Well,” Hayden cut in carefully, reading the atmosphere, “I guess that happens when somebody stands out.”
Ilya shrugged lightly.
—Maybe.
—Or when somebody’s looking for something more.
Shane looked directly at Hayden. But Hayden wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at Ilya. Ilya held his gaze. No discomfort. No rush.
—Maybe.
Shane grabbed his glass and drank. More than necessary.
The kids kept playing in the living room. Laughter still echoed through the house. Everything outside the table remained exactly the same. But at the table… nothing did. And for the first time all night, Shane wasn’t listening to the conversation anymore. He was watching every gesture. Every pause. Every word coming out of Ilya’s mouth… like he was trying to understand something he wasn’t going to like.
When dinner ended—
—Can you help me with this?” Jackie asked while gathering some of the plates.
Shane reacted almost instantly.
—Yeah, of course.
He stood before he could think about it too much.
—No, don’t worry about it,” she added with a light smile. “You’re guests.”
—It’s really no trouble,” he answered quickly.
Too quickly.
Jackie started to say something else, but it was already too late.
Shane was already in the kitchen.
Already turning on the faucet.
Already washing dishes.
She laughed quietly under her breath as she followed him.
—Well… then I’ll dry.
—Perfect.
The sound of running water filled the space. Plates. Silverware. The soft brush of a dish towel. Outside, voices continued, kids running around, laughter slipping all the way into the kitchen. Everything normal. Everything… too normal.
—This looks good on you,” she said suddenly.
Shane lifted an eyebrow without stopping.
—Washing dishes?
—No,” she replied calmly as she dried another plate. “You like this.”
Pause.
—Present.
Shane didn’t answer. Just reached for the next plate.
—You have nothing to be ashamed of, Shane.
The water kept running. But something inside him… stopped.
—I don’t know what you mean,” he murmured.
She smiled slightly. Didn’t push.
—Yes, you do.
Silence.
The kind that doesn’t hurt… but doesn’t let you escape either.
—We’re here for you,” she continued carefully. “Whenever you decide.”
Shane turned off the faucet. Rested both hands against the counter. Staring downward.
—I’m nervous,” he admitted finally.
Quiet. Honest.
—More than I thought I’d be.
She stayed silent. Let him continue.
—I feel like…” he exhaled softly, “it’s not really up to us anymore.”
Another breath.
—I never told Hayden anything.”
He shook his head.
—Nothing.
—I know,” she answered gently.
A humorless laugh escaped him.
—That’s the worst part.
He stopped.
—That he still knows anyway.
His voice faltered slightly.
—And if he saw it…” he continued more quietly, “then what about everybody else?”
He swallowed hard.
—I’m scared.
The word came out on its own. No filter. She set the plate aside and leaned lightly against the counter.
—Shane…
She waited until he looked at her.
—You deserve to be happy.
Simple. No decoration.
—Don’t let anybody make that harder for you.
Straightforward.
—Not even this.
A small gesture toward the air. Like hockey itself was standing there invisible. Still as present as ever. Shane lowered his eyes. Not because he believed it yet… but because he wanted to.
A soft thud interrupted the moment.
—Mom!
One of the kids came running in from the living room with clumsy steps, dragging something behind him that barely made sense. The other followed close behind laughing and shoving him forward.
—Hey, hey… slow down,” Jackie said, turning slightly.
The younger one walked right up to Shane without hesitation, like that invisible barrier between adults and children simply didn’t exist. She leaned against his damp arm, curiously watching what he was doing.
—What are you doing?
Shane hesitated for a second… then answered without thinking much about it.
—I’m washing dishes.
—Why?
A quiet laugh slipped out through his nose.
—Because somebody has to.
The kid stared at him like she was genuinely considering the answer… then nodded seriously.
—I wouldn’t do it.
Jackie laughed softly.
—Yeah. We know.
She stepped closer, fixed the child’s hair affectionately, then gently guided her by the shoulders.
—Go on. Let him work.
The girl resisted for a second, staring at Shane like she’d just discovered something interesting, then ran off again dragging the other kid with her.
Their footsteps disappeared into the living room.
The silence returned.
Lighter now.
More human.
Jackie grabbed another plate like nothing had happened.
—Anyway…
She looked directly at him. Small gesture toward the air again. Like none of it needed to be named. Like hockey, the pressure, all of it… was still there anyway. Invisible. But constantly present.
—And when you’re ready,” she added more softly, “…you won’t be alone.”
She rested a hand against his shoulder.
—You never were.
Shane grabbed the next plate. But this time… he needed a second before starting again.
Meanwhile, outside—
—Mind if I smoke?
Ilya held the cigarette loosely between his fingers without lighting it yet.
Hayden shook his head.
—Go ahead.
Ilya lit it.
The ember glowed briefly in the dark. The air felt cold. There was a wooden chair off to the side, a small neglected garden, leaves barely moving with the wind. They stayed standing there. No rush.
—Tell me the plan.
Hayden’s voice finally broke the silence.
Ilya exhaled smoke slowly.
—Plan?
—Yeah.
Watching him directly now.
—Are we talking about hockey… or about something else?
Hayden let out a small laugh and glanced aside before looking back at him.
—You know exactly what I mean.
Ilya didn’t smile.
—Yeah.
Silence. The kind that doesn’t pressure you… but doesn’t let go either.
The cigarette ember briefly lit the darkness before fading again. The night air was cold, but not unpleasant… the kind of cold that forces you to stay present, to feel every breath a little deeper. The yard stretched quietly around them without trying too hard. A couple worn wooden chairs sat nearby, weathered by time. Farther out, the garden grew wild and uneven, leaves brushing together softly beneath the breeze with an almost imperceptible whisper. Inside the house, warm light spilled through the windows alongside distant laughter and the low murmur of life continuing naturally. Out here, though… everything felt slower. Clearer. Like this small space between the house and the night was the only place where things could be said without noise around them. They stayed there. Without rushing. Without needing to fill the silence.
Ilya looked down at his cigarette for a moment.
—We don't have it all figured out.
He paused briefly.
—Neither of us does.
He looked back up.
—But we're trying to do this the right way.
—How?
Ilya exhaled.
—That's why we're starting the foundation.
He hesitated.
—That's why I moved.
Another beat.
—To be closer.
Hayden let out a quiet laugh.
He shook his head.
—I knew it.
Ilya looked at him.
—You did?
—Of course.
He still sounded a little amazed.
—You were always the one Hollander went to see every time we played in Boston.
Ilya didn't answer.
A low, uncomfortable laugh escaped him.
—Ask him.
Hayden shook his head again, though this time he was smiling.
Not because he was teasing him.
Because he was sure.
—I don't have to.
He'd get so excited every time we played there.
—I could see it in his eyes.
The breeze stirred the leaves again.
The quiet returned.
But it wasn't the same anymore.
—Rozanov... I'm gonna ask you for one thing.
His voice was more serious now.
Ilya looked up.
—That weirdo...
A small smile tugged at Hayden's lips.
—He's like my brother.
A brief pause.
—He's family.
His expression changed.
—So I'm asking you just one thing.
He held Ilya's gaze.
—Don't break his heart.
The seconds passed slowly. Ilya never looked away.
—I wouldn't.
His voice softened.
—I love him.
Another breath.
—More than he thinks I do.
Hayden didn't answer right away. He simply looked at him. Not like someone who doubted him. Like someone who'd lived long enough not to trust words alone... even when they sounded sincere.
—Then make sure that's enough,
he said at last.
Ilya turned the cigarette between his fingers without taking another drag.
—Enough for what?
Hayden let out a quiet laugh that carried almost no humor.
—For the days when loving him isn't enough.
The wind stirred the leaves behind them once more. Ilya said nothing. Neither did Hayden. He simply looked toward the kitchen window, where Shane was still inside, leaning over the sink, completely unaware of the words that now hung between the two of them.
—Because he doesn't just need someone who loves him, Rozanov,
Hayden said quietly.
—He needs someone who stays... when things get hard.
Ilya lowered his eyes to the cigarette. The ember was still glowing. But somehow... the cold felt different now.
The door opened. Warm light welcomed them back inside. Voices. Laughter. Life carrying on as if nothing had changed. Everything was exactly where it belonged. And yet... something wasn't the same anymore.