THE NEW SHADOW
THE NEW SHADOW
23. BACK TO REALITY
Nothing on the ice had changed. It was still cold. Fast. Relentless. But they had changed. Not in the speed of the game, or in the violence of bodies slamming against the boards. That part was still just as brutal. Just as unforgiving as before.
What changed… was the part nobody could see. Ottawa no longer played like a team still trying to figure itself out. They played like a team that knew exactly who they were. And at the center of all of it… were them.
This time, Shane Hollander didn’t hesitate. Not in his movements. Not in his decisions. And definitely not in his place on the ice. There was something different about him now. Cleaner. Sharper. More dangerous. He wasn’t trying to prove anything anymore. He was just playing. And he played like every pass meant something, like every movement connected to something bigger than himself.
Ilya noticed it. Of course he noticed it. From the opposite side of the rink, from the bench, from every line change… he watched him with that familiar mixture of pride and something deeper that didn’t need a name.
Shane was okay. And that… changed everything. But he wasn’t the only one. João Costa had changed the rhythm of the team too. He was still the same dominant player, arrogant at times, precise always… but there was something different in the way he moved on the ice whenever he crossed paths with Shane.
It wasn’t rivalry. Not completely. It was… harmony. Like they were somehow playing for the same team, even while standing on opposite sides of the rink.
A pass arriving half a second earlier than expected. A play that needed no words. A quick exchange of glances—almost invisible—that said more than anything drawn up on a whiteboard ever could. As if, without trying, they had found middle ground. Neutral territory. And that… was strange. Especially for Ilya. Because Ilya Rozanov wasn’t someone who trusted people easily. Least of all someone like João. And yet… there he was.
Watching the way his… —He didn’t finish the word in his own head. —how Shane moved with João on the ice without friction. Without tension. Without needing to dominate each other. And the strangest part of all… It didn’t bother him. If anything, it gave him an unexpected kind of peace. Like for the first time in years, he didn’t have to split his world into separate pieces anymore.
João wasn’t a threat. And Shane wasn’t in danger. That was enough. Maybe more than Ilya was willing to admit.
Off the ice rink, things moved at their own pace. Softer. More human. The group chat—which someone, probably Hayden, had insisted on keeping alive—never shut up. Messages at all hours. Ridiculous memes. Blurry photos. Voice notes nobody asked for but everyone listened to anyway. And mixed into all of that… plans.
The charity project wasn’t just a random idea thrown into a casual conversation anymore. It was becoming real. Improvised meetings. Quick phone calls. Voice memos full of ideas that sometimes made absolutely no sense… but still got considered anyway. Shane got involved more than anyone expected him to. He gave opinions. Suggested things, and people noticed.
Meanwhile, Ilya did what he did best. Organize. Structure. Execute. Quietly. Without asking for credit. But somehow being involved in everything.
And João…
João showed up exactly when nobody expected him to. With unexpected ideas. With contacts. With solutions nobody had asked for… but that somehow fixed problems before they even existed. He was… efficient. And annoying. But useful. Very useful. The family group chat never stopped talking. Ever. Someone was always typing, reacting to something, sending random nonsense… or starting conversations that somehow turned into entirely different conversations twenty messages later.
That afternoon, Shane’s phone buzzed against the table. Another notification. Another bubble.
Yuna:
Who’s ready for pasta? 🍝
Ilya:
Me.
Shane:
Mom, stop trying to emotionally manipulate us.
I told you we’re not sure if we’ll make it yet… but we’ll try, okay?
Ilya:
Don’t be mean.
I’m sure your mom made amazing pasta.
Shane:
Ilya… I know my parents.
My mom probably hasn’t even started boiling the noodles yet.
Yuna:
😄
Well, sweetheart… I had to at least try.
David:
If you boys come, we can play poker.
Or cards. Something relaxing.
Yuna:
Hope you’re all ready to lose, because I always win.
David:
That’s not true. The score’s pretty even.
Yuna:
Only in your dreams.
We need to recount properly.
Ilya:
[Photo of a puppy]
Shane:
Shut up…
Don’t tell me you—
Yuna:
Oh my God, it’s adorable 😍
What’s his name?
David:
That dog definitely knows how to pose for pictures.
Ilya:
His name is Puppy.
Shane:
You cannot be serious.
Ilya:
You don’t think Puppy is a good name?
Shane:
Ilya, stop joking around.
We can’t take care of a puppy if we’re constantly traveling.
Ilya:
Then answer me something.
Do you like the name or not?
Shane:
No.
Absolutely not.
Ilya:
…
Ilya:
Well…
I can’t keep lying anymore.
I downloaded the picture from the internet.
Shane:
I knew it.
The photo was way too good to have been taken by you.
David:
That’s disappointing…
I was already imagining another son in the family.
Yuna:
Yeah, we could all take turns taking care of him.
Shane:
Don’t even start.
Ilya:
But yes.
Shane:
No, Ilya.
No.
Shane:
This conversation is over.
Ilya:
Shane, how much do you love me?
Shane:
Ilya Rozanov, I said this conversation is over.
Ilya:
🥺😞
A few days later, one night in Montreal, everyone ended up together without even planning it. Nothing formal. Nothing important. Just… together.
Dim lighting. Music low enough to accompany the room without taking it over. A perfect mix between a bar and a lounge where everything felt designed to make people stay longer than they intended. Crystal. Dark wood. Golden details. Nothing excessive. Just… right.
The atmosphere felt light. Conversations overlapping. Laughter that needed no explanation. And for a moment, everything felt… simple. Normal.
Ilya leaned back slightly in his chair, watching the scene unfold without involving himself too much. Shane was talking to João. Not arguing. Not competing. Talking. And that alone was enough to catch his attention.
João said something—probably sarcastic—and Shane answered with a smile he didn’t even try to hide. Natural. Effortless.
Ilya lowered his eyes for a second. Barely noticeable. Not because he was uncomfortable. Not because he was jealous. But because he understood exactly what he was looking at. Trust. Real trust. The kind that isn’t forced. And that… that was new.
The world hadn’t stopped spinning. It hadn’t magically become perfect. But it had found something better. Rhythm. And for now… that was enough.
The place itself didn’t need a name spoken out loud. It was one of those spaces that didn’t require introductions.
Hayden kept laughing way too hard at things that honestly weren’t even that funny. João mocked him for it. Shane immediately joined in. And within minutes the whole atmosphere had loosened completely. Natural. No cameras. No pressure. No hockey. Just them.
Ilya watched more than he spoke. Like always. But he wasn’t distant. He was… there. Present.
Shane shined differently in spaces like this. More relaxed. More himself. He laughed without thinking about how he looked, interrupted stories halfway through, leaned forward whenever something genuinely interested him. Free. And inevitably… the entire room bent slightly toward him because of it. Even João noticed. And for the first time… it didn’t bother him.
João wasn’t completely okay. He was enjoying the moment. The company. His new group of friends. But somewhere in the middle of it all, he was still adjusting to his new reality—to seeing Ilya and Shane together. For a moment, he found himself watching them. Then he took a breath and looked away.
Time passed. Conversations kept flowing. And it was right in the middle of one of those laughs that it happened. Nothing dramatic. Nothing announced. Just… a new presence.
Rose Landry.
Shane saw her first. And his expression changed just enough to betray him. Ilya noticed immediately. Of course he did. He turned his head. Saw her. And for one second… simply held her gaze. There was no open tension there. But it wasn’t neutral either. It was… evaluation.
Shane let out a breath that almost sounded like nervous laughter, rubbing the back of his neck. There it was. That look. The okay… maybe I should’ve mentioned this earlier.
Rose walked toward them naturally. Confident. Smiling. Like she fully understood the territory she was stepping into. She looked at Shane first. Then at Ilya. And in that silent exchange… everything became clear.
—Oh,” Shane muttered quietly. “…I didn’t really know how to tell you.”
No apology.
Just honesty.
Ilya didn’t answer right away. He only gave the smallest nod. Controlled. Careful.
Rose stepped a little closer. Enough to enter his space without invading it. She looked directly at him and smiled with a calmness that didn’t need validation from anyone.
—Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she said softly, almost amused. “I’m not competition.”
Pause.
A tiny wink.
—I’m your ally. So… whatever you need, I’m on your side.”
Ilya held her gaze. Measuring her. Reading her.
And then…
He nodded once.
—Rose,” he said in that neutral tone he used whenever he decided not to complicate things, “want a drink?”
Rose’s smile widened instantly.
—Sure. But not too strong, please.”
She thought for a second.
—Something… sweet. Not too much ice.”
Ilya stood without another word.
The bar was only a few steps away.
Far enough to breathe.
Far enough to think.
He ordered the drink. A French 75. Another beer for himself too. Then he waited. The noise around him blurred for a moment. It didn’t disappear. It just… stopped mattering.
Ilya rested his fingers lightly against the bar. Looked at his reflection in the glass. Then at the room around him.
Nobody was paying attention.
And then…
With almost absurd precision…
he lifted one hand to his hair.
Pulled out a single strand.
One.
Held it between his fingers for a second.
Like he was evaluating the decision.
Like it meant nothing.
Like it meant everything.
Then he dropped it.
Into the drink.
A tiny movement.
Almost invisible.
The slightest swirl through the liquid.
By the time the bartender returned with his beer, Ilya was already perfectly composed again. Impeccable.
He walked back to the table without hurry.
Without urgency.
—Rose,” he said, placing the glass in front of her. “Here.”
Rose looked at him. Then at the drink. Then back at him again.
—So…” she tilted her head slightly, “can we coexist peacefully?”
A short pause.
A crooked smile.
Hayden nearly choked on his laughter. João let out a loud breath through his nose. Shane just stared at both of them, caught somewhere between nervousness and amusement.
Ilya didn’t react immediately.
He sat down calmly. Adjusted in his chair.
Then, with complete composure:
—Of course,” he answered. “There’s absolutely no resentment.”
He raised his glass.
The toast felt natural.
Light.
Almost inevitable.
—Cheers.”
Shane looked around the table. At everyone. Every single one of them.
Rose.
Ilya.
João.
Hayden.
Himself.
There was no past.
No future.
No consequences.
Only that moment.
And it was enough.
More than enough.
Rose lifted the glass and took a sip. Her eyes widened instantly.
—Oh my God…” she breathed, genuinely shocked. “This is the best drink I’ve ever had in my entire life.”
Ilya lowered his gaze slightly. And the smallest smile—almost invisible—appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Dark.
Subtle.
Perfectly Ilya.
A few weeks later, Shane was stretched out on the couch, an open book in his hands, his bare feet resting on one of the cushions.
The apartment was quiet. The half-open windows let in the warm afternoon air. Montreal was finally starting to feel different. The cold had eased, and warmer days were slowly settling over the city.
He had read the same page twice. Not because the book was boring. Because he was waiting. Then, suddenly, he heard a key slide into the lock. Shane immediately looked up. The door opened. And he smiled.
—Oh my God. I thought you’d be here half an hour ago.
Ilya walked in, dragging a small suitcase behind him.
—Hello, Shane. I am also very happy to see you.
—Idiot.
There was nothing but affection in Shane’s voice.
—What happened?
—I stopped for gas and had to use bathroom on the way.
He left the suitcase by the door.
—I think I ate something bad.
Shane slowly closed his book.
—Then you are officially forbidden from using the bathroom in this apartment.
Ilya looked offended.
—Very nice way to welcome your boyfriend.
Shane laughed.
He left the book on the table and walked barefoot toward him.
—Come here.
Ilya barely had time to open his arms before Shane wrapped himself around him.
The hug lasted a little longer than necessary.
Then came a kiss.
Simple. Familiar.
When they pulled apart, they stayed close.
Shane looked at him.
Ilya looked back.
And for no apparent reason, they both started smiling.
—What? —Shane asked.
—Nothing.
—Then stop looking at me like that.
—You are looking at me same way.
—Because you started it.
Ilya let out a small laugh.
—Oh. Shane, before I forget…
He stepped away and started searching through one of the pockets in his luggage.
Shane watched him.
—What are you looking for?
—Something.
—I can see that.
Ilya opened another compartment.
Nothing.
Then another.
Shane crossed his arms.
—I can’t believe how disorganized you are.
—I am not disorganized.
—You’ve been looking for thirty seconds for something inside a suitcase you packed yourself.
—It is here.
—Of course.
Ilya reached inside again.
—I know I put it somewhere.
—What is it?
—I’m not telling you.
—Why?
—Because it is surprise.
That immediately changed Shane’s expression.
—A surprise?
—Yes.
Ilya kept searching.
Shane stayed where he was, now genuinely interested.
—Do you need help?
—No.
—Because clearly—
—Here!
Ilya triumphantly pulled out a small bottle of lube.
Shane stared at it.
For a moment, nothing came out.
He blinked.
Looked at the bottle again.
Then at Ilya.
It took him a couple of seconds to process it.
—No.
Ilya started smiling.
—What?
—Fuck you.
Ilya burst out laughing.
—Shane!
—That’s my gift?
—I saw it and thought of you.
—Ilya Rozanov, fuck you!
Shane was already laughing.
He snatched the little bottle from Ilya’s hand and looked at it more closely.
—You come all the way here and bring me this. I thought it would be something… useful.
Ilya spread his arms.
—It is very useful.
—You know exactly what I mean.
—Besides, we needed it last time.
Shane’s eyes widened.
—Shut up!
He immediately covered Ilya’s mouth with his hand.
Ilya started laughing behind it.
—Shhh.
Ilya pulled Shane’s hand away.
—Why you get like this? Nobody is here.
—Doesn’t matter.
—It is only you and me.
—I know.
—Then…
Shane shook his head, still smiling.
—There are still things I get embarrassed talking about with you.
Ilya watched him for a second.
Then laughed.
—You are never going to change.
—Is that bad?
—No.
The answer came too quickly.
Shane looked at him.
Ilya simply took the bottle from his hand and tossed it back into the suitcase.
—Come.
They walked over to the couch.
Shane settled back into his spot, and Ilya dropped down beside him, stretching out his legs. For a few seconds, they stayed comfortably like that, sharing the quiet of the apartment.
Shane picked up his book again, but didn’t open it.
—Are you ready for our trip?
—Yes.
—You sure?
—Shane.
—I’m just asking.
—I’m ready.
—Good. Because remember to pack—
Ilya immediately raised a finger.
—Shhh.
Shane frowned.
—What?
—Stop controlling everything.
—I’m not controlling anything.
Ilya looked at him.
Shane tried to hold his gaze.
He didn’t last very long.
—Fine. Maybe a little.
—Everything will be fine.
—I’m just trying to make sure we don’t forget anything.
—We won’t forget anything.
—You don’t know that.
—Neither do you.
Shane let his head fall against the back of the couch.
—I know I can be intense sometimes.
Ilya burst out laughing.
—Sometimes?
Shane immediately turned toward him.
—Don’t start.
—More than sometimes.
—Thanks.
—But you know what?
—What?
Ilya looked at him with a smile.
—I like that about you too.
Shane raised an eyebrow.
—Too?
—Yes.
Ilya let the moment hang for a beat.
—I also like that you are boring.
Shane sat up.
—I’m always boring?
Ilya started laughing.
—Very boring.
—Take it back.
—No.
Shane grabbed one of the cushions.
—Ilya.
—Shane.
—Take it back.
Ilya shook his head.
—Never.
The cushion went flying.
Ilya dodged it, laughing.
Shane reached for another one, but this time Ilya was faster. He grabbed him around the waist and lifted him off the couch.
—Ilya!
—What?
—Put me down!
—No.
—I’m serious!
Ilya carried him only a few steps before dropping him back onto the cushions.
Shane bounced against the couch.
—You’re an asshole.
Ilya dropped down beside him, still laughing.
—An asshole you like.
Shane looked at him.
He tried to deny it.
But he ended up smiling.
—Unfortunately.
The full book will be available on August 23, 2026
To request your copy, contact:
hello@pedrochavarria.com
It will be sent directly to your inbox.