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Mr. Rozanov, you probably won’t ever see this as I am sure you get hundreds of DMs a day. My name is Patrick, I am David Rose’s husband. I realize that the invitation you made in David’s comment was probably a joke. Nevertheless, I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you. I have been into sports my whole life, be it baseball or something else. While I wasn’t professional or anything, it is an environment that has been foundational for me. I have always loved the discipline, the camaraderie and the team spirit it fosters. There was, however, one way I never truly fitted in no matter how hard I tried. As my husband likes to remind me, it is not unsurprising that it took me such a long time to understand I was gay. While it was Scott Hunter’s story that personally allowed me to admit it to myself, I am in awe of what Mr. Hollander and you have been able to achieve in hockey. You are showing the younger generation that there are multiple ways to be gay (or queer) while being the best athletes in the rink. So thank you for your bravery and your trailblazing. Finally, I have to say that watching you play with M. Hollander on the ice was beyond magical. I hope I get the chance to see it again.
Patrick pressed ‘send’ fully expecting that it would never be read but feeling better for having written it. A message in a bottle. And for a while, there was no response.
But one day, Patrick came back from a meeting at the bank to find David at the register reading a piece of paper with a strange smile on his face.
“What’s going on?” Patrick asked.
David looked up at him as his smile grew even bigger. His eyes were knowing and full of mirth.
“Someone wrote to us,” David said mysteriously. “Well, mostly to you.”
“Oh yeah? Who is it?” Patrick pressed, not knowing whether he should be scared.
“A certain Ilya Rozanov.”
Static rang in Patrick’s ears. “What?”
“Apparently, he is responding to a message you have sent him,” David answered with a small shoulder shimmy.
With trepidation, Patrick moved closer but didn’t reach for the letter. “What did he say?”
David looked at Patrick for a second longer before his gaze lowered to the letter once more and he started to read.
“Dear Patrick, thank you for message. Here are some tickets as well as plane tickets and hotel reservation for you to come watch magic again. Mr. Hollander and I will take you and your husband for lunch next day. Ilya.”
Having finished, David handed Patrick two tickets that he hadn’t seen on the counter. They were actual tickets for a home game in Ottawa in April.
“Are they real?” Patrick asked, dazed.
David smiled benevolently. “Yes, honey. They are real.”
“Are we free in April?”
David chuckled. “We will make ourselves available. Those are first class plane tickets, after all.”
David Rose and his husband were coming for lunch, apparently. Shane was used to going along with Ilya’s most out there ideas. But still, once in a while, they took him by surprise. Ilya had shown him the original exchange, and the admittedly sweet DM that the husband had sent. Since they had been forced to come out, they had gotten a lot of those messages, which was as amazing as it was overwhelming sometimes. So, Shane was still slightly confused as to why this message in particular had triggered a personal invitation. Knowing his husband, it could be a number of things, including beating Scott at being the best gay hockey player.
But Ilya was cooking, because it was next to impossible for them to get any privacy in a restaurant in Ottawa, a lesson learned the hard way. And Shane was somewhat familiar with the Rose family, watching Sunrise Bay was one of his guilty pleasures anytime he was sick. He had been vaguely aware of the family’s fall from grace a few years ago but didn’t know much about it. A quick look at David Rose’s social media presence, after Ilya had made him aware of their lunch plans, had told Shane that the former socialite ran some type of apothecary in Ontario with his husband. Whose name Shane really needed to remember. Still, all in all, it wasn’t the strangest social engagement Shane had found himself in.
A knock sounded at the door, and he felt a shot of anxiety. He was never that comfortable with new people entering his space, but he took a deep breath and rose from the couch. Ilya came out of the kitchen, winked at Shane and went to open the door.
“Hello, welcome,” Ilya said as he stepped aside to let their guests in. Shane immediately recognized David Rose, tall with dark hair and dressed in an asymmetric black and white wool sweater.
“Hello, I am David, and this is my husband Patrick.” Patrick. That was his name. “Thank you so much for your kind invitation.”
Patrick was slightly shorter than David, and dressed more simply. He was staring at Ilya like a deer caught in headlights. Shane was familiar by this starstruck look. So was Ilya, who was grinning like a loon.
“Our pleasure,” Ilya responded grandly as Shane reached his side. “I am Ilya, and this is my husband Mr. Hollander.”
Shane did a double take. “Ilya,” he hissed at his husband who was laughing at a joke only he understood. Shane turned back to their guests. David looked amused and Patrick seemed to be blushing. “You can call me Shane, please come on in.”
They moved further down into the apartment. “You have a beautiful place,” David said, his eyes darting around with interest. “Very tastefully decorated. Not what I expected from two professional athletes.”
“David,” Patrick breathed out quietly, the first word he had said since entering their home.
“What, I was offering a compliment,” David responded not so quietly while Ilya just laughed.
“I would be offended,” his husband said good-naturedly, “but I have seen how some of my teammates chose to decorate their houses, so…”
“See,” David pointed at Ilya while talking to Patrick, who seemed to get more embarrassed as time passed by. Shane turned to Ilya, hoping he would know how to break the ice. His husband was already prepared.
“How did you like the game? Was a good win, yes?”
David turned to Patrick, whose eyes got wide and excited. “It was amazing,” he said. He turned to Shane a bit shyly. “To see you score a hat trick was unbelievable. And the fact that it was your third this season, well…”
Ah. Shane could tell he was a real hockey fan. If nothing else, they could always talk about that. “Thank you,” he answered. “I got some good assists from this guy.” He bumped Ilya’s shoulder gently, who smiled back at him.
“Some times,” Ilya responded, “I need to let him score, otherwise he gets sad and cries in locker room.”
Shane threw him an unimpressed look. “Let me?”
“You have to be one of the best offensive line the league has ever seen,” Patrick continued before Ilya could escalate things. “Even better than O’Keefe and Carrington back in their day. The two of you together are lethal.”
Shane smiled, genuinely touched by the compliment. He saw Ilya preen next to him.
“You have very good taste,” Ilya said. “What about you, David? You enjoy the game? Better than Scott Hunter, yes?”
Shane huffed in amusement as David started to nod rather emphatically. “Yes, you scored some very nice homeruns.”
“Goals, David, they’re called goals,” Patrick corrected fondly, before throwing a semi-apologetic look at him and Ilya.
“Not an actual hockey fan?” Shane ventured.
“I mean, I am not generally for institutionalized violence? Even as a sport. And the arena can get very cold.”
“David is not really a fan of sports in general. He can get coaxed with snacks, though.”
“The hot dogs were top tier,” David said with a dreamy look.
“Well, let’s go eat, then?” Shane prompted.
They sat at the table and began eating. Shane was once more at a loss about how to begin a conversation.
“So,” David started, clearly not feeling the same way, “I have to admit I am curious.” Shane internally cringed because he remembered what Ilya had promised in that comment. “Do you often invite random fans to lunch? Don’t get me wrong, it’s very nice. But it sounds exhausting.”
A pleasant surprise ran through Shane. Patrick threw a wide glance at his husband, but Shane couldn’t have agreed more. He looked pointedly at Ilya, who should know that Shane would let him field that one.
“Was nice message you wrote, both of you,” Ilya responded, somewhat dismissive of the very fair question that had been asked. Shane could tell he was being cagey about something.
“I’m sure you get a plethora of nice messages everyday, though,” David said, undeterred.
Ilya smiled devilishly. “It is not everyday someone compare us to Romeo and Juliet.” He finished by winking at Shane. Which shouldn’t make Shane smile the way it was.
A frown appeared between David’s eyebrow. “Patrick said yours used to be a rivalry of epic proportions,” he said with doubt creeping into his voice.
“It was,” Patrick was quick to reassure his husband, while throwing covert glances in Shane’s and Ilya’s directions. “Montreal and Boston have always been bitter rivals. And with Holl-” he paused, stricken, before looking at them again and stammering, “-I mean, with Shane and Ilya, both teams were playing at their best levels in years. It was like the Red Sox and the Yankees in its heyday.” But David’s only answer was a blank stare. Patrick recalibrated. “It was like Taylor Swift and Katy Perry during the Bad Blood era.”
David’s eyes widened to an alarming degree.
“That’s a new one, too,” Shane muttered, quietly amused.
“Well, I was right, then,” David proclaimed. “If your teams were… feuding like the houses of Taylor and Katie, you falling in love makes you the Romeo and Juliet of the hockey world.” He tilted his head in consideration. “With a happy ending, it would seem,” he finished, smiling at them.
“Very happy,” Ilya agreed, grinning in a way that was making Shane feel fuzzy feelings. “Great love story, better than Scott and Kip.” His voice dripped with disdain pronouncing those names, and Shane groaned.
“What has Scott ever done to you?” He asked, not able to stop himself. Scott had been nothing but gracious to them since they had been outed.
“Nothing, is old boring fossil,” Ilya responded dismissively.
“You like boring,” he teased, having lost count of the number of times he had been called boring. Usually just before being thrown against a wall or on a bed.
“I don’t like fossils,” Ilya clarified.
“But old is fine with you, then?”
“You’re not getting any younger.”
Shane huffed in disbelief. “Ilya, I am four months older than you.”
“Still older.”
David chuckled lightly, reminding Shane of his presence. Even Patrick was trying to hide a half-smile.
“I am guessing that the rivalry wasn’t all fake?” David ventured teasingly.
“Was never fake,” Ilya answered.
Shane’s mood soured. He figured this was the moment where they would divulge the whole story. This was what had predicated this lunch, after all. Though Shane had not agreed to this at the time, he had agreed to have them over. Ilya had promised to tell them the story, and Shane felt compelled to honor that.
“You’ll probably want to hear the full story,” he said, not hiding particularly well his lack of enthusiasm. David and Patrick shared a look Shane couldn’t decipher.
“Look,” David started, “I wouldn’t take anything said in the comments of a twitter post seriously. With all due proportions considered, I have been in the spotlight enough in my life to understand wanting privacy. You clearly haven’t been willing to share that part with yourself with the public, and we absolutely respect that. You don’t owe us anything.”
“Yeah,” Patrick concurred, “just the chance to see you play again, and meeting you guys. That’s more than enough.”
Shane was oddly moved by this consideration they were almost never afforded. Most people demanded more than they were willing to give and got offended when they refused to answer every intrusive questions they were bombarded with.
“So, you don’t like spotlight?” Ilya asked. Shane knew that tone. He was up to something. “Not like your sister Alexis, then?”
“You know my sister?” David asked, completely befuddled.
“She is very nice girl.” Was all Ilya responded, knowing full well everybody in the room wanted to know more, including Shane. How the hell would he know Alexis Rose?
“That’s one word for it,” David said. “How did you even meet?”
“Was in bar in Moscow with friends,” Ilya started, delighted by the attention, Shane could tell. “It was a few years ago. Suddenly, beautiful Canadian girl sits on my lap and says to pretend to be her boyfriend. Starts kissing me. I am gentleman, so I let her. We leave together, and outside she says thank you and jumps into taxi.”
“Oh my god,” David exclaimed, his eyebrows having almost reached his hairline, “you're the guy who helped her get away from the Russian mafia in Moscow!”
“What?” Patrick asked, as shocked as Shane by this turn of event.
“Yes, it was in 2013 or something,” David continued. “She got invited to a poker game, but she started winning too much or something and had to get out of there. So, she did the thing…” He pointed in Ilya’s direction, somehow corroborating Ilya’s ludicrous story.
“Did you even know who she was?” Shane asked, not understanding how any of it was possible. This seemed to be a plot right out of a bad spy novel or something.
“We met up in New York afterwards. Introduced ourselves. Was very fun.” Ilya smirked.
“I bet,” Shane said, unable to mask his displeasure at hearing about another of Ilya’s many female conquests. Despite everything, it still stung a little, an echo from a time where he had to watch from afar while he got crumbs of Ilya to sustain himself.
“You're the guy!” David shouted at Ilya, dragging Shane back to the present. “That's how she got us the tickets for the game in Toronto.”
Ilya shrugged good-naturedly. “Well, old friend sends me message saying her brother wants to take hockey fan husband to game. I help.”
It finally dawned on Shane. “That's why you invited them for lunch.”
“One of the reasons, yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?” Shane asked, as there was no reason to keep it from him.
“Maybe we don’t like them and lunch is terrible. Then, I keep to myself.” The way Ilya’s mind worked was still foreign to Shane sometimes.
“Well, I guess we're not terrible,” Patrick joked.
“Not worse than Alexis, at any rate,” David said with an unimpressed look.
“She is in New York, yes?” Ilya asked.
“Yes,” David responded while narrowing his eyes.
“And you’re in…?” Shane asked, wanted to take the conversation away from Ilya’s former fling.
David’s eyes lost their suspicious glint. “Schitt's Creek,” he said wincing. “It’s a small town four hours north of Toronto.”
Shane paused for a second. “That’s quite the name.”
David nodded as he answered. “I have asked to change it many times, but the Mayor is against it.”
“Well,” Patrick hedged, “it is his last name.”
“The mayor is called Schitt,” Shane asked in disbelief. Ilya seemed even more confused than he was, but entertained nonetheless. Both their guests responded by nodding, with extreme reluctance in David’s case.
“Still, I feel like I should get a say,” David persisted, not moved by Patrick’s argument.
Shane felt lost in the conversation. Patrick, seeing this, tried to clear up the situation. “David owns the town.” Shane felt even more confused.
“Can one own a town?” he asked.
“Surprisingly, yes.” Patrick replied.
“It was a birthday gift,” David added, unhelpfully.
Ilya smirked at Shane. “Maybe we should look into this, buying our own town. You would enjoy this, yes? Mister real estate?”
That asshole. Shane threw him a look trying to convey how unfunny he was. But the smile on his lips might not help Ilya get the message. Shane decided once again to redirect the conversation.
“Patrick, you're from… Schitt's Creek, then?” He asked.
“Oh no,” Patrick replied, getting progressively more comfortable in their presence. “I am from Peterborough. But I moved to Schitt's Creek in 2017. That’s when I met David.”
The fondness with which he was looking at David was admittedly adorable. There was also something deeper there. Pieces of a puzzle that Shane wasn’t quite connecting yet. But the fact that Patrick moved in 2017 and met David right after mattered.
“How did that happen?” Shane asked, having no concept of what life David Rose could be living in Schitt’s Creek. He then realized he was asking very private questions, when he himself had shown reluctance to share. “If you don’t mind my asking,” he added self-consciously.
But Patrick waved that aside easily with a shake of his head. “I don’t mind. I was working as a consultant for small businesses,” Patrick replied with a smile for David, “and David was opening his store. I helped him with his applications and worked my way into becoming a partner. In more ways than one.”
David’s lips were tugging upwards but he was shaking his head. “You're skipping, like, dozens of steps.”
If anything, Patrick’s smile got bigger. “You tell it, then.”
A defiant crease appeared between David’s eyes. “Fine, I will. We had been in Schitt's Creek for a couple of years after my family's financial debacles.” His hands were up in the air, punctuating his words. “And I wanted to open my own store, first and foremost to have access to quality goods at a reasonable price. In any case, I was lacking some of the administrative know how. I went to see our resident expert, and that’s when I found out that he had hired a consultant. Patrick. Who proceeded to tell me to come back when I was better prepared.”
“That’s not what I said!” Patrick exclaimed.
“You were very snippy.”
“David, I asked what was the name of the business you wanted to open, and you told me you were oscillating.”
“I don’t see your point.”
Patrick looked in their direction in search for help. Shane was too caught up by their back and forth to offer up an opinion.
“Okay, you have to understand”, Patrick pleaded. “I had just upended my whole life, quit my very stable job as an accountant and found myself working part time in Schitt’s Creek as a consultant for a guy I was also renting a room from. I was questioning a lot of my life choices. And then, walks in the most striking man I have ever seen. Unlike anyone I have ever met in my life.” The heart eyes were unmistakable. “And I know I am staring but I am trying to play it cool.” David was not even pretending not to be touched by this. “But he is clearly out of his depth and I just keep smiling like a fool because everything about him is just… So I make some jokes, a couple sports references just to see his reactions. His face is so expressive, I can’t stop. But also, I have no idea how to do anything else because-” Patrick paused to take a deep breath, staring at David like he held all the answers. “Because it is the first time I can admit to myself I am attracted to a man, and I have no idea how to behave in that situation.”
David’s eyes were wet, and Shane felt the silence echo through the room. He thought of that hotel gym all those years ago. Watching Ilya and not knowing what to do with the feelings that he had been igniting in Shane. He looked at his now husband, only to find him staring back, love and understanding shining in his beautiful blue eyes.
“Sorry,” Patrick muttered sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to word vomit all of this.”
“It’s okay,” Shane said, strangely not minding being subjected to a stranger’s life story. He knew a thing or two about impossibly striking men who changed the course of one’s life with one look. He actually found himself wanting to know more. “So, you knew right away?”
Patrick furrowed his brows in puzzlement. “About what?” he asked, but his eyes widened and he continued before Shane could respond. “Oh, you mean, about David?”
“Yeah,” Shane replied, still a bit embarrassed about prying.
Patrick seemed to take a second or two of consideration before answering. “Meeting David felt like finally getting the response to a question that had been plaguing me most of my life. Within two minutes of talking with him, I knew.”
David made a choked sound, and Patrick grabbed his hand and kissed it gently.
“What was question?” Ilya asked.
“I… I don’t want to bore you with my whole life story,” Patrick said, his initial shyness peaking back.
“You won’t bore us,” Shane said.
“I like boring,” Ilya said at the same time.
Shane shook his head, because of course Ilya would admit this now. But David chuckled and Patrick smiled.
“You know what, I bring vodka,” Ilya declared. “Is very good to tell life story.”
Ilya rose before anyone could disagree.
“Ilya, I don’t-” Shane started, not wanting David or Patrick to feel obligated.
“Is it from Russia?” David cut Shane off before he could tell Ilya most people wouldn’t want to drink vodka in the middle of the afternoon.
Ilya came back with a bottle and three glasses. At least, he knew where Shane stood on that issue. Ilya threw a look at David.
“Of course, it is from Russia. Is only good vodka.”
“Oh, I know,” David replied excitedly.
“I’m not sure that I should,” Patrick said.
“You don’t have to,” Shane replied. “I’m not taking any.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” David concurred. “But, we are on vacation and we’re not driving. So feel free to let loose.” He finished with a wink and a shoulder shimmy. A small smile grew on Patrick’s face.
“What the hell.”
“That’s the spirit,” Ilya said, happily pouring three glasses. “Let’s go to the living room, more comfortable.”
So, they moved to the sofas in the living area, and Ilya grabbed Shane a ginger ale on the way.
Serenely situated in the sofa’s corner, David tried the vodka and his face went on a journey Shane couldn’t keep track of. “This is really good.”
“Da,” Ilya said matter-of-factly. “Okay, life story, go,” Ilya told Patrick.
Patrick chuckled nervously. He took a big sip of his drink. “Okay, here goes nothing. For a long time, I didn’t know I was gay.” Shane’s grip on his ginger ale tightened. “I had a girlfriend in high school. She was great, we really got along, everybody loved her. But there was always something missing and I just couldn’t understand what it was. We would break up and I would try. With other girls. But it was even worse. So I would get back with Rachel, because I was lonely and it seemed like the thing to do. It went on like this for thirteen years. It got to the point where I even proposed. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do. But all that time, there was this thing I was burying deep. The knowledge that I was unhappy. That it wasn’t working.”
Shane thought of his high school girlfriend, Anna, who had asked him out. His friends had been more excited by the prospect than he had been. She had taken his willingness to take things slow as a sign of respect, while Shane had tried to understand what the fuss had been all about while feeling increasingly inadequate. He had broken up with her two weeks after meeting Ilya that first time in Saskatchewan. Shane grabbed Ilya’s hand, needing the physical comfort.
David similarly took hold of Patrick’s hand. Patrick smiled at him sadly before continuing. “Then the Admirals won the cup. I watched the game on TV. It was a wake-up call.” There was so much awe in Patrick’s voice. Shane was amazed at the ripples a single moment in time could have on so many different lives. He felt Ilya squeeze his hand. They also owed their own debt of gratitude to Scott’s bravery that day.
Patrick cleared his throat, trying to reign in his emotions. “I still couldn’t put words to it, but I knew I needed to. Within a month of the game, I was living in Schitt’s Creek. But it was hard. Being alone, away from my family. I was scared I would not be able to find the answer, you know?” Shane nodded, because he knew. “But then, I met David. And I felt butterflies in my stomach. I couldn’t stop thinking about his smile. I wanted to be around him all the time, I wanted to make him laugh, I wanted to tease him, I wanted to… touch him.” He blushed slightly at that, and took a sip of vodka. “All the things I could never get right with Rachel, it was instantaneous with David.” He chuckled self-deprecatingly. “So yeah, after thirty years, I was finally able to figure out I was gay.”
“Honey,” David said, with gentle reproach. Patrick looked at him, and they had a whole conversation in silence.
“Yeah,” Patrick finally said, “David likes to remind me that there is no timeline for this and that everybody’s journey is different.”
Shane focused on his breathing, not wanting to let the wave of emotions he felt coming up overwhelm him. The simplicity with which Patrick and David were sharing these parts of their lives was flooring Shane. For all the progress they had made, Shane and Ilya were still part of an environment where they didn’t get to discuss their journey openly. What they knew, they had learned in the dark, stumbling through years of secrecy and longing. And they had unescapably hurt each other along the way.
“Yeah,” Shane croaked out. In that moment, he made a decision. “My… girlfriend had to tell me I was gay,” he said knowing full well he was opening himself up to a number of questions.
Ilya’s eyes widened subtly, while David’s shocked expression was visible from space. Patrick’s eyes were full of compassion. “That must have been terrifying,” was all he said.
Shane huffed out an astonished laugh. “It really was. It was kind of a last ditch effort to make it work with a woman. But…”
“It doesn’t work like that?” Patrick offered.
“No. She was so kind about it, too. Kinder than I deserved.”
“How long had you been together?” Patrick asked.
“About two months.”
“It’s not like you wasted much of her time. I was with Rachel for thirteen years. Some days, I don’t understand while she is still friends with me.”
Shane tried imagining his life if he had stayed with Rose. A life without Ilya. The thought brought tears to his eyes.
“Rachel is happily married and visits us once a year,” David interjected, clearly not one to let his husband wallow in self-pity. “She is doing fine, honey. You had to deconstruct years of internalized compulsory heterosexuality, that takes time.”
Patrick hummed in agreement, probably used to hearing this. Shane let out an involuntary chuckle. Years of internalized compulsory heterosexuality. He looked at Ilya, finding him as beautiful as the first day he had seen him on the ice. The pull he felt was as immediate and unmistakable as it had been then. And yet, he had willfully mistaken it for years. If only he had had one person he could have talked to honestly without fearing his whole life imploding.
Ilya was looking back, also contemplative. The company of David and Patrick made Shane feel bold. He hoped this would not explode in his face.
“Do you know what happened when I told Ilya I was gay for the first time?” He asked the room with a semi-playful tone. “He started laughing.”
“What?” David screeched in disapproval. Even Patrick managed to forget his hero-worship enough to look at Ilya with disappointment. Although Shane had not been completely serious, there was something healing about their reactions.
“Wait, wait, no,” Ilya started, having sat up abruptly. “Okay, I shouldn’t have laughed. But I have… what is word? When you have explanation in your favor?”
“Attenuating circumstances,” Shane said, wanting to hear what Ilya had to say about it, having an idea about some of it.
“Yes, attenuating circumstances.” Ilya was taking this very seriously, speaking fast not to let this impression of him linger. “Shane and I, for years, we have sex. Every time we play against Montreal, we meet and we fuck. And then, he freaks out and goes get a girlfriend. Is everywhere on the Internet. But, at All-Star game, he tells me he is not with Rose Landry any more, that they are not compatible. We meet up that night, and he tells me he is gay. It is not surprise to me, so I laugh.” Ilya looked imploringly at David and Patrick, begging them to understand.
“Oh,” Patrick said, still absorbing all that information.
“Well,” David said. “I mean, it’s still not great. But, I can see how you might not know how to react in the moment.”
“Yes,” Ilya agreed before turning to Shane. “I shouldn’t have laughed. I’m sorry, lyubimy.”
Shane pursed his lips in an effort to stop a quiver going through them. “Thank you,” he finally said. “It’s okay,” he added, meaning it. He brought Ilya’s hand to his lips and kissed it.
“Can I ask-” Patrick paused to reconsider. “It’s just that you said years and I…”
Shane looked at Ilya, who raised an eyebrow, clearly leaving it up to Shane how much to divulge.
“Go ahead,” Shane said. “Ask your question.”
“When exactly did it start between you?”
“Rookie season,” Shane answered easily, smiling at Ilya, who responded in kind.
“Summer before,” he amended.
“Wow,” Patrick said, his mind blown.
“What does that mean?” David asked, not happy to be left out.
“That’s the year they were recruited. 2009.”
“Oh wow,” David repeated then.
“But…” Patrick was putting the pieces back together. “The thing with Rose Landry, that was in 2017, right?”
David made a weird face, but Shane nodded. “It was casual, at first. At least, we pretended it was.”
“Was very dumb,” Ilya added, squeezing his hand.
“We got there in the end.”
“How old were you when it started?” David asked.
“18,” Shane replied.
“So young,” David said in awe. “It’s honestly remarkable that you were able to sustain any type of relationship well enough that it would lead to marriage down the lane.”
Pride filled Shane in a way he was unaccustomed to. The range of reactions he had gotten upon hearing about his relationship with Ilya had been wide, from shock to actual resentment. And while the people that mattered now had rallied around them, there was still this notion that they had to explain themselves and their choices. But to David who knew nothing about them or about hockey, it was simply a testament to their love and resilience that they had made it.
“Thank you,” Ilya said, and Shane could hear the same pleasure in his voice. In that moment, with that company, Shane truly felt content and at home.
He ended up enjoying the afternoon more than he had thought possible. Ilya and David had started discussing their favorite places to visit in Boston and Moscow like two veterans happy to reminisce about stories of the past from the comfort of a sofa. Shane himself had been caught in one of the nerdiest hockey conversations with Patrick, the type that he usually could only have with his mom or Svetlana. It was only after several hours that Patrick and David finally had to leave to catch their flight home. Shane was kinda sad they were not living in the same city. These were guys he wouldn’t mind socializing with more often. Ilya was very pleased when Shane told him so, and Shane wondered if there would be season tickets available for David and Patrick whenever they wanted.
Before they had left, they had managed to take a picture with all four of them smiling happily. That night, Ilya posted it.
@ilyarozanov
Very nice lunch with @thedavidrose_ra and @patrickbrewer, who agreed that Shane and I are Romeo and Juliet of hockey. Much better than @scotthunter.
@thedavidrose_ra
Thank you for the lovely lunch, your story is very inspiring and I can see why my husband appreciates you so much.
@patrickbrewer
Thank you for an incredible time. It was magical to see you play again, and it was even more awesome to realize you are as great off the ice as you are on it.
@scotthunter
I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative.
@theroselandry
David, it is so nice to see you connect with Shane! And if you’re ever in LA, we should catch up ;)
@patrickbrewer
Not again…