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Irina was in the middle of looking at GED classes when the email notification popped up on her screen. The handle was in familiar Cyrillic. But she hadn’t seen that name since she left Moscow. Her hand shook as she swiped to open it and gulped. The second it took to load felt an eternity as she waited. Then it finally popped up and for the slightest moment she wished she was mistaken.
Irina,
It’s Mama. We will be visiting Montreal at the end of the month. It would be so wonderful if you could have dinner with us.
Of course, do not tell your Uncle Ilya or his husband. He would not let you go. Come see us in Montreal, there is so much I wish to talk to you about.
Love,
Mama
She read it once. Twice. This had to be a joke. It couldn’t be a coincidence that her mother was going on vacation to Montreal of all places especially as winter got closer. Only two hours from Ottawa but much farther from Moscow than Vancouver would be. Or any other place. Why Montreal? She had to know that Shane played for Montreal in the past, Alexei would always use any of Ilya’s losses against Montreal to hurt him. Had to be able to find that Ottawa was only two hours away. For…us? Did that include her other kids or just her new husband? It had to, Ekaterina would never come all this way alone.
“Irushka!” Shane called out and she slammed her laptop closed with her heart still hammering in her chest. “Dinner!”
“Coming!” She called back and swallowed. Okay, she had to breathe. If she went down there looking even a molecule off one or both of her dads would notice. Deep breath, wipe hands on pants, and look absolutely normal.
Yeah, because this was absolutely normal. Her mother sent an email. Normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Shane couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his Uncle Howard and Aunt Helen. Part of him was relieved it had been a long, long time. The other part of him wondered what his younger cousin was up to. It had been more than ten years since he had actually spent time with his cousin Noah other than a few hellos at Metros games. Noah was so young when his dad stopped speaking to his half-brother. Yet, as he watched the teenager sitting at his table as Shane talked to a Child Protective Services agent he wondered what the hell had happened. No one actually told him why they stopped speaking, his mom just telling him that his Uncle Howard was always jealous of his dad and Shane’s success. But how could jealousy result in this? A kid who was sitting at his table with a mix of hockey bruises and bruises that came from his father. He could easily recognize the marks around his cheeks as when a visor hits skin, his brain nagged that he was only 14 he should still be wearing a cage, but the hand prints along his throat were a different story.
“I understand this is a difficult situation,” The agent, Sierra, said softly as she looked back at where Noah was poking at the sandwich Shane had made in a hurry, “and that your daughter is still recovering. There is no next of kin for him with your parents out of the country for the foreseeable future. The only next option would be foster care. I don’t say this to pressure you, but a foster home won’t be able to continue funding his hockey and as I understand he is as talented as you were.”
“Dammit,” Shane breathed out, running his hand over his face. Ilya and Irina were at another doctor’s appointment, at the one damn office that never had any signal, and Sierra was right. Irina was still healing. Still had bad days and still had too much pain for their attention to be divided between two kids. But Shane couldn’t, wouldn’t, send Noah into the system. Even though they weren’t close he still remembers putting a hockey puck in his hands when they were kids and holding him as a baby.
“Mr. Hollander–”
“He can stay here, with us,” Shane clarified, “as long as he needs.”
“You do understand this might lead to a permanent placement,” Sierra said.
His mind was reeling too fast to fully comprehend that but he nodded anyway. They had talked about fostering before, had started the paperwork to be foster parents, but Irina’s accident had halted all that. Shane had told Ilya in that ICU room to pull the papers because if she didn’t make it, there was no way he could have another kid. Not for a long, long time. Yet Noah was sitting there clearly needing the same love and care that Irina needed when she first came to them. Maybe even more because at least Irina had Ilya when she was a child. Had the comfort that no matter what she could go running into his waiting arms. Noah never had anyone around. Shane wasn’t Ilya, he was awkward and hesitated around kids. Until he had spent enough time with the Pike kids. But now things are different. Shane had a daughter, had nieces and nephews, and knew how to handle kids. So he signed all the papers that Sierra needed from him, promising to come back for a home inspection soon despite passing the quick preliminary one she had done that morning before another agent had brought Noah.
“Hey Noah,” Shane breathed as he slid into the seat across from him. The kid in front of him still looked like the kid he had last seen at a Metros game. Less baby fat, more height, but the same mop of dark blonde he shared with a younger David Hollander. The same straight nose Shane had and the lightest dusting of freckles if you didn’t know they were there you’d miss them. “You don’t have to eat that, it’s probably bad, I made it in a hurry.”
“Can’t even make a sandwich? Bad househusband,” Noah said and the corner of his mouth quivered ever so slightly. But Shane could recognize a chirp even if it was a whisper.
“Yeah, whatever,” Shane rolled his eyes and took the plate when Noah pushed it forward. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay because you’re not and you would just lie. Just tell me what hurts, I might have some things to help.”
“Dad says that’s pussy shit,” Noah whispered and looked down, “but my ribs really hurt.”
“Don’t listen to what he said,” Shane said quickly, “and I have some numbing gel somewhere around here if Irushka didn’t use the last of it.”
“Whose that?” Noah asked and looked up as Shane stood to look through the medicine cabinet.
“Oh, Irina, she’s our daughter,” Shane said simply, “figure skater, gets lots of bruises trying new jumps.”
“The one that almost died?” Noah’s tone was blunt, monotone in the same way that Shane’s was at that age. Still is some days.
“Yeah,” he said with a shaky breath, “she’ll be home later with Ilya.”
“Sorry,” Noah mumbled, “everyone says I’m too blunt.”
“No, it’s alright,” Shane assured him, finding the tube of cream and sliding it over to him. Noah stared at it for a while only to jump when the door flew open.
“We’re home!” Ilya announced, “with wonderful news!”
“I got my stitches out, Dad!” Irina said as she bounded in only to stop when she caught sight of an owl-eyed Noah.
“Fuck,” Shane cursed, checking his phone only to see that the text he wrote to Ilya never actually sent.
“Oh, hello,” Ilya said and looked at Shane.
“Ilya, Irina, this is Noah,” Shane began, “my cousin. Ilya, a word? Do not interrogate him, Irushka.”
“Ugh you’re no fun,” she whined in Russian before offering to help him open the numbing cream. Shane dragged Ilya out into the kitchen.
“Where did those bruises come from?” Ilya whispered harshly.
“Some from hockey, most are from his dad,” Shane whispered back, glancing back to see Irina surely walking Noah through how to put the cream on without getting your shirt sticky. “Called as soon as you two left and by the time I got the house fixed up they were here to inspect and then they brought him. My parents are traveling for the next month and I’m his only next of kin. It’s me or a foster home and a foster home can’t pay for his hockey–”
“Shane, Shane,” Ilya soothed, cupping his cheeks, “you are panicking, breathe.”
“Tell me I didn’t just fuck up,” Shane breathed out.
“No, you did not fuck up,” Ilya assured him, “you did right thing. We cannot send family into foster system.”
“Ilya the file is so fucking bad,” Shane’s hands shook as he gripped Ilya’s wrists, “fucking cigarette burns, belt scars, too many broken bones to say they were all hockey. Multiple CPS home visits.”
“And his mother?” Ilya asked.
“No one really knows, file says she left three years ago,” he breathed out, “his coach in Toronto reported it.”
“Then we take care of him,” Ilya said resolutely, “like we took care of Irina.”
“It’s different,” Shane mumbled, “different kind of abuse.”
“Yes, Alexei didn’t hit Irina but he left wounds we cannot see. Wounds which can be harder to fix and we helped her. We can help Noah,” Ilya soothed, “now, let’s stop hiding here before Irina starts questioning him.”
To his surprise, neither of them were in the dining room where they left them. Instead, Irina was sitting on the closed toilet in the downstairs bathroom fanning Noah’s side so the cream could dry. There was a cotton ball pressed to her elbow wrapped in gauze which only meant blood work. Which meant Irina needed to either take her iron supplements or have an iron-rich dinner if she had already taken them. Either way, she would be tired and probably fanning the teenager’s side wasn’t helping.
“Hey,” Shane said softly but Noah still pulled his shirt down and backed into the wall with one swift movement. A whimper escaped as his ribs were probably jostled and he met them with fear in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” Irina assured him, “Shane and Ilya, they’re nice.”
“Come, zaychik, you need to take your supplement,” Ilya said softly, “Noah, you are safe here with us. No one will hurt you.”
“I-I know,” he stammered but didn’t move away from the wall.
“It’s okay to be scared,” Shane assured him, “how about I show you to a room and you can clean up? Maybe that’ll make you feel better.”
“Yeah, yeah ok,” Noah agreed.
“Nice to meet you, Noah,” Irina said with a kind smile and pushed herself up. She stumbled a bit and Shane instinctively reached out to steady her but Noah beat him to his. She cooed and gave his hair a ruffle before taking Ilya’s outstretched hand to disappear into the kitchen.
“Irina seems…nice,” Noah began and Shane smiled.
“She is very nice,” he assured him, motioning for Noah to follow him out, “a little intense like Ilya, but they’re both harmless.”
“I’ve seen videos of Rozanov, he is not harmless,” Noah shook his head and slunk out behind Shane.
“Yeah, that’s on the ice. Ilya at home is very different,” Shane said, “so you don’t have to worry about that. He’s like a big dramatic baby.”
“Hard to believe that from someone the MHL called The Russian Menace,” Noah whispered.
“Hey,” Shane said softly, turning and resting his hands on Noah’s shoulder, “you are safe here, Noah. Ilya is not the Russian Menace at home. He’s just Ilya and I’m just Shane, okay?”
“Okay,” Noah relented but Shane didn’t think he actually believed him.
That just meant he’d just have to show Noah he could believe him.
Noah wasn’t sure what to think. One minute he’s tip-toeing around his dad and the next he’s living with his millionaire cousin who his parents told never wanted to have a relationship with. He had such vague memories of a younger Shane skating around with him surely they couldn’t be true. But he didn’t know Shane, not really, aside from a few Metros games. He was so excited those times the adrenaline always overrode the memory of an awkward Shane and his goofy friend with too many kids.
Noah didn’t know what to think about his cousin’s equally rich and probably more aggressive husband. All Noah knew of Ilya Rozanov was that he played nothing like Shane. Where Shane was quick and agile with incredible aim, Ilya was brute strength and power. Noah once heard a sportscaster compare them by saying Shane Hollander becomes one with the ice, Ilya Rozanov commands it. It had always stuck in his mind. But the Ilya Rozanov he met at the house was nothing like the cocky captain shown on TV. No, he was softer and more let loose. There were no wolfish grins, just soft smiles. He curled around Shane like an overgrown teddy bear.
Noah had no idea what to think of their daughter, Irina Hollander-Rozanov. She looked like Ilya but some of her mannerisms matched Shane’s. He wondered if they biologically created her in a lab like Lex Luthor had Superboy. She held Shane’s kindness in her eyes, always open and welcoming. Always ready to help Noah or distract Ilya or Shane with a wink so he can slink away. He also saw the fierceness Shane must’ve taught her. It peaks out when he sees her playing a game with Ilya. Or how passionately she argued with Shane about letting her buy a Cherry Coke fountain drink machine. And yet Ilya Rozanov was there. He was in her cold glances that she thought no one saw when they talked about Noah’s dad. Or the borderline creepy blank face she had at times.
He had all the reason to be suspicious. To lash out like the social worker had warned Shane he’d do. But he was too tired and too sore for that. So he basically rolled over with his soft fleshy belly in the air for anyone to slash open. But Noah had been ripped open before only for him to crudely stitch himself back together. So he let himself flinch when Irina flopped back onto the couch only to yelp as her ribs reminded her they weren’t done healing yet. But didn’t tune her out or even attempt to make a run for it.
“You know I have boyfriend, yes?” She said and he nodded. He had heard the name Jules and Julian said but nothing beyond that really. “Have they told you who he is?”
“That’s none of my business,” he grumbled, “weirdo.”
“Ah, so you don’t like Montreal Metros?” She said with a sly smile.
“I mean…they’re fine,” he shrugged. He only liked the Metros because his dad told him to like the Metros. Noah hated them when he told them he hated them. So no, he didn’t like the Metros but he wasn’t allowed to like any other team. At least when Shane was on the team he could lie and say it was because his cousin was on the team. Oh, why a Wilson jersey? Well Shane was center and he’s a defenseman like Wilson. Not because his dad would never let him wear a Hollander 24 jersey instead of his Hollander 6 on it. He’d rather swallow a bullet than admit to his dad he was an Admirals fan not a Metros fan.
“Damn,” she grumbled, “was gonna surprise you with him but I guess never mind.”
“You’re dating a hockey player?” His eyebrows almost shot up into his hair line like they had when Irina had said she had a boyfriend without Ilya combusting.
“Yeah, Julian Benoit #90,” she said.
“Oh…that’s cool,” he hummed.
“It’s been a week, will you eat dinner with us tonight instead of room?” She asked, “Dad won’t push you, Papa won’t push you. So I will.”
“I…no,” he shook his head.
“I know, dinner can be terrible time,” she whispered, “fighting, yelling. But it isn’t like that here.”
“I…”
“And Anya will eat nasty vegetables you don’t want,” she interrupted.
So Noah found himself at dinner that night with no Irina in sight after she bid them farewell before slinking out the door to go on a date. Dammit. He was already at the table when she left, he couldn’t get up at leave could he? No, both Shane and Ilya were sitting and waiting on him to start. He nervously poked at the chicken on his plate.
“I know this has been a lot,” Shane said softly, “but we’re glad to have you.”
“I know SIerra called today,” Noah mumbled, “am I going back?”
“What? No,” Shane shook his head, “No, we were talking about more permanent placement..”
“Oh…”
“Shane just tell him,” Ilya tsked, “more permanent placement with us, you won’t have to leave.”
“Um…really?” Noah questioned, “Dad, he always said you didn’t want to see us.”
“That’s not true,” Shane was quick to reply, “I…I admit I wasn’t great about keeping in touch, but it was never because I didn’t want to. Honestly, I don’t even know why our dads stopped talking.”
“He wanted your money,” Noah cut in, “Dad, he wanted your money. Some bullshit about how it was his idea to put you into hockey and drove you to practices.”
“He drove me a handful of times,” Shane said incredulously, “my dad played hockey.”
“Stupid fucking idea,” Noah mumbled, “so he put me in hockey.”
“Do you like hockey?” Ilya asked, changing the subject to something Noah knew was safe. Neutral territory for all of them.
“Yeah,” Noah said, “now I do.”
“What position do you plan? Center?” Ilya smirked.
“Defense,” Noah answered.
“Enforcer,” Ilya hummed.
The rest of dinner was quiet, occasionally conversation would pick up but it was mostly peaceful. Noah had never really experienced a quiet dinner like this. One where his stomach didn’t hurt or his heart wasn’t pumping in his throat. His dinner went down smooth and stayed down as he helped Shane clear the table. They had a rhythm, Shane and Ilya, one where they didn't even need to talk to each for things to be passed. He had seen that same rhythm during power plays or the rare occasion one of them was a winger for the other. On the sideline he felt like a spectator. Didn’t know exactly where to slot himself in like Irina would.
“Why don’t you go pick out a movie? It’s your last weekend before starting at your new school,” Shane said with a gentle smile, “We’ll be right there.”
“With real ice cream sandwiches,” Ilya shot a pointed look at Shane when he talked about the ice cream.
“I’m home!” Irina called out as Noah picked a hockey movie to watch, she seemed to freeze for a minute before calling out that she was going to bed, climbing up the stairs as Shane and Ilya stumbled out of the kitchen asking questions over each other.
“Dammit,” Shane cursed, “go check on her?”
“Is she ok?” Noah asked as a chill ran up his spine.
“She is fine,” Ilya assured him before mumbling some Russian under his breath.
“He’s going to check for hickeys,” Shane filled in with an eye roll, “he’s protective. So what are we watching?”
“Miracle,” Noah hummed.
He didn’t notice the way Shane tensed or the way it took him an extra minute to get on the couch. He definitely didn’t notice the panicked breathing Irina had when she was racing up the stairs.
The kitchen was quiet as Ilya moved around getting things ready for dinner. Irina sat at the breakfast bar with her head pillowed on her arms. Thankfully they had just gone grocery shopping so there was enough to make enough dinner for all four athletes, one iron-rich that Irina will probably complain about but still eat because she was just as desperate to feel better as Ilya was to control the anemia. So he made himself busy with prepping the chicken with miso and whatever side he could think of. Eventually he heard the evening out of Irina’s breathing and sighed. Moving her to the couch would be difficult, the weather had her ribs aching, so against his better judgement he left her to nap at the table.
“Lapine?” Shane whispered in French. Irina groaned but didn’t quite stir.
“Her ribs hurt today,” Ilya explained, “us moving her isn’t an option.”
“Her back is going to be killing her later," Shane said and resting one hand in the middle of her shoulderblades, “babygirl you gotta move to the couch.”
“‘M okay,” she mumbled, “Jules will be here soon.”
“Shit,” Shane cursed, “I forgot he’s coming for dinner.”
“No,” she shook her head, “we’re going to dinner. Let me nap.”
“Babygirl,” Shane sighed, “you’re too tired to go anywhere.”
“‘M fine,” she mumbled but soon drifted off again.
“Should we call him? Tell him not to come?”
“If you value your balls you will not,” Ilya warned and pointed at Irina, “this one will castrate us if we do.”
“But–”
“We let Jules take Irina to dinner, even if it’s her sleeping in his passenger seat at a drive-thru,” Ilya said, “we talk to Noah alone. Will be fine.”
“And then what? Send Julian on a two hour drive back to Montreal in the middle of the night?” Shane questioned.
“You are acting as if he does not sleep in her bed every free chance he gets,” Ilya sighed, “they are not having sex, you know how I know? Because one, Irina can’t so much as tie her shoes without wincing and any sign of discomfort from her makes Julian look like we just kicked his puppy. Two, her room is across the hall and we sleep with doors open. Three, he is scared of us. If you feel so strongly, we call Pike and tell him to house the stray Metro.”
“It’s just a lot,” Shane whispered, “all at once.”
“Yes, things happen all at once,” Ilya said softly, rounding the breakfast bar to pull Shane into his arms, “but we will figure it out together, yes?”
He could feel Shane’s rigid posture melt into the hug. Their moment of reprieve was halted when footsteps softly echoed down the stairs. Shane pulled away to see Noah standing awkwardly in a Centaurs shirt that was way too big for him and a pair of too big joggers. They didn’t exactly have time to go clothes shopping yet and Noah had brought a single bag with him that really only held his hockey gear. So they did lots of online shopping and that didn’t always get the sizing right.
“Hey,” Shane breathed out and motioned for him to take a seat next to Irina. Noah sat a chair away from her, glancing curiously at her sleeping form.
“Is she asleep?” Noah asked.
“Yeah, she does that a lot,” Ilya filled in, “Noah, feeling better?”
“Um,” he stammered, “yeah a little bit.”
Ily didn’t think that therapy would be easy, Irina had stormed out of the office after fifteen minutes her first time. Ilya wasn’t exactly eager to open up his first time. So he was surprised Noah stayed in the office the entire office, even more surprised when his therapist called Shane and Ilya inside to comfort the panicking teenager. Ilya hung back as Shane guided the boy through breathing exercises and kept reminding him he was safe. But then he had looked up at Ilya with those big wet eyes that he shared with Shane and he caved.
“Oh solnyshko,” Ilya soothed as he stepped forward to wipe away his tears as Shane kept exaggeratedly breathing for Noah to follow. Noah had leaned into his touch with a sob and something in Ilya’s chest cracked. Something he hadn’t felt since Irina had first moved in with them.
“You don’t have to tell us what happened, that's between you and Dr. Winters,” Shane said softly, “but if you ever want to talk, we’re here alright? Dinner should be ready in a bit, Irina’s boyfriend is going to swing by but if you’re too nervous he doesn’t have to come in.”
“Although,” Ilya had a devious smile, “she is dating Metros Alternate Captain Julian Benoit.”
“She told me about Julian,” Noah said with a shrug, “not a Metros fan anymore.”
“Is he here?” Irina mumbled sleepily as her head popped up.
“No, not yet zaychik,” Ilya cooed, “but let’s move you to the couch, alright?”
“‘M kay.”
When Irina stirred again it wasn’t to Noah saying her boyfriend's name but the soft press of lips to her cheek. She blinked her eyes open and was met with Julian’s mossy green gaze, his eyes were so soft and kind when he looked at her. Nothing like the photos from when he was in a face off on the ice. His warm hand traced her jaw as she yawned and stretched out.
“Hey sweetheart,” he breathed out, voice deep and tired.
“Hey,” she said with a sleepy smile.
“You sure you’re up for this?” He asked.
“So sure,” she said and sat up, finally seeing the nicer clothes that Julian had on, “maybe give me a chance to change? Silk shirt, no fair.”
“Gotta impress my girl,” he mumbled and helped her up, “nothing crazy.”
“Silk shirt, nothing crazy,” she rolled her eyes.
Once she was upstairs she couldn’t be bothered to actually change out of her comfy clothes but still made the effort to at least switch sweatpants for jeans and Shane’s sweatshirt she was wearing for one of her own. When she tugged it over her head she hissed and then grumbled. She hated that her ribs were still so tender. Footsteps made her turn to see Shane leaning against the door with a pensive look.
“Everything ok?” She asked.
“Just, thank you,” he said and motioned for her to walk over and hug him. Once his arms were gently around her she melted into her dad’s embrace. “This isn’t going to be easy, and thank you for already being so kind to him.”
“Of course,” she said softly, “he just seemed so scared.”
“He is,” Shane mumbled and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “have fun, alright? Be safe.”
“Always am, plus Jules is driving,” she said and gave him a final squeeze before pulling away. Downstairs she saw Ilya talking with Julian about their upcoming game, how the rookies on the Metros were doing, the coaches, nothing deep. Yet no sight of Noah. Ilya still had his arms crossed and a stern expression on his face. If her Papa would be anything it was protective.
“Hey,” Julian smiled at her, “Rozanov is trying to get me to talk about our power play strategy.”
“Doesn’t matter, you won’t win,” Ilya shrugged and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “anything happens to her and you die.”
“Trust me, nothing will,” Julian said and offered his hand.
“Bye Dad! Bye Papa” She said then called out into the house, “Bye Noah!”
The drive was quiet but Irina loved the silence sometimes. The radio hummed a soft rock song as Julian drove the familiar route to a place they always went to. It was a quiet dive the Centaurs would go to after successful games but Irina loved going with Julian. No one bothered them, not even when both her dads were there, and the mozzarella sticks were her favorite thing to eat. They even had the one ginger beer her dad actually enjoyed. It was also one of the only places that had Cheerwine. The familiar waitress came, jotting down their orders for way too many appetizers and a single beer for Julian. His hand still held hers, his thumb tracing over her knuckles.
“How’d the doctors go?” He asked.
“Anemia still sticking around it seems.”
“Not a big deal if it stays,” he assured her, “you love layering sweaters.”
“I’m tired of being tired,” she mumbled, “you shouldn’t have to worry about that when we go out.”
“Sweetheart, we’ve napped together on my days off and that was more than enough,” he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “all about healing, ok?”
“Did you meet Noah?” She asked, changing the subject because she really didn’t feel like crying at the dive bar.
“No,” Julian frowned, “he basically ran to hide when I came through the door, again.”
“Yeah he does that with new people. Dad and Papa are talking to him over dinner again. Probably easier without me there,” she shrugged, “all sorts of fucked up. Like me. Like Papa.”
“Fuck,” Julian breathed out, thanking the waitress when she brought their drinks, “how’re you feeling about it?”
“Can’t really feel all that bad about it, can I? He needs a good home and my parents are the best but…and I know they told me it wouldn’t happen but I just can’t help but think about them,” she whispered, giving his hand a final squeeze before pulling it away, “and I know, I know that won’t happen but…”
“You’re scared it will,” Julian filled in, “and it’s okay you feel like that but your dads would never do that to you.”
“I told them I wanted a sibling but now that it’s happening…he’s a boy and he plays hockey. Can still play hockey and I’m just…broken.”
“Hey,” Julian said strongly, switching from across the booth to her side so he could cup her chin to make her look at him, “you are not broken, Irina. You’re the strongest person I know who just went through something so fucking hard.”
“How am I supposed to compete with–”
“No, you don’t compete with your siblings for your parents affection,” Julian said softly, “you just…exist together.”
“I don’t want to make this harder,” she whispered, “on any of them.
“You won’t,” Julian pressed a kiss to her temple, “you could never.”
Truth was, she could, even if it was involuntary. It all started with a bad morning. One where she moved slower than usual. The world felt…thick…slow as if she was trapped in a vat of molasses. Noah had only been there two weeks, had only been eating dinner with them and not hidden in his room for a handful of days. Progress was slow but not inching like when she had first moved in. Yet, a bad day from her could ruin it all. Despite that she didn’t bother getting out of bed. Not like she had anywhere to go. Her dads had practice, Noah had school, but what did she have? A failed skating career and a boyfriend two hours away.
“Zaychik?” Ilya said softly because despite it usually being Shane who woke her up for breakfast he had been hovering over Noah. She knew it was logical, Noah needed more attention, he was still so scared and he already knew Shane. But she found herself missing her routine, her dad, and that only made everything feel worse. “Irina?”
“Papa,” she whispered but never moved from laying on her back, just staring at the glow in the dark stars she had put up there with Julian’s help. It was something so juvenile, anyone else probably would’ve made fun of her for it, but not Jules. Never Jules.
“Bad day?” Ilya hummed, resting his hand on her shoulder.
“I think so,” she said instead of everything she really wanted to say.
“Do you want to go to the rink with us?” He asked.
“Not really,” she mumbled and Ilya hesitated.
“Zaychik, you know you can’t stay by yourself like this,” Ilya reasoned, “please, you can rest in Harris’s office.”
“No,” she mumbled and rolled over, pulling the blanket over her.
She knew she was being unreasonable. This was probably the one practice Ilya and Shane couldn’t miss, especially after having sat out so many, but the thought of getting out of bed was too monumental. It was moments like that she wished that Julian played in Ottawa and wasn’t two hours away. Or that she could sink into the floor.
“Lapine,” Shane’s voice made her curl in on herself but then whimper at the ache of her ribs, his hands uncurled her ever so slightly so the pressure wasn’t there anymore, “I know, I know it’s hard. Just work with us a little bit, ok? I promise you can keep sleeping at the rink.”
“Shane?” Noah’s voice made her flinch.
“Hey bud,” Shane breathed out, “Just-just give us a minute ok?”
“Here, I’ll take you to school,” Ilya’s voice offered and soon the sound of footsteps retreating and a door closing let them know they were alone.
“I know this is a big change,” Shane began, “and we haven’t really sat down and talked about it, but you’re worrying me Irushka.”
“Just…bad day,” she whispered but even she recognized that her accent was thicker than usual.
“Can you look at me?” Shane asked and she let him turn her over, a soft sigh leaving his lips when he caught sight of the tears in her eyes, “Oh babygirl, I know it’s really scary right now. But you know we’ve talked about this. You’re everything to us.”
“I know,” she let out a shaky breath, “then why do I still feel like this?”
“I wish I could tell you why,” Shane mumbled, “come, you and I will go for a drive before heading to the rink. Feel like I haven’t seen enough of you this last week.”
“You’re busy,” she said automatically.
“Yes, but I won’t ever be too busy for you, okay? You come first.”
“What about Noah?” She asked.
“Neither one of you are more important, just need different things,” Shane said softly, “now c’mon. Maybe you can convince me to stop at a Tim Hortons.”
Usually she would’ve said yes. Would’ve been eager to milk Tim Hortons out of either of her dads but especially Shane who caved on ordering way too much. But she knew this wouldn’t last. Her mom had said all the same things before her first sibling was born. Then again with the second and third. None of it stuck, eventually she was put on the backburner. Each time it hurt, searing her soft skin and leaving it open to continue burning. This time she’d retreat. She’d pull back before she got hurt. All this time she had already slipped up, had gotten way too attached. It would be easier this way.
“No,” she mumbled, “I’ll be ok, I texted Dr. Hill. Have session later.”
“Okay,” Shane breathed out. If there was anything he didn’t mess with were her therapy appointments. She just lucked out that they were virtual visits and that her parents didn’t really interfere that much. “Okay, but promise to call me alright? I don’t have to leave for a while, how about we watch something, hm?”
“Okay,” she relented because if she pulled back completely he’d notice. He’d notice something was wrong and keep pushing. And if he kept pushing she’d eventually cracked. So she said yes and leaned into his side when he slid in next to her, soaking up the warmth where she could. It would hurt when this ended but for now she’d enjoy it.
“Something’s wrong with Irina,” Shane wrung his hands together as he sat in the locker room with just Ilya having asked for a moment before practice.
“I thought so when you were last one here,” Ilya mumbled, crossing his arms, “you think episode?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Shane mumbled, “she’s still eating, still going out with Julian.”
“We’ve already talked to her about not being scared,” Ilya said with a frown, “what if she doesn’t believe it anymore?”
“It’s been two years, Ilya, she-she can’t think we’d what? Abandon her?” Shane gaped at his husband.
“It’s a complicated thing,” Ilya said as he took a seat next to Shane and motioned for his head, “she knows that but her mind tells her something else.”
“She had a session today,” Shane said softly, “hopefully that helps.”
“We will talk to her later,” Ilya assured Shane.
“She can’t catch a fucking break,” Shane hissed, “just…when will it just finally be easy for her?”
“She is Rozanov,” Ilya said sympathetically, “will never be easy.”
“No, she’s a Hollander now,” Shane was fierce in his tone, “and I’m not letting the universe or whatever bullshit keep kicking the shit out of my daughter.”
“And they think I’m the protective one,” Ilya hummed, “we will talk to her. All will be well, lyubimyy.”
That was the plan, at least, but when they walked into their house after practice he saw his mom not Irina like he anticipated. They had come back as soon as Shane called them but never fought for custody. Just…let Shane take charge of everything. Even less expected, Noah was sitting at the table with a big toothy grin on his face as Yuna was telling him one of Shane’s embarrassing hockey stories.
“Hey bud,” Shane greeted, then turned to his mom, “Where’s Irina?”
“On another date,” Noah said with an eye roll. When he was just with Shane he was more comfortable being an annoying teenager, he clammed up still around the others, but he supposes he remembers his mom so he let the mask fade a bit. Even with Ilya there.
“This is too many dates, I have not seen my zaychik in too long,” Ilya rambled, “Selfish Benoit. Must make him scared again.”
“She told me she was going to see Joe,” Yuna frowned.
“Joe is in Montreal,” Shane reasoned, “but he would’ve told me she was going.”
“Yes and the Metros aren’t playing at home tomorrow,” Yuna said, “he could still be home, don’t know the exact time he leaves.”
“This kid is going to kill me,” Ilya groaned dramatically, “she is grounded, never going to see stupid boyfriend again.”
“Forever?” Noah laughed and Ilya smirked. Of course Shane noticed that Noah melted around them the sillier Ilya acted so it seemed that ever since the teenager moved in he had upped the ante.
“Yes and punishment will extend to you, no partners!” Ilya said.
“Aw c’mon!” Noah cried out and Shane laughed. Each laugh felt like a win, just like when Irina first moved in. He didn’t know how much he’d miss those early days when she was still opening up to them. Every time she let them see deeper into her it felt like Shane was earning her trust. He was too focused on making her comfortable, happy that he didn’t savor those early moments. The first laughs and the first playful bickering. He wouldn’t make the same mistake with Noah.
When they hadn’t heard from Irina before her 11:30 curfew he frowned. Usually she was always good about making sure to keep them updated if she was late, it wasn’t a strict curfew but she still respected it. Most of the time. Or Julian would text them with their ETA. Anything, but it had been radio silent since he left that morning.
“She has her location off,” Ilya paced, “is number one rule, don’t turn off.”
“Ilya,” Shane called his husband's name.
“Where is she? Hm? Call that fucking rookie if he has my daughter I will kill him,” Ilya rambled.
“He didn’t answer,” Shane tried to get him to calm down, because he couldn’t get worked up and Ilya get worked up at the same time. One of them had to be calm and it seemed like it was his turn.
“Call again.” So Shane did, fully expecting to get Julian’s voicemail again. Instead he was answered on the second ring.
“Is she ok?” Were the first words out of Julian’s mouth.
“What the hell do you mean she if she’s okay? She said she was with you,” Shane’s patience snapped at that moment.
“With me? I’m in New York. We left a day early for some promo shit tomorrow,” Julian said, “Wait, is she not with you?”
“Benoit,” Shane’s tone was steady in a way it only got when he was furious, “where’s my daughter?”
“She told me she wasn’t leaving Ottawa!” Julian defended and cursed, “she has her location off.”
“Ah so not just us,” Ilya said, “she’s hiding from us all.”
“Fuck, fuck,” Shane breathed out, “just, call us if you hear from her?”
“I’m home!” Her voice called out and Shane let out a breath he was holding.
“Oh thank god,” Julian breathed out, “tell her to call me later.”
Shane couldn’t even get a word out before Ilya and Irina were arguing in Russian. That was never a good sign. They only slipped into their mother tongue during arguments when they were beyond angry. Neither one was letting up and Shane was trying to translate as fast as he could in his head but they were speaking too rapidly for him to catch every word.
“It’s the one rule, Irina!” Ilya snapped, “What if something happened? What if you passed out? How would we find you?”
“Someone would’ve called you,” she sounded just irritated, “this is ridiculous, I’m 18.”
“Irina, we have rules for a reason,” Shane supplied, glancing up the stairs to see Noah and Yuna peeking from behind a wall. “It’s to keep you safe.”
“Fat load of good that did! I can’t skate anymore! Can’t do anything!” She yelled and both men recoiled as if she had struck them.
“Irina,” Ilya’s voice was ragged as he took a step toward her.
“Don’t touch me!” She snapped and stormed up the stairs.
Shane…Shane didn’t know what to do. Sleep wouldn’t come to him as he stared at the ceiling knowing Ilya was doing the same thing next to him. How could they? This wasn’t the Irina they knew. She didn’t yell or get angry at them like that. Part of Shane wanted to blame Alexei, but she had been with them long enough for some of their influence to rub off. Wanted to blame her meds but she had been stable on them for a while now. Wanted to blame himself. That one came easier.
Didn’t take enough time to ease her into the idea of Noah being here.
Rushed everything because she seemed okay.
Should’ve been more aware.
Should’ve asked more questions.
Endless strings of Should’ve, should’ve, should’ve ran through his mind.
“Something is very wrong,” Ilya rasped after a while, “and I don’t know how to fix it.”
Shane wanted to reach out and comfort his husband but he was firmly stuck in place because he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to fix this either.
The next few weeks were tense in a way their house had never been before. Despite Irina seemingly retreating from them she was still friendly with Noah. Still kind and joking and her normal self with him. Ilya had caught them numerous times laughing about something or Noah sneaking into her room when he couldn’t sleep. Had caught her curled around him protectively as they napped. At least, part of him whispered, at least that relationship seemed to be getting stronger. Had gotten stronger after their first roadtrip where they were left alone with Yuna occasionally popping in.
“She’s way fucking cooler than either of you,” Noah had said when they asked how it went. Irina had given them a one word answer.
“She lied again,” Shane sighed before bed, “said she was with Julian, Metros are playing in Vancouver.”
“Where the hell is she going?” Ilya mumbled. The location being off had been a constant argument, one that neither side had won yet.
So when his phone ringing woke him up from a dead sleep, dread pooled in his stomach. He answered it with a shaky hello fully expecting a hospital or police on the toher end of the line. Instead he got a hiccuped giggle from a voice he knew all too well. The breath he let out physically deflated him and seemed to make Shane stir next to him.
“Paaapaaaa,” Irina’s voice slurred then hiccuped.
“Zaychik,” Ilya said carefully, he wanted to be mad. Wanted to be furious. But that wouldn’t get Irina home. “Where are you?”
“Unsure,” her Russian was stilted, unnatural in a way it had never been before, “Montreal? Don’t know where.”
“Montreal?!” Ilya exclaimed and that made Shane sit up.
“Mhm,” Irina confirmed and giggled, Ilya heard the sound of her closing a door, “shouldn’t have come. Was mistake, Papa. Biiiiiiig mistake.”
“Where in Montreal are you?” He asked, already getting out of bed, “I’m coming to get you.”
“Dunno,” she switched to English and Ilya looked over to see Shane already dialing someone. Couldn’t be any on the Metros or their crew, they were all away in Vancouver.
“Irina, zaychik,” Ilya said just as careful as before, “malyshka, turn your location on for Papa please.”
“You’re gonna be so mad,” she laughed and hiccuped again but Ilya knew that kind of laugh all too well. Had let out enough of them to know what would follow was a sob.
“No, I won’t be mad. I’m worried now, please tell me where you are or turn your location on,” Ilya begged, “come on zaychik.”
“I shouldn’t have believed her,” Irina cried and Ilya’s blood ran cold.
“Believe who, malyshka?”
“Mama,” Irina said in such a quiet, broken voice, that Ilya was sure his heart was being ripped out.
“Ekaterina? She called you?” Ilya tried to piece something, anything together.
“She was here,” Irina breathed out, “wanted to see me. I thought–I thought–” A gag followed and Ilya was growing desperate, “I thought she’d still want me. You have Noah now, you don’t–you don’t need me.”
“No,” Ilya said fiercely, “that’s not true. I will never not want you, zaychik, your mind is telling you the opposite but you have to believe us.”
“He–he can still skate,” she hiccuped, “be successful.”
“You are successful,” Ilya said, “Irina, please, turn your location on.”
What followed was just the sound of Irina vomiting. Ilya wanted to jump through the phone with each gasping wretch and ragged sob. His daughter was somewhere drunk and depressed two hours away in Montreal where he couldn’t help her. He had never felt like he had failed her before, but at that moment he couldn’t think of anything else.
“Hey? You okay?” A stranger's voice called into presumably now a bathroom. “Hello?”
“Where is she?” Ilya rushed out.
“Betty’s,” the girl answered and Ilya repeated it for Shane.
“That’s a disgusting dive bar by the universities,” Shane supplied, already dialing another number.
“Hey are you her like brother or something?” The other girl was clearly not sober but much more aware than Irina was.
“Her father,” Ilya rasped.
“How far away are you? She’s like all alone.”
“Two hours,” Ilya sighed as his hands shook, he could try and get there faster but he felt cemented in place.
“Shiiiiiit,” the girl said, “hey I’m not gonna like leave her alone so don’t freak.”
“Thank you,” Ilya breathed out.
“Holly, my name’s Holly,” the girl said, “hey I’ll text you my number and my boyfriends, her phone is going to die.”
“Teresa, Miitka’s wife is going to get her,” Shane said and texted him an address, “she’ll be there in twenty minutes to take her back to their house.”
“Someone named Teresa is going for her,” Ilya supplied.
“Papa,” Irina’s voice whimpered and that finally got him moving again. Shirt. Shoes. Keys. His phone dinged with the new number as Holly hung up. Shane was hot on his tail before he stopped him, “you have to stay with Noah.”
“Ilya,” Shane’s voice was haggard, “I’ll call my mom–”
“I need to go now,” Ilya said and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “stay. I will call you.”
“Okay,” Shane nodded, “okay.”
The road felt longer than usual. The two hours dragged on as he got stuck in traffic. Why the fuck was there traffic at 2am? He wanted to yell, wanted to scream and plow through the cars but he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel instead. They thrummed as he passed into the city limits, as he went through the city’s heart until he was clear across the other side into the suburb where Miitka lived. He hated the Metros but he would forever be grateful for the WAGs who never stopped talking to Shane. Always asking how he was, sending friendly chirps or apologizing for their husbands. He bounded up the steps, Teresa opening the door before he even knocked. He had met Teresa a handful of times at MHL award shows and other events. She was always friendly to them, overtly kind to Shane in the way a kindergarten teacher was.
“She’s in the bathroom,” Teresa said lowly, “Some sleazeballs were buying her the drinks and trying to get her to leave with them.”
“Thank you,” was all Ilya could get out as he followed her inside, “for going to get her.”
“Whatever happened she’s really upset,” Teresa warned, “I’ve picked up some Russian from Mitty, it’s something about her mom and skating I think? The bathroom is that third door, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
All Ilya could do was nod as he rushed to the bathroom, hearing the soft cries of his daughter beyond the door, before he slid in. She was curled around the toilet bowl, head hung low as she cried. A blanket was thrown over her shoulders and her hair tied back into a neat braid that no doubt Teresa made. He crouched down next to her as rested a hand on her back. It was so…small compared to how it was before. Everything about her was smaller than he seemed to remember. Muscle had melted away and left behind the teenager she should’ve always been. A gasping breath made him pull her away from the toilet bowl to look at him. Her eyes were bleary and puffy, mascara and eyeliner running down her cheeks in inky rivers. He cooed and wiped under her eyes.
“Oh zaychik,” he said softly, “what’s going on?”
“She said she wanted to see me,” Irina cried in Russian, but it was closer to how she spoke as a child than the day to day Ilya usually heard her use, “I was so stupid.”
“No,” Ilya replied as he took a makeup removing wipe from the open pack on the sink counter, “no zaychik, you could never be stupid.”
“Yes I am,” she sobbed, “didn’t finish school. Let her make me believe she still wanted me.”
“Tell Papa what happened,” he soothed, continuing to wipe her cheeks and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Papa will make it better.”
“She wanted to see me,” She whimpered, “it was awkward. Dinner. But it was always awkward between us before. But…then I saw her with the kids. She wouldn’t let them come say hi to me. They didn’t know me.”
“That is not your fault,” Ilya assured her, “what did she say to you? What got you so upset?”
“She–She said since I can’t skate I might as well give her other daughter all my coaches numbers,” Irina sobbed and hiccupped, “wanted to send her to Joe. I told her Joe only coaches me and she said not anymore. Can’t skate anymore so what use do I have now? Might as well be useful for one thing and that’s to help get one gold medalist skater in the family. Th-Then she asked about the trust. I told her I wanted to go to college and she laughed. She laughed in my face and told me I was always slow, too slow and too stupid to do anything but skate. And I even failed at that.”
Ilya wanted to throttle Ekaterina. They had let their guard down after that initial phone call but he should’ve never let that happen. Should have never let her get close enough to hurt his daughter again. But he had. He had believed she changed and she wasn’t like Alexei. But she had married him. Had seen what kind of person he was and stayed until it wasn’t convenient anymore. Until she found someone else. All to hurt his daughter again. To have her keep secrets from them and leave her a sobbing mess in a shitty dive bar bathroom. Ilya would never forgive Ekaterina for that and he would never forgive himself for letting it happen again.
“Zaychik,” Ilya said seriously, “you are not stupid. Alexei and Ekaterina failed you. They put skating above school because they saw the monetary value in it without any regard to you. You read books in English and Russian that I could never hope to understand. You read Anna Karenina in a few days. I don’t think I ever made it past the first few chapters. You are learning French, have started reading Les Miserables in French. You are learning hockey and all the rules. You are not stupid. You are driven, passionate, and so fucking smart. You could get into fucking McGill if you wanted to.”
“It’s still not enough,” she sobbed, pressing her forehead to his collarbone, “why isn’t ever enough.”
“You are more than enough, zaychik,” Ilya whispered into her hair, “to me. To Shane. To Julian.”
“I never feel like enough,” she sobbed.
“I’m so sorry Zaychik,” Ilya whispered because he didn’t know what else to say so he held her tightly in his arms on the bathroom floor and waited for to finish crying and throwing up. He helped her stand to wash her face and rinse her mouth before picking her up to take her out to the car. He thanked Teresa who waved a hand and sent him on his way with some baked goods that she used to make for Shane. He wanted to drive back home to his husband, to put Irina in the bed between them like an impenetrable wall between her and the world. He’d put Noah there too. No one would hurt his kids if he was around. But they couldn’t make it fifteen minutes down the road before she was telling him to pull over again so he resigned to having to spend the night in Montreal.
The apartment Shane kept for emergencies and for Montreal games was close by, thankfully, and Irina didn’t need him to pull over again. So they went. He carried her in like she was still a child and set her down on their bed. She whined, reaching for him, but he pressed a kiss to his forehead with a promise to be back after he called Shane. Which made another round of tears echo in the room. Ilya pulled her up to his chest with one arm, letting her pressed her tear soaked face to his shoulder, and used his free hand to call Shane.
“Ilya?” Shane’s voice was breathless.
“I have her,” Ilya said and whispered a few soothing words to her, “we are in apartment. We’ll go back in the morning.”
“What happened?” Shane asked and Ilya could hear the humming of gym equipment. So his husband hadn’t gone back to sleep like he hoped.
“I will tell you later,” Ilya said softly.
“Just…just tell her I love her okay?”
“Dads on the phone,” Ilya said softly, “he wants to talk to you.”
“Dad,” Irina whimpered and nodded but didnt move.
“You’re on speaker,” Ilya said softly, holding the phone out.
“Oh Lapine,” Shane breathed out, “we love you so fucking much, you have to know this.”
“Zaychik?” Ilya echoed softly as he rubbed her back, “it’s hard right now, I know.”
“Mhm.”
“Get some rest alright? I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”
After Shane hung up it was quiet aside from Irina’s occasional whimper. They should go to sleep, should get at least some rest, but Ilya didn’t move. He stayed stone still until he felt Irina grow heavy against him. Until he was able to lay her down tuck her in, and watch over her like he should’ve been doing since she was born. He should’ve fought for her, fought harder for her to spend time with him in Boston. Should’ve framed it as getting her world-class education in Boston. But he didn’t. He smothered any and all parts of Russia while he was Raiders Captain Ilya Rozanov. Either way he wouldn’t let this ever happen again. Not to her. Not to Noah. No, he protected his children and god help whoever tried to hurt them.
Noah knew something had shifted. He couldn’t exactly tell what but Irina started spending more time around them again. Ilya seemed more relaxed and Shane beamed when all of them were together. He supposes something in him changed as well. He still jumped, still flinched, but never around Shane and Ilya. Never around Irina or Julian. So as the two Russians bickered back and forth over something silly Noah didn’t feel the pit in his stomach grow, didn’t feel it at all.
“Do you follow?” Julian asked.
“Yeah, Irina is lobbying for a Diet Coke soda fountain,” Shane said with a shake of his head.
“That’s fucking nasty,” Noah’s face screwed up in disgust.
“Swear jar,” Ilya and Irina called out before going back to their bickering.
“So, defenseman,” Julian said with a small smirk.
Meeting Julian Benoit had been dizzying. He had seen him on TV, had admired how quick he played and the fluidity in his skating, so meeting him in person was something. He was still reeling after everything with his dad to fully realize he’d be living with the Ilya Rozanov as well as Shane.
“Mhm,” Noah nodded eagerly, “maybe I’ll kick your ass one day.”
“Sure, sure,” Julian chuckled, “don’t want to be on the Metros?”
“Nah, was always more of a Scott Hunter fan,” Noah shrugged and that halted the Russians. Ilya looked like his face was crossed between disbelief and horror as Irina busted out laughing.
“The old man?! Ancient Scott Hunter?! Been there since invention of the sport Hunter?!” Ilya cried out and Irina wheezed as she fell onto the couch with her laugh devolving into silent squeaks.
“This is too good,” Irina howled, “oh this is so perfect!”
“What?” Noah looked between Shane and Ilya cluelessly.