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Shane Hollander has played in many Pride Night games in his career, whether they were for his own team or while visiting another. He's worn the jerseys and used the pride tape on his warm-up stick (the tape itself sucks, and he's simply not been willing to compromise his scoring chances during a proper game because of it). He's played these games as a deeply closeted and confused teenager, as a closeted gay man, as an out-but-not-out gay man with a secret boyfriend.
This game, however, is the first he will ever play as not only a fully out gay man, but with his husband on the same team.
Stepping foot out onto the ice for the first time for warm-ups is almost overwhelming. Shane has always been able to block out noise from the crowd. He could focus completely on the confines of the rink and utterly ignore whatever was going on beyond the glass. Tonight, however? Even though the arena isn't quite full yet with fans still trickling in before puck drop, the reaction is palpable.
Shane is no stranger to seeing his jersey or signs with his name and number in the crowd.
He is, however, unused to seeing his name in rainbow or a green to blue color shift. He is even more unused to seeing people stitching together his and Ilya’s shirts and jerseys so that they read HOLLANOV 21, or ROZANDER 84.
“You okay, Hollz?” Wyatt asks from the crease as he skates behind the net.
Shane doesn't really want to spend too long thinking about it, about the overwhelming wall of positive noise. He spent years terrified that the second anyone found out about him, about Ilya, that he would be left high and dry with no support, no friends, and no hockey. That was the most likely outcome for him. But, this? Nights like this were a far-flung dream that was for other people. Not for Shane Hollander.
Clearing his throat, Shane skates to a stop, sending a spray of shaved snow over Wyatt, making him laugh. “Yeah, I'm good. This is just… a lot,” Shane murmurs, gesturing broadly toward the crowd.
Wyatt brushes the ice from his jersey and smiles at Shane through his face mask, “Yeah, it's a lot but… you had so little for so long. You should get to appreciate the a lot.”
“You cannot make me cry before a game, Hayes,” Shane says, non-threateningly pointing a gloved finger at the goaltender.
“Go finish your warm up, Hollander.”
Shane rolls his eyes but skates off to finish his stretches.
As he works through his tried and true routine of stretching out his legs and hips, he lets his eyes trail across the crowd as the seats continue to fill in. He spots a gathering of kids against the glass on the other side of the rink. Many of them are wearing the special Pride shirts given out by the Centaurs for the night. Luca Haas is smiling widely, wearing his special Pride warm-up jersey, as he carefully lifts a puck from the ice with the blade of his stick to deposit it over the glass for one of the kids with rainbow face paint across her cheeks.
A little way down the boards, Troy Barrett is standing with Ilya. They're both pointing through the glass at whatever sign someone has brought with them and smiling. Shane's heart clenches warmly inside his chest at the sight. He remembers how upset Ilya had been after Ottawa's Pride Night last season. He’d had to watch Troy, rightfully, be welcomed and loved for coming out while he was still hiding.
While they were still hiding.
Now, though, Ilya looks like the sun. His eyes are bright and shining, and his smile could probably blind someone. Shane is both so happy for him to be able to experience this moment and so angry with himself for keeping them both from getting here sooner.
Shane has to shake himself from that thought as he returns to his feet. He starts to skate toward Ilya and Troy, but stops as a bright yellow sign pressed to the glass to his left catches his eye. He turns to get a better look and finds himself nearly frozen in place.
A young boy, who couldn't be any older than five or six, is standing there. He has light brown skin and large hazel eyes that are eagerly scanning the entire rink. He’s wearing a pair of large noise-cancelling headphones, and he has what appears to be a rubber hockey stick hanging from a necklace tucked between his teeth. Shane unconsciously moved his jaw in a grinding motion, as he would normally do against his mouth guard. The little boy is holding the sign right up to the glass.
Neat, bold letters read:
My two dads are PROUDLY raising a Centaurs fan!
Shane's eyes flick up from the sign and the boy to the two men standing behind him. They look to be around Shane's age. One of them has a rich, dark complexion with long locs pulled back into a bun– he is wearing a HOLLANDER 24 jersey. Beside him stands an Asian man with a flop of black hair and a rainbow painted on his left cheek, wearing a ROZANOV 81 jersey. They are both staring down at the little boy in front of them with wide smiles on their faces.
Without much thought, Shane finds himself moving in their direction. When he reaches the glass, he raises his stick to tap the toe of his blade against it; they are all obviously startled by the sudden noise. Shane smiles at the two men, who are suddenly stuck staring at him as if they were two deer in the middle of a back road at night, and Shane was a truck barreling towards them with its high beams on. He nods at the two of them and crouches slightly to be in the boy's eyeline.
“I like your headphones,” Shane says loudly, slowly, to be heard through the glass while pointing to his own ear. “I have ones just like that.”
The little boy's smile grows so wide that the necklace he's been chewing on falls from his lips.
Shane stands upright and glances up at the top of the glass. He then reaches up, holding the knob end of the stick, and carefully slides the stick over the top. He only lets go when the man wearing Ilya’s jersey has a handle on the blade and can safely pull it the rest of the way. He can hear the muffled thanks from both fathers, but Shane just smiles and waves them off.
Then, an idea strikes him. Shane removes his gloves and sets them on the lip of the boards before he begins to pull up the hem of his jersey.
“Why are you stripping on the ice, Hollander?” Ilya’s laughing voice rings out from behind him.
Shane laughs and peels the jersey off. He motions to the small, misty-eyed family on the other side of the glass. “Figured they'd like it,” he says simply. He then balls up the sweater and lobs it over the glass for one of the dads to catch.
When Shane looks over at Ilya, he is bent at the waist to be eye to eye with the little boy. Both of them have face-splitting smiles on their faces. Ilya lifts a hand and motions to his own neck.
“Your necklace is cool. Shane would like one like that,” he says loudly with a laugh, nodding in Shane's direction.
Ilya stands straight then and turns to Shane with both of his hands extended. Shane blinks at him, confused. Ilya huffs and shakes his hands. “Shanya,” he whines.
It suddenly clicks what Ilya wants him to do, so Shane grabs Ilya’s gloves and removes them from his hands. Ilya nods and mumbles his thanks almost unintelligibly as he yanks his own jersey up over his head. Shane can only watch him fondly as he also tosses his jersey over the glass.
The man wearing Shane's jersey catches it and hands it over to his husband quickly before digging around in a crossbody bag he is wearing. He retrieves something wrapped in plastic and smiles brightly at Shane through the glass before tossing it up over. Shane quickly catches it between his hands and looks down. It is a sealed packet with two necklaces like the little boy is wearing – one is a puck, and the other is a hockey stick.
Shane could very well start crying here and now. He looks back up at the family and nods his head gratefully.
“Thank you.”
Ilya silently takes all four of their gloves, holding them in the bend of his arm against his chest, and takes Shane's hand with his free hand. Warmth radiates through Shane's entire body at the touch. He doesn't know what the feeling is exactly, but he loves it. He waves to the family just as Ilya begins to skate away, pulling Shane along with him. Warm-ups are over, and it's time to return to the dressing room to get their game jerseys on.
“Where did your jerseys go?” Dykstra asks with a laugh as Shane and Ilya enter the dressing room.
Shane sets the necklaces in his bag before he takes a seat in front of his stall. “There's a family out there with two dads and a little boy… we gave them to them,” he explains with a shrug.
“Shane, look,” Ilya calls from his stall. Shane looks up to see Harris hurrying over with a camera. He turns the camera around to show Shane the preview screen, where he is flipping through the pictures from warm-ups. He slows down to let Shane get a better look at the ones he took of him and Ilya at the glass with the family, as well as skating away hand in hand.
“Can you send some of those to me?” Shane asks.
Harris beams, “Yeah. Of course, bud!”
Shane nods and reaches back to grab his game jersey. He needs to get dressed and tape up a new stick before they head back out onto the ice.
*****
Shane Hollander | @shanehollanderhockeyplayer ✅️
I have had the honor of participating in many Pride Nights during my career. Tonight was something special, though. I have never felt so welcomed, loved, and accepted as I did on the ice last night with our fans, our team, and my husband. It is a privilege to play the game I love the most with the person I love the most.
Thank you, Ottawa, for welcoming me back home.
Thank you, Centaurs, for being more family than team.
Thank you, Harris, for capturing some of these lovely moments.
And finally… Thank you, Ilya, for loving me and supporting me since we were too young and stupid to realize what we were. I love you and I am so proud to be your husband.
[Image 1: A photo of Ilya and Shane taken by Ilya in the large mirror in their bedroom. They are both in their game day suits. Ilya has his phone in one hand with his other arm wrapped around Shane's waist. They're both smiling from ear to ear.
Image 2: A photo of Shane's Pride warm-up jersey hanging nicely on his stall.
Image 3: A photo of Shane and Wyatt laughing together on the ice.
Image 4: A close-up photo of the “My two dads are PROUDLY raising a Centaurs fan” sign.
Image 5: A photo of Shane, without his jersey, smiling at Ilya, who is in the middle of tossing his own jersey over the glass.
Image 6: A photo of Ilya and Shane leaving the ice, hands clasped together.
Image 7: A selfie taken by Ilya after the game. They are both at home and on the couch with Anya stretched across their laps. Ilya is pressing a kiss against Shane's cheek, and Shane has a rubber hockey stick between his teeth.]