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After about the tenth time Shane shrugged off Hayden’s offer to set him up with one of Jackie’s friends, looking like he maybe wanted baby Amber to whip out a gun American-style and put him out of his misery, Jackie put a hand on Hayden’s arm—leave it—and changed the subject. Shane looked relieved to be talking about paint colors for the family room, for god’s sake.
When Shane left, Jackie stood in the kitchen looking into empty space for so long that Hayden had to go put an arm around her and check to see if she was looking at a broken lightbulb or something.
She wasn’t. Still not looking at him, Jackie said, “do you think maybe he’s gay?”
Something terrible and profound passed through Hayden instantaneously, like a bare elbow on the ice, or one of the girls sneezing directly into his face. “Oh my god,” he said, not hearing the words until they came out of his mouth. “He’s in love with fucking Rozanov.”
Jackie’s full body flinched. A good and correct reaction, Hayden thought distantly. He was so glad he’d married her. “Baby,” she said. “What the fuck do you mean?”
“I…” Hayden’s mouth stayed open, but he didn’t have any more words. He wasn’t the smartest guy in the world—he’d known that since at least grade 10, when Jackie started tutoring him in math and inadvertently created a very confusing relationship between Hayden and sine graphs—but he was a hard worker when it came down to it. He put the effort in.
And he’d really put the work in trying to befriend Shane. He’d observed the way Shane avoided going out, how he hated too much noise in the locker room but didn’t want to draw attention to it. He’d bought extra of Shane’s brand of stick tape, just in case. He’d asked Jackie to make bird food and stock ginger ale and invited Shane to go on low-key afternoon excursions with the kids instead of going out.
It had gone great! Shane was his best friend.
And. And he was in love with Ilya Rozanov.
Jackie was still looking at Hayden, waiting for an explanation.
“You remember Boston Lily?”
“Yeah,” Jackie said. “You begged him for a picture of her so you could figure out which one of my friends from yoga was most his type.”
Hayden grimaced. That had been a very enlightening lecture on feminism.
“Okay,” he said. “Hold that thought. Lily. Boston. Only hookup I ever knew him to have. And then… you remember when he got injured like a year and a bit ago?”
“Yeah and you tried to level Marleau even though he has six inches on you?”
Hayden sighed. “Yeah. That one. Rozanov wouldn’t go back to his bench, kept circling around Shane. I thought he was being weird because his dad was dead, but…”
“Hold on,” Jackie said. “You think Rozanov loves him back?”
Hayden stared at her. He was not used to being any steps ahead of Jackie in a conversation. However many this was was, well, too many. “Babe, I think Rozanov moved to fucking Ottawa for him.”
The thought filled him with nausea. Ilya Rozanov was an absolute piece of shit. He always found a way to say the worst thing in your head at the worst possible moment and then grin about it when you lost your shit. He was the most annoying person Hayden had ever met, and Hayden had four kids.
And look. Hayden would move to Ottawa for Jackie. If it was, like, the only way. But that was because his love for her was the stuff of legend. He’d fight a Hydra and cross the River Styx for her if he could.
He couldn’t expect the same from an asshole like Ilya Rozanov. But this seemed kinda close.
Across from him, Jackie was quickly catching up. “Oh my god…” she whispered. “Remember when there was Coke in his apartment? And… fuck, and the leather wipes.”
Hayden frowned. “What?”
“Never mind, baby,” Jackie said. “The question is, what do we do now?”
#
For the first few weeks, Hayden tried:
1) Asking Shane if he wanted to watch the new season of Queer Eye when he came over. Result: Shane looked at him with the emptiness and confusion of a small baby deer. “Does it have hockey in it?” When Hayden said no, Shane just frowned. “Then… no?”
2) Bringing up the fact that like half of the American and Canadian women’s hockey players were dating and/or married to each other (Hayden paid attention to women’s hockey! One of his old buddies from juniors had a sister who was on the Olympic team). Result: Shane went on a 15-minute monologue about Hilary Knight and the way she’d rigged training tools in her garage as a kid and how they really should have gone to see when she was playing with Poulin in Montreal. If Hayden had been just a little bit less certain of his suspicions, he would have assumed that Shane had a crush.
3) Asking Shane if he liked the new Lady Gaga song. It seemed like gay guys were into it? Result: Shane asked him if he needed to go for a concussion check because “you know I don’t listen to music, man.”
After that, Hayden mostly stopped trying to reach out and started trying to notice less.
For example, Hayden resolutely did not notice that Boston Lily now seemed to be Ottawa Lily, that Shane seemed noticeably happier after multi-day breaks that overlapped with Ottawa runs at home, and that Shane texted someone before he went to bed every night they were on the road.
Most nights, he wished that he’d saved his one moment of brilliance for something useful, like proposing to Jackie or putting the twins’ bunk beds together, instead of for figuring out his best friend’s secret boyfriend was the most annoying man in the world.
#
When Shane cornered Hayden outside the locker room and asked if he could come over later to talk about something, Hayden knew.
Going to Shane’s after, he texted Jackie. Think this is it.
She sent back three crossed finger emojis and two prayer hands. Followed by a request for milk and eggs when he made his way home. Followed by a remember to be nice!!
Hayden scoffed at his phone screen. He was always nice. That was like his whole thing.
But then… Shane standing across his fancy kitchen island from him, tapping his fingers against his ginger ale, and Hayden just wanted to say, I know, buddy, you can tell me, I’ve been working really hard on not looking like I want to punch something when I hear Ilya Rozanov’s name—but he’d known Shane long enough to know that won’t help.
“So,” Shane said abruptly. “I’m, um, I’m gay.”
Zero to a hundred, that one. Hayden made the face he’d practiced in the car mirror. A sort of understanding nod, half-smile.
“Oh my god,” Shane groaned. He wasn’t making eye contact, but at least his hands weren’t trembling anymore. “You’re not even surprised.”
“No, I mean, that’s great, Shane. Thanks for telling me.”
“It’s not really great,” Shane said. “It actually kind of really fucking sucks.”
Which, yeah, because he was dating Ilya fucking Rozanov.
But Shane hadn’t said that bit yet. Hayden leaned forward, anticipating. This was what he had actually been worried about, to be honest.
Shane took a breath, put his can of ginger ale to his mouth but didn’t seem to actually take a sip. He put it back down. “You’re really not mad?”
“Nah, man, why would I be?”
Shane shrugged his shoulder once. Hayden was fluent in Shane Hollander, so he knew that that meant well we are hockey players in a notoriously homophobic sport and you already kind of have to put up with shit for being my friend even though I am the captain and the best player on our team by a lot more than anyone will ever admit.
“But you’re not surprised,” he said.
“I mean,” Hayden said. “You know that I am devoted to Jackie. I would do anything for Jackie, and she is like the hottest most beautiful and brilliant woman on earth.”
“Yeah?” Shane did his little half smile that he always used when Jackie came up. It was sweet, how much he liked her. Hayden had never for even a single second thought to be threatened by it.
“But Shane, Rose Landry is something else, man. And you seemed happy with her, but not like… I mean, I have seen her Instagram, Shane. But you were always looking so… respectfully.”
Shane shook his head, still smiling. Hayden took that as permission to go on.
“And, um, I don’t know what that relationship with Rose looked like from the inside, obviously. But compared to, um, Lily, whose name I am assuming is not Lily, it just never really seemed to spark anything in you.”
Shane was looking down again. “Yeah,” he said, a little rough. Quiet. “Lily was different.”
This is it, Hayden thought to himself. Come on, Shane, this is your opening. Tell me about your stupid mean boyfriend who I kind of hate. Take the fucking shot, man.
But Shane just stood up straighter. Hayden tried for the assist.
“Are you still… seeing Lily? Or,” and here he brightened. He wasn’t trying to break Shane up with Rozanov, like, yet, but if he didn’t know he didn’t know, right? He could show Shane photos of Jackie’s gay cousin Paul who hiked hiking and read really long boring books. Just in case. “Do you want us to try to set you up with someone?”
Shane physically recoiled. His face scrunched up, and his shoulders went back to hovering around his ears, the way they had been when Hayden had first arrived. “No! No. I mean, I… I’m not single. But it’s not… anyone in Boston.”
Shane hated lying. Hayden knew that. He could hear it in the way Shane was rearranging the words to be technically true and spiritually false.
Hayden knew that if he really hadn’t known, he’d be pestering Shane for photos of this mystery man, teasing him about how they’d have to come over and have Jackie make them dinner sometime. But he wasn’t sure Shane could take it. It must be hard, he realized, at a level he hadn’t quite realized before. It must be really hard. There was no use making it worse.
“Shane,” he said. “I love you, man. I’m glad you told me. Can I tell Jackie?”
“Oh,” Shane exhaled. “Yeah, of course. I kinda assumed you would.”
Hayden grinned. “She is about 80% of my brain cells. But she’ll want your opinion on who the hottest bachelor is, just so you know.”
Shane’s forehead really did scrunch up like a kid’s when he was confused. Hayden would know. “Bachelor?” he asked. “…do any of them play hockey?”
#
Shane came out to the team. It went fine, Hayden thought, but he kept an eye on a few of the guys anyway, just in case.
J.J. asked if he was seeing anyone, and for a split second Hayden’s heart lit up with hope when Shane shook his head. But then Shane looked back to him, guilt all over his face, and Hayden let the visions of a miserable Ilya Rozanov wither away like so much dust.
#
It had been months, and Hayden was tired of being completely right and unable to at least bitch and moan about it a little. And they had a game against Ottawa at home.
Shane had been smiley all week, and Hayden kept catching him grinning down at his phone. It was… extremely sweet and also like horrible torture because Hayden knew that it was Ilya Rozanov on the other side of the phone making his best friend smile like that.
“I should say something,” he told Jackie. “I should say something, right?”
“Nope,” she said, which she said every time. “You should absolutely not say anything.”
“Not even to Rozanov?”
Jackie sighed. “Especially not to Rozanov, babe. He’d probably say something back so vile that you’ll end up in the penalty box for the whole game.”
“And then get dinner with Shane after and make fun of me the whole time.”
Jackie’s eyes darted to the side. “Dinner. Sure.” Seeing the look on Hayden’s face, she sighed. “Baby, don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll tell you when he’s ready. There’s just… a lot of reasons not to right now.”
#
It was an amazing feeling, beating Ilya Rozanov, but it would be better if Rozanov had a right winger who could skate.
Nah, who was he kidding. It would feel amazing to beat Rozanov if he was playing with a team of retired dogs.
Shane was relaxed after the game, even getting ready for media, grinning in a way that he never did when there were about to be microphones shoved in his face, and it hit Hayden—Shane was really fucking happy. Shane was really fucking happy because he was going to get to see his boyfriend, who he loved, and who he didn’t feel like he could tell Hayden about.
Which felt like shit, honestly.
So he did something a little bit stupid, maybe. He slipped out of the locker room and waited in the hallway until the Centaurs started trickling out. Rozanov was one of the first ones. He had one of his linemates with him, but when Hayden nodded at them and then jerked his head at Rozanov, Rozanov muttered something to his teammate and followed Hayden outside and around a corner. He was quiet, which was weird, but he put his back to the wall when Hayden finally stopped them, like he wasn’t sure they weren’t going to fight.
“You want something?” Rozanov asked after a long moment in which Hayden just stared at him.
Yeah, Hayden wanted to ask. Why did you steal my best friend? What does he possibly see in you??
Instead, he went with a reasonably friendly, “Why won’t he tell me?”
Rozanov narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
Hayden paused. He had to treat this carefully. He wished Jackie were there because he didn’t know how to treat things carefully. Other than infants, and that was just muscle memory.
“Look, man,” he said. “I know that you and Shane are dating. He didn’t tell me, and at this point I don’t think he’s going to. I just wanna know, like, how can I tell him I know? Is there a way to do that where he won’t freak out?”
Rozanov had gone a bit pale, but his jaw was set, and he looked at Hayden when he replied. “You know nothing,” he said. He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to deliver a brutal chirp, the asshole--but then he shut his mouth.
Hayden dug deep. “Rozanov, I’m asking you here. You… care about him. He’s my best friend. I want to do the right thing.”
“Fine,” Rozanov said. “You want to do the right thing, good man Hayden Pike. Is admirable. But the best thing is not to say anything.” He pulled out his Rozanov shit-eating grin. “He knows how much you hate me.”
#
It finally happened on a day off. Hayden was at Shane’s house watching the Centaurs play Tampa. Shane was snacking on kale chips, but he had very kindly bought some actual popcorn for Hayden because theirs was a friendship of mutual compromise without mutual understanding.
When Rozanov scored in the first period, Hayden watched as Shane’s entire body went rigid. He didn’t groan, which is what Hayden would have done, and he didn’t cheer. He just went totally still, every muscle tensed.
“Shit, dude,” Hayden said, turning his eyes back to the screen. “It’s unfair how good his backhand is.”
He sensed it as Shane relaxed a bit, focused on the screen again. “Yeah, I’ve gotta keep working on mine.”
“Dude,” Hayden groaned, sinking his head into the soft embrace of Shane’s couch. “No, please, your backhand is fine.”
Then, in the second period, Rozanov said something mocking—Hayden could just tell—to one of Tampa’s D-men, and got taken down by an illegal check thirty second later. The comment about how Rozanov probably deserved it was on the tip of Hayden’s tongue—but then he shut his mouth.
Shane looked at him. His eyes widened, that deer-in-the-headlights look Hayden had always tried to avoid.
“Holy shit,” he said. “You know. That I’m… that Rozanov…”
Hayden just stared back. He nodded slightly.
“Fuck, man,” Shane said. “You’re really not mad?”
Hayden thought longingly of Jackie’s cousin Paul, who was super polite and good with the kids and who liked brunch and who would not, ultimately, ever be good with Shane Hollander, whose obsession with hockey had apparently creeped its way into his personal life so thoroughly that he was in love with the only other player possibly as good as he was. Paul, who was way nicer than Ilya Rozanov, and probably always would be.
“I’m not mad. Fuck,” Hayden scrubbed at his face, stared at the ceiling instead of at Shane. On screen, someone had just scored. Probably the fucking Centaurs on the power play. Hayden didn’t care. He was remembering Shane’s face smiling at his phone every night on the road; his palpable relief when they played Ottawa; the way Hayden almost never felt like he needed to remind Shane that he was a human person anymore. “Don’t ever tell Rozanov I said this, but I think I’m happy for you.”