#hocky

-—-

The Italian place was loud and smelled of garlic and expensive oil. Y/N arrived early, specifically so she could be the one already seated at the table. She chose a corner chair, keeping her heavy wool trench coat draped over her shoulders like a cape rather than hanging it up.

When Cassidy walked in, she looked exactly the same—vibrant, wearing a leather jacket that fit her perfectly, and carrying the chaotic energy of the city with her. Y/N felt a sharp pang of homesickness just looking at her.

"There she is!" Cassidy exclaimed, sliding into the chair opposite Y/N. She reached across the table to squeeze Y/N’s hands. "God, you’re actually real. I thought maybe the woods had swallowed you whole."

"Not yet," Y/N said, smiling. It felt good to smile at someone who wasn't worried about her blood pressure or her protein intake. "I missed you, Cass."

"I missed you too. But seriously," Cassidy leaned in, her eyes narrowing as the candlelight hit Y/N’s face. "You look… different. And don't tell me it's just 'data modeling.' You’ve got this weirdly polished look, but you also look like you haven't slept since the midterms. What is going on in that cabin?"

"Just the usual grind," Y/N said, her heart starting a slow, heavy thud against her ribs.

The waiter appeared, hovering with a wine list. "Can I start you ladies off with a bottle? Our Chianti is excellent."

"Yes, please," Cassidy said, then paused, looking at Y/N. "Actually, let’s do that bottle of white we used to get. The crisp one?"

Y/N felt the sweat start at the back of her neck. "Actually… I’m going to stick to water. And maybe a ginger ale."

Cassidy froze, the wine list halfway to her lap. She looked at the waiter, then back at Y/N. "Water? Since when do you do water at dinner? Are you okay?"

"I'm on these really intense antibiotics," Y/N said, trying to make her voice sound casual. "Vicious sinus infection. If I have so much as a sip of wine, my head will probably explode."

Cassidy didn't say anything for a beat. She just watched Y/N, her gaze dropping for a split second to the way Y/N was clutching her coat tightly around her middle, even though the restaurant was uncomfortably warm.

"A sinus infection," Cassidy repeated slowly. A small, knowing smile started to tug at her mouth. "Right. And let me guess… is this 'sinus infection' the same reason you’ve been 'researching' in a cabin that happens to be three hours away from any prying eyes?"

Y/N took a sip of her water, the ice clinking against her teeth. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, come on, Y/N/N," Cassidy laughed, leaning back. "You’re glowing, you’re acting twitchy, and you’re suddenly a nun who can’t drink. You’re seeing someone, aren't you? Some guy who’s so high-profile or so complicated that you’re literally hiding in the forest to keep him a secret."

Cassidy leaned forward, her eyes dancing with a memory. "Wait. Is it that Russian? The hockey player? Il...Ilya? I remember how you looked after that night at the bar. Did he actually track you down?"

The mention of Ilya’s name felt like a physical blow. Y/N forced herself not to react, but her hand tightened under the table, pressing against the still, quiet bump.

"What? No," Y/N said, her voice a little too sharp. "Ilya Rozanov? Cassidy, that was a one-time thing. He’s… he’s a professional athlete. He has a completely different life. We haven't spoken in ages."

"Are you sure?" Cassidy pressed, grinning. "Because you got real defensive real fast. And honestly, it would explain the cabin. Those guys have crazy schedules and obsessive fans. It would make sense if you had to hide out to actually get some alone time with him."

"It's not him, Cass," Y/N said, trying to steer the conversation back to safety. "It’s not anyone like that. I'm just… I'm focused on my work. The cottage is about peace and quiet, not some secret romance."

Cassidy looked unconvinced, but she took a sip of her own wine, letting the subject drop—for now. "Okay, okay. Keep your secrets. But just so you know, the 'sinus infection' story is terrible. You might want to work on a better one before you see the rest of the girls."

Y/N smiled, but the relief was gone. She realized then that even without the boys there to protect her, the secret was leaking out in ways she couldn't control. She wasn't just hiding from the public; she was hiding from the people who loved her most, and the more she lied, the thinner the walls of her sanctuary became.

-—-

While Y/N was navigating the minefield of dinner with Cassidy, Shane was trapped in a theater of a different kind. He was at a high-end steakhouse in Philadelphia with his parents, Yuna and David.

The table was draped in white linen, and the atmosphere was thick with the quiet, heavy expectation that always came with being a Hollander. Shane sat tall, his perfect posture automatic, but his thumb was surreptitiously rubbing the screen of his phone under the table, waiting for a text from the cottage.

"The PR team from the apparel line called again this morning," Yuna said, her voice poised and melodic. She didn't look at her plate as she spoke; she looked at Shane, gauging his "marketability" even over dinner. "They are very keen on you attending the Tennis Open next month. They’ve secured a front-row box."

"I can't," Shane said, his voice a bit too clipped. "We have a back-to-back that week. I need the recovery time."

"It’s just an afternoon, Shane," David added, leaning back as he swirled a glass of red wine. "The sponsors are paying for the private jet to get you back before your morning skate. They even mentioned you'd be seated next to that singer—the one from the Grammys last month. It’s a great look for the brand. Very high-profile."

Shane felt a sudden, hot flash of irritation. The thought of sitting in a glass box, performing the role of the "eligible superstar" while Y/N was three hours away, struggling to tie her own shoes because of the back pain, made his stomach turn.

"I said no, Dad," Shane snapped, the edge in his voice causing a nearby waiter to pause. "I’m a hockey player, not a red-carpet accessory. My priority is the team, not sitting next to a pop star for a photo op."

The table went silent. Yuna’s eyebrows rose just a fraction of a millimeter—her version of a shocked gasp. David simply set his glass down, his expression hardening.

Shane felt the familiar weight of guilt settle in his chest. He looked at his mother’s confused expression and his father’s disappointment, and he realized he was acting out because of a secret they didn't even know existed. They weren't the enemy; they were just playing the game he had forced them to play.

He cleared his throat, forcing his shoulders to drop. "I’m sorry," he muttered, looking down at his untouched steak. "That was... that was rude. I’ve just been sleeping poorly. The road trip was a grind."

He took a slow breath, trying to offer them something—a piece of the Shane they expected. "Tell the sponsors I’ll do the digital campaign instead? The one they wanted to film at the practice facility? It’ll give them the same reach without me having to miss a recovery day."

Yuna softened, reaching over to pat his hand. "That’s a wonderful compromise, Shane. We just want you to enjoy yourself, dear."

"I know," Shane said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I know you do."

He felt the phone vibrate in his pocket—a text from Y/N. He didn't check it, but the physical sensation of it against his leg was the only thing keeping him grounded while he sat there, lying to the two people who thought they knew him best.

-—-

The logistics were settled—the private doctors were on call for the three-hour trek, and the cottage was reinforced for the long haul. But as they spoke over the flickering connection of a three-way call, the physical fortress felt useless against the emotional weight of the lies.

Shane was pacing the small patch of carpet in his Philadelphia hotel room, while Ilya stood on a fire window in Toronto, the wind whipping the smoke from his cigarette into the dark.

"Cassidy is getting really suspicious," Y/N’s voice came through, sounding weary as it echoed in the high-ceilinged kitchen. "She’s my best friend, and I’m lying to her face every single week. I need her, guys. I need someone I can actually talk to about… well, everything, while you two are playing in different time zones."

"She is a risk," Ilya said, his voice roughened by the cold. He tapped ash into the night. "Friends talk. They get a few drinks in them and suddenly they are sharing 'crazy stories' about their mysterious researcher friend."

"She wouldn't do that," Y/N defended. "But if it makes you feel better… we can have her sign an NDA. I just can't be alone in this anymore."

Shane stopped pacing, staring at his reflection in the glass. He lets out a ragged breath. "I just had dinner with my parents. My mom is already asking why I’m so distracted. My dad is talking about sponsor appearances for the summer. I’m sitting there nodding like a puppet while I’m thinking about car seats and nursery monitors."

"Your parents are the final boss, Hollander," Ilya muttered, the orange cherry of his cigarette glowing bright. "They might see this as a breach of contract."

"Which is why we have to be the ones to tell them," Shane said firmly. "I can’t keep this up until the birth. They’ll never forgive me if they find out they have a grandchild through a leaked photo or a hospital record."

"So what is the plan?" Ilya asked.

"At six months," Shane decided, his voice sounding more resolute than he felt. "That’s two months from now. It gives Y/N time to get Cassidy settled into the secret first. It gives us time to prepare the 'narrative' my mom loves so much."

"Six months," Y/N whispered, her hand instinctively moving to the silent, still weight of her stomach. "That feels so far away and so close at the same time."

The line went quiet. They had a timeline now—a staggered, dangerous map. Cassidy would get the truth first, bound by a legal document and a decade of friendship. Then, the Hollanders would be brought into the fold. It was a gamble, a series of dominos they were setting up in the dark, hoping that when the first one fell, it wouldn't take their entire lives down with it.

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