A Journeyman’s Home – Rookie Season – Duochanfan

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27 Minutes

A Journeyman’s Home

Chapter One

Shane looked at his team. He’d been playing with the Montreal Voyageurs for two months, and it hadn’t been good. Yes, he got plenty of ice time; he had the highest ice time out of any player at that moment in time. It was an average of three to four minutes more, but it was going up as the season carried on. It wasn’t only that; that was concerning Shane. The GM had changed; the one who had welcomed Shane onto the team, mentioning the fact that he was Asian-Canadian, was now retired, from what he had heard. The new one, whenever he came by the rink, would sneer at Shane, but talk with the rest of the team.

That dismissal was now trickling down to the team. The captain who had welcomed him during camp now refused to talk to him. Hayden Pike was the only one who talked to him; the rest kept their distance from him. Pike was also on the second line with him. His team was icing him out, ignoring him unless he was in a place to score. Even the celebrations he had done the first week when he scored were now nonexistent. He didn’t even smile when he was able to score, or when he assisted someone else to.

Shane’s first game against Rozanov was that day, and Shane was looking forward to it. He knew that they were both on the second line at the moment, with the hopes that they would move up to first line wing at some point. Both the captains of the team were the centers for the first line. So there was no chance they were giving up those spots to two rookies just yet. Maybe in a couple of years, when they were close to retirement, but not before then.

Shane moved quickly through his routine, getting sneers from some of the team and a friendly look from Hayden Pike. Shane nodded back and gave a small smile before writing his Mum’s name on the tape, a habit he had taken to doing since he was nine years old.

“Ready for your first match against Rozanov?” Hayden asked as he moved closer to the other rookie.

“Yeah,” Shane said, nodding a few times. “He’s a good player, makes me want to push myself even more.”

“Good, you’ll be going against him when he’s on ice. When he is, you’ll be,” the captain said as he stared at Shane.

It was the first time the man had talked to him in the locker room since his first game with the Voyageurs. Shane just looked at him and nodded. Soon enough, they were out on the ice, warming up before the game began. Rozanov moved closer to where Shane was warming up alone, near center ice.

“Hollander,” he said, a grin on his face. “Ready to lose?” he asked.

“Not going to happen,” Shane said as he glanced over at him. “I’m ready for a win against you; this team is better than the Bears,” he teased back, giving the man a small smile.

Ilya nodded and looked around, noting how everyone kept their distance from Shane as he dropped down to warm up near Shane. “It is odd,” he said, “That you are alone. Rookies usually with others. My team barely let me alone on ice.”

“Well, it’s different each team,” he said, shrugging, not sure how to tell Ilya that he was basically being frozen out. They played well enough with him that they were winning, but that didn’t mean they had become friendly with him.

“Something not right?” Ilya asked him, a little frown on his face.

“Don’t consort with the enemy, Rookie,” came a sharp reprimand as the captain skated by, staring at Shane.

“Sorry, Captain,” Shane nodded, about to get up and move away.

Captain Owens nodded and skated back to what he was doing.

“Hollander, talk later, after game. Hotel, the center one, room 1010,” he said before Shane could fully get up and leave.

Shane looked at him, and seeing the look on Ilya’s face, he decided he would go and meet with him. He nodded once before heading off to warm up somewhere else.

XxXxX

Montreal had won; Shane had scored the winner in the third, not that his team was happy with that. They didn’t even spare him a glance as they showered and dressed. Shane was thrust into the view of the press once more. The rookie that was going places, not that the GM, coach, or his team thought that at all. But at the moment, the rivalry was hot, and they planned to capitalize on it. Hayden had been invited to go and celebrate the win, but they had all ignored Shane. Even telling Hayden that it was without Shane.

Shane had to insist that Hayden head off with them, even though it hurt a little to be left out. Instead, he was now in front of the press, giving the media the smile his mom had taught him to make as he praised the team, like he had been told to. Downplayed his own achievements during the game. His two goals and an assist. As he had been told to do each time he went in front of the press, which was sporadic and usually only after Ilya had appeared after a game.

Walking to the second-hand Jeep he had gotten when he was seventeen, he got in and headed to the hotel that Ilya had talked about. He knew a few side streets he would be able to park on instead of the parking lot. He did not doubt that the parking lot would be full at this point, what with the game. The hotel was close to the rink. He saw the team yelling at each other, smiling and happy as they got into their cars and headed out to go and celebrate.

Shane sighed a little as he got into his Jeep and headed out of the parking lot, thankful that most of the traffic from the game had gone. He drove through the street and wondered why his team had turned cold over the last couple of months. He knew that the GM had changed, but that shouldn’t have changed so much; he didn’t act any differently either. He wished he could pinpoint what he had done to correct it and maybe make some friends with people on the team.

Parking up, he glanced around; there were a few cars on the street, not many, but enough that Shane’s being there wouldn’t be odd. Shane walked down the street and through a dark parking lot. He reached the hotel and wondered if he could get Ilya’s number so it would make meeting up a lot easier. He sighed, glancing around as he tried to see if there were any Boston Bears around before hurrying to the lift and pressing the tenth floor. Getting there, he was cautious as he moved to room 1010. Knocking, he waited for it to be answered.

Ilya opened the door and let him in. “Hollander,” he greeted.

Shane looked around the room. “You have your own room?” he asked.

“No, usually Connor is with me; he is a rookie as well. But he is visiting family; his cousin and Aunt are here, and he is staying with them. His cousin has a new baby and wants to visit. We won’t see him until we fly to Florida,” Ilya told him. “So I have my own room,” he grinned, for a second before it dropped. “You are… different,” he said, frowning at him.

“Yeah,” he snorted. “Of course I am; it’s been a few months since we last saw each other,” he said, turning his face away, not sure he should have come like this. He was going to try and avoid Ilya, but with what was going on with Montreal, with the team, he just wanted someone around who actually wanted to be around him.

Shaen felt a hand cup his face as Ilya gently coaxed him to look at him.

“The difference in you is not… good, I think. What is going on, Hollander?” he asked, waiting for Shane actually to answer him,

Shane remained quiet for a few minutes, Ilya patiently waiting him out until he broke. “I don’t know what happened. The first week, the first game, everything was great. We were clicking so well, and then suddenly I was the worst person on the team. I don’t get invited out to anything. To the team meals, team outings nothing. Hayden does, and each time, I feel more and more alone. I don’t know what I’ve done; I’ve worked hard. I have the most ice time, the highest assists and goals on the team, and they still ignore me at best and slam me into the boards at worst. And I do mean slam me into the boards in a not-friendly training way, but like they want to hurt me.”

“They are not being a good team?” Ilya asked him, getting him to move toward the bed and sitting down.

Shane slumped onto the bed and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I expected when it came to being on an NHL team. I thought it would be better than this. That I would make friends, have a team, feel like I belong somewhere at last. Instead, for the last two months I’ve been iced out. The only time they kind of talk to me is on the ice when I’m playing to make sure that I’m sending the puck to them, or scoring.”

“What has changed since you were drafted?” Ilya said, “Not with you, with the team, with management.”

“The only thing that has changed was the GM. The one who signed me retired for medical reasons. Someone else took over, and I know he doesn’t like me. He sneers when he sees me, and doesn’t say a word to me. The… rest of the team are following him and coach Theriault as well.”

“You own coach?” he frowned. “LeClaire is a good coach.”

“Theriault is… different. He’s like a lot of coaches I’ve had before, but he’s a lot worse, I think, than any I’ve had before. He’s called me names, but then again, a lot of coaches did before. Racist names,” he said as he looked up at Ilya, who towered over him as he was still standing.

“Not a good coach,” he sighed, shaking his head, though he knew his own coaches in Russia would be much the same, and even worse at times. The training they would go through would be punishing at times. The coach he now had with Boston was soft in his eyes, considering what he usually had.

“He shouts, blames me for everything going wrong. If a drill wasn’t done properly, it’s my fault. I get called slurs almost constantly, yelled at, shunned by everyone. The only one that talks to me is the other rookie, Hayden Pike, and I don’t think that’s going to last the season, not with the rest of the team pulling him away from me all the time. At the moment, we’re living together, but he’s already looking for another place to live,” he said in a rush, not sure why he was telling Ilya all this.

Ilya stood there listening to Shane for a few minutes. “Okay,” he said, “This is coming from the top, then, moving down to everyone else?”

“Trickling down from the top, and yeah. I just hope if I work hard enough that it will change. That I’ll be able to win them over,” he said quietly.

Ilya nodded. “Okay,” he said once more, moving to sit on the bed. “You need to get out of your head.”

Shane looked up and then softly nodded, “Not… not all,” he said, feeling nervous. “Not here.”

Ilya looked at him and nodded. “Of course,” he said, pulling Shane close and kissing him.

Chapter Two

It had been three weeks since the game against Boston, and Shane was still struggling to get along with the team. Things had gotten worse, if he was being honest. Hayden still talked to him, but he now had a girlfriend and had moved out of the small shared apartment they had lived in. Shane was starting to feel isolated from the rest of the team. Not that he had felt part of it since that first week.

Instead, he had taken to messaging Ilya, talking with him, and learning more about how things had been going for the other man in Boston. Nothing was going right for him in Montreal. He had taken to training himself most of the time. Coach Theriualt just stood there shouting at him, blaming him for any mistakes that anyone else on the team made. He was the scapegoat. The new GM, and he had finally learned his name, Frederick Moore, had come to a few practices and glared at Shane, and he didn’t know why. He had no idea what he had done to the man to cause such a reaction.

“He really doesn’t like you,” Hayden said as he skated over. The GM was there during practice again.

Shane nodded. “I don’t think he does. I don’t know why; I don’t think I’ve done anything to him,” he puzzled. It was beginning to really frustrate him that he had no idea what he had done, and how to fix things.

“Pike, come on, get back to drills,” Captain Owens said as he moved closer. “Rook, get back to your own drills and stop distracting other teammates,” he said, giving Shane a disapointed look.

Shane nodded, not saying a word as he went back to the drills only he had to go through. They were a lot harder than what the rest of the team were doing. He didn’t mind it that much; it pushed him closer and closer to his limit. Shane would ahve to have a good rest day soon, though; he was starting to get tired easier now that he was on ice more than five minutes longer than the average player. It might not seem like much to most, but in the end, he was exhausted after games.

Shane carried on with practice, going through the drills that were shouted to him, being yelled at when he didn’t get them perfect the first time. The rest of the team were let into the locker rooms. Shane was still out on the ice as he was put through a few more drills before being called to the boards.

“I don’t know what shit coach you had before me, but they were fucking useless. You’re no talent, you no generational talent; they just stuck that label on you because nothing else would fit, because all they wanted was to be seen as being diverse. That we were accepting and welcoming. We’re not; we only care about talent, and you have zero,” Theriault snapped at him.

Shane stood there, not saying a word and not reacting. This wasn’t right; he knew that he was a good player. Maybe not the best, but he was still good. Enough to be second pick. If they didn’t want him, didn’t think he was worth it, then why had they chosen him?

“Patrick thought you were something; I’ve not seen anything of the kind,” Moore said as he sneered at Shane. “A diversity hire. That’s what Patrick lumbered us with, someone with no talent and no true skill. Even with all the work we are putting into you, you’re still not good enough for this team. We should put you back down to the AHL, but we may as well put you to work on keeping up the ice time to let our better players rest between shifts.”

Shane didn’t say anything about the fact that he was leading the league in points. Out of him and Ilya, he was three goals above him, leading in assists as well. He knew that saying anything would just bring more ire on him. And he just wanted to go back to the apartment and sleep. To brush off this day and get ready for the game that was going to happen tomorrow. No doubt he would be taken aside again afterward, if they lose, or if he doesn’t perform to their standard, whatever that was.

Shane remained quiet as they finished berating him for unseen reasons before sending him to the locker room. He showered quickly, seeing that everyone else had already gone. He headed home, messaging Ilya before he got into the car. Just needing someone to talk to for a few moments, someone that didn’t berate him, didn’t put him down. That knew he was a good player.

XxXxX

Shane closed the door behind him, glad he was finally back home. The season was halfway over, the New Year had started, and Shane had a game in two days. Against New York. He’d spent the holidays with his parents. They were talking about how well his season with Montreal was going. He was leading in points and goals. Yuna was happy to see him doing so well. Shane didn’t have the heart to tell them what was really going on in Montreal. That the team had iced him out. Hayden barely spoke to him now; only a few times was Shane able to speak with him before he headed off to either be with the rest of the team or with Jackie, his girlfriend.

Noise had dropped that he was the fan pick to go to the All-Star weekend. He did not doubt that they wouldn’t be happy with that. But it was the fans that had voted for him to go. Ilya was the same; another fan vote to go. They ahd already said that they wanted to meet up again. He started putting things away, feeling alone once more in the small apartment.

His phone rang a few times, and he answered.

“Hollander, New York against ancient Scott Hunter, should be fun for you,” came Ilya’s voice through the speaker.

Shane relaxed a moment. “Yeah, I’ve been working really hard to keep up with everything. Training and practice are getting a lot harder,” he said absently.

“They should still be a breeze; why are they hard?” Ilya asked him, sounding confused.

“I’m not doing the same as the rest of the team. They’re making sure that I’m good enough to play. To keep up,” Shane said, stopping what he was doing and looking at his phone.

“You are good, though. What do you need to do differently?” he asked, still confused as to what Montreal was doing to Shane.

“They… they’ve been saying that I’m not good enough,” he finally got out. “That I’m not talented at all, and that it was a mistake in bringing me onto the team. All I’m good for is to stay on the ice to give the real players on the team a rest before they have to go back out.”

Ilya was silent for a while. “Are they stupid?” he asked. “Are they really that stupid. You are a generational talent, one of the top players, second best in the league; you are good. Skate circles around everyone. Why do they think you are not?”

“I don’t know. The GM who chose me, with the owners, is gone. He’s gone, and the new one really doesn’t like me. Calls me a diversity hire all the time, that I’m not worth the ELC that I have at the moment. They want me to head down to AHL, or out of the league. They don’t think I’m worth anything. And the rest of the team,” he began; he’d not told Ilya everything that was going on, just that the team wasn’t clicking right.

“What are teammates like? I saw during the game that they don’t want you talking to me, but we are on opposite teams,” he told him. “Hollander, what is going on with your team? Are they all dumb?”

“I don’t think anyone has called me by my name since that first week. I’m either Rook or Rookie. Not Hollander or anything else. Just that, the only one who called me by my name was Pike, and now… well, he’s started to call me Rook and Rookie, and he’s a damn rookie himself,” he said, snorting a little as he moved to sit down on the couch.

“The team is not good, I think. They overplay you, as well. I saw; I watch your games. You are tired,” Ilya said.

“Yeah, I am,” he sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “I’m tired, and we have a game tomorrow, and I just want to get through it as soon as possible so I can take the rest day. That’s if Coach and GM let me; they didn’t last time. They had me at the rink for more practice.”

“Are you serious? That is not good. That is worse than Russian coaches, and they are beasts,” Ilya exclmained.

Shane snorted, “It’s… fine, it is what it is at the moment,” he said, biting his lip.

“Be careful, Hollander, I don’t want you hurt so bad that I don’t get to play against you,” Ilya told him. “Now, how about something more fun?” he said, as Shane could hear the smirk, and a flush went over his face as he knew exactly what Ilya was thinking about now.

XxXxX

The day after the game, Shane had been called in. Captain Owens was there as well, and after he went through a grueling three hours of drills and bagskates, he was finally allowed to stop and shower. As soon as he was done and mostly dressed, Captain Owens walked into the locked room.

“Rookie,” he snapped, “I don’t know why you are the one that’s going to be going to the All-Stars, but you are. You will behave, no showboating, no nothing,” he said, “You embarrass this team, and I will make today look like a walk in the park. I will make you bag skate until you puke. Then I will make you go through every single drill until you do them perfectly ten times in a row. I will not let you leave; I will not let you take a few moments’ break until you finish it,” he told him.

Shane stared at him. He wanted to ask; he wanted to know why they all disliked him so much. What had he done to deserve the ire of his teammates? All he wanted to do was to play hockey, to play a game he had been training for since he was a child.

“Captain Owens,” he finally said as the silence stretched out between them.

“What, Rookie?” he said, staring at him as he had been about to turn and leave.

“Why the change. When I first came, I felt welcomed on the team. I am working as hard as I can, and I just… don’t know what changed,” he said, frowning as he wondered if he would get an answer.

Owens sneered, “You really are as full of yourself as Moore said. He told us that you were a jumped-up player. One that made demands on everything, and I won’t have that on this team. You play well, and maybe we’ll see what can happen. At the moment, Coach Threirault and Moore don’t believe you’re pulling your weight. Especially with the rumors about you.”

“Rumors?” Shane frowned, wondering what that was about.

“Nothing for you to know,” he said. “Now finish changing and get home. Practice starts at eight for you,” he added as he turned and left the locker room.

Shane stood there for a few more minutes before he finished getting dressed. His heart was in his throat as he hurried from the practice rink. He wanted to go home and forget the Voyageurs existed for a bit.

Chapter Three

It was finally All-Star weekend, and Shane didn’t know if he wanted to be there or not. The last month and a bit leading up to it had been full of the team checking him harder and harder into the boards during practice. Nothing about practice had been good, even with Theriault still singling him out and making him do more than any of the other players on the team. He was so tired; he hoped he would get a chance to at least rest during the weekend, but he doubted that would happen. Captain Owens was with him and was already glaring at him. Thankfully, he would be on a different team than Shane. So he might be able to get a bit of a break from the man.

Following his Captain, they entered the hotel they were being hosted at. Thankful that Shane had a room of his own. He really didn’t want to share with his Captain, which had been discussed during practice a few days ago.

“Right, you’re in room 814,” Captain Owens said as he handed over the keycard for his room. “Behave,” he warned, “Any word and I will make sure you never come on anything like this again.”

“Yes, Captain,” he said, nodding once before taking the keycard and seeing the number of his room.

“I will be in room 1011,” he told him. “I don’t want to hear anything,” he repeated before he walked away.

Shane stood there for a few minutes, not wanting to get in the lift with his captain before heading over and waiting to get one to his floor.

XxxxX

“I can’t believe you did that!” Owens yelled at Shane as they were in a quiet room together. Away from the rest of the players. They’d just had a press conference, Shane and Ilya together. And Shane had helped Ilya out by answering.

“What was I supposed to do, let him continue to flounder!?” Shane snapped back.

Owens turned on him, staring at the young player. “You do not answer for anyone,” he hissed at him. “You were told to behave.”

“I helped Rozanov out; that was all I did. His English is really fucking good, but it’s still a second language that he’s only been studying for a couple of years. The reporter is the one that needs yelling at for not realizing that he had to translate everything in his head and he was struggling with some of the unknown words to him.”

“And you got all that in that one look?” Owen snorted, “There is no way.”

“Captain,” Shane said, feeling his heart in his throat and his heart thumping uncomfortably in his chest as he added, “Rozanov glanced toward me for help. I helped by taking over the question and trying to use simpler words that I knew he knew. So that he could either formulate his own answer based on that, or do what he did.”

“I repeat what I said when we got here, not another fucking step out of line, Rook,” he snapped before turning and leaving the room.

Shane stood there, shaking slightly as he tried to gather himself. He was always being yelled at for something, and it was starting to really get to him. He didn’t know if he would be able to make it until his ELC was up and he had a chance to go to another team. The door to the room opened, and Shane turned to see that it was Ilya.

“You got in trouble for me?” he asked as he locked the door behind him and walked over.

“I’m always in trouble for something,” Shane gave a watery laugh. “If it’s not missing the net, it’s because I sunk one in. I can’t win at all. I can fist pump when I score; I can celebrate anything. I’m not invited out with them either. I’m so fucking alone on that team, and I hate it. I thought… I thought it was going to be okay, and then it changed after camp, after that first week.”

“I am sorry that you got in trouble for me.”

“No, it’s not your fault. Anyone else and it would have been fine. But that… Captain Owens, he really doesn’t like me. He thinks I’m overrated, and maybe they’re right, because I can’t seem to make anyone on the team, management, or coaches happy with my performance at all,” he said, shaking his head a few times.

“What are you going to do? It is not good to keep playing like you are,” he warned him, having been watching the games Shane was in. He hadn’t had one single game off since the start of the season. Ilya could admit that he hadn’t played every single game he could have.

“Nothing I can do,” he shrugged. “I’m just a rookie and one that isn’t good enough for the team. We’re at the top, and I’m leading the points for the league and team, and to them, it’s not good enough.”

“You are good,” Ilya said, still confused as to what Montreal seemed to be playing when it came to Shane Hollander. He had seen footage of the man playing in the junior leagues, and rewatched all the International Cup games that he could, including the ones against Russia. The man was a beast on the ice, everywhere at once, and his edge work was better than anyone that Ilya had seen, including all the players at All-Stars.

“Not to them, and that’s what I need to be. I need to be a good player for them, and I… I’m just not measuring up, no matter what I do,” he shrugged. “I need to get going. Captain Owens expects me to be at the bar, not drinking or doing anything. Or even talking to anyone,” he sighed, as he slipped past Ilya and headed out of the room, unlocking it and nodding at him before leaving.

Ilya watched him go; he was worried about his fellow rookie. Shane Hollander was one of the best players in the league, and if Ilya was being honest, he was better than him. The Russian had no idea what the Voyageurs were playing at, but they were slowly destroying the young man that had just walked out of the room.

XxXxX

The speed skating had been a breeze after all the extra training that Theriault had thrown at him, making sure he was faster than anyone on the ice. The skills competition had been good too. He had watched as Ilya took over Scott Hunter’s record, and then when Shane had gone up he’d shaved almost a full second off it too. Instead of celebrating like the others were for theirs. Shane just gave a sharp nod, as a ball of dread started to form in his stomach as he saw the look from his captain.

“You did good there, Rook,” Hunter said as he returned to the bench.

Shane couldn’t help the flinch at the moniker. “Thank you,” he said, voice devoid of emotion. There was no elation, nothing in it at all.

Hunter looked at him, frowning as he then spotted Ilya frowning just as much toward his fellow rookie. As soon as everything was over, Shane was quick to get up and head to the locker room. He really wanted to be in a place where he was alone before being yelled at again, for the second time that weekend. There was still the game the next day, and he was already dreading it, should his team win and he scored. But he wasn’t going to let the other team win. he was going to score; he was going to play hard, just like he normally would.

Minutes after he ahd finished with the shower and found a small out-of-the-way place. Owen’s found him to berate him yet again. The rest of the weekend was the same. The only joy he had was when Ilya texted him his room number, and he got to spend some time with the Russian.

XxXxX

Playoffs had arrived, and for the first time in years, Montreal had made them. They were the top seed. Leading the board. Shane was working even harder during the first round. They had faced New York in the second round and knocked them out. Boston had been knocked out in the first. He’d sent a message to Ilya commiserating, and as they won the conference final, Shane wished for a second that they had been knocked out. He was exhausted. He had scored a few so far during the playoffs. All the while working hard on the second line, more than any of the others.

Los Angeles was the team they were facing. And they were playing hard. They were on Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final at The Bell Center. His parents were in the stands cheering him on, and Shane was pushing himself as hard as he could. He wanted to make them proud. He had already scored during the first period. Owens had brought them to a second during the third. They were tied as the third ended and OT began.

Three minutes of OT time had come and gone. Shane’s line headed out onto the ice. He moved quickly with the two on his line. No defenders as they played 3 vs 3. He used everything he had been training over the last year, and before, to keep away from the other players on the ice. He faked right as the puck came to him from Hayden. With a twist and a turn, he flicked his wrist, and the puck shot through the air, hitting the bar and going in. The sirens blared. They had done it.

The Montreal Voyageurs had won the Stanley Cup Final. Shane couldn’t help the grin as he looked to where his parents were seated. No one came to him on the ice to celebrate the fact that he had been the one to score. Instead, the rest of their team surrounded each other, with Shane mostly on the outside. The cup was presented, and everyone began to lift it and do a lap around the rink. One by one, the players got to lift it high over their heads. Shane was shaking as he was the last one to take hold of it. He was elated that he had won it in his rookie year, but he was disheartened a little with how he was being treated.

Families were finally let down onto the ice after the team had possessed the Cup. He was nearing the back, Hayden having pulled him into the shot when it looked like the team was going to ice him out once more. Shane barely smiled, even if he wanted to.

“Well done, son,” David said as he was finally over the ice and hugging his son tightly.

“I would have expected more of a celebration with your goal,” Yuna said, as she took David’s place in hugging her son.

“Yeah,” he said, absently as he glanced at the rest of the team. They were all with their families or talking to each other. Hayden was with Jackie, who had joined the WAGS a few weeks before the playoffs had started. Yuna and David began to move him toward the team, to try and join them all. Shane didn’t want to; he didn’t want his parents to know how the team treated him.

His mother introduced herself to some of the other players, talking about how well they had done. David stayed with Shane, watching and observing, and Shane knew his dad had seen the distance that was between the rest of the team and him. He just hoped he wouldn’t mention it at all. He didn’t want them wondering just why he was iced out. Shane didn’t even know himself why it was happening. He shook his head as his Dad looked over while his mom talked to other players and some of the staff as they began to head off the ice. Celebrations would continue, and while his parents went to their hotel for the night, leaving him supposedly celebrating with the rest of the team, Shane headed back to the apartment alone, having already been told he wouldn’t be welcomed.