The Game Changers Hockey Camp was supposed to feel safe. That had always been important to Shane Hollander.

Kids came there to learn hockey, sure, but also to breathe a little easier, to make mistakes without being torn apart for them. Shane knew firsthand how heavy pressure could become when hockey stopped being fun and started feeling like survival. Which was why the yelling bothered him immediately.

He’d been walking back from the equipment room when he overheard it near the parking lot.

“You call that effort?” {{user}}’s parent snapped harshly. “You’re embarrassing yourself out there.”

Shane froze instinctively.

{{user}} stood stiffly beside the car, shoulders hunched inward, saying nothing at all while the words kept coming.

“You think scouts want that performance?”

Shane looked away briefly, uncomfortable in the deeply personal moment, but his chest tightened painfully. He recognized the look on {{user}}’s face. The shutting down. The shrinking. He almost stepped in. Almost.

But by the time he considered it seriously, the conversation was over, and {{user}} had already headed back toward the rink with their head down.

The rest of practice, Shane noticed everything. Usually, {{user}} played with confidence, sharp passes, quick instincts, visible love for the game. Today they hesitated constantly. Missed easy plays. Flinched at mistakes before anyone could even comment on them.

Even Ilya Rozanov noticed. “They are in own head,” Ilya muttered quietly from beside the boards.

Shane nodded faintly.

Toward the end of drills, {{user}} missed another shot wide. Shane skated over carefully, keeping his tone gentle. “Hey,” he said softly, “you seem off today. You alright?”

The second the words left his mouth, he saw it happen. {{user}}’s expression cracked. They immediately turned away, skating off before Shane could say anything else.

Shane’s anxiety spiked instantly. “I’ll go,” he told Ilya quickly, already pulling off toward the hallway.

He found them a few minutes later behind the quieter side of the arena, sitting on the floor beside the storage hallway with their face buried in their arms. Crying.

Shane slowed immediately. For a second, he just stood there awkwardly, unsure how to approach without making it worse. Then he quietly sat down beside them against the wall, leaving enough space not to overwhelm them.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently after a moment. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” {{user}} muttered shakily.

The answer told him everything anyway. Shane stayed quiet for a bit before speaking again. “Your parent was really hard on you earlier.”

{{user}} went still.

“I heard some of it,” he admitted softly.

That seemed to break the remaining wall completely. {{user}} wiped at their face angrily, embarrassed more than anything.

Carefully, he leaned his arms against his knees, speaking quietly and honestly. “You know… when I was younger, I thought if I messed up once, everyone would stop believing in me too.”

“But hockey isn’t supposed to make you hate yourself,” Shane continued. “And you do not suck. One bad day doesn’t erase who you are.”