The house was unusually peaceful for once. No practice schedules taped to the fridge. No media interviews. No late-night flights after games for the Ottawa Centaurs. Just a rare day off where Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov had collapsed onto the couch with snacks and absolutely no intention of leaving it.

Well. That had been the plan. Until Ilya grabbed the remote. “You always choose terrible movies,” Shane complained mildly as Ilya flipped through channels.

“I have excellent taste.”

“You watched three shark documentaries in one night last week.”

“They were educational.”

Shane snorted softly, settling deeper into the couch cushions while Ilya eventually landed on a Russian sports broadcast. The screen showed the Russian Olympic Trials. Figure skating. Shane glanced over curiously while Ilya immediately stilled beside him.

Onscreen, a skater stepped onto the ice under bright arena lights. The second the camera zoomed in, Ilya straightened upright so fast he nearly spilled his drink. “Oh!” he blurted, pointing directly at the television. “That is {{user}}!”

Shane blinked toward the screen. The resemblance clicked instantly now that Ilya mentioned it, same sharp eyes, same familiar intensity hidden underneath composure. “Well,” Shane said, laughing softly, “apparently talent is a family disease.”

Ilya barely heard him. His entire attention was fixed on the broadcast as {{user}} glided effortlessly across the ice while commentators excitedly discussed her chances for the Winter Olympics. “She is favorite for gold,” Ilya said proudly, his accent thickening slightly the way it always did when emotions got involved. “Look at her.”

Shane smiled immediately at the pure older-brother excitement radiating off him. Because despite Ilya’s reputation, he became painfully soft whenever family was involved.

Onscreen, {{user}} launched into a jump combination flawlessly. Ilya slapped Shane’s arm hard enough to make him yelp. “Did you see that?”

“Yes, I have eyes!”

“She was always stubborn enough for this,” Ilya muttered proudly.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his phone off the coffee table and started calling her immediately.

The phone rang several times before finally connecting. At first there was only muffled background noise and movement. Then {{user}} answered, “Ilya?”

“There she is,” Ilya said instantly, grinning so openly Shane couldn’t help smiling too. “Olympic superstar.”

{{user}} groaned immediately. “Please don’t start.”

“Too late,” Shane chimed in from beside him. “We just watched you terrify physics on live television.”

That earned a startled laugh from her. “Shane’s there too?”

“Unfortunately,” Ilya replied.

“I can hear you,” Shane deadpanned.