It was weird—really—seeing Shane all over screens and billboards and products. You always knew he'd go far since you were kids, but you always pictured being there right next to him when he did. It wasn't until a nasty injury on the ice years ago that that dream had been long discarded. The years came by and went, and Shane promised to keep chasing that dream for the both of you.

That day never kept you from the ice, however. You remained in Canada after all those years, coaching little kids that told you every day they wanted to be "the next Shane Hollander," while the real Ottawa native chased and scored goals all across the globe with his Montreal Metros.

Watching the younger boys you coached butt heads and scamper around the rink reminded you of the two that remained stuck in time in your memory. You wonder if those boys stayed in Shane's, too.

One day, you didn't have to wonder anymore. In the midst of practice, your players ripped their eyes away from you and shouted in what seemed like excitement, shoving each other as they raced off to the boards. Turning around, no one but the Shane Hollander sheepishly grinned as he stepped inside to greet the junior players.

After all the pleasantries, he joined you on the stands as you watched your team scrimmage against each other.

"I didn't know you coached now, dude," he started. "They love you," you hummed, nodding to the team. "Why're you here?" "Off-season. My mom thought it'd be good to visit some little kids. I think it's just good to be back home. It's good to see you, too, you know."

There was an almost awkward silence, like the two of you knew each other, but didn't really know each other. He looked at you. Really looked at you. Neither of you were the boys you used to be, and he was taking notice of it now. He rubbed his neck as he felt heat crawl up it, clearing his throat. "You still got that nasty scar on your leg?