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“We didn’t have the same childhood Shane. We grew up in the same house for a while but we didn’t live the same life. You were always the first choice, especially after joining the NHL. I was moved out at ten and never wanted to move back in even when I had the chance to. Did you ever think why that was? Mom and Dad raised you. Aunt Jena raised me.”
she wasn't supposed to be here, she wasn't supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career and she definitely wasn’t supposed to be left standing in a dark rink at fourteen because her ice dance partner decided he’d rather be a hockey bro.
now emmy hollander suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the literal blood, sweat, and sequins it takes when nobody is watching. and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
warnings: angst, character death, grief, eating disorders, body dysmorphia, mental health struggles, internalised homophobia, homophobia, slight racism, parental neglect, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, dead dove DO NOT EAT, swearing, eventual explicit content, tags to be updated
2013
chapter one
Emmy Hollander is 14, fresh off a Junior Championship win, a perfectionist down to her core. but her partner has a secret. and Emmy is left standing in the dark on the ice, literally and figuratively alone.
chapter two
Emmy is spiralling, stuck between a rock and a hard place. a phone call from her parents makes nothing better so she turns to old friends as a source of comfort.
chapter three
FLASHBACK: when Shane got drafted by the NHL, Emmy made the decision to stay with what she knows, the stay in Ottawa, with her friends, at her school. Jena made the move possible, giving Emmy space to carve out a space for herself.
chapter four
Emmy avoids the rink like the plague, no matter how much it keeps calling her back. the ice is like a siren song, drawing her in with no escape. the worst thing: the second she relents, all the uncertainty is lost. her body remembers like she never left.
2014
chapter five
training gets serious, competitions approaching. Emmy gets to live her figure skating dream, her first solo program costume, all hers.
chapter six
Tyler is thriving in hockey, but he’s still Emmy’s biggest hype-man. her first competition alone on the ice reminds her that trying new things doesn't have to be as scary as they seem. and Emmy is reminded that her future is as bright as she can make it.
chapter seven
her competition season continues, with its ups and downs. she trains to fall, trains to get back again. then she gets a phone call, the phone call, that suddenly sent her hurtling to the ice. and this time, it's a lot harder to claw off of the slippery surface.
chapter eight
Jena calls in the reinforcements, David Hollander answers. he doesn't try to fix it all, just show Emmy that she can still live some sense of normalcy despite it all. she finally gets to show her father face-to-face just how far she's come.
2015
chapter nine
Emmy is back to the ice, skating in Tyler’s shadow. to cope, she seeks to have any semblance of control she can. she reaches her breaking point, sick of skating and pushed towards someone she never thought she’d talk to in that way
chapter ten
Emmy can only think to call one person. she’s offered solace in return and finds it far more comforting and recovering than she could’ve ever thought or imagined. Shane does what he can for his sister. Well, he's trying to.
chapter eleven
Shane means well. he tries to talk with his sixteen year old sister, to help her make sense of her feelings. but she almost seems more mature than him, returning to the ice to find and carve her new path.
chapter twelve
her time with Shane comes to an end, but she keeps her promise. she keeps her head up and comes back to ice hockey to watch the most successful night of her brother’s life.
chapter thirteen
a new season begins, and Emmy feels stronger than ever. Shane also keeps his promise and comes to watch his baby sister skate.
chapter fourteen
after her best skating result yet, Emmy’s nightmare suddenly becomes real and she has to figure out what her life holds outside of skating.
final a/n: this story may be partially published on other platforms under @muxshwriting . THIS IS STILL ME, I AM NOT STEALING CONTENT FROM ANYONE BUT MYSELF :}
emmy hollander wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: after her best skating result yet, Emmy’s nightmare suddenly becomes real and she has to figure out what her life holds outside of skating
warnings: injury, hospitals, hurt, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of ed, body dysmorphia, ed behaviour
series masterpost
previous chapter < chapter fourteen > next chapter
★ || November 2015
She was soaring across the ice, her skates carving a dramatic path across the otherwise unblemished surface. It was her second competition of her brand new season, coming in high off her maiden win.
Her confidence builds with every turn and move as she sweeps across the ice in a stunning cantilever, bending her back closer and closer to the ice. There’s a thrill in her veins, an excitement and joy through her body.
There’s a combination up ahead, one she’s done a hundred times in practice, probably more. It all seemed so prefect, the same entry she’d done before, the same speed as she took off.
It was only once she was already in the air that she realised something was wrong.
The ice seems to echo as she falls onto it, pain blossoming across the side of her body. The world falls sideways,the rest of Emmy’s body cracking against the ice and the crowd gasping as one.
She’d fallen before, she'd fall again, but this felt different. Her body doesn’t seem to respond as she tries to push to get up. The pain doesn’t simmer away. Her hand slips and she’s sent back towards the ice, a swear casting through her lips.
In the buzz of the small rink, her music fading as the organisers realise she’s not getting back up. At the sidelines, Marc is already moving. He called her name, voice laced with worry. Medics follow him onto the ice, kneeling by Emmy’s side.
“Don’t try and move.” He tries to reassure but the moment she glances up to meet his eyes, she can see his worry. “I’m here. What hurts?”
She can’t do anything but groan as she’s pushed from her side to her back by the medics, sucking a breath through her teeth to try and get some control over her pain.
“My hip. Maybe my ankle, I can’t- Marc-”
His face loses its colour. “Okay. That’s okay. It can heal, we can fix bones and bruises.”
That was when the tears started to fall, the realisation hitting Emmy that she could likely be off the ice for months because of this, just as she’s gotten to a good place back on it.
She stared up at the rink lights, the shining white looking all distorted and bright. A hand touches her hip, a broken scream tearing from her lips.
The pain wasn’t even registering anymore. All Emmy could think was that it was gone. Her skating was gone, her confidence was swiftly dissipating, the feeling of ice beneath her skates would be gone for god knows how long while she healed. It was all gone.
A sob tore from her chest.
“I just got it back.”
The words came out broken.
“Marc- I just got it back.”
Marc reached for her hand and Emmy found herself grabbing onto it like she was drowning. The medics kept talking around her: questions, instructions, assessments. None of it mattered.
As they lifted her onto the stretcher, Emmy turned her head back towards the ice. The rink looked exactly the same, completely untouched like nothing had even happened. The crowd moved on, the next competitor shaking their limbs to get ready to skate their program, ignoring that Emmy hadn’t finished hers.
Emmy refused to let Marc call an ambulance. It felt like a step too far, the admittance that something was so seriously wrong with Emmy, that the injury was definitely keeping her from competing.
The emergency room smelled like stale coffee, vague disinfectant and sweat. Emmy hated it. She got taken back in a wheelchair, moved onto a bed as gently as she can be. Most of all, she hated the waiting.
Jena sat beside her, one hand wrapped around a paper cup that had long since gone cold. Marc had stayed too, despite her insisting he should go home.
Nobody said much. The silence said enough and felt far safer.
When the doctor finally returned, Emmy tried to put on a brave face, shifting in the bed and trying to ignore the pain shooting down her leg. The doctor hovered at her bedside, speaking mostly to Jena and Mark rather than her.
The expression on his face wasn't catastrophic. That should've been reassuring. Instead, it made her stomach twist.
“How are we feeling?” He began, “I’ve got some answers for you.”
Emmy’s fingers tightened around the edge of the hospital blanket.
“Your hip took the majority of the impact, there’s significant bone bruising all down the leg and on the ankle, which would explain the tenderness.” He pointed towards one of the scans. “There’s also two small fractures.”
A bone bruise was manageable, ice and rest and then back to the rink and back on her skates again. A fracture meant far more time, time off the ice, no training, the risk of something much worse.
“They’re mainly hairline fractures at this point, not displaced so no need for surgery. But that’s best case. You can’t be weight bearing on this hip in any significant way until these fractures start healing or you risk widening the fractures of the muscles stretching the bone to breakage.
The room went silent. Jena inhaled sharply. Marc closed his eyes briefly. Emmy just stared.
“What does that mean? I can’t skate?”
The doctor kept his voice calm. “You’ll have to use crutches to keep your weight off your leg for quite a while, follow up with xrays every couple weeks to check the fracture isn’t worsening. There’s nothing to suggest that you can’t return to skating once the injury has healed-”
“How long?” she asked.
The doctor hesitated. Just for a second, a second too long. And Emmy felt her stomach drop.
“It could easily be several months. At least eight weeks of non-weight-bearing, then more to regain the movement and strength.”
“Months…” The words landed like another fall.
Marc tried to comfort her, “We shouldn’t risk getting you on the ice sooner, you slip in practise and hit that hip and you’re out for even longer.”
“But-”
“Things heal Emmy, you’ll be back before you know it.”
Jena reached over to rub a hand into her shoulder soothingly. There’s nothing she could say that would make Emmy better. They could pretend they understand but they would never even get close.
Because understanding would mean knowing what it had taken to get back here. Understanding would mean knowing about Tyler. About the nights she couldn't sleep, about crying in locker rooms, about calling Shane because she’d run out of ways to pretend she was okay. Understanding would mean knowing she'd only just started loving skating again.
The doctor was still talking: physiotherapy, recovery plans, follow-up appointments. She couldn't hear any of it. Marc was listening, probably already planning a new exercise regime for her to get healthier again.
“There’s also something we noticed in your blood work.” The doctor began, bringing Emmy’s attention back to the real world. “The best way to aide in your healing to have a balanced diet, especially eating enough nutrients like calcium. There’s a couple of nutrients in your blood that are on the lower side and could lead to more injuries in the future. Are you on a strict diet?”
“No.” Marc led the charge, “She’s on a low fat, high protein diet but it’s been looked over by a nutritionist, should all be balanced.”
“What about calcium?”
Emmy found her voice again, “I eat Greek yogurt in the morning and dairy in my protein shakes, I should be eating enough.” Ignoring the fact that she skips breakfast often enough and puts as little skimmed milk as she can to avoid all the fat.
The doctor hummed, not quite convinced. “I would keep an eye on it, maybe don’t stick to the diet so strictly when you’re healing. Prioritise calcium and making sure your body is getting enough to heal properly. He left with a comment about her discharge and left the three sitting alone once more.
Jena turned to Emmy, “Are you sure you’ve been eating enough? I’ve noticed you’re getting thinner.”
“I’m fine.” She replied, all too quickly. “School is taking up my time now, thinking about classes for next year and university.” Anything but talking about food and her weight and her diet.
She’d had the discussion with Jena far too many times about how important her grades were for her future alongside her skating career. Classes just distracted her from skating, she supposed now she would have to switch her focus back to school, a hallowing reminder that she couldn’t skate forever.
“What do you wanna do?” Marc asked from her other side, genuinely interested.
Emmy huffed, “I’m not too sure, maybe something with sport. I couldn’t really do physio stuff but marketing or journalism or something.”
“You’re a good storyteller,” he replied, “You tell a story so convincingly on the ice, you could do it with your words just as well I’d bet.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, try it.”
Jena nodded in agreement. Emmy sighed, “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”
Across the room sat her competition bag, one skate guard hanging out out of the top. Everything in it was waiting to be picked up and used again, waiting for a practise that wasn’t coming, waiting for a season that had just been ended so prematurely.
emmy hollander wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: a new season begins, and Emmy feels stronger than ever. Shane also keeps his promise and comes to watch his baby sister skate.
warnings: fluff, ed mention, ed behaviours, mental health, self-deprecating thoughts
series masterpost
previous chapter < chapter thirteen > next chapter
★ || September 2015
The 2015-16 figure skating season was drawing closer. Emmy trained, she took her time and found a life outside of skating. Her friends were glad that she’d found herself off the ice but even they could see how much she was starting to miss it. The rink had a call to the Hollanders, inevitable and inescapable.
Emmy found her way back, training going well as she took it at her pace, and occasionally at the much slower pace that Marc demanded of her. Marc had curated a program she was very much proud of, every spin and movement and jump felt secure in her soul, not just her body.
Her new free dance program is subtly dedicated to Tyler, in every way she can, skating in honour and not in spite or to validate her place. She cried and she mourned and she found it slightly easier day by day to laugh and smile when she thought about him.
She’d taken to writing down any memories she had, in fear of forgetting, and writing down anything anyone else told her about Tyler. But worst of all, she was starting to forget his face.
The international junior circuit had no idea what was coming for them.
She built herself back piece by piece, relearning not just the jumps and spins, but how it felt to be on the ice without it swallowing her whole. There was space now. Space to breathe, to mess up, to try again without spiralling.
And when the competitions came around, she was ready.
The rink buzzed with quiet anticipation, skaters moving through warm-ups, blades carving familiar patterns into fresh ice. Emmy stood at the boards, arms folded loosely, rolling her shoulders back as she watched the last group finish.
“You look calm.”
She turned at the voice, and for a second, it didn’t register.
“Shane?” Her voice was laced with surprise and joy at the sight of her brother, tucked into a hoodie of his own with a cap pulled low across his forehead.
He knew he’s probably be spotted at some point but he promised he’d come and watch Emmy if she stuck with skating, so he was here. He stood just behind the barrier, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, he looked out of place and completely at ease all at once.
“You said this was the one to come to,” he shrugged.
Emmy blinked at him, something bright flickering across her face before she could stop it. “You actually came.”
“Told you I would.”
It wasn’t a big deal, the way he said it. Like it had never been a question. Her chest tightened anyway. She leaned forward slightly over the barrier. “You’re gonna jinx me, you know.”
“You believe in jinxes?” Shane asked incredulously.
Emmy raised an eyebrow in response. “Are you saying you don’t believe in superstitions and jinxes when you’re in the playoffs?” Shane held back a smile. “You’re banned from speaking for the next… two hours.”
He huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. “Bit harsh.”
“Deal with it.”
For a moment, they just looked at each other. It felt… easy. Easier than it had any right to be.
“Go warm up,” he added after a second. “I’ll be here.”
Emmy nodded once, moving towards Marc before she could overthink it.
The world narrowed the way it always did, the noise of the rink fading into something distant as she stepped onto the ice. The cold bit sharper than usual, adrenaline already threading through her veins.
She didn’t look for Shane. Didn’t look for Jena. Didn’t look at anyone. Just the ice. Just the music. Just her.
Her hands drifted to her chest just before she reached her starting position, meeting in a T for a brief moment right over her heart. The opening notes began, soft and familiar, settling into her chest like something she already knew by heart. Her body followed without hesitation, edges clean, movements deliberate.
No stumble, no second-guessing. Just there. Something in her steadied further.
She moved through the program like she belonged in it. Not chasing perfection, not forcing anything. Just letting it happen, letting the hours and months and quiet rebuilding carry her through.
By the halfway mark, she knew.
Not in the way she used to, not in that fragile, desperate way, but something quieter. Certain. This was hers. When the music built, so did she. Edges deeper, arms stronger, movements fuller. The program opened up, and she let it, let the emotion sit where it needed to without drowning in it.
Tyler lived in the details.
In the softness. In the strength. In the way she finished. The final note cut, and she held her position for just a second longer than necessary, breath caught somewhere between exhaustion and something brighter.
Then the applause hit. Louder than she expected. Emmy straightened slowly, chest rising and falling as she looked out across the rink. Not searching, just… taking it in.
Jena and Shane were waiting at the boards as she made her way off of the ice, Marc standing just separately. There was a distinct sense of pride between all of them, in their eyes as they watched her smile and her joy whilst on the ice.
“Emmy-” Jena’s voice caught slightly as she pulled her close.
Shane watched them with a smile of his own. “That was amazing.” He told her, slightly breathless. “I had no idea you could do most of that.”
Emmy huffed, still catching her breath. She breathed a sigh of relief, letting herself smile with a small nod of her head. “It felt so good out there.”
When the scores came up, she almost didn’t look. She didn’t want to break whatever this was. It was Marc’s low draw of breath and arm moving around her shoulders that made her look up.
First.
Her name at the top. Emmy blinked.
“…Oh.”
It came out small, disbelieving.
Marc clapped her once on the shoulder. “First.”
“I- yeah, I can see that,” she murmured, still staring. Not a fluke. Not a maybe. Something warm spread through her chest, slower than she expected, steadier. “For Tyler.”
Jena shrieked, pulling Emmy into a jumping embrace, pressing soft kisses into her hair and whispers of congratulations.
Then Shane stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a few easy strides. “C’mere,” he said, already pulling her into a hug before she could overthink it.
Emmy stiffened for half a second then melted. Her arms came up around him automatically, gripping the back of his hoodie as something tight in her chest finally gave way just a little.
He felt solid. And for that quiet moment of embrace, it was like all the years of distance had never existed at all.
They ended up somewhere casual, Jena leading the charge and demanding that they go out for a celebratory meal. Shane walked side by side with Emmy, noticing everything. He noticed how after Jena’s suggestion she’d hesitated for half a second too long before asking where they were going.
Not in the way other people might’ve, no suspicion, no immediate concern. Just a small pause, a recalculation.
“Is that… okay?” He’d added, more precise this time. “We can go somewhere else if you want.”
She forced something light into her tone. “No, food’s good. I like the food there.”
It was quiet enough, not overwhelming. The kind of place where no one looked twice at them. Shane scanned the menu for a long moment, his expression focused.
Emmy glanced up. “You looking for something?”
Shane cleared his throat. “No I know what I’m having. What do you two want?”
When the waiter came, Shane ordered first, simple, direct. Emmy followed, choosing something easy to manage, something she could move around the plate if she needed to.
She ate slowly, carefully. Shane noticed. He stayed quiet. He was weird enough about his own food, he wasn’t about to bring up Emmy’s habits. Besides, she was a professional athlete, she knew how to fuel her body and take care of herself. She had coaches and managers checking her workouts and training and mealplans. She was fine.
They talked about nothing important. Her program. His season. Jena. School. The cold. Normal things, easy things.
The world didn’t feel like it was closing in, it felt open. It wasn’t perfect but being back on the ice felt very close to it.
previous chapter < chapter thirteen > next chapter
emmy hollander wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: her time with Shane comes to an end, but she keeps her promise. she keeps her head up and comes back to ice hockey to watch the most successful night of her brother’s life.
warnings: inaccurate hockey playing, slight family angst, awkward conversations
series masterpost
previous chapter < chapter twelve > next chapter
★ || April 2015
“Thanks for letting me stay.”
Emmy hovered awkwardly by the passenger door, her duffel at her feet, her skate bag looped over her shoulder like it belonged there again. She looked… lighter. Not fixed, not magically better, but something in her had softened over the past week. Like she wasn’t bracing against the world quite so hard.
Shane leaned against the side of the wall, arms folded loosely. “Anytime.”
She smiled at that, small but genuine. It reached her eyes this time.
“Are you coming back if we make it to the finals?” he added, like it was casual, like it didn’t matter either way.
It was an open invitation to watch his play hockey. One she hadn’t taken up yet despite the three games that occurred while she was staying with him. He’d even travelled away for two or three days but she’d been content to have them playing on the TV in his apartment.
His seats would be good, too. He could probably snag some box tickets for Emmy and Jena if they wanted to come. Their parents were coming to three of the games, but there were plenty more to pick from.
Emmy glanced away, nudging the toe of her trainer against the pavement. “In June, right?”
“Yeah.”
She hummed, thinking it over in that quiet, careful way she did now. “That’d be nice.” Non-committal. But not dismissive.
Shane nodded once, accepting it for what it was.
“How many games are you gonna let it get to?” she asked, a flicker of her old teasing tone slipping through.
He huffed a laugh. “Ideally? Five. Realistically? Six if they make it difficult. Mom and Dad will be there.”
She nodded again, like she was filing that information away for later.
Jena called her name from the driver’s seat, a gentle reminder that they had a long drive ahead.
Emmy reached for the door, then paused. “I’ll keep an eye out for the playoffs.” she said, glancing back at him. “I’ll text.”
Shane didn’t miss it, the shift, the maybe turning into something a little more solid. “Yeah,” he said easily. “No worries.”
She nodded once, then slipped into the car. As they pulled away, she glanced back once, lifting her hand in a small wave. Shane returned it, watching until the car disappeared around the corner. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t worried about her.
Not completely, anyway.
★ || May 2015
The playoffs moved fast. Too fast for Emmy to keep up with properly, but that didn’t stop her from trying. At first, it was just background noise, the TV on in the living room while she did homework, Jena half-watching while cooking dinner. Commentary voices blending into the rhythm of everyday life.
Then it became… intentional. She started keeping track.
Game days pencilled loosely into the margins of her school planner. Scores checked between classes. Highlights watched late at night when she couldn’t sleep anyway.
She told herself it was just because Shane asked. That she was just being a good sister. But it was more than that.
It gave her something to follow that wasn’t skating. Something that didn’t sit heavy in her chest or twist her stomach into knots. Hockey was loud, fast, messy in a way that didn’t demand perfection.
You could mess up and keep going. She liked that.
“Are you actually watching this?” Jena asked one evening, pausing in the doorway as Emmy sat cross-legged on the couch, eyes fixed on the screen.
Emmy shrugged, not looking away. “It’s kind of interesting.”
“They’re no Centaurs.” Jena, ever an Ottawa faithful smiled to herself and left Emmy to it.
Shane texted her sometimes after games.
shane: We won 4-2. Our defense played like shit in the second period though.
She’d reply more often than not.
emmy: you still won, that’s what matters
Their conversations stayed easy. Light. But consistent. And slowly, without really noticing it, Emmy started to feel… steadier.
She went back to the rink once. Just once. No music. No program. No pressure. No coaches, no one watching. She laced up her skates slowly, hands careful and deliberate, like she was relearning something fragile. And when she stepped onto the ice, it didn’t feel like before.
It wasn’t effortless. It wasn’t joyful. But it also wasn’t unbearable.
She pushed off gently, gliding along the boards, letting the familiar feeling settle back into her bones piece by piece.
No jumps. Not yet. Just skating.
And for the first time in months, she didn’t hate it.
★ || June 2015
The arena was deafening, buzzing with adrenaline and almost-celebrations. People spilled out of their seats, jerseys everywhere, voices overlapping, everyone talking at once about the same thing, waiting for the game to begin.
Emmy stuck close to Jena as they moved through the crowd, her fingers loosely hooked in the sleeve of her jacket so she wouldn’t lose her.
“Stay with me,” Jena murmured, glancing back to make sure she was still there.
“I am,” Emmy replied, a little breathless but smiling.
That was when Jena slowed.
Emmy almost walked straight into her.
“What-?” she started, before following Jena’s line of sight.
Her parents stood a few feet ahead. It wasn’t dramatic. No big moment. No music swelling in the background. Just… them. Her mom, her dad, both turned slightly away mid-conversation until something, instinct, maybe, made her dad look up.
David Hollander froze.
For a second, he didn’t move at all. His eyes landed on Emmy and stayed there, like he was trying to reconcile what he was seeing with what he expected.
Because this wasn’t the girl he’d seen a few months ago, the girl over the phone. This wasn’t the version of Emmy he’d built in his head over the last few months.
She was smiling. Not forced. Not polite. Real. She was practically glowing with excitement, wearing her brother’s jersey proudly and sticking by Jena’s side.
“Emmy?” he said, like he wasn’t entirely sure.
Emmy shifted her weight slightly, suddenly aware of herself again. “Hi.”
Awkward. Too formal. She hated how it sounded the second it left her mouth.
Her mom stepped in first, closing the distance quickly and pulling her into a hug. “Oh my god, sweetheart.”
Emmy stiffened for half a second, just out of habit, before relaxing into it. “Hi, Mom.”
David followed a second later, a little slower, like he didn’t want to overwhelm her. He rested a hand briefly on her shoulder before pulling her into a hug of his own.
“You look-” he started, then stopped himself. Good. He’d been about to say good. Instead, he settled on, “It’s really good to see you.”
Emmy pulled back, giving him a small smile. “You too.”
There was a beat of silence after that. Not uncomfortable exactly, but… unfamiliar.
Jena cleared her throat lightly, stepping forward. “You guys excited for the game? They could take the cup if they win this.”
Yuna turned to her immediately. “Jena, thank you for bringing her. We’ve been waiting sixteen years for a Stanley Cup win again. I’d love Shane to bring it home.”
“Of course,” Jena replied, easy but measured.
“We weren’t going to miss this.” Emmy continued her thought seamlessly.
David nodded in agreement, though his attention kept drifting back to Emmy. Taking her in. The way she stood a little straighter. The way her eyes weren’t dulled with exhaustion in the same way they had been when he last saw her.
“When did you get so interested in hockey?” he asked, almost cautiously.
Emmy shrugged, but there was a lightness to it. “Shane doesn’t talk about anything else. I stayed with him for nearly a fortnight, you can’t help but pick some things up.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
Then David tilted his head slightly. “You staying the night? Or heading back with Jena?”
“Back to Shane’s apartment,” Emmy answered. “I told Shane he’s not allowed to come back until tomorrow if he wins. He’s got to enjoy it.”
That got a proper laugh out of him. “Yeah? You laying down the law now?”
“Someone has to,” she replied lightly.
And there it was again, that ease. That flicker of personality that had been missing for months. David glanced at Jena briefly, something unspoken passing between them. Gratitude. Relief.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, just for her.
Jena shook her head. “She did the hard part.”
Emmy pretended not to hear that, moving towards her mother and heading towards their seats.
“What happened with skating?” her mom asked, turning back to her.
“I’m in singles, taking a break right now from comps,” Emmy said, the same careful non-commitment as before, but softer now. “I start a new program during summer.”
“That’s nice honey.”
“Yeah.”
They watched the game in near-silence, no further discussion about the world outside this rink.
Shane lifted the cup and even Emmy felt it, the surge of something bright and overwhelming, pride blooming in her chest so suddenly it almost caught her off guard. The smile on his face was impossible not to mirror, the entire team collapsing into each other in celebration.
Out there in the middle of it all, laughing, shouting, pulling his teammates into him as they crowded around the cup like it was something sacred. Like it was everything they’d worked for.
For a second, she just… watched. Let it sink in, the way he fit into it so naturally, like this was always where he was meant to be. The cup was passed to him and he lifted it, arms steady despite everything, the metal catching the arena lights and throwing them back out into the crowd. His smile was blinding, wide and unguarded and so, so happy.
emmy hollander wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: the Hollanders gather for Christmas as Emmy struggles to feel the festive cheer.
warnings: ed themes, family dynamics, dissociation, grief, mental health, general warnings apply from previous chapters
series masterpost
previous chapter eight < happy hollander holidays > next chapter nine
a/n: this got a lot longer than I thought. thank you to the person who requested this little drabble (that's now not a drabble) because I got to write something I hadn't even considered before.
★ || December 2014
Emmy hated the drive to the cabin in the woods. Two hours of driving through Ontario winter to see people and have a celebration she didn’t feel any emotion towards. Jena would never forgive her if she missed out, but maybe she would understand, especially this year.
The woman had made her a promise, however, that Emmy could slip away every now and again and take a breather, take her time, and that no one would blame her and no one would say anything. Jena had made sure of that.
She rang David the night before they headed their way, warned him that it hadn’t gotten much better than when he’d come to visit. She asked him to warn Yuna, to tell Shane. She wasn’t sure how much they really understood.
The first thought Emmy had was that it was warm. Outside wasn’t particularly cold but as soon as she stepped inside she was hit by cloying air, shrugging off her jacket before she could start sweating. She’d become so used to the cold that she forgot how much she hated being too warm.
The cabin was all decorated for the festive season, garlands strung across every picture frame that was big enough, ornaments across mantlepieces and a tree sitting in the corner of the sitting room. Most of all it was the smell that reminded her of all the other Christmas’ they’d shared, the sweet, cinnamon and pine scent that perfused through the whole house, something else familiar that she never could name.
“Shoes,” Jena reminded softly behind her, shouting out a welcome to the rest of the house, to the family.
Emmy nodded, already bending down, fingers stiff as she tugged at the laces. Her skates had always been easier. Everything about skating was easier. Structured. Predictable. Inside, there were too many variables.
There were voices echoing and drifting from the kitchen, shouts of a welcome back to them layered over the hum of music playing from somewhere, probably her dad’s old record player that he kept in perfect condition. It was one of his old Christmas records playing, the classics.
It probably should’ve felt comforting, the sound of her childhood, the sound of teenage Christmas’ spent catching up with her brother and her parents, the reminder that she didn’t see them year-round like she should, the thought that she was missing out on something, the dizzying dread that settled in her chest the days between seeing them and New Years, before she could distracted again, where she had to sit in that feeling and stew.
It should’ve felt comforting. It didn’t.
“Hey!” Yuna called out to the pair, still hovering in the entrance way messing with coats and shoes. “There they are! We were beginning to think you’d been caught up in traffic or something.”
Jena laughed heartily. “Traffic wasn’t bad to be honest, we were just a little late starting off. Sorry!”
“None of that, no problem, you’re here now.” She gave her sister-in-law a tight hug, pushing her towards the boys as she glanced over at her daughter.
Emmy straightened her posture, forcing a smile that she hoped would cover her underlying sorrow. Yuna saw through it.
“Hey Mom.”
She clicked once with her tongue, opening her arms for a hug which Emmy gladly took. “You look tired, honey. Are you sleeping enough, training too much?”
“A hectic couple weeks.” She lamely offered as an excuse, not trying to unpack it all at once.
Thankfully, her mom didn’t bite the bait. Her arms were just warm, solid, grounding in a way that made her lean into it. “Missed you,” she said into her hair.
“Yeah,” Emmy replied quietly. “Me too.”
It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth either. She let her mom lead her into the bustling kitchen-diner where David was hunched over something in the oven, his apron already stained with the effort of his morning. Shane was chatting with Jena at the table, sucked into their own world.
Emmy just watched it all. Part of her felt numb to it, acting the emotions she should probably be feeling, smiling at the right times at the right people and waiting for her heartbeat to relax so she could feel less on edge.
David wandered over, daring to leave his cooking for a moment to hug his daughter. Jena was right. She didn’t look any better than when he travelled into Ottawa to see her, same dark rings under her eyes, same redness that accompanied it. Her skin had lost some of it’s shine, the stress in her body showing in the way she stood, how she moved through the house as if it would jump out at her.
“Hey kiddo.” He pulled her into a hug of his own, holding a little longer and a little tighter than normal.
“Hey Dad. Merry Christmas!”
David patted her shoulder. “Merry Christmas. Any chance you wanna help your old man out in the kitchen? I don’t trust Shane to cook anything and you know how your mother is.”
Yuna scoffed at the accusation, swatting him lightly on the arm with a small smile on her face. It was amazing how his charm could still make her eyes sparkle after all these years, the couple thick as thieves. It wasn’t that her mother was bad in the kitchen, just that if she went in there she could inevitably try and take over from David all together.
Emmy nodded slightly, migrating towards the smaller kitchen. It was louder, easy to excuse a conversation in.
Dinner came and went in a blur of polite conversation and clinking cutlery. She ate enough to avoid questions, though every bite felt heavier than it should have. The laughter came easier for everyone else. It bounced off the walls, filled the space.
Conversation picked back up, but it felt different now. Shifted. Careful in places it hadn’t been before. Her mum asked Shane about hockey. Her dad chimed in with something about work. Jena contributed where she could. It flowed around Emmy, over her, past her.
She sat just outside of it. They turned to her every once in a while, a question about skating, about school, about friends. The answers came automatically. Practised. Easy. None of them meant anything. She answered them so normally, like it didn’t make something in her stomach twist.
After, they moved back into the living room, perching on the edge of the sofa rather than sinking into it. Jena took a seat nearby, offering her a small, reassuring smile that Emmy didn’t quite return. Presents were passed around, wrapping paper torn open, small smiles exchanged. Emmy’s gifts were thoughtful. Skating-related, mostly. New gloves. A warm-up jacket. Things she should’ve been grateful for. She was.
But they felt like expectations wrapped in ribbon.
“Thank you,” she said each time, and meant it in the only way she knew how.
The living room was exactly as she remembered it and completely different all at once. The tree stood in the corner, lights glowing softly, ornaments scattered unevenly, some old, some newer, some she recognised instantly.
There. The little silver skate.
At some point, she slipped away. No one stopped her. They let her take her moment, withdraw without attention. The hallway was quieter, the sounds of the living room muffled behind her as she leaned lightly against the wall, exhaling slowly. Her chest felt tight again. Not sharp. Not overwhelming. Just… constant.
She stared down at her hands. Why couldn’t she just enjoy this? It was Christmas. Her family was here. Nothing was wrong.
Except everything felt wrong.
She heard footsteps behind her, soft and deliberate. Not her mother’s, those would've been quicker, more urgent. Not her father’s, he would’ve announced himself. Shane’s, maybe. But when she glanced back, it was Jena.
She said nothing, staying a distance away, leaning against the wall just opposite of her. She just stood there, hands in her pockets, waiting. Not hovering. Not fixing. Just present.
After a moment, Emmy spoke. ”I don't know what's wrong with me.”
“Nothing is wrong with you.”
“Then why do I feel like this?” Her voice cracked slightly and she hated it. She wishes she hadn’t said anything, wished she’d had the sense to just go back to the couch silently and suck it up until they left.
Jena reached out, a hand offered across the ravine. “You’re grieving Emmy. It’s normal to feel lost and alone and… We don’t fix anything overnight, you don’t stop missing them for a while, you push through it, you get past it. Then you wake up and you realise you haven’t thought about them in a while, that the ache in your chest is gone. And for some reason that hurts even more.”
Emmy's throat tightened. She didn't respond, just swallowed hard, nodding once.
They stood there together in the quiet hallway, the muffled sounds of Christmas carrying on without them. Eventually, Emmy pushed off the wall, straightening slightly.
Jena spoke like her and Emmy were far more familiar than she previously thought. It was weird to hear every emotion Emmy was feeling said aloud to her, like someone had reached into her mind and ripped the thoughts right out of her head. It was even weirder because Emmy couldn’t describe them if she tried, and Jena nailed it so simply.
She didn’t want to go back. But she went anyway. Because that’s what she did. She went back into the warmth, into the noise, into the family that loved her even when she couldn’t quite feel it. And maybe that was enough for now.
previous chapter eight < happy hollander holidays > next chapter nine
emmy hollander wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: Shane means well. he tries to talk with his sixteen year old sister, to help her make sense of her feelings. but she almost seems more mature than him, returning to the ice to find and carve her new path.
series masterpost
previous chapter < chapter eleven > next chapter
★ || April 2015
It was days later, after she’d showered, changed, and re-emerged in one of his hoodies that hung just a little too big on her, that the quiet settled in properly.
Shane was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with two mugs in his hands.
“Tea?” he offered.
She nodded, taking one. Their fingers brushed briefly.
They settled on opposite ends of the couch, the TV on low in the background, neither of them really watching it. For a while, neither of them spoke.
It wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… quiet. But quietness can’t stay that was forever. It breaks.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Shane said eventually, not looking at her.
Emmy stared down at her mug, watching the steam curl upwards. “I know. I just-” she exhaled slowly. “I don’t even know what I’d say.”
“Then don’t say anything yet. But it might be good to.”
She glanced over at him.
He shrugged slightly, still not pushing. “You’ve got time.”
Something in her chest loosened again. She did have time. At sixteen, she basically had all the time in the world. But at sixteen, time feels like it’s going far too fast. She’s in school, about to sit exams, trying to skate, trying to win, trying to plan her future, trying to try.
Sometimes it’s better to slow down.
“Okay,” she said softly. She thought for a moment, still nursing her drink. “Sometimes I think I’ve already lost it all. I lost Mom and Dad when I stayed with Jena, even though I got Jena out of it and that’s been amazing. Then I lost him. And in losing him, I lost skating.”
It was the first time she'd admitted out loud how much the loss had affected her skating, how tied together it all was.
Shane’s expression shifted. “This is about Tyler?”
“Skating is.” She answered shortly. She doesn’t even have the heart to cry anymore, tears all dried, her basin empty and cracked. “Even when he wasn’t figure skating anymore, when he switched to fucking hockey, he was still the first person I’d think of when I was out on the ice.”
“Yeah.”
Emmy sighed, shuffling down onto the couch further, pressing her body into the cushions. They held her weight so easily, keeping her steady as she tried to burrow away.
“I guess I don’t really know who I am.”
“I’ve got practise in an hour so you can have the apartment to yourself.”
There’s this nagging feeling in the back of Emmy’s mind, an urge, a calling. For some reason, the first thing she thinks of isn’t curling up on the sofa with a movie, it’s of the bag hidden behind her others in the guest bedroom that currently holds her skates.
She took a breath, maybe to convince herself not to speak or to give her the courage to say what she wanted.
“Can I come with you?”
“To the… rink? To practise?” Shane stuttered out a response. “Yeah. I don’t see why not.”
Emmy nodded, a little more certain now that she’d actually said it out loud. “Yeah. I can just sit and watch. Or leave if it’s weird.”
“It’s not weird,” he cut in quickly. “You can come.”
There was a pause, something unspoken passing between them. He tilted his head slightly, studying her.
“You sure?” he added, softer this time.
Emmy hesitated for half a second. The answer should’ve been no. Everything in her body had been screaming no for weeks now, avoid the rink, avoid the ice, avoid everything that reminded her of what she couldn’t do anymore. But the feeling sitting in her chest wasn’t dread. Not exactly.
“…Yeah,” she said, quieter but steady. “I think so.”
Shane nodded once, like that settled it. “Alright. We’ll leave in twenty.”
It was weird walking into a rink that wasn’t hers, towards an arena where she wasn’t performing, going to watch other people skate on the ice and play their sport. It hit her the second they stepped through the doors, familiar enough to make her chest tighten.
No one paid her much attention at first. A couple of players nodded at Shane, a few curious glances thrown her way, but nothing overwhelming. It was different from figure skating competitions, less hushed, less intense in that quiet, watching way. Louder. Looser.
“Hey, Hollander,” someone called, then glanced at Emmy. “You brought company?”
“Hey Hayden! This is my sister, Emmy,” Shane replied easily, not breaking stride.
That seemed to be enough explanation for most of them.
He led her out to the stands rather than the bench, gesturing for her to sit. “You can stay here, or come down later if you want.”
“This is good,” she said quickly, already lowering herself onto the cold plastic seat.
From here, she could see everything without being in it. Safe. Boring, even.
Shane nodded, tapping the barrier lightly. “I’ll be out there. Yell if you need anything.”
“Go practise,” she said, rolling her eyes faintly.
He grinned at that, then pushed off toward the ice. Emmy watched him step onto it like it was nothing. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just movement, easy, fluid, instinctive.
She remembered when it used to feel like that. She missed it. Her gaze drifted down to her hands, then to her feet. The absence of her own skates felt heavier now that she was here, like something missing rather than something she’d deliberately left behind.
Except they were in her bag, the bag that had been thrown over her shoulder haphazardly and was now sitting half-tucked under the seat next to her.
On the ice, Shane was already in motion, cutting clean lines across the surface, calling out to a teammate. The puck moved quickly between them, sharp passes, quick turns.
It was different from her world. Faster. Messier. Less about perfection and more about recovery.
Emmy leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees, watching a drill reset. One of the players fumbled a pass, swore under his breath, then immediately went again. Her gaze snapped down to the ice beneath them, the way the light reflected off it, the faint grooves carved into the surface. Her chest felt tight again, breath catching somewhere between in and out.
Her fingers dug into the fabric of the hoodie. On the ice, someone fell. Hard enough to make a sound. Emmy flinched instinctively, eyes snapping up.
The player groaned, rolling onto his back for half a second before pushing himself upright again with a muttered, “I’m good.”
The drill kept moving.
Emmy stayed very still in her seat, eyes tracking the movement for a moment longer before dropping. To the bag at her feet. The zipper sat half-open. Just enough for her to see the edge of a blade guard, the curve of white leather she knew better than anything else.
She nudged the bag closer with her foot, then leaned down, pulling it fully into her lap. Her fingers hovered for a second before she gave in, sliding the zipper open properly this time.
They looked the same. Worn in all the right places. Familiar in a way nothing else quite was.
Emmy traced her fingers lightly over the side of one boot, thumb pressing into a crease that had formed years ago. Muscle memory flickered somewhere in the back of her mind, lacing them, stepping onto the ice, pushing off.
On the ice, someone laughed. Another missed pass. Another reset.
She swallowed, blinking hard, and let the skates rest in her lap for a moment longer before turning her attention back to the hockey.
Practise wrapped up, the rink quietened down as players huddled in smaller groups, some chasing each other down, chatting, getting ready to head back home.
Emmy was still in the same seat when Shane skated over, pushing his helmet up as he looked at her. She followed his gaze, down to the bag still open in her lap, the leather of her skates visible in the light. She instinctively nudged it back under the seat.
He didn’t call her out on it. Just leaned his forearms on the barrier, studying her for a second. Then, casually, “You wanna come out for a spin?”
Emmy blinked. “What?”
“Just a lap,” he shrugged. “No pressure. The ice is still good.”
Her instinct was immediate. No. Her fingers curled slightly in her sleeves. “I don’t-”
Behind him, a couple of his teammates had clocked onto the conversation, glancing between them with mild curiosity.
“Mini Hollander skates?”
Shane turned back with a laugh. “Do you think my Mom can rasie a kid and not put them in skates?”
Emmy huffed a quiet breath, somewhere between disbelief and nerves. Shane just held her gaze, steady, not pushing.
“Just a lap,” he repeated.
Her eyes dropped to the bag again. Then back to the ice. The cold hit sharper when she stepped through the gate. Different, when you knew you were about to step onto it.
It wasn’t perfect. Not smooth in the way it used to be. But it was there. The glide. The quiet hum of blade against ice. The feeling of moving. Emmy circled once, then twice, gaining a little more confidence with each pass.
Shane grinned at her from across the ice, pushing off himself and starting to chase her with huge strides. Emmy giggled to herself as she started to skate in the opposite direction, pushing a little harder, a little faster, the edge of competition slipping in without permission.
“Hey!” she called over her shoulder, half laughing as she cut across the ice to avoid him.
Shane gained on her easily. Bigger strides, sharper power. He reached out like he might grab her sleeve, just enough to make her swerve again, her blades carving a tighter curve than she’d planned.
“Unfair!” she shot back, breathless now, but smiling.
“Excuses,” he returned, veering off at the last second instead of actually catching her.
They slowed naturally after that, the chase dissolving into something softer. Emmy coasted toward the centre, turning in a small circle, testing her balance again, her edges.
For a second, doubt crept in, curling around her ribs. It felt so familiar, it felt so strange and at the same time she craved it.
“Do a flip!” One of his teammates shouted from the sidelines, accepting the back slaps off the guys around him as they watched the siblings skate.
Shane titled his head silently, a gentle offer.
She tilted her own in reply, taking a few paces backwards to spin and warm up her body just a little bit more.
“I can’t flip but I can jump?” She yelled back to the onlookers.
A cacophony of cheers and agreements echoes back.
She pushed into a few quick steps, letting her body remember. A small turn. A half-spin. Testing the edge, the timing, the weight over her blade. It was all still there.
Shane stayed where he was, a few feet off, not crowding her, just watching.
Emmy took a breath. Set herself and went for it. It wasn’t big. It wasn’t the kind of jump she’d been drilling into perfection for months. No pressure, no expectation wrapped around it. Just something simple.
She took off and there was a split second of her in the air where it just held. It was all balanced, her body in a line, perfectly stable, in control. There’s a split second before she comes back to ground and lands it, where she forgets all the doubts and the pain and the falls. There’s a moment where the rink is quiet and she’s just skating again.
emmy hollander wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: Emmy can only think to call one person. she’s offered solace in return and finds it far more comforting and recovering than she could’ve ever thought or imagined. Shane does what he can for his sister. Well, he's trying to.
warnings: mental health, swearing, typical sibling stuff, it's almost fun!
series masterpost
previous chapter < chapter ten > next chapter
★ || April 2015
The Montreal Metros were just finishing a practise session, idly chatting in the changing room, no direct sense of urgency.
Shane’s phone rang from across the locker room, Hayden picking it up and glancing at the name. “Yo Shane! Someone called Emmy is ringing you. Is it another friend? Like Boston Lily?”
Shane immediately frowned. He stopped the conversation he was having and crossed the room in four steps, “My sister.” He supplied, snatching his phone from Hayden. “She never calls me.”
He answered it on the third ring, covering his other ear with his hand so he could hear her properly. “Em-”
The sound of Emmy’s sob echoed down the line. Not quiet, not controlled, not trying to keep it all together, broken, finished, done.
“I’m so tired Shane.”
Shane felt his heart jump, not hearing his sixteen year old sister but the ten year old he’d left behind to go and play hockey. “Emmy?” His voice softened far more than his teammates had heard from him before.
“I can’t sleep. I can’t skate. I’m so tired and I don’t know what to do.”
Shane’s mind jumped to the worst option. “Are you safe? Where’s Aunt Jena?”
“I’m at home.” She answered, the hint of a whine in her voice as she sniffled. “Jena’s downstairs. I just got back from my competition- Nevermind. I just- Sorry, I’ll go talk to Jena. Sorry to-”
“No!” Shane could kick himself for making Emmy doubt and regret calling him. “It’s okay, I just wanted to make sure you were safe. What’s going on? Did something happen with skating, at the competition? Did you get hurt?”
“It’s just so hard.” Another sob echoed down the phone. “I thought I could keep going like it was fine. But it’s not fine, it’s not fun anymore, it’s not even work.”
She broke off as she spoke, another round of sobs echoing down the phone. She was trying to hide them this time, Shane recognised the muffled sound of her crying into a pillow.
“Come to Montreal.” The words surprised even him.
“What?”
“You’ve got spring break soon? You can get away from skating for a bit, come to some hockey if you want but you don’t have to.” Shane spontaneously offered, “Or- Or you could-”
“You would let me stay over?”
Her voice was still small, still shrouded in the weight and sadness that had been suffocating her.
Shane nodded even though she couldn’t see it. “Yeah. I’d love to catch up, see you again and all that. It’d be good to time away, especially after- well, you know. We can… hang out.”
Emmy hesitated. “But you’ve got playoffs.”
“So?”
“What if I distract you?”
Shane probably looked a right sight to the people around him, going from terrified to worried to confused to amused. “You won’t distract me. Pack a bag, come to Montreal.”
“…Okay.”
It was quiet. But real.
Shane felt something in his chest loosen slightly. “Okay,” he echoed.
“I might be really annoying,” she warned, a weak attempt at her usual tone breaking through.
“I’ve met you before,” he shot back easily.
A tiny, breathy laugh slipped through the line. It wasn’t much. But it was the first one.
By the time the call ended, Shane hadn’t moved from his spot.
The locker room had thinned out slightly, a few of the guys already heading for the showers or still mid-conversation. Hayden shot him a look from across the room, curious but not pushing.
Shane just shook his head a little, like he didn’t have the words for it yet. He glanced down at his phone. The call time stared back at him. Longer than anything they’d had in years. For a second, he hesitated, then opened their messages again.
shane: Text me when you know when you’re coming. I’ll sort everything here
He slipped his phone into his bag, running a hand over the back of his neck as he exhaled slowly.
“Everything good?” one of his teammates asked, passing by.
Shane nodded automatically. “Yeah.”
Upstairs back in Ottawa, Emmy stayed exactly where she was for a long time after the call ended. Phone still in her hand. Screen dimming.
Her room felt different. Not fixed. Not better. But… less crushing. Like the walls had shifted back an inch. She rolled onto her side, staring at the corner where her skates sat.
They were still there. Just waiting.
Downstairs, Jena looked up as Emmy finally appeared at the top of the stairs again, slower this time. Quieter.
“Hey,” she said gently. “You okay?”
Emmy hesitated. Not lying came harder than she expected.
“…I talked to Shane.”
Jena’s expression softened instantly. “Oh?”
“He said I could go to Montreal for a bit,” she added, voice careful. “Maybe a few days over Easter break, get away from skating.”
Jena studied her for a moment. Taking in the red eyes. The exhaustion. The way she was holding herself together just enough.
“I think that sounds like a really good idea,” she said softly.
Emmy nodded once. She didn’t trust herself to say anything else.
She counted down the days until she left, a bag packed at the corner of the room, Jena offering a lift the same day she’d suggested the trip. She was all ready to go. Her bag sat by her bedroom door right beside her skates, her skates that were starting to collect dust.
It was a stupid, impulsive thought, a last minute change of mind as she was walking out of the door.
Emmy grabbed her skates and clipped their own bag onto her duffel, ignoring how familiar it all felt.
Jena pulled to the front of the apartment building, one of the nicest ones in all of Montreal. Shane pushed the door open, offering a small and awkward wave to the two women in the car as they got out to greet him.
Shane looked… older.
Not in the obvious way, she already knew that, but in the way he carried himself now. Broader shoulders, more solid, more sure of where he stood in the world. His posture more relaxed, like everything around him made sense.
They each other at Christmas, at some birthdays. But Emmy doesn’t really look. She’s there to provide an update to her parents, to tell them all the best things about her year and none of the worst. Shane likes to keep quiet at Christmas. He can’t even get drunk because it’s in the middle of the hockey season.
Speaking of hockey, it was a popular topic at the table, the same three topics recycled over and over, the same argument made about Montreal and Ottawa, the two sets of fans playfully quarrelling about their teams.
Emmy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, fingers curled tight around the strap of her bag. Her stomach twisted faintly, nerves creeping in now that she was actually here.
“Emmy?”
She glanced up at the sound of her name. Jena and Shane were talking together quietly, the latter calling out to Emmy to refocus her attention.
“Hey,” he said, like it was normal, like they saw each other all the time.
“Hi,” she replied, a little quieter.
He noticed the little things, the slight dip in her cheeks, the tiredness in her eyes, the way she held herself a little too tightly, like she was bracing for something that hadn’t happened yet. It wasn’t obvious. Not to anyone else, probably. But he noticed.
He didn’t say anything about it, just gave her a small, easy smile. “You look the same.”
She snorted faintly.
“Come on,” he said, reaching for her bag without asking. “I’ll show you the apartment.”
His place was far grander than she’d expected. She supposed that being the best player in the NHL also came with it’s salary perks so he was making the most of it. She listened as he talked about his history with the place, his plans for the apartment next door, acting like a true real estate mogul.
It felt… normal. Comfortably so.
“I was expecting at least one trophy room,” she said, huffing a quiet laugh when Shane just stared. “I’m joking.”
“Bathroom’s down the hall on the left,” he added. “Guest room’s opposite it. My room is at the end of the hall. We can shopping to pick you up some food later today if you want.”
She frowned slightly. “I don’t need that much stuff, do you follow a specific diet or something?”
Shane nodded, sure of himself with this answer. “Macrobiotic diet, but you can eat whatever you want.”
“I try to stick to whole foods.” Emmy agreed. “I guess I don’t need as much if I’m not training though… Might grab a couple things from the nearest shop so I don’t raid your pantry.”
“Okay.”
They stuck to safe topics, her school, his schedule, how cold Montreal still was compared to back home, asking her questions that didn’t feel too heavy. He let the silences sit without them being awkward, just two people coexisting for a week and a bit.
Emmy answered. Mostly. Sometimes with short responses, sometimes with more, depending on how much energy she had to give. It was easier than she expected, living without skating.
“Do you actually like it?” she asked at one point, glancing over at him. “Hockey, I mean. Or is it just… your whole life now?”
Shane shrugged one shoulder. “Bit of both. I love it though.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It’s a job,” he said simply. “But I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.”
Emmy hummed softly, looking back out the window. That felt different, not the way she thought about skating at all. Jena was insisting that after she finished high school, she should go off to university, not give it all up for skating. She wanted Emmy to have a bright future when her body failed her.
Emmy didn’t think that failure would be here so soon.
emmy hollander wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: Emmy is back to the ice, skating in Tyler’s shadow. to cope, she seeks to have any semblance of control she can. she reaches her breaking point, sick of skating and pushed towards someone she never thought she’d talk to in that way
warnings: mentions of ed, mental health, burnout, awkward sibling relationships, shane is still autistic as fuck, and emmy’s got a touch of adhd, she’s mainly tired tho
series masterpost
previous chapter < chapter nine > next chapter
★ || Spring 2015
Her competition season should be described as nothing short of terrible. Her fluke win at Ontario Regionals had been followed by falls and stupid mistakes she’d never been making before, accompanied by a lack of motivation and growing hatred for everything on the ice.
She’d tried to keep in contact with her Dad but as soon as her season started going down hill was exactly when Shane’s started going well.
“Wait!” Emmy spoke from the icy floor, already pulling herself to her feet. “Let me go again. I can be better.”
“Emmy-”
“I can do better.” She begged once more. “Let me do better.”
Marc could see the determination on her face, mingling with self depreciation and a fear of failing. He nodded once and let her try again.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect.” Marc called out after she attempted the same jump for the fourth time, she’d landed it each time but something in her made her keep going.
“Yes it does.”
It was Jena who finally stepped in. After one particularly rough practice, she’d spoken quietly with Marc at the boards before finding Emmy halfway through peeling off her layers.
“You should talk to someone.” Marc had told her very plainly.
Emmy frowned, reaching down to untie her skates. “Someone?”
“The family.” Jena clarified, trying to be gentle. “You were so happy when your Dad was here-”
“But he’s not here anymore.” She replied shortly. “He’s busy with Shane and work and life outside of his hormonal and bratty sixteen year old daughter.”
Jena’s jaw tightened, but her voice stayed even. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”
Emmy didn’t respond, focusing instead on yanking her skate free.
Marc exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “Okay. So maybe not your parents.”
That got her attention, just slightly.
“What about your brother?” he continued. “He’s having a good season now, sure, but he’s had bad ones too. He’d get it.”
“Shane?” Emmy let out a short, disbelieving breath. “Shane doesn’t care about skating. He cares about hockey. That’s it. What’s there to even get? We were never even that close, he was basically my age when they left.”
Marc just raised an eyebrow. “You need to think about something other than skating and performance for a while. Maybe start caring about hockey, anything.”
Jena continued, “Maybe you could reunite. You’ve seen each other at Christmas’ and that’s it. I’m sure you two have a lot more in common than you think.”
“Right.” She sarcastically agreed. “Wonderboy Shane will know all the solutions to my problems. He’ll fix all my jumps and I’ll be unbeatable next season.”
Marc didn’t rise to it. He just watched her for a second, arms still crossed, expression unreadable. Jena, on the other hand, gave her a look. Not annoyed. Not disappointed. Just… waiting.
Emmy huffed, dragging her skate bag closer and shoving her things into it with more force than necessary. “Will you cancel harness training if I text him?”
It was his turn to hide a smile, nodding once. “Sure kiddo.”
Emmy narrowed her eyes slightly, like she didn’t quite trust how easy that had been, before digging her phone out of her bag.
“Once,” she said, more to herself than to them. “I’m texting him once.”
Jena softened instantly. “That’s all we’re asking.”
emmy (draft) : hi
She glanced at her phone, unlocking it and scrolling to Shane’s contact.
It was digitally dusty from how little the two siblings talked to each other.
She undid her typing, thinking of something less stupid to send him.
emmy: well done on your season so far.
She sends it before she can think about it even more. And then immediately regrets it.
She’s basically home, when her phone chimes with a reply.
shane: Emmy?
emmy: last time I checked…
shane: Since when did you watch hockey? Is everything alright?
The question sent a stab to her heart as she pocketed her phone as Jena unlocked the front door.
emmy: yeah
emmy: just bored ig
shane: You never text when you’re ‘just bored’
emmy: geez, didn’t realise I needed a reason.
The read receipt comes through but Shane doesn’t type a reply. Emmy huffed.
emmy: training and comps have been shit
Understatement of the century. He’d asked her politely about it at Christmas, but she’d been too shellshocked and unfocused over the holidays that she didn’t give him anything more than basic information. She thinks Jena showed them all some training videos at some point but she doesn’t remember.
shane: Yeah?
emmy: yeah.
emmy: the season just feels hopeless. I keep falling on stuff I used to do in my sleep
shane: That sucks.
emmy: thrilling advice
shane: What do you want me to say?
That was just it. She didn’t know what she wanted to hear or what she needed to hear. She didn’t really expect Shane to text her back this much. Part of her had hoped he’d changed numbers since Christmas so she could say she’d tried and get out of harness trading at the same time.
emmy: idk
shane: I had a couple games like that, couldn’t get my passes to connect. Coach had to sit me down and have a talk to get my head back in the game.
emmy: you?
emmy: not sure if I believe that, you’re literally perfect on the ice this season
shane: This season, yeah.
emmy: how did you do it? come back stronger?
shane: I kept playing.
His bubble disappears and Emmy hopes that’s not all the advice he’s got to offer.
emmy: that’s it? you just played again and again until you were good again?
shane: Pretty much. I got my cottage built that year, that probably helped, just to get away from it for a while.
shane: I was also really grumpy for a couple weeks. My coaches hated it.
Emmy grinned behind her phone. From the living room, Jena caught sight of her still glued to her phone and smiled herself, glad the pair seemed to be connecting.
emmy: i’ll warn marc
shane: You’re good, Emmy.
shane: You’ll get past it.
Her throat tightened without her expecting it, blinking hard to keep the screen in focus.
emmy: don’t get so sappy on me now
shane: I’m not being sappy
emmy: whatever
Something warm settled in her chest, her lungs fully inhaled for the first time in weeks.
emmy: I’ve got one more comp and then marc gave me a couple months off before I start competing my new program
emmy: thank you
shane: Anytime. Let me know how it goes?
“Eat something,” Jena said, leaning against the doorframe. “You’ve got your competition tomorrow.”
Emmy forced a smile. “I had a really big lunch. I’m probably gonna grab a little snack later and then load up breakfast in the morning.”
She hadn’t eaten lunch. She’d had a banana and a skinny protein smoothie for breakfast that basically had no calories in it. She wasn’t going to eat a snack later, she’d go to bed nursing the hunger pains that dulled day by day and comforted her in the darkness.
Jena hesitated, then nodded. “Alright.”
She’d woken up early, itching to do something before her competition, to busy her mind and body and distract. Jena made her breakfast and she’d choked it down while talking about anything and everything, school, friends, summer plans.
The competition rink sent shivers down her spine, and not the good kind. She stood at the boards, arms folded tightly around her chest as she watched the other skaters finish their programs, clean, confident.
Her name is called, Marc offering a smile and small reassurance before she’s pushing off the edge and into the centre as her music begins.
The first few seconds were fine. Good, even. Her opening steps were clean, her edges sharp. Muscle memory carried her through the choreography, through the turns and transitions she’d drilled into her body a thousand times over.
Then the first jump came. She set up, took off, and fell. Hard.
The impact rattled through her bones, sharp and jarring. A ripple of sound moved through the crowd, quiet, but enough. She scrambled back to her feet almost immediately. Keep going.
She pushed into the next element too quickly. The timing was off. Another mistake. Not a full fall this time, but messy. Sloppy. Wrong. Her chest tightened.
The program kept going. But she didn’t feel like she was inside it anymore.
Every movement felt half a second too late, every jump rushed or overthought. Her spins lost speed, her landings lost control. By the time she reached the halfway mark, she already knew.
It was gone. Another fall on the second jump pass. This one worse. She hit the ice and for a split second she didn’t want to get up. The music kept playing. The lights felt too bright. Her lungs wouldn’t fill properly.
Emmy forced herself up, legs shaky beneath her, and stumbled through the rest of the program on instinct alone. When the music finally cut, she didn’t hold her ending pose for long. Didn’t wait for the applause. Didn’t look at the judges. She just pushed off and skated straight for the exit.
Backstage, she ripped her guards out of her bag with shaking hands, nearly dropping one as she forced it onto her blade.
“Emmy-”
“I know,” she snapped, not looking at Marc. “You don’t have to say it.”
“I wasn’t going to-”
“Well don’t,” she cut in, her voice sharper than intended. “I don’t even know why I bothered showing up. What was the point?”
Jena hovered a few steps back, unsure whether to step in or give space.
Emmy shoved her skates into her bag, fingers clumsy and uncoordinated.
“Hey.” Marc’s tone firmed slightly. “We don’t talk like that.”
“Why not?” she shot back, finally looking at him. “It’s true. I can’t land anything. I can’t get through a program without falling apart halfway through. I’m-” Her voice caught. She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. “I’m getting worse,” she finished quietly.
The words hung there.
Jena stepped closer then, gentle but present. “Emmy-”
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
The words came out flat. Final. All the anger and frustration previously woven into her tone now replaced with numb acceptance, maybe something adjacent to sadness.
Both of them stilled.
“I don’t want to skate,” she continued, quieter now. “It’s not fun. It’s not even… anything. It just-” she pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “It just feels awful all the time.”
No one spoke. Because there wasn’t a quick answer to that. Emmy slung her bag over her shoulder, not waiting for a response, already turning toward the exit.
The car ride home was silent. Jena tried, once or twice, to start a conversation. Emmy shut it down both times with one-word answers. By the time they got home, the exhaustion had settled deep into her bones. She dropped her bag by the door, muttered a quiet “night,” and headed straight upstairs.
Her room felt the same. Too still. Too quiet.
She can’t breathe. She can’t think. She can’t feel.
Her skates are staring at her from their dark corner, waiting for her to return, taunting her to pick them back up. They sit beside Tyler’s, taunting, reminding her of how much she’d failed.
Her chest felt tight again. Too tight. She dragged a hand down her face, breath catching slightly. She couldn’t do this again. Another competition. Another failure. Another cycle of trying and falling and trying and falling until there was nothing left.
She reached for her phone, wanting to stare at older videos and pictures of when it was all so easy. But a lone notification stopped her in her tracks. Shane’s message from earlier, a simple request that finally sent the tears springing into her vision and the pain to burrow even deeper.
Let me know how it goes?
Emmy stared at it, her vision blurring slightly. Her thumb hovered over the screen. She pressed the phone tighter to her ear, her breath hitching as everything she’d been holding in all day finally started to crack.
emmy hollander wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: Jena calls in the reinforcements, David Hollander answers. he doesn't try to fix it all, just show Emmy that she can still live some sense of normalcy despite it all. she finally gets to show her father face-to-face just how far she's come.
warnings: grief, themes of ed
series masterpost
previous chapter < chapter eight > next chapter
★ || December 2014
“Come down for dinner please Emmy!” Jena’s voice rang from downstairs.
Emmy shifted in her bed, tugging her covers tighter. “I’m not hungry thanks!”
“I’ll plate you up some for later!”
She didn’t want to eat later either. She just wanted to sleep, to wake up to the sun streaming in through her curtains, to feel something other than sadness and death and heart wrenching dread for her own future, to go to practise and not feel the weight on her shoulders.
Her phone was on the side halfway across the room, occasionally buzzing with texts apologising and sympathising for Tyler’s death. She answers none of the texts, not even one from Aleksandrina in reply to Emmy’s update. She wouldn’t know otherwise, even though the two had been close through Tyler when she was in Canada.
Aleks: I’m very sorry about Tyler. Anything you need, I am here Mimi. Okay?
About half an hour later, there was another knock at the bedroom door, more insistent. Jena didn’t want give up on Emmy today, the shadow from the hall light not moving.
The young girl dragged herself out of bed, grumbling something at the door as she shrugged on a hoodie and sweatpants. When she opened the door, wiping sleep from her eyes, it wasn’t Jena standing there waiting for her.
It was her dad.
David Hollander stood awkwardly in the doorway, eyes kind as always and just waiting for his daughter.
“Dad?”
“Hey Emmy.” He replied softly. “Jena called me, told me about Tyler.”
Emmy frowned, not quite understanding. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Montreal.”
He’d driven the two hours during peak hockey season, instead of working or watching Shane’s games or being out at their cabin. He’d taken the time to come to her, because his sister called him and cried down the phone about his daughter. Jena had rang him the second time she’d caught Emmy sobbing through the night.
David tilted his head in answer, moving back from the doorway, making space. “Did you wanna come downstairs? We can talk.”
She finds herself nodding, even though she doesn’t truly want to. She wants to go back to bed, to be back under the covers where she can momentarily pretend everything is okay. Instead, she walks downstairs and takes a seat opposite David and Jena at the table.
They look at her like she’s wounded. That’s the last expression she wants to see, to be reminded of what she should be feeling, of how she should be acting when she feels so numbed by it all.
“How’s skating?” Her Dad asked innocently.
Emmy shrugged, glancing down at the table, counting the scratches and chips in the wood. “It’s good. First competition circuit as a singles but Marc says it’s going well. He believes in me, or something, wants to push for a Nationals qualification next year.”
He nodded once, “Jena sent me and your Mom the video of you winning Ontario Regionals, we were very proud.”
That almost got her to crack a smile.
“Yeah. It was good, could’ve been tighter on some of my spins but… still, good.” Her tone stayed flat, hands in her lap picking at anything to distract her from reality. “Tyler was there for that one.”
Tyler was there when her parents weren’t. And then two weeks after that competition, Tyler was dead. And now her Dad waltzes back into her life to, what, comfort her? To hug her and tell her it’s all going to be okay? He’s going to apologise for the death of a boy he met maybe three times and knew next to nothing about. Whereas Emmy once knew almost everything about him, and he’d known the same about her.
“He was a good kid.”
Emmy froze. It wasn’t the motivational speech she’d expected to receive, perhaps that was more her mother’s forte anyway, always planning for the next step. It was more in the way he’d said it. Sad, yes, of course, but not simple, not something she could move on from.
He said it almost like he understood. Emmy kept her head down, waiting for more. It didn’t come.
Jena placed a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of her that she doesn’t think twice before taking. The warmth spreads from her hands, travelling to her heart and soothing it slightly.
David takes a sip of his own cup of coffee, leaning back in his chair. “Do you wanna go to the rink sometime? It’s been a good couple years since I was on skates but it’s like riding a bike. Maybe you can teach this old man some new tricks?”
Emmy actually giggled at that. “You’re not that old Dad.”
“My joints would disagree.”
The rink was quieter than usual.
Late enough that most of the younger kids had gone home, the ice half-empty save for a couple of skaters running programs at the far end. The hum of the refrigeration system filled the space, familiar and grounding in a way nothing else had been for days.
Emmy laced up quickly, fingers working on autopilot. David took longer, grumbling under his breath as he wrestled with the laces.
“I used to be good at this,” he muttered.
Emmy replied, not looking up. “You’re just out of practice.”
“Story of my life.”
She pushed herself up before he could see the flicker of something that crossed her face at that. They stepped onto the ice together. David wobbled almost immediately.
Emmy snorted, the sound surprising even herself as she reached out instinctively, grabbing his arm to steady him. “Careful.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted, immediately proving otherwise as his blade slipped slightly beneath him.
“Sure you are.”
For a little while, it was just that, small laps around the rink, Emmy guiding him, correcting his stance, nudging his shoulders into place.
“Bend your knees,” she instructed.
“I am bending my knees.”
“Not enough. I thought you said you used to play ice hockey?”
David stared open-mouthed at her tease, then quickly refocused as he wobbled. “I refuse to believe this is necessary.”
She laughed again, quieter this time, but real. It felt… normal. Not entirely, not completely, but closer than anything had since the phone call.
After a few laps, David waved her off. “Go on,” he said, gesturing toward the open ice. “Show me what you’ve been working on.”
Emmy hesitated for half a second.
Then she pushed off, the familiar burn settling into her muscles as she picked up speed. Edges cut cleanly into the ice, her body falling into routine without needing to think.
A jump. A landing.
It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t have to be. She circled back, setting up for something harder, her shoulders tightening slightly as she prepared.
The takeoff was strong. The landing wasn’t. Her blade slipped just enough that she had to step out of it, arms flailing slightly to keep her balance. The clattering sound of her skate echoed more than it should have in the empty rink. David holding back a gasp from the edge of the rink as Emmy saved it and kept going.
“Emmy-”
She shut him down with a nod and a smile, already picking up speed to show him something else. He didn’t argue. He just watched.
When they left, something within Emmy felt lighter. The cold air outside hit her cheeks, turning them pink almost instantly. David fell into step beside her, hands shoved into his coat pockets.
“You’ve gotten really good,” he said after a moment.
Emmy shrugged, eyes fixed on the pavement ahead. “I train a lot.”
“I can tell.”
They walked past a row of food trucks parked along the street, lights glowing warmly against the darkening sky. The smell hit her before she could stop it, salty, rich, familiar.
Her steps slowed. She lingered for a second too long, eyes flicking toward one of the trucks. Then away. Then back again. She swallowed.
“Can I have some poutine?” The words came out quieter than she intended, almost uncertain, like she was testing whether she was allowed to ask.
David didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” he said easily, already turning toward the truck. “What do you want on it?”
Emmy followed him, something small and fragile loosening in her chest. They ordered, standing side by side as they waited. David paid without letting her argue, waving her off when she reached for her pocket.
“You can get the next one,” he said.
She huffed softly. “You’re assuming there’ll be a next one.”
“I’m optimistic.”
The box was warm in her hands when they stepped away, steam curling up into the cold air. For a moment, she just held it. Then she picked up a fork and took a bite. The taste hit all at once, salty, gravy, something grounding and real, and she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed it until that moment.
David didn’t watch her. Didn’t make it a thing. He just started eating his own, leaning casually against the railing beside her.
They stood there like that for a while, sharing the quiet.
she wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: the talented junior ice dancer makes her debut in singles skating. we had the chance to interview a young Emmeline Hollander, asking all about skating, school and family. readers will recognise the last name from her famous hockey playing older brother.
series masterpost
previous: chapter seven < current part > next: chapter eight
Ottawan Native Returns to Ice Under New Discipline
As local rinks begin to fill again and a new season of figure skating competition looms, one familiar name is quietly making a shift that has caught the attention of the local Canadian skating community.
Emmeline Hollander, once a promising junior ice dancer, is stepping out on her own.
The 15-year-old Ottawa native, known until now for her precision and musicality in ice dance, is set to make her debut in singles skating this season. It’s an unusual move at a level where most athletes specialise early, but if Hollander feels the pressure, she doesn’t show it.
She’s been dazzling judges all across the province, proving time and podium again that she’s earned the spotlight that shines. We had the chance to interview her at her local rink in Ottawa, just after another marvellous performance.
“My ice dance partner didn’t continue skating after Junior Champs,” she says, sitting rinkside after an early morning training session. “Singles felt like the natural progression, but it was certainly a steep learning curve.”
For many readers, the surname may already ring a bell.
Hollander is the younger sister of professional Montreal Metros hockey player Shane Hollander, whose growing profile in the sport has brought its own spotlight onto the family. But if there’s any expectation that she might follow a similar path, or live in his shadow, Emmeline is quick to separate the two.
“He’s hockey. I’m skating,” she says simply. “There’s not as much overlap as people think.”
The overlap is increased when you remember the eight years that separate the Hollander siblings, as well as the distance between Montreal and Ottawa. The two split when Emmeline was only eleven. She describes their relationship as “friendly”.
That sense of normalcy appears to be something she values. While her brother’s schedule often takes him away from home, she says they keep in touch when they can, though not always about sport.
Switching disciplines at this stage is not without its challenges.
While Hollander is no stranger to competition, singles skating introduces a completely different technical load: jumps, spins, and solo endurance that ice dance does not require in the same way.
Still, there’s a noticeable determination in the way she speaks about it, less frustration, more curiosity.
“I like having something to work on again,” she says. “In dance, I knew where I stood. This is… new.”
Her training schedule has adjusted accordingly. Mornings now begin earlier, with additional off-ice conditioning focused on jump technique and strength. Afternoons are split between schoolwork and on-ice sessions, often stretching into the evening.
“It’s busy,” she says. “But it’s okay. I like being busy.”
Like many young athletes, Hollander is navigating the delicate balance between education and elite training.
Currently enrolled in a local secondary school, she describes herself as “organised, most of the time,” though she admits that deadlines can become “a bit stressful” during competition periods.
“I try to stay ahead,” she says. “If I know I’m going to miss classes, I’ll do the work before.”
Her favourite subject, she says after a moment’s thought, is English.
For now, expectations around Hollander’s singles debut remain modest. This season will serve primarily as a learning curve, a chance to gain experience and assess where she fits within a new discipline.
But even at this early stage, there’s a quiet sense that this may not be a short-lived experiment.
Asked what success would look like this year, Hollander pauses.
“Landing everything,” she says finally, smiling. “Or at least most of it.”
It’s a simple goal, but perhaps a telling one.
Because while Emmeline Hollander may be stepping into unfamiliar territory, she’s doing so with the same steady composure that first set her apart, and with just enough ambition to suggest that this new chapter might be more than just a detour.
emmy hollander wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: her competition season continues, with its ups and downs. she trains to fall, trains to get back again. then she gets a phone call, the phone call, that suddenly sent her hurtling to the ice. and this time, it's a lot harder to claw off of the slippery surface.
warnings: self doubt, mentions of ed, body dysmorphia, character death, grief, self destructive behaviour
series masterpost
The competition lights were brighter than before. She’s fallen three times in her routine, a small bump in the ice at the beginning throwing off her whole performance. She was just glad that Jena had had to miss this competition because of a work project, that she hadn’t been here to watch Emmy fail.
Backstage she was itching to rip her skates off and run away. Marc cornered her onto a bench, crouching in front of her.
“That was so shit.” Emmy snarled, mad at herself.
Marc was far nicer. “You let one mistake ruin the whole routine. It’s normal. We’ll try again.”
“Yeah, until I fuck it up next time too.”
Marc was having none of it. “Then when we get back we’ll start training you to make mistakes.”
“Huh?”
Marc clarified, “You gotta make mistakes and learn how to keep going after. You train everything, even failure.”
She trained harder, she practised more, she found the joy in the sweat and the hard work and the bruises that occasionally mottled her skin. She did better at competitions, she didn’t let an early fall ruin it all.
Marc would find more and more elaborate ways to scare her during practise, to throw her off her rhythm. Not limited to, shouting random words, stopping her music suddenly and playing something else, throwing stuffed animals at her and even getting on the ice to chase her around.
Her results were a mixed bag, but she’d gotten her first win at a regional Ontario competition. She’s even invited her parents to come and watch her, but they’d had one of Shane’s matches on the same day that they’d promised to go to. Jena recorded her performance for them anyway and sent it along.
Her dad had rang her that evening, congratulating her and promising to come and see her skate soon, he sounded genuinely upset that he couldn’t come and watch her but she understood. It was nice of him to call.
“She’s a good skater!” One of the other coaches mentioned to Marc after a competition. It had been a bit jarring, considering that Emmy was stood less than four feet away, well within hearing distance. “Could probably stand to lose a bit of weight. It would make her jumps higher, you know.”
She tried to block it out, hurriedly scrambling through her bag to find her headphones.
Marc scowled. “Her jumps are plenty high. No point jumping if you haven’t got the muscles to protect you when you land.”
They tittered as he finished. “Still... come on. Look at her compared to that little girl from Newfoundland way.”
The girl from Newfoundland who was two years younger and still a foot smaller than Emmy. The girl who fell on all her jumps today and was currently crying in her mother’s arms. The girl who looked about one fall away from snapping in half and had permanent dark circles under her eyes at the age of thirteen.
“The young kid’s gonna crash and burn, pushing too hard too fast. My Emmy’s gonna go all the way, just watch her.”
Marc’s words didn’t do everything to absolve Emmy from the nagging guilt in her gut, but it was enough that she could ignore it for now. She’d liked her body, it had carried her and managed through training sessions and dance and gym for all these years.
It had done her well, very well.
The phone rang late that night. Emmy barely noticed it at first. She was sprawled across her bed, half-reading something while on the verge of falling asleep. The screen lit up.
Kate Mercer, Tyler’s mom.
Emmy smiled slightly and answered.
“Hello?”
There was a pause. Then a voice she barely recognized.
“Can you hear me?”
Something in the tone made Emmy sit up. “Yeah Kate, everything okay?”
The silence stretched. Then the words finally came.
Tyler was dead.
Killed by a drunk driver just outside his school. He was only sixteen years old, barely out in the world and living his life, barely lived yet. And now he was gone.
“I’m so sorry for your loss Kate. Thanks for letting me know. Can you send me the details for the funer-” Emmy feels her lips choke out a sob as her legs lose their ability to hold her weight. Emmy tried to keep it together as she hangs up the phone but can’t stop the torrent of emotions that grow with every second as she loses all sense of feeling in her body.
She must have screamed at some point, maybe before or after she started hysterically sobbing because Jena rushes into her room, terrified that she’s hurt herself.
Jena just sees Emmy folded in on herself, arms wrapped tightly around her stomach as the grief ripped through her. She has no idea what’s happened, no idea what Emmy’s been told.
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
Emmy clutched her shirt desperately. Her words came out broken. “Tyler-” Her breath hitched violently. “Tyler’s dead. Tyl-”
Jena didn’t think. She pulled Emmy closer, further into her chest as though an embrace could take away the pain, to quench the ache Emmy wouldn’t be able to ignore from now on.
They stayed like that for hours. Hours until the tears dried up and Emmy cried until she couldn’t breathe anymore. Neither wanted to be alone, Emmy didn’t think she could stay standing if she was alone. Jena stayed wherever Emmy needed her.
The days after the phone call blurred together. Emmy slept very little.
When she did sleep, she dreamed about skating with Tyler again, the way they used to when they were kids, racing across empty ice at the end of practice while their coaches yelled at them to get off.
The the hollow feeling was always there when she woke, sitting like rot in her stomach. It made it harder to stomach a full meal, the thought made her sick. Jena noticed when Emmy started pushing food around her plate instead of actually eating it.
“Sweetheart,” she said gently one evening, leaning her elbows on the kitchen table. “You’ve barely touched anything.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You haven’t been hungry in three days.”
Emmy shrugged. Most days the hollow feeling in her stomach felt almost comforting. The hunger was something she could focus on. Something simple. Something she could control.
She tried training even more to get her mind off it, with Marc and whenever the rink was empty. Her hair was damp with sweat and her breathing was uneven. It was the only time she actually kept food down, when her body was begging for it to keep going.
She knew it was bad, she knew it was harmful. But it was the only way she could function at this point. She’d take what she could get.
The day of the funeral felt like it was laughing at them, the winter sun beaming from above, held at a small church near the Mercer home.
Emmy almost didn’t go, she’d been staring at her hung-up dress all morning and hated having to put it on. Something about going today made it all feel even more final. Jena insisted.
“You’ll regret it if you don’t,” she said softly. She promised not to leave Emmy’s side. Emmy wanted to hold her hand and never let go.
The church was packed, hockey teammates, classmates, family. Tyler’s parents sat in the front row looking ten years older than they had the last time Emmy saw them. Kate spotted Emmy when she arrived, offering a nod as she took her seat.
She didn’t trust her legs to carry her any closer.
The casket sat at the front of the room. Closed. The sight of it made her chest tighten painfully. Tyler wasn’t supposed to be inside a box. He was supposed to be on the ice. Laughing. Yelling at her for falling on jumps. Calling her Mimi.
The service blurred past her. Stories about Tyler as a kid. Someone mentioned how he used to wake up at five in the morning to drive to hockey practice. Another talked about how competitive he was. Someone else mentioned skating.
Emmy stopped breathing for a moment.
They talked about how Tyler used to skate with a girl when he was younger. A girl he pushed to be better. A girl that pushed him to be better. A girl he believed in.
Emmy stared down at her hands. She couldn’t stop the tears, a steady stream down her face as she held her composure steady. People paid their respects and then trickled out. Emmy stayed sitting in her pew, scared to stand, scared to stay, scared to move, scared to go.
The church was almost empty when she stood on shaky legs, taking it step by step towards the altar. Kate Mercer pulled her into a tight hug the moment she reached the front, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, holding it together better than Emmy was seeming to.
“Oh Emmy,” she whispered.
And that was it. The composure crumbled. Kate held her through all of it.
“He loved skating with you,” she said softly when Emmy finally pulled away.
His dad reached for a box that had been set under a pew. “He talked about you all the time.”
Emmy wiped her eyes. “I should’ve visited more, after we stopped.”
Kate shook her head immediately. “No.” She squeezed Emmy’s hands gently. “You were always important to him.”
His dad cleared his throat, holding out the box to her. “You had something special with him, anyone could see. It was only right that these belong to you now.” He had tears of his own falling but his hands stood firm, not shaking.
Emmy took the box carefully, not wanting to disturb whatever was inside. She lifted the lid, peeling back the tissue paper inside and almost losing her balance as she caught sight of the gift.
Tyler’s skates.
But not his hockey skates, no. His figure skating skates, the ones he’d worn with her, the ones she’d skated alongside, the ones that had held him while he lifted her into the air with such grace, the ones that had been as familiar as her own. His skates. Their skates. Her skates.
She couldn’t hide how choked up she was, “Thank you.”
They offered a hand to her shoulder, a kiss to her cheek before moving on, moving away, leaving Emmy standing at the front of the church cradling a pair of skates that would never see the ice again.
she wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: Tyler is thriving in hockey, but he’s still Emmy’s biggest hype-man. her first competition alone on the ice reminds her that trying new things doesn't have to be as scary as they seem. and Emmy is reminded that her future is as bright as she can make it.
series masterpost
previous chapter < chapter six > ottawa citizen article > next chapter
★ || October 2014
Her first competition as a singles skater was tomorrow. And she couldn’t sleep. There was a paralytic fear that gripped her the second she took a breath and tried to relax. She couldn’t sleep. The clock at her bedside ticked away, the early hours of the morning waning past without much care. And she still couldn’t sleep.
Mercifully, her mind didn’t force her to watch the sun rise through the curtains and let her fall into restless sleep around 4am.
Her alarm sounded far too early, reminding her exactly what this day had in store for her. She forced herself out of bed, thanking the universe that her first competition was in Ottawa so she didn’t have to travel.
The schedule sits on the kitchen table, Emmy’s name skating sixth, not a bad place to be, especially with her nerves. Jena was already sat at the table, nursing a cup of steaming coffee.
“You excited?” She asked softly, carefully, taking her time to study Emmy’s face. When Emmy didn’t quite have an answer, she took the reply anyway. “Breakfast before anything else, alright? Then you have existential dread.”
Even before they reach the locker rooms Emmy can hear blades cutting across ice, the scrape of toe picks and the low murmur of coaches calling instructions from the boards. Competition morning chaos.
Marc is already there when they arrive. He stands near the boards with his arms folded, expression neutral as he watches the previous warm-up group skate. His dark jacket makes him easy to spot against the bright white ice.
He glances over the moment Emmy steps through the doors. “You slept?”
“Sort of.”
He nods once. “That’s fine.”
That’s it. No dramatic pep talk. No motivational speech. Marc never wastes words.
Emmy drops her bag onto the bench and starts lacing her skates, fingers working quickly through the familiar motions. Across the rink another skater lands a clean triple loop and her coach whoops loudly. She deliberately doesn’t look.
Marc watches her tie the final knot. “You nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She glances up. “Why?”
Marc shrugs slightly. “Means you care.” He gestures toward the ice, “Warm-up in fifteen.”
By the time she steps out onto the rink for warm-up the stands are starting to fill. Parents with cameras. Coaches with clipboards. Younger skaters bouncing nervously in the seats. Emmy pushes off slowly, letting the cold air hit her face as she glides along the boards.
She starts with simple edges, carving long clean arcs into the ice while her body wakes up. Her blades bite into the ice with a sharp scratch and she glides out smoothly.
Marc nods once from the boards.
Across the rink another skater falls hard out of a triple flip, sliding into the boards with a frustrated groan. Emmy forces herself not to watch. Just skate. She runs through the rest of her elements quickly. Her lungs burn slightly by the time the announcer calls the end of warm-up.
“Ladies, please clear the ice.”
Emmy glides back toward the boards. Marc is already leaning forward.
“How’d it feel?” he asks.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
Emmy let herself smile. “Good.”
He taps the boards once. “Atta girl. Remember,” Marc continues calmly. “You’re not here to win.”
“I know.”
She takes her place on her bench, bundled in so many layer she looks like a snowman to keep warm. Marc watches the other skaters, Jena stays by her side. She’s halfway through unlacing her warm-up jacket when Jena suddenly grabs her arm.
Someone clears their throat from the stands behind them and as Emmy turns she’s met with Jena grinning. Leaning against the crowd railing, hockey hoodie, baseball cap, stupid grin, was Tyler. He raised a hand in a giddy wave.
“Mimi!”
Her stomach flips. She hadn’t actually believed he would come.
“Holy shit,” he says, leaning over the railing. “You look terrifying.”
She snorts. “Good morning to you too.”
“No seriously,” he continues, eyes bright with excitement. “You’re like… official now.”
She glances down at her dress. The deep blue fabric catches the rink lights, rhinestones glittering softly along the sleeves. Her first real costume.
“You made it,” she says quietly.
Tyler shrugs. “Told you I would.”
Something warm settles in her chest.
The announcer’s voice crackles over the speakers.
“Next skater please take the ice.”
Emmy exhales slowly. “I’m after this one.”
Tyler leans forward. “You got this Mimi.”
She nods once, almost believing.
The ice feels different when the rink goes quiet. Cold. Huge. The previous skater finishes to polite applause and glides off the ice. Emmy steps through the gate. Her blades touch the ice with a soft scrape.
Emmy glides to her starting position at centre ice. For a moment she can hear nothing but the low hum of the arena lights. Somewhere in the stands Jena is probably crying already. Marc is standing at the boards with his arms folded. And Tyler- She doesn’t look.
The music begins. The opening notes echo softly through the rink. Emmy pushes off. Her body slips into motion automatically, years of skating carrying her forward as the choreography takes over.
She gathers speed through three powerful crossovers, digs her toe pick in and launches. The rotation snaps tight. The blades bite into the ice and she glides out with controlled speed. A small cheer rises from the crowd. Her confidence surges.
Next element.
She takes the entry quickly, arms pulling inward as she jumps. The landing is slightly tight but she holds it, knee bending deeply to absorb the impact. Still upright.
Marc gives a small approving nod from the boards.
The program flows forward. Her dress flares softly as she pulls into the final position, rhinestones scattering light across the ice. Then her blades carve intricate patterns across the rink, edges deep and controlled as the music swells. The crowd grows louder. Emmy barely hears it.
Everything narrows down to movement.
Music. Breath. Then the final jump approaches. Her triple axel, the hardest jump in her program, the one that is a miracle on a good day, the one that Marc had faith in her for.
She gathers speed. One crossover. Two. Three. The takeoff feels slightly off the moment her blade leaves the ice. Too far forward. Too much lean. Her body rotates but the landing slips out from under her. Her blade skids sideways.
And suddenly she’s on the ice.
For a split second everything freezes. Then Emmy pushes herself up. Immediately. No hesitation. She’s back on her feet before the music even reaches the next phrase. Keep going.
She finishes the step into the final spin, pulling tight into the rotation as the music climbs toward the ending.
Her lungs burn. Her legs ache. But she holds the final pose as the music cuts off. Silence. Then applause. Louder than she expected. Emmy exhales shakily and bows. When she skates toward the boards Marc is waiting.
“Well?” she asks breathlessly.
“Good.”
She blinks. “Good?”
“You fought the program.” He says holding back a laugh.
Emmy laughed weakly, matching him. “I fell.”
Marc gestured toward the rink. “You got up.” He taps the boards once. “That matters more.”
Tyler is sitting beside Jena as she steps off the ice. His eyes are wide. Jena’s are springing with tears of pride. She accepts the hugs off both of them.
“You’re terrifying now.” Tyler said, awestruck.
Emmy snorted.
“Why?”
Tyler shook his head slowly. “No.” He leans on the railing. “I told you Mimi.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Told me what?”
“You could do anything.” His grin softens slightly. “Especially without me.”
For once, Emmy doesn’t argue.
The results take nearly an hour. The skaters sit in the stands together while the judges calculate scores. Emmy’s nerves slowly return. When the scoreboard finally flashes to life, the placements appear one by one.
Emmy’s name appears in second place. Second. Far better than she thought she would do in her first competition in singles ever. She exhales slowly. Marc glances at the individual scoring sheet.
“Look here.” He taps the line with a finger. “Discounting your fall, highest grade of execution of the whole event.”
Across the stands Tyler pumps his fist. Jena hugs him like they’ve just won the Olympics. Emmy watches them for a moment. Then looks back down at the sheet. Second place. One fall. And the highest GOE score in the competition, in other words, the neatest skating. If she hadn’t fallen, she would’ve won.
All of a sudden, the future doesn’t look so dull.
previous chapter < chapter six > ottawa citizen article > next chapter
OMG I just found your fic and I have been hooked! I wanted to know more about what the relationship between Shane and Emmy is like? Cause it seems like there is a large age gap between the two of them so I’m curious about it. Especially since in the books it’s looks like Shane has this almost perfect family and relationship with his parents, I wonder how you’d interpret a sibling relationship with Shane and Emmy.
OMG thank you xxx
It's such an interesting dynamic to write because even though Emmy doesn't really talk to or about her parents or really follow Shane's career, she still remembers how he was as a kid.
He is literally the reason she can figure skate, because she wanted to be like her big brother out on the ice. They've got the ice in common and it makes the distance between them seem smaller than her and their parents.
Yuna and David know hockey, not figure skating and it makes Emmy feel like they don't really care about her sport and by extension, her.
Her and Shane didn't get to hang out during Emmy's teenage years so he still sees her as a very little kid. But once they get to know each other as young adults, they are far more similar than they realised (perfectionists and genius' in their sports) (weird about food and people and training and schedules).
Hopefully you'll enjoy the chapters where they reconnect and talk and meet 🙊🙊🙊
she wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: training gets serious, competitions approaching. Emmy gets to live her figure skating dream, her first solo program costume, all hers.
series masterpost
previous chapter < chapter five > next chapter
★ || August 2014
She’s been doing better, training better, jumping better. Marc could see the shift in the way she practised, the motivation of working. towards something that she didn’t have when she was skating for fun.
Emmy is handed the sign up sheet for her first competition just after she finishes school for the year, it’s title staring at her menacingly. Six weeks away, a new routine drilled into her veins, about to get a brand new costume and perform.
“Tell Tyler,” Jena nudged her shoulder from behind, reading the form. “He’ll want to be there for your first competition.”
Emmy tried to act inconspicuous. “Tyler?”
Jena just laughed at her. “I know you’ve been texting him, you tell that boy everything. Besides, you forget that his mom and I go out for wine nights once or so a month. We talk.”
“So?” She rolled her eyes.
“He was your best friend for so long, stuff like that doesn’t just end. He’ll be there.”
Emmy folded the paper in half, the crease feeling final. Her room is a mess of clothes strewn on the floor and her school work in big piles now that it’s finally over. She flops onto her bed, pulling open the competition flyer again just to stare.
Her phone chimes from her pocket, a text from Jena. Ring him! Emmy sighs, running a hand down her face as she rings the number before she can think about it, holding the phone to her ear.
Tyler picks up on the second ring, the buzz of a hockey changing room in the background. She can practically hear him smiling through the phone as he greets her, “Hey Mimi. What’s up?”
Emmy lets her own smile grow at the sound of his voice. “I’ve signed up for my first competition.”
“What? That’s awesome!”
Her voice went quieter, softened, “Really?”
“Yeah!” He encouraged. “I told you you could do anything, especially without me.”
She would never admit he was right of course, but it was almost comforting to know that Tyler had believed in her from the start, before she’d starting believing in herself or even entertaining the possibility. It should sting, she thinks, but it just feels like a warm hug.
They talk for longer than she meant to, twenty or so minutes more slipping by easily. He asks about her jumps, she downplays the difficulty of them but he knows the sport, he knows how impressive she is. She asks about his hockey, he’s just been promoted to the seniors team at his club.
It’s comfortable.
“You better text me the date, time and place Mimi. You can’t get away with me not coming.”
She huffs a laugh. “Alright, calm down. I’ll text them to you.”
“Good.” There’s a shuffle at his end, someone calling his name. “I gotta go, I got practise pretty soon.”
She hopes he doesn’t feel the hesitation through the phone. He does, he notices everything. “Okay.”
“Good luck. We’ll call soon and I’ll see you at your comp. Bye Mimi.”
“Bye Titi. See you soon.”
The line clicks off and the phone drops onto her duvet, her head lighter than before.
The boutique smelled faintly of starch and perfume and something metallic from the racks of rhinestones catching light.
Emmy stood just inside the doorway, arms folded loosely across her middle.
“I don’t need anything dramatic,” she said quickly. “It’s just Novice.”
Jena made a soft noise that meant she was already ignoring that.
“It’s your first singles competition,” she replied. “You absolutely need something dramatic.”
A woman emerged from the back, older with sharp eyes and a tape measure draped around her neck like a necklace of authority. She watched Emmy twitch nervously, shifting from foot to foot and Jena’s abundant enthusiasm.
“Ladies, what are we looking for today?”
Emmy hesitated and Jena answered. “It’s her first singles competition. Definitely something a little dramatic, something that’s… her.”
The woman nodded once, a small smile seeming to light up her whole face as she looked Emmy up and down once more.
“You’re a very pretty girl. You don’t need clutter to distract from you. I’ll pull some things, feel free to choose some of your own.”
Emmy was pushed into the changing room with an armful of dresses and a whole lot of regret for accepting Jena’s offer to go shopping with her. The woman was obsessed with finding the best clothes for her and Emmy, always wanting her niece for feel and look her best.
She shimmies the first dress on, already knowing she hated it, too pink, too sweet. It was like a recreation of something she’d worn at six. The second was covered in sequins and glitter, Emmy was sure she inhaled some of it just trying it on, never mind skating with it. She stepped out of the dressing room in each one, already shaking her head at Jena before she could comment.
The third dress was what the shop owner had pulled for her, a deeper blue with ruching down to the skirt. The fabric was sheer at the sleeves, looping around a fingertip, high at the neck. There were still rhinestones, but meticulously placed as not to offend but blinding the audience and the judges, subtle and sparkling as she moved.
Emmy stepped out slowly, saying nothing as Jena took in the sight. Jena stayed silent, a tear collecting in her lashes as she blinked it away. The boutique lights caught the stones and reflected as she turned, not screaming in your face but answering a call.
“Do you like it?” Emmy asked quietly, catching sight of herself in the mirror. Suddenly it wasn’t present Emmy she was staring at, but the Emmy that practised secretly at ten pm staring back.
Jena swallowed heavily. “What matters is that you like it.”
“It’s not too much?”
The shop owner shook her head. “It looks perfect on you.”
Emmy lifted one arm experimentally. The sleeve stretched cleanly, no restriction. She turned. The skirt whispered around her thighs. She imagined the opening note of her music. The silence before it. The first glide. She didn’t feel like half of something. She didn’t feel like she was waiting to be lifted. She felt professional.
Jena blinked rapidly, “Oh sweet girl.”
Emmy rolled her eyes to hide her own sudden tightness. “Don’t.”
“I’m not crying.”
“You are absolutely crying.”
Jena watched her watching herself. “You look like you belong out there,” she said gently.
Emmy stepped closer to the mirror. The blue wasn’t loud. It wasn’t childish. It didn’t scream for attention. It shimmered when she moved, like it was waiting for motion. She imagined the rink. The boards. The faint smell of cold air and sharpened blades. The judges staring over clipboards. A crowd that didn’t know her yet.
“I love it.”
That night, she hung the garment bag carefully on the back of her wardrobe door instead of stuffing it inside. She left it there on purpose. Visible. Present. A quiet reminder.
Marc noticed the difference the next morning before she even stepped on the ice.
She warmed up sharper. Quieter. Focused.
Her edges were deeper. Her transitions cleaner.
He didn’t comment at first. He just watched.
“Music from the top,” he called.
She nodded, pushing off.
The opening glide felt different now that she’d seen the dress. Now that she knew she would wear it. Now that she had a date circled in ink. Six weeks. Something real.
She landed her flip. Clean. Marc grunted in approval. She went for the lutz. Slight under-rotation, but she held it.
“Again,” he said.
She didn’t argue. She reset. Again. This time she checked the landing tighter. Rode the edge longer. Marc’s arms folded over his chest. There it is. She wasn’t skating for fun anymore. She was skating toward something. Toward judges. Toward a program. Toward Tyler in the stands, whether she wanted to think about that or not.
When practice ended, she stayed back for one more run-through. Marc didn’t stop her. As she stepped off the ice, breath clouding around her face, he handed her a water bottle without looking at her.
“You nervous?” he asked.
She shrugged, wiping sweat from her temple. “A little.”
“Good.”
She frowned.
“If you weren’t nervous, I’d be worried.” He paused, then added gruffly, “You’re ready.”
The words hit harder than Jena’s had.
Because Marc didn’t say things he didn’t mean.
“You think so?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He gave her a long look.
“You landed your first double axel without me telling you how,” he said evenly. “You’ve built triples in harness in under a month.” He paused as she fake gagged at the sound of the harness. It drove her crazy to be held back as she jumped, only practising long enough to be rid of it. “Your skating skills are stronger than half the girls already competing.”
He stepped closer, voice lower.
“The only thing you’re missing is belief. That’s your job. Not mine.”
Emmy swallowed, sharply nodding once as she packed all her things into her bag. Marc believed in her, Jena believed in her, Alex believed in her, Tyler believed in her. How hard would it really be to believe in herself?
she wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: Emmy avoids the rink like the plague, no matter how much it keeps calling her back. the ice is like a siren song, drawing her in with no escape. the worst thing: the second she relents, all the uncertainty is lost. her body remembers like she never left.
series masterpost
previous chapter < chapter four > next chapter
★ || December 2013
The dance studio smelt like sweat and hairspray instead of cold air and metal.
Emmy told herself she preferred it to the ice. The mirrors against walls were kinder than glass, the floors didn’t echo when she made a mistake and the music didn’t remind her of something she was missing. She hadn’t had the strength to go back to the rink for anything more than a casual skate with friends, her best skates hung on the back of her door and staying there collecting dust.
She picked up dance choreography quickly, she always had, her body knowing the counts without thinking. Her teacher liked her, pushed her to be her best. The other girls liked her too, laughing at her jokes and chatting at the end of a class. It felt good to be surrounded by other people again, she didn’t want to go from this to trying singles all alone on the ice.
But she didn’t feel the thrill in her veins, didn’t feel the buzzing of life when she danced. Her feet stayed planted on the ground, the music flowed through her, she spun but didn’t fly.
Her friend from dance lived a couple doors down from her and they often walked home together of an evening. They walked past the rink everyday, waiting outside for her mom to join them after finishing work, the manager at the rink Emmy had frequented for so many years. Then one day the automatic doors slide open and Emmy can smell the electricity in the air again.
Her friend glances down at her phone. “Shoot. Mom says she isn’t gonna be finished for a while. We can wait inside if you want?”
Emmy’s chest tightened as she stiffly nodded, stepping back onto the familiar carpet. She did her best not to look around too much, not to remind her what she didn’t have anymore. There was a new poster on the wall, advertising the rinks new later hours where you could book the rink for practises or parties.
They headed home after her friend’s mom had finished for the day, handing over to the evening staff. It was a simple change in the routine, easy to forget, not something Emmy needed to dwell over when she couldn’t sleep. She tossed in her bed, unable to find a comfortable place or a way her mind would just stop thinking for a moment so she could rest.
The first night she booked the ice, she told no one. She even lied to Jena, saying she was staying over a friends house to study until late. Jena smiled at her and nodded, offering a lift if it was raining or snowing when she finished.
At eight pm, the rink was dimmer than usual, the stands no longer lit. The ice felt impossibly big, unmarked and smooth. Her skates felt unfamiliar on her feet but as she slipped them back on and laced them tight, they started feeling like home again.
Her blood felt awake, alive and throbbing with memory and life and hope.
When she stepped onto the ice, the first glide nearly undid her. The sound of her blades was so loud without anyone else’s to match. She pushed off again, shaking the thoughts from her head and shifted to what she knew, what she once knew, what she’d ignored. Her body remembered the moves like she’d been practising them yesterday.
Jumps came a little trickier. She tried what she’d watched others do, the way they tucked their arms tight and shifted their weight through the foot as they landed.
For every leap she managed to land, there were two that she fell or wobbled on, two where she wasn’t sure. One landing came rough, over rotated so much it almost became a double, slamming her body into the ice and covering her with frost.
“Great.” She muttered under her breath, staring up at the rafters. But still she got back to her feet and tried again. And again. And again. And again.
She came back two days later.
She kept coming back and Jena noticed her skates had moved from the back of the door to her dance bag. She stayed with her troupe, helping her skating more than she expected. Her core felt stronger, her movements delicate and deliberate.
Emmy had started running out of excuses, using friends, using school, using dance. Jena caught on quick. She watched her niece practically skip down the street towards the rink less than five minutes away. It was only confirmed when she got a text from another mother of Emmy’s dance friend.
Her phone was propped against the boards, music thinly reverberating across the rink as she stepped between her moves, mimicking routines she’d watched a thousand times online.
And slowly, something shifted.
Her doubles started landing more consistently, all except for her double axel which continued to evade her. She stopped rushing the entries, landing cleaner and jumping higher than she ever had.
Jena noticed, she waited outside the rink to pick Emmy up one evening, seeing the pure joy back on her niece’s face. It made the potential sneaking around worth putting up with, even if Emmy had a mini heart attack when she saw Jena’s leaning by the door.
“Hey kiddo, good practise?”
Emmy blushed, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “You knew?”
“I’ve known since your second practise. You’re really bad at making excuses and I go to your parent-teacher conferences, your B’s don’t happen if you study as much as you say you do.” Jena shook her head slightly. “I’m more concerned that you’ve been walking home in the dark and the cold, what was gonna happen when we get a snow storm? Hm?
“I would’ve told you! Practise was good. I almost landed a double axel today. Nearly.”
Jena frowned, tucking her coat tighter around herself. “You’re landing jumps? Who’s coaching you?”
Emmy shrugged, muttering, “No one.”
“What? Okay.” Jena took a deep breath, fingers drumming together as she breathed through her disbelief. “I’m getting you a coach.”
Jena spent most of the next morning on the phone with different coaches around the country, reaching out to friends for their contacts and trying to find the very best. She knew what Emmy could do, even if she had never seen her late night skates, she knew the pure talent that Emmy exudes when she dons a pair of ice skates.
One night just before Christmas, two people stand in the shadows of the unlit grandstands. Jena stands alongside Marc Anthoine Lavoie, a coach from the Canadian Ice Academy who specialised in senior singles. A coach who is looking for a brand new talent to brighten his roster.
He expected recklessness. He found control in a girl who was training alone and landing things that many took years to even attempt. Jena couldn’t stop smiling as she watched Emmy twirl and move across the ice with an ease she never had with Tyler.
They couldn’t hear the music she moved to but they could see it in her body, the way she felt it in her bones. She set up for an axel, the one that she still hadn’t landed, she leaned with patience, not cheating her rotations and landed a quarter short.
Even falling onto the ice seemed to be graceful, rolling out of it and back onto her feet as she continued. She didn’t even shout is disappointment or pain, just got up steadily and reset the pattern. Again.
This time her take-off was tighter, higher, the way she corrected herself mid-rotation and landed the two and half rotations. It was rocky and a little wobbly but it landed.
There was a second of stunned silence before Emmy let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh and punching the air like she’s won the whole world. “Fucking finally!”
Marc straightened, Jena nudged him with a raise of an eyebrow. He waited until she finished her cool down laps before stepping closer to the boards, Jena trailing behind him.
“Your axel needs to be higher if you want to land it all the time.” He said it evenly but Emmy’s head snapped towards him.
She stared at him, offering a smile to Jena behind him. Then her defensiveness rose in her and she folded into herself. “I’ve been fixing it. That’s my first time landing it.”
“I can see that.”
Her defensiveness settled into irritation, maybe a little curiosity as she slid her guards onto her blades.
“Why don’t you have a coach?”
Emmy bristled. “I’m new to singles, just been trying things out. I was ice dance.”
Something in his expression shifted, recalculating. Jena rustled through Emmy’s gym bag for her water bottle and handed it to her mid-conversation.
“I coach here in Ottawa, I’ve been looking for a young talent like you.”
The silent stretched between them, the cold air humming around it. Emmy glanced at Jena. She subtly nodded.
“I don’t waste time.” He added.
Her jaw tightened. “Neither do I.”
He offered her a hand which she took gladly, shaking the partnership into history. “I’m Marc Lavoie.”
“Emmy Hollander.”
Marc’s eyes widened, glancing across to Jena. “Any relation to the hockey player?”
“Brother.” It was Emmy that answered. “And no, I can’t get you autographed jersey. We’re not that close.”
She shrugged her bag onto her shoulder, skates now swapped for her regular trainers.
emmy hollander wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: FLASHBACK: when Shane got drafted by the NHL, Emmy made the decision to stay with what she knows, the stay in Ottawa, with her friends, at her school. Jena made the move possible, giving Emmy space to carve out a space for herself.
series masterpost
previous chapter < chapter three > next chapter
★ || 2008
The first time Emmy understood what leaving meant, she was nine years old. She was standing in the kitchen of their house, watching her parents hug each other tightly and hang up the phone.
“Number two! That could mean Montreal Metros David! This is everything!” Her mother couldn’t stop smiling, “We should think about this, maybe spend a year up in Montreal to settle in and then come back to Ottawa?”
“What about the old cabin? We could always stay out there when he’s settled.” Her father sat gently at the table, spotting Emmy through the doorway. He waved her over and picked her up, placing her on his knee. “Little Emmy!”
“Why are you talking about ice hockey again?” She’d asked it so quietly, almost already knowing the answer. Ice hockey was practically the number one topic in this house.
David rocked her slightly. “Shane’s been signed to the Montreal Metros next year. He’s going to go and play hockey with them.”
“Wow!” She’d heard enough about the Metros, her mother’s favourite team. She knew basically everything about them by heart at this point.
Yuna nodded, already somewhere else in her head. “We could all move up to Montreal to support him. Not forever. Just until he’s settled. We’ll keep the cottage. It’s quieter out there anyway.” The words were meant for David but Emmy heard them nonetheless.
Emmy twisted to look at her father’s face as he talked, as her mother kept talking and planning, orbiting around the future. They asked her nothing, and she didn’t interrupt to disagree.
She was only nine. She knew how to execute a perfect twizzle in exact tandem with Tyler. She knew the way the ice sounded at seven in the morning when the rink was empty and she was the first one on it. She knew that Ottawa felt like something solid under her feet.
Montreal sounded like noise. It sounded scary, like change that would hurt more than help.
“Em?” David said finally, as if remembering she existed in the room. “You’ll love it there. Big city. New rink.”
She tightened her fingers around her sweater. “What about Tyler?” she asked.
Yuna glanced across the room at her “You’ll make new friends.”
That wasn’t what she meant. “But-”
She crossed the kitchen in two quick steps and crouched in front of Emmy. “Sweetheart, this is a huge opportunity for your brother. You know that.”
Emmy did know that. She had known it for years. Ever since scouts started appearing at games. Ever since dinner conversations became about stats and contracts and what age was too young to move away from home.
She loved her brother. She did. She’d learned to skate by copying him at the boards. She’d cried the first time he scored a hat trick.
But she loved the rink in Ottawa too. She loved the exact crack in the ceiling tile above the far end. She loved the woman at the front desk who always let her borrow a hair tie when she forgot hers. She loved the way Tyler would count under his breath before lifts.
Montreal didn’t have those things.
“Why do I have to go?” she asked quietly.
The kitchen went still.
David blinked at her. “What?”
Yuna’s smile faltered for half a second. “Of course you’re coming. We’re a family.”
David ran a hand over his mouth. “It’s complicated to split up, Em.”
It wasn’t complicated. It was impossible. She could see that on their faces.
She looked at Shane who had been silent up until this point, watching the excitement from a distance and letting himself enjoy it. He looked back at her like he couldn’t understand why this was even a problem.
“You could come back to visit,” he offered. “Montreal’s not that far.”
Visit. The word lodged somewhere behind her ribs. That night she lay in bed staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling and thought about what disappearing might feel like. If she went, she would be Shane’s sister in a new city. She would be the little add-on. The extra hockey bag.
If she stayed, she would still be Emmy.
She didn’t know how to explain that. She only knew it was true.
It was Aunt Jena who made it possible, David’s sister who had called Ottawa her home all her life. Jena who understood how much the city meant to a young Emmy, because it had meant the same to her.
Her aunt arrived two days later with coffee for Yuna and takeout for everyone else, as if she’d already decided she was staying long enough to matter. Her mother had laid out the plan, complaining slightly at Emmy’s reluctance to accept the move and just make it easy for them.
“I’ve got the spare room,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “It’s not like I use it.”
David laughed nervously, widening his eyes at his sister’s subtle suggestion. “Jena.”
“I’m serious.” She looked at Emmy, not her brother. “She’s got school. She’s got skating. Ottawa isn’t going anywhere. Montreal isn’t either. What’s the harm?”
David hesitated. “That’s a lot to take on.”
Jena shrugged. “She’s not a burden.”
Emmy already spent every Thursday evening at Jena’s house. It was closer to the skating rink and her parents always picked Shane up from his games and training first. Jena had started walking to the rink and bringing Emmy back to hers. They’d do whatever Emmy wanted, watch TV, play games, read books, talk about friends.
Yuna turned to Emmy pointedly. “Do you really want to stay in Ottawa?”
Emmy nodded, already imagining it.
“You can stay with Aunt Jena but me and Dad won’t be able to come down to see you all the time. Sometimes we’ll be busy and you’ll have to be very grown up.”
“I want to stay in Ottawa. With Aunt Jena.” The words landed softly and hard at the same time. Emmy kept her eyes on the table.
She heard her father sigh heavily, chairs scraping as both her parents wandered out of the room, probably to the hallway to argue and discuss it out of earshot.
As the house was quieter, Jena slid next to her on the couch.
Emmy swallowed. “Will Mom be mad?”
“Of course not!” Jena said carefully. “They’re going to miss you a lot but she’s got tunnel vision right now. It’s not easy, there’s a lot going on.”
That was kinder than the truth.
Emmy picked at a thread on the cushion in her lap. “If I stay… will they forget me?”
Jena’s expression softened in a way that made something in Emmy’s chest ache. “No,” she said. “They love you so much. But it’s going to be tricky to be there for you and Shane, they might have to miss some things.”
Emmy nodded. They’d had already been missing things for years.
“But if you want to stay I promise I’ll be there for everything your mom and dad can’t make it to, okay?”
“Okay!”
It was settled not long after that, Emmy slowly transitioning to more and more nights a week at Jena’s house while the other Hollanders prepared for their move.
She watched them pack up the house, wave off Shane to his new apartment and then get ready for their own move to the city and then out to the cabin. Emmy packed up her own room, slowly moving box by box over to Jena’s house. It was strange to see her life in boxes when it wasn’t going to change that much.
Shane returned to help their parents drive the last couple things up to Montreal and watches Emmy sat on the front steps in her rink jacket. She looked even smaller than before.
Yuna and David had to keep wiping their eyes as they watched their daughter wait for Jena to pick her up and take her to her new home. “You’ll be good for Aunt Jena. And we’ll call every week and come down as often as we can okay?”
“Okay.”
They hug her tightly, scared to let go but knowing they have to. It’s for Shane’s future. It’s just for a little bit. The distance will hurt but Emmy will be alright. Shane wandered over to hug her goodbye too.
“Don’t get better than me,” he said into her hair.
She smiled against his shoulder. “I’m not promising that.”
When the car pulled away, Yuna cried. David waved long after the taillights disappeared.
Emmy felt something else. Space growing around her that was hers.
That afternoon, she carried her final overnight bag into Jena’s townhouse. It wasn’t far. She could still see the top of her old roof if she pressed her face into the highest window on the stairs and craned her neck.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Welcome home I guess.”
Emmy stepped inside. The spare room had clean sheets. A small desk by the window. A framed photo of Jena, Tyler and her at a skating recital two years ago. Her parents hadn’t been able to make it but they’d come in first place overall.
She let herself unpack all her small skating trophies, placing them gently on shelves and wiping off the smudges from their metal. Her skates sat by the door, her very first pair tucked onto a shelf with her books. Finally, she pulled her pile of posters from a box, smoothing out the edges and tacking them securely.
Her poster pride and joy was a signed poster of her ice dance idols, Virtue-Moir, that Shane and her mom had gifted her after meeting them at a sponsor event. It was the best gift she’d ever gotten and always had pride of place in whatever room she made her own.
That night, lying in a different bed, she listened to the unfamiliar hum of Jena’s fridge and the distant sound of traffic. She thought about Montreal. She thought about Tyler. She thought about the ice waiting for her in the morning.
emmy hollander wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to stay in ottawa when the family moved for shane’s career. and now she suddenly has to figure out her place in the world, in the sport that she's loved since she could walk. then comes the crushing weight of a family that only sees the puck, and the slow-burn realization that her "perfect" brother has been hiding the exact same secrets she has.
pairing: oc x oc (wlw) (slowburn)
summary: Emmy is spiralling, stuck between a rock and a hard place. a phone call from her parents makes nothing better so she turns to old friends as a source of comfort.
warnings: kinda shitty parenting, and at the same time not parenting, slight angst
series masterpost
previous chapter < chapter two > next chapter
★ || June, 2013
Jena started the car but didn’t pull away and start the journey home immediately. She let the engine idle, the hum filling the silence.
“Okay,” she said plainly. “He quit, it hurts. It really, really hurts but that doesn’t mean you’re done.”
Emmy scrubbed at her face with the sleeve of Tyler’s hoodie. “Ice dance might as well be done. I can’t just replace someone like that. I can’t start over and pretend it’s the same.”
“You could.” Jena replied. “It would just take time.”
Emmy stared at her hands, her fingers still blushed red from the cold. The words sat heavy in her mind. She didn’t want time. She didn’t need time. She needed-
“He’s been there for you for so long. Maybe you need to find your balance without him on the ice.” Jena was pushing the subject. “You could try singles. You had jumps when you were little, you just never trained them before. You’ve got talent. You can make it work.”
The suggestion landed between them like a stone dropped in water. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much of skating had been Tyler’s hand at the small of her back, Tyler’s steady weight anchoring lifts, Tyler’s voice in her ear counting timing.
“I’d have to be alone out there…”
Jena sighed softly, watching the road slip by. “You wouldn’t be alone. I can find you a singles coach, maybe sign you up for a couple classes?”
But that wasn’t what she meant.
She meant the moment before music starts. The breath you take when the rink is silent. The way your heart pounds and there’s no one else to blame if something goes wrong. She had always had someone to split the fall with.
“Can we talk about this another day?” Emmy turned her gaze out of the window, at the traffic and the glowing streetlights instead of at Jena.
The drive home felt longer than usual. The house was dark when they arrived, but still warmed from the heating. Jena made hot chocolate even though Emmy didn’t ask for it. She cradled the mug in her hands gratefully regardless.
“Do you want to call your parents?”
Emmy hesitated. They’d find out eventually but she almost couldn’t stand the possible lecture and the way her mother would try to do damage control and plan out a new future for her. She always called when she had news, it was basically the only way they stayed in touch.
Ever since Shane got into the NHL, her parents seemed a bit too busy to come and see her, or come to her competitions, or raise her apparently. Aunt Jena had done a fine job of that regardless.
She nodded. Jena slid her phone across the table.
Her father answered on the third ring. “Hi Emmy! How are things with you? Give me one minute and I’ll find your mom and your brother and put you on speaker.”
There was a faint rustling as he wandered around the house to find Yuna and Shane, probably heading towards the living room. A soft click sounded as he placed the phone on a table and her mom shouted a hello to her down the line.
“Hey Mom. Hey Shane.”
Yuna was the first to ask, “Did you just get back from skating? You sound tired. Are you sleeping enough?”
“I sleep just fine Mom. And about skating I-”
“We saw your National Champ video!” David called out. “It was amazing, we’re gutted we couldn’t be there to cheer you on. How’s the boy you skate with? Tyler?”
“Tyler quit.” Emmy blurted out, wanting to get it over with. She pressed her lips together, putting Jena’s phone on speaker and placing it on the kitchen table.
Silence rang down the phone, from both sides, no one knowing what to say.
“He… quit?” Her mother asked. “You just won Junior National Champs and he’s quitting?”
Emmy sunk her head into her hands, answering deadpan. “His mom thinks he’s better at ice hockey.”
“That sucks,” her mother continued. “But these things happen in sports. You’re young Emmy, you’ll find another partner and you can go for Junior Championships again.”
“I don’t want another partner.”
There was another pause, this one thinner. Her father had stopped talking in the background.
David’s voice crackled through the line. “But you’re gonna keep skating right kiddo? You can’t quit, you love figure skating.”
Jena’s eyes flicked up at her from across the table.
“I don’t wanna quit.” Emmy pushed back. “I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I can skate with another partner.”
“Have you thought about singles? It would mean less reliance on other people.”
“I don’t know,” Emmy said quietly.
“You’re young! You’ve got time!” Dad said calmly.
Emmy felt anything but calm. “Can people please stop saying that to me? What does it even mean I’ve got time?”
“Well,” her mother continued, distracted now. “We’ll talk more this weekend, okay? Your brother’s just in the middle of something. We’re very proud of you, darling. Remember that.”
The line clicked off. Emmy stared at the phone long after the call ended.
“And the parent of the year award goes to.” she whispered, “They didn’t even ask if I was okay.”
Jena placed a hand on her shoulder, moving a chair to sit opposite her, knees brushing knees. “Are you okay?”
Emmy could only shrug, biting back tears and tightening her jaw. “I don’t know.”
She didn’t say much else, she stayed sat at the table as Jena fussed around the house, making them a meal and pulling her onto the couch to watch TV and eat. The house in Ottawa fell still, ignoring the carnage outside and trying to pretend all is well. Emmy’s mind still felt like the aftermath of a storm, everything knocked over and in the wrong place.
“You should text your friends, see if they want to come over this weekend.” Jena suggested lightly from the armchair.
Emmy blinked. “Yeah.”
“Or call that girl you had over a bunch last year, Alex?”
Jena shrugged, sipping her tea. “She always made you laugh. It’s a shame she had to move back to Europe. She was really good friend.”
Emmy reached to the table and flipped open her phone, staring at the blank screen.
Aleksandrina had gone back to Ukraine the year before, her exchange program finished. They’d been so close when she was in Canada and still messaged sometimes, mostly stupid things, pictures and gossip and complaints about their old teachers.
Aleksandrina had always been more than just a friend.
She hesitated before typing and then regretted the message as soon as she sent it.
Emmy: Tyler quit skating.
The response came just under an hour later, the time difference always made late replies inevitable.
Aleks: I will come back to Canada and fight him
Emmy let out a broken laugh, Jena watching her carefully. The sky outside had turned dark, the time far later than either of them would admit. Tonight wasn’t necessarily for sleeping. It was much better spent in front of a crappy show with a tub of ice cream balanced between them.
Emmy: I think Tyler would win
Aleks: I am Ukrainian. I don’t lose fights
Emmy: He just chose hockey. I’ll get over it.
Aleks: So what? You want to quit too?
Emmy curled further into the couch, tugging Tyler’s hoodie sleeves over her hands. The house was quiet now. Jena had gone upstairs, ice cream mainly finished and the remnants all melted anyway. The television flickered muted light across the living room walls.
She imagined Aleksandrina in her old bedroom across the ocean, probably wrapped in one of those thick knitted blankets her grandmother made, dirty blonde hair braided over her shoulder, staring at her phone with that sharp, intense focus Emmy loved.
Emmy: Everyone keeps asking me that. I don’t know
Aleks: Don’t quit skating because a man gave up. Skate better or do better without him. Make him regret
That made her laugh.
Emmy: Dramatic
Aleks: You are dramatic one
Another message came through.
Aleks: You would be good at jumps. You could soar like eagle, not fall like rock
Emmy: You’re supposed to making me feel better, not worse
Aleks: Sucks to suck
Aleks: And I am. Do you not feel better?
She stared at the message until her vision blurred out of focus.
Emmy: Thank you
Aleks: Do not thank me. You should skate alone. Everyone was only watching you anyway
Emmy: We’re you watching me?
Aleks: I always watch you. You shine
Emmy squeezed her eyes shut.
Emmy: You’re biased.
She took over a minute to answer and Emmy got the feeling she was using google translate on the new word.
Aleks: Yes. I like you more than others
Emmy: I miss you
She let her fingers type the words before she let her mind cast back to last year. It was almost something. They knew it wouldn’t last. Emmy’s pulse was suddenly everywhere. In her throat. In her fingertips. In her ears.
Aleks: If I can’t fight Tyler I will fight for you
Emmy: What do you mean?
Aleks: If you skate singles I will find a way to watch every video and I will tell you when your jumps look stupid.
Aleks: And when you get on podium I will say ‘I told you so’
Emmy typed carefully.
Emmy: Okay.
Aleks: Okay what?
Emmy: I will think about singles.
Aleks: Good
Aleks: One day you will be so good that you skate in Europe, maybe Ukraine or Russia or anywhere. And I will travel just to watch and cheer you on. And then tell you I told you so
