Chapter 13 Hidden in Plain Sight
Secret Relationship
Noah had always believed hockey taught players how to live with pressure.
Every shift demanded discipline. Every game required composure. Every mistake happened in front of thousands of people, and the only option was to recover before the next faceoff.
Nothing in his career, however, had prepared him for pretending that the person he loved was simply another teammate.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
When he and Mason had first become roommates, pretending had been easy because there had been nothing to hide.
Now every ordinary moment carried a secret.
The first morning after they admitted what they meant to each other, Noah woke before sunrise as usual.
For several peaceful minutes, he simply watched Mason sleeping beside him.
His normally confident expression had softened completely, replaced by the calmness of someone who had finally stopped fighting himself.
Noah smiled.
He still found it difficult to believe that Mason was here.
Not because he doubted Mason's feelings.
He doubted his own luck.
Carefully, so he wouldn't wake him, Noah slipped out of bed and headed toward the kitchen.
A few minutes later, he heard familiar footsteps.
Mason appeared in the doorway wearing loose sweatpants and one of Noah's old Thunderhawks hoodies.
His hair pointed in three different directions.
"You stole my hoodie," Noah observed.
Mason looked down.
"I borrowed it."
"Without asking."
"I knew you'd say yes."
"Confident."
"You've made me confident."
Noah laughed quietly.
"I don't remember giving permission."
"You didn't stop me."
"I was asleep."
"Exactly."
Noah shook his head.
"I'll allow it."
"You don't have much choice now."
They shared an easy smile before Mason wandered over to steal a piece of toast directly from Noah's plate.
"You made breakfast."
"I always make breakfast."
"I know."
Mason leaned against the counter.
"I just like saying it."
Noah looked at him curiously.
"Why?"
"Because nobody's ever made mornings feel...comfortable."
The words warmed Noah's heart far more than he expected.
Before he could answer, Mason glanced toward the clock.
"We should leave."
Reality arrived quickly.
The arena was only fifteen minutes away.
The moment they stepped through those doors, they would no longer be two people quietly building a relationship.
They would become teammates again.
Professional.
Careful.
Private.
The drive passed comfortably, but as soon as they reached the players' parking lot, both instinctively adjusted.
The easy touches disappeared.
Their conversation shifted naturally toward hockey.
Neither needed to discuss it.
They both understood.
Inside the locker room, Tyler immediately looked up from taping his stick.
"About time."
Mason dropped his equipment bag beside his locker.
"We're exactly on time."
"You were thirty seconds late yesterday."
"I know because I counted."
Mason rolled his eyes.
"You need another hobby."
"I've got hockey."
"I meant a second hobby."
Noah smiled to himself while unpacking his gear.
Across the room, Mason caught his eye for just a second.
A tiny smile appeared.
Gone almost immediately.
Anyone else would have missed it.
Noah didn't.
Practice began moments later.
Coach Morrison divided the team into offensive and defensive units for rush drills.
Everything demanded complete concentration.
Still, every now and then, Noah became aware of Mason.
A quick grin after a successful drill.
A subtle nod after a clean breakout.
Small moments that would have looked completely ordinary to everyone else.
To Noah, they meant everything.
During a water break, Mason skated past him carrying an extra sports bottle.
Without slowing down, he quietly handed it over.
"You forgot yours."
Noah accepted it.
"Thanks."
Their gloves brushed for less than a second.
No one noticed.
Neither commented.
Yet Noah couldn't stop smiling afterward.
The tiny moments became their language.
A tap of a stick against the boards after a good shift.
A knowing look whenever Tyler told another ridiculous story.
Text messages during video meetings when Coach Morrison's speeches stretched well beyond anyone's attention span.
That afternoon, Noah's phone vibrated beneath the conference table.
Mason: Coach has said "compete" seventeen times.
Noah bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.
He typed back beneath the table.
Noah: You're counting?
A few seconds later...
Mason: Twenty now.
Noah glanced across the room.
Mason looked completely serious while staring at the projector screen.
Only the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
Noah lowered his head, pretending to write notes as he quietly laughed.
By the end of the meeting, Coach Morrison had apparently reached thirty-four uses of the word.
Mason proudly declared victory through another text.
Noah replied with a trophy emoji.
Simple.
Private.
Perfect.
Life settled into an unexpectedly comfortable rhythm.
At the condo, they no longer hesitated to hold hands while cooking dinner.
Movie nights usually ended with Mason resting comfortably against Noah's shoulder.
Sometimes they talked for hours before falling asleep.
Other nights they simply enjoyed sharing the same quiet space.
Every morning, however, they reminded each other of the same promise.
"Hockey first."
"Hockey always."
Not because they were ashamed.
Because they respected the game.
Their teammates deserved two professionals committed completely to the season.
That commitment never wavered.
Late Thursday afternoon, after another hard practice, Noah walked toward the equipment room to replace a cracked visor.
The hallway stood almost empty.
Most players had already headed toward the showers.
Inside the equipment room, shelves overflowed with sticks, helmets, gloves, and neatly organized boxes of tape.
The familiar smell of sharpened steel and fresh equipment filled the air.
One of the equipment managers looked up.
"Need a new visor?"
"Yeah."
"Top shelf."
"I'll grab it."
The manager nodded.
"I'm heading to laundry."
"I'll lock up afterward."
As soon as the older man disappeared through the rear door, the room fell quiet.
A moment later, another figure stepped inside.
Mason.
"You forgot your tape," he said, holding up a fresh roll.
"I figured."
Noah accepted it with a grateful smile.
"You keep rescuing me."
"I've developed a reputation."
"For?"
"Saving absent-minded defensemen."
"I appreciate your service."
They both laughed softly.
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
Mason leaned casually against one of the storage shelves.
"You know..."
"What?"
"I've been thinking."
"Dangerous."
"So everyone keeps telling me."
He smiled.
"I kind of miss kissing you whenever I want."
Noah's heart skipped.
"I've noticed."
"It makes the days feel longer."
"It won't always be like this."
"I know."
For a moment, neither moved.
The silence stretched comfortably between them.
Mason took one slow step closer.
"So..."
"So?"
"I think we've got about thirty seconds."
Noah laughed quietly.
"You're timing us now?"
"I've become very strategic."
They stood close enough to hear each other's breathing.
Noah lifted one hand, gently brushing an invisible speck of tape dust from Mason's shoulder.
Mason looked into his eyes.
"So handsome," he whispered.
Noah felt warmth rise into his cheeks.
"I could say the same."
Mason smiled.
Slowly, naturally, he leaned forward.
The distance between them shrank to almost nothing.
Just before their lips met—
The equipment room door swung open.
"There you—"
Tyler froze mid-sentence.
Mason reacted instantly, stepping backward so quickly he nearly bumped into a shelf of hockey sticks.
Noah grabbed the replacement visor as though it had been his only reason for standing there.
Tyler looked between them.
"You guys okay?"
Mason answered first.
"Yeah."
"Why wouldn't we be?"
Tyler frowned slightly.
"I don't know."
"You both looked...surprised."
Noah lifted the visor.
"I was asking him whether this was the right size."
Tyler accepted the explanation with a shrug.
"Coach's looking for you both."
"We're doing video in five."
"We'll be there."
"Don't get lost."
As Tyler disappeared down the hallway, the room fell silent again.
Mason let out the breath he'd been holding.
"That was close."
Noah nodded slowly.
"Way too close."
For a second, they simply looked at one another.
Then Mason chuckled nervously.
"I guess we're going to have to be a little more careful."
Noah smiled.
"I'd say that's a very good idea."
They left the equipment room one after the other, separated by several steps.
Anyone watching would have seen nothing more than two teammates heading to another meeting.
Only they knew how close they had come to changing everything.
Rumors Around the Rink
The hardest part about keeping a secret, Mason quickly discovered, wasn't remembering to hide the big moments.
It was remembering the little ones.
The instinctive smile when Noah walked into a room.
The unconscious habit of looking for him first during practice.
The way his entire day somehow felt better after a single quiet text message.
Those were the moments that almost betrayed them.
The Thunderhawks' playoff run had everyone around the organization paying closer attention than ever before.
Local reporters attended nearly every practice.
Team photographers captured behind-the-scenes footage for social media.
Fans filled comment sections with opinions about line combinations, trade rumors, and every interaction they could spot between players.
Mason tried not to think about it.
He failed almost immediately.
One Tuesday morning, while stretching before practice, Tyler wandered into the locker room carrying his phone.
"You guys have officially become famous."
Mason barely looked up.
"We're hockey players."
"I meant more famous."
Liam glanced over.
"What happened now?"
Tyler laughed.
"The internet has discovered Carter and Hayes."
Mason's stomach tightened.
"What are you talking about?"
Tyler held up his phone.
"Some hockey blog posted pictures from Saturday."