Chapter 1 New Season, New Lines #2
Mason slipped a finger beneath the flap of his envelope and unfolded the single sheet inside. His eyes immediately scanned the page until they landed on the bold heading.
Temporary Residence Assignment
The address meant nothing to him.
The line beneath it did.
Roommate: Noah Hayes
Mason blinked once, convinced he had read it wrong.
He looked again.
The name hadn't changed.
Across the room, Noah opened his own envelope. A faint smile crossed his face before he looked up, meeting Mason's eyes from several rows away.
"So," Noah said, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket, "looks like we're roommates."
The words carried no frustration, no excitement, just quiet acceptance.
Mason managed a slow nod.
"Looks that way."
Unfortunately, several teammates had already noticed.
Goalie Tyler Brooks leaned over Mason's shoulder before bursting into laughter loud enough for the entire room to hear.
"Oh, this is perfect."
Within seconds, half the team turned toward them.
"What happened?" someone asked.
Tyler wiped imaginary tears from his eyes.
"Carter and Hayes."
Several players exchanged confused looks.
"What about them?"
"They're living together."
The room erupted.
"No chance."
"They'll last a week."
"I give them three days before somebody ends up sleeping on the couch."
Defenseman Liam Foster grinned broadly.
"You know what this means, right?"
Mason already regretted asking.
"What?"
"You two are officially the oldest married couple on the team."
Laughter echoed around the conference room.
Mason rolled his eyes.
"We're sharing a condo."
"Exactly."
"Temporarily."
"That's how every great love story starts."
Another chorus of laughter followed.
Mason shook his head.
"I've officially forgotten why I like any of you."
"You don't."
"Fair point."
Even Coach Morrison allowed himself a small smile before stepping forward.
"Enjoy the jokes while they last," he said. "Once the season starts, none of you'll have enough energy to care who sleeps where."
The room settled again.
General Manager Calloway continued explaining the logistics. The organization had leased several fully furnished condominiums close to the arena. Utilities were already arranged, groceries had been stocked, and each player would receive keys before leaving the building.
"The goal," Calloway explained, "is to keep everyone focused on hockey instead of worrying about housing."
Mason appreciated the effort.
Still, he couldn't ignore the strange feeling settling in his stomach.
Three months.
Ninety days.
Living with another person twenty-four hours a day.
He had spent years carefully building routines that suited him alone. He left dishes until morning if he felt tired. Laundry waited until his favorite hoodie disappeared. Some nights he watched game film until two in the morning. Other nights he fell asleep with the television still playing.
Now someone else would witness all of it.
Someone who happened to be one of the most organized people on the entire roster.
As the meeting ended, players slowly filtered back toward the locker room.
Tyler caught up beside Mason.
"You nervous?"
"No."
"Liar."
"I'm not nervous."
"You've made that face before."
"What face?"
"The one you make right before Coach tells you to kill penalties."
"I don't make a face."
"You absolutely do."
Mason ignored him.
Tyler laughed.
"You know Noah's probably already planning matching coffee mugs."
"I'm beginning to understand why goalies spend so much time getting hit in the head."
Tyler clutched his chest dramatically.
"That hurts."
"I was aiming for your feelings."
"You found them."
Before Mason could respond, Noah walked alongside them carrying his equipment bag over one shoulder.
"You two finished insulting each other?" Noah asked.
"We're just getting started," Tyler answered.
Noah smiled.
"I'll leave you to it."
As Tyler wandered toward another group of teammates, Mason fell into step beside Noah.
For a few moments, neither spoke.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable.
Just unfamiliar.
Finally, Mason broke it.
"So..."
"So."
"You really don't seem bothered."
Noah shrugged.
"It's temporary."
"That's it?"
"What else should it be?"
"I don't know."
"You think I'm secretly furious?"
"A little."
Noah chuckled.
"I've had worse roommates."
"Professional hockey players?"
"My older brother."
Mason laughed despite himself.
"That bad?"
"He thought cleaning meant pushing everything under the bed."
"I may have done that once."
"I believe you."
They reached the equipment room where staff members were organizing keys and paperwork for the affected players.
A young operations coordinator handed Noah a small envelope.
"Condo 4B."
Noah opened it.
Inside were two key cards, two parking passes, and a printed map.
He immediately handed one set to Mason.
"There you go."
Mason accepted the keys.
"Thanks."
"Looks like we're about fifteen minutes from the arena."
"Could be worse."
"We'll save money on gas."
"I wasn't thinking about gas."
"I know."
Mason looked at him.
"You always this calm?"
"Usually."
"It's annoying."
"I've heard that before."
"From everyone?"
"My mother says it makes arguing with me impossible."
"I can see why."
Another quiet laugh passed between them.
Maybe Tyler was right.
They really did sound like an old married couple.
Mason immediately pushed the thought away.
The afternoon disappeared beneath a blur of exit paperwork and media obligations. The first day of camp always attracted reporters eager to ask predictable questions about offseason training, championship expectations, and team chemistry.
Mason answered them automatically.
"We're focused on taking things one game at a time."
"Our younger players look great."
"Everyone came back in excellent shape."
Nothing unusual.
Nothing personal.
By the time the interviews finished, the sun had begun dipping lower across the city skyline.
The parking lot slowly emptied as players drove away toward temporary homes scattered throughout the city.
Mason unlocked his aging pickup truck.
"So," Noah called from several spaces away, "want to caravan over there?"
Mason looked between the truck and Noah's dark SUV.
"I guess."
Noah tilted his head thoughtfully.
"Actually...that seems unnecessary."
"What does?"
"Driving two vehicles."
Mason frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"The condo has underground parking."
"So?"
"So why don't we take my SUV?"
Mason looked confused.
"My truck."
"We'll come back for it later."
"I've got hockey bags."
"So do I."
"I've got clothes."
"You'll have those later too."
Mason folded his arms.
"You've thought about this already."
"I like solving problems."
"I noticed."
"If we take one vehicle, we only unload once."
Mason hated how logical that sounded.
"Fine."
"I'll even let you control the music."
"Now you're negotiating."
"I'm compromising."
"You really have done this before."
"My brother," Noah reminded him.
"Right."
They loaded Mason's equipment beside Noah's without much effort.
The back of the SUV filled quickly with sticks, duffel bags, skates, workout gear, and enough clothing to survive the next several weeks until they could retrieve the rest of Mason's belongings.
As Noah closed the rear hatch, he looked toward Mason.
"Ready?"
Mason glanced back at the arena.
For years it had been the one place that always felt constant.
Everything outside its walls had changed.
Relationships.
Apartments.
Plans.
Now even his home was changing.
He climbed into the passenger seat.
The leather smelled faintly of coffee and cedar.
Neat.
Organized.
Exactly what he would have expected from Noah.
"You always keep your car this clean?" Mason asked as Noah started the engine.
"I spend too much time in it not to."
"I was afraid to put my bag on the floor."
"You'll survive."
"I might leave fingerprints."
"I'll recover."
Mason smiled.
The SUV rolled smoothly out of the players' parking lot and merged into the afternoon traffic.
The arena gradually disappeared in the rearview mirror as the city stretched before them.
Neither man knew exactly what the next three months would bring.
To Mason, it was simply an inconvenient housing arrangement.
To Noah, it was an unexpected chance to know a teammate better.
Neither of them could have imagined that the road unfolding ahead wasn't merely leading them to a temporary condo.
It was quietly carrying them toward a future neither had ever expected.
· ? ·