Chapter 3 Morning Routines #2
"In about thirty seconds."
Mason glanced toward the window overlooking the parking lot.
"My truck's still buried behind the maintenance crew."
The renovation company had converted part of the apartment complex's parking garage into temporary storage for construction equipment, making it inconvenient to move vehicles in and out every morning.
Noah held up his keys.
"Ride with me."
"You sure?"
"I was going there anyway."
Mason grinned.
"That was easier than digging my truck out."
"It usually is."
From that morning onward, neither of them questioned who would drive.
It simply became another part of their day.
Noah left the condo at the same time every morning.
Mason climbed into the passenger seat carrying coffee.
Some mornings they talked the entire drive.
Other mornings they listened to music while watching the city slowly wake beyond the windshield.
Neither arrangement ever felt awkward.
It simply depended on the mood.
By the second week, another routine quietly settled into place.
After practices, Mason stopped asking where Noah wanted to eat.
Instead, he would casually toss his hockey bag into the back of the SUV before climbing into the passenger seat.
"So..."
Noah glanced toward him.
"So?"
"You cooking tonight?"
"I was planning to."
"I'll buy groceries."
Noah smiled.
"You don't have to bribe me."
"It's not a bribe."
"What is it?"
"I like eating."
"I've noticed."
Mason laughed.
"And your food is considerably better than mine."
"I appreciate the vote of confidence."
"That's not confidence."
"What is it?"
"Self-preservation."
Noah shook his head, starting the engine.
"I suppose that's a valid reason."
Their grocery trips gradually became something Noah looked forward to.
At first, they hurried through the store like two exhausted athletes trying to finish another chore before collapsing into bed.
Within days, however, shopping transformed into an event.
Mason insisted on pushing the cart even though he drove it like a race car.
Noah repeatedly had to rescue cereal boxes and pasta sauce from tipping over after Mason took corners too quickly.
"You know these aren't shopping carts at the arena," Noah said after catching a loaf of bread before it slid onto the floor.
"I've got excellent control."
"You almost crashed into the produce display."
"I avoided it."
"Barely."
"Still counts."
An elderly woman passing by smiled at them.
"You boys remind me of my husband."
Mason looked genuinely confused.
"How?"
"He never slowed down either."
Noah laughed while Mason scratched the back of his neck.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should," the woman replied warmly before continuing down the aisle.
As soon as she disappeared, Mason looked toward Noah.
"See?"
"What?"
"I'm charming."
"I don't think that was the lesson."
"It definitely was."
Shopping also revealed another side of Mason that rarely appeared at the arena.
He greeted employees by name after only meeting them once.
He stopped to help an elderly man lift bottled water into his cart.
He offered to carry groceries for a young mother juggling two energetic children.
None of it felt performative.
He simply noticed people.
The same confidence that made him an exceptional hockey player somehow translated into genuine kindness away from the rink.
It was one of the reasons Noah found himself enjoying Mason's company more each day.
The man everyone assumed was effortlessly confident carried far more warmth than he ever showed inside the locker room.
One Friday afternoon, after an especially demanding practice, they returned home exhausted.
Mason dropped his equipment bag beside the front door before collapsing dramatically across the sofa.
"I officially resign."
Noah looked over while unpacking groceries.
"From what?"
"Everything."
"You have practice tomorrow."
"I resign from that too."
"I don't think Coach Morrison accepts resignation letters."
"He should."
Noah opened the refrigerator.
"I'll make dinner."
"I'll recover emotionally."
"You'll set the table."
"I knew there'd be conditions."
Half an hour later, they sat across from each other eating grilled salmon with roasted vegetables while highlights from another league game played quietly on television.
Between bites, Mason glanced toward Noah.
"I never thanked you."
"For what?"
"The rides."
Noah frowned slightly.
"What rides?"
"Practice."
"Grocery runs."
"Everything."
"You don't need to thank me."
"I know."
"But I wanted to."
Noah smiled.
"I appreciate it."
Mason hesitated for a moment before continuing.
"It's been...nice."
"What has?"
"Not coming home to an empty apartment."
The honesty surprised them both.
Mason quickly looked down at his plate.
"I mean..."
"I know what you meant."
Silence settled between them for several moments.
Not uncomfortable.
Just thoughtful.
Finally Noah spoke.
"I like having someone to cook for."
Mason looked up.
"You do?"
"My grandmother always said meals taste better when they're shared."
Mason smiled softly.
"She sounds wise."
"She usually was."
Later that evening they settled into opposite ends of the sectional sofa to review video from practice.
About twenty minutes into the footage, Mason paused the recording.
"You missed that."
Noah looked closer.
"The winger?"
"You saw him."
"I chose the safer pass."
"You would've started a breakaway."
Noah replayed the sequence twice before nodding.
"You're right."
"I know."
"You've been spending too much time with me."
"I've learned from the best."
"I'll pretend that wasn't sarcasm."
"It wasn't."
The compliment lingered longer than Noah expected.
Mason rarely handed out praise casually.
When he admired something, he meant it.
That realization stayed with Noah long after they finished reviewing game film.
Over the following days, the routines continued multiplying almost without notice.
Mason automatically brewed a second pot of coffee whenever Noah worked out longer than expected.
Noah quietly packed extra snacks whenever road trips stretched beyond a few hours.
They alternated choosing movies despite both routinely falling asleep before the ending.
Mason began texting if he planned to stay late after optional practice.
Noah naturally waited before starting dinner.
None of them had discussed these habits.
They simply happened.
One afternoon, following a hard-fought preseason victory, several teammates gathered in the locker room while trainers finished postgame treatments.
Tyler sat across the room still wearing half his equipment.
"I don't know how Carter eats as much as he does."
"It's a gift," Mason answered.
"It's a medical condition," Liam corrected.
Mason threw a roll of athletic tape toward him.
It bounced harmlessly off Liam's shoulder.
Veteran winger Ben Sullivan, who had spent nearly fifteen seasons in professional hockey, leaned back against his locker with an amused expression.
"You know what I've noticed?"
Nobody responded.
Ben pointed between Mason and Noah.
"You two."
"What about us?" Mason asked.
"You don't even ask each other things anymore."
Mason frowned.
"What are you talking about?"
"I watched Hayes grab your water bottle before practice because he knew you'd forgotten it."
"So?"
"And you handed him his extra stick before warmups without him saying a word."
"We've played together a long time."
Ben grinned.
"No."
"What?"
"You two are acting like an old married couple."
The entire locker room burst into laughter.
Tyler slapped his knee.
"I've been saying that for weeks."
Mason shook his head.
"We are not."
Ben wasn't finished.
"You finish each other's sentences."
"We absolutely do not."
"You practically have assigned parking spots."
"They're literally assigned."
"You know exactly how the other takes coffee."
"That's coincidence."
Ben looked toward Noah.
"Tell him."
Noah simply shrugged.
"I do know how he takes his coffee."
The room exploded again.
Even Coach Morrison, walking past the open locker room door, glanced inside with a puzzled smile before continuing toward his office.
Mason buried his face in one hand.
"I can't believe I'm surrounded by children."
"Old married couple," Tyler repeated with a grin.
"I'm going to start calling you domestic partners."
"You value your life far too little."
More laughter echoed through the room.
Noah couldn't stop smiling.
Neither, despite all his protests, could Mason.
The teasing eventually faded as players returned to changing clothes and packing equipment, but the warmth it left behind remained.
Noah glanced toward Mason, who was still shaking his head while trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile.
For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the joke no longer sounded ridiculous.
It simply felt...comfortable.
And that unfamiliar warmth settled quietly somewhere beneath his ribs, making the crowded locker room feel unexpectedly brighter than it had only a few weeks before.
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