Chapter 9 Internal Storm #2
It would have been easy.
Instead, he dried his hands and quietly switched off the kitchen lights.
If Mason wanted space, Noah wasn’t going to take that away from him.
The following afternoon, practice only confirmed what Noah already knew.
Coach Morrison divided the team into small groups for transition drills.
Normally, Mason naturally drifted toward Noah without thinking.
Today, Mason volunteered to rotate with another defensive pairing.
The change was subtle enough that most players never noticed.
Noah did.
During one drill, Mason celebrated a rookie winger’s goal with a broad grin.
When Noah scored moments later, Mason offered nothing more than a quick tap of his stick against the boards before skating away.
Noah told himself not to read too much into it.
Still…
The distance felt real.
After practice, Tyler wandered into the equipment room carrying a bundle of freshly sharpened sticks.
He glanced between Noah and Mason before lowering his voice.
“You two okay?”
Noah looked up.
“Why?”
“You’ve been weird.”
“Weird how?”
“You haven’t argued about coffee all week.”
Noah smiled faintly.
“I didn’t realize people kept track.”
Tyler shrugged.
“You guys are predictable.”
“We’re fine.”
“You sure?”
Noah hesitated.
“I think so.”
Tyler nodded slowly.
“If you say so.”
The goalie walked away, though he looked unconvinced.
Noah wished he felt more certain himself.
That evening, he found himself replaying the last few weeks in his mind.
The hotel room.
The conversation about his past relationships.
The blizzard.
The fireplace.
The moment the lights had returned.
The midnight skate.
Center ice.
Had he imagined something that wasn’t really there?
Or had Mason felt it too?
Maybe…
Maybe he’d made Mason uncomfortable without realizing it.
The thought settled heavily in his chest.
He remembered the way Mason had looked at him beside the fireplace.
The softness in his eyes.
The silence that had stretched between them.
Noah had wanted to believe it meant something.
Maybe it hadn’t.
Maybe Mason had simply been caught up in the moment, and Noah had mistaken vulnerability for something deeper.
If that were true…
No wonder Mason was pulling away.
Noah closed his eyes.
He had promised himself years ago that he would never put another person through what he’d experienced after being outed.
He understood how frightening uncertainty could be.
If Mason was struggling with something he couldn’t yet explain, the last thing Noah wanted was to become another source of pressure.
So he made a decision.
He would wait.
No questions.
No assumptions.
No pushing.
If Mason wanted distance, Noah would respect it.
Even if it broke his heart a little.
Over the next several days, Noah quietly adjusted his own routines.
He still made breakfast every morning, but no longer called Mason into the kitchen if he stayed in his room.
He continued cooking dinner, leaving a plate in the refrigerator whenever Mason came home late.
He stopped asking whether Mason wanted to ride together, instead assuming the answer would be no.
He never complained.
Never showed disappointment.
The condo grew noticeably quieter.
The silence reminded Noah of his first apartment after junior hockey.
Back then, he’d lived alone for nearly eight months.
He’d convinced himself solitude was easier.
Nobody could reject you if nobody came close enough.
Meeting the Thunderhawks had changed that.
Meeting Mason had changed it even more.
Without realizing it, Noah had grown used to sharing ordinary moments.
Morning coffee.
Grocery shopping.
Movie nights.
Arguments over refrigerator shelves.
He missed those moments more than he cared to admit.
Late Thursday afternoon, Noah stood in the laundry room folding freshly dried towels when he heard Mason’s bedroom door open.
A few moments later, Mason appeared in the hallway carrying an empty water bottle.
They nearly collided.
“Oh.”
Mason stepped back.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
For a second, both men simply stood there.
The awkwardness felt unfamiliar.
Almost painful.
Finally Noah spoke.
“Shoulder’s feeling better.”
Mason looked relieved.
“Good.”
“The bruise’s fading.”
“I’m glad.”
Silence returned.
Mason shifted his weight slightly.
“I should…”
He gestured vaguely toward the kitchen.
“…fill this.”
“Right.”
He walked past Noah.
Neither said another word.
The entire interaction lasted less than thirty seconds.
Yet after Mason disappeared into the kitchen, Noah remained standing in the hallway staring at the neatly folded towels in his hands.
He couldn’t remember the last time talking to Mason had required so much effort.
The next morning, the team prepared for another three-game road trip.
The locker room buzzed with familiar travel-day energy as players packed equipment, joked about airline food, and compared weather forecasts for the cities ahead.
Mason remained unusually quiet.
Noah didn’t push.
He simply packed his own gear.
Outside, the team bus waited beside the arena.
Players carried duffel bags toward the luggage compartment while equipment staff loaded sticks beneath the coach.
Noah reached the bus just as Mason finished placing his suitcase inside.
For a moment, they stood alone near the rear of the vehicle.
Neither seemed eager to climb aboard.
Noah took a slow breath.
“I know something’s wrong.”
Mason’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly.
“You don’t have to explain it.”
Mason looked down.
“I…”
Noah gently shook his head.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
The words seemed to surprise Mason.
Noah offered a small, reassuring smile.
“I just want you to know something.”
Mason finally met his eyes.
“What?”
Noah adjusted the strap of his backpack.
“Whatever you’re dealing with…”
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
“…I’m here.”
Mason swallowed.
“You don’t have to figure everything out today.”
“You don’t have to pretend you’re okay.”
“And you don’t have to talk until you’re ready.”
The parking lot around them seemed strangely quiet.
Noah’s voice remained calm.
“The friendship matters more to me than having answers.”
Mason stared at him for several long seconds.
His eyes shimmered with an emotion Noah couldn’t quite identify.
Guilt.
Relief.
Fear.
Perhaps all three.
Finally, Mason nodded once.
“Thank you.”
The words came out barely above a whisper.
Before either could say anything else, Coach Morrison called from the front of the bus.
“Let’s go, gentlemen.”
Noah nodded toward the steps.
“We should get moving.”
Mason agreed silently.
They climbed aboard together.
For the first time since becoming roommates, they chose different seats.
Noah settled beside the window near the middle of the bus while Mason sat several rows behind him.
As the Thunderhawks pulled away from the arena, Noah looked out at the passing city.
He had no idea what battle Mason was fighting.
He only knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Whenever Mason was finally ready to face it…
He wouldn’t have to face it alone.
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