Chapter 16 Playoff Fire #2
"I'm still getting used to someone paying this much attention."
"You'd do exactly the same thing for me."
"I absolutely would."
"Then let me."
Noah smiled softly.
"Okay."
After breakfast, they drove to the arena together.
Before heading toward the locker room, Mason steered Noah down a different hallway.
"The training room's this way."
"I'm going after practice."
"You're going now."
"The coaches—"
"Can wait five minutes."
Noah looked at him with amused resignation.
"You know you're getting bossier."
"I'm learning from Coach Morrison."
"I should've stopped you sooner."
The athletic trainer looked pleasantly surprised when Noah walked through the door.
"Well, look who finally decided to cooperate."
Mason folded his arms.
"He doesn't have much choice anymore."
The trainer laughed.
"I like him."
"I usually do too."
Noah rolled his eyes dramatically.
"I suddenly feel outnumbered."
"You are."
For nearly forty minutes, the trainer carefully examined Noah's shoulder.
Fortunately, nothing was torn.
The diagnosis was painful but manageable.
A severe shoulder contusion with inflammation around the joint.
Rest between games.
Treatment.
Limited contact during practices.
Play through it only if pain remained manageable.
Coach Morrison joined them shortly afterward.
"You should've reported this sooner."
Noah lowered his eyes.
"I know."
Coach sighed.
"I'm not taking you out."
Relief immediately crossed Noah's face.
"But..."
The coach pointed firmly.
"...you're following every instruction our medical staff gives you."
"No arguments."
"Understood."
"And Carter."
Mason looked up.
"Keep an eye on him."
Mason smiled.
"I already am."
Coach nodded.
"I figured."
The next week became a careful balancing act.
Playoff hockey never slowed down.
Neither did leadership.
As alternate captain, Mason carried responsibilities beyond his own performance.
He checked on younger players after difficult losses.
He helped maintain energy during practices.
He spoke with reporters after games.
He made sure the locker room stayed focused when emotions threatened to boil over.
Somehow, he also found time to quietly care for Noah.
After every practice, he reminded Noah about treatment appointments.
He carried heavier grocery bags without making it obvious.
He insisted on driving whenever Noah's shoulder looked especially stiff.
One evening, Noah caught him secretly researching shoulder rehabilitation exercises.
"What are you doing?"
Mason looked up guiltily.
"Nothing."
"You've got six medical websites open."
"I said almost nothing."
Noah laughed.
"You really are worrying."
"I told you."
"I'm your boyfriend."
"It's literally part of the job."
Noah walked over and kissed the top of his head.
"I appreciate it."
"I know."
"I just don't want you forgetting about yourself."
Mason closed the laptop.
"I won't."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
The series against their longtime rivals quickly became the hardest hockey either of them had ever played.
Every game felt like a championship.
Every shift ended with another collision.
Neither team gave away a single inch of ice willingly.
Game Five stretched into double overtime.
Players from both teams looked completely exhausted.
During one television timeout, Coach Morrison gathered the Thunderhawks around the bench.
"You're tired."
"So are they."
"The next mistake ends somebody's season."
He looked directly at Mason.
"Lead us."
Mason nodded once.
The next shift began.
Noah intercepted a dangerous cross-ice pass inside the defensive zone before immediately sending the puck toward center.
Mason accelerated.
One defender.
Then another.
The arena roared as he entered the offensive zone.
Instead of forcing a difficult shot, he circled behind the net and waited.
He knew exactly where Noah would be.
Without looking, Mason slipped the puck backward toward the blue line.
Noah stepped into it.
Despite the pain still lingering inside his shoulder, he delivered a perfect low shot through heavy traffic.
The rebound bounced directly into the slot.
Tyler crashed the net.
Goal.
The building erupted.
Thunderhawks victory.
Series lead.
Inside the locker room afterward, players celebrated loudly while music echoed through the room.
Tyler climbed onto a bench dramatically.
"I'd like everyone to remember that I absolutely meant to score."
Laughter exploded around him.
Coach Morrison shook his head.
"Sit down before you hurt yourself."
"I've already peaked."
The room laughed even harder.
Amid the celebration, Mason quietly found Noah near his locker.
"You okay?"
Noah nodded.
"It hurts."
"I figured."
"But it was worth it."
Mason smiled.
"It was."
He squeezed Noah's hand briefly while no one was looking.
Small.
Quick.
Enough.
Game Six took place two nights later inside a hostile road arena.
The Thunderhawks needed one more victory to eliminate their biggest rivals.
The opening period resembled controlled chaos.
Hits echoed throughout the building.
Players blocked shots with every part of their bodies.
Every whistle sparked another confrontation.
By the third period, the score remained tied.
Coach Morrison shortened the bench again.
"Every shift matters."
Mason looked toward Noah.
The shoulder clearly still bothered him.
Yet Noah continued battling for every puck as though nothing else existed.
Late in the final minutes, the rivals launched one last desperate attack.
A dangerous forward broke free toward the Thunderhawks' net.
Noah recognized the play instantly.
Ignoring the pain, he lunged forward and stretched his stick across the passing lane.
The puck deflected harmlessly into the corner.
Before the opposing team could recover, Mason collected it.
He exploded through center ice.
The defense scrambled backward.
One quick pass.
Another.
Tyler buried the empty-net goal with less than thirty seconds remaining.
The horn sounded.
Series over.
Thunderhawks players poured onto the ice, surrounding one another in exhausted celebration.
Mason found Noah almost immediately.
Neither cared about cameras.
Neither cared about the crowd.
They embraced tightly in the middle of the celebration.
"You did it," Mason said.
"No."
Noah smiled despite the exhaustion lining his face.
"We did."
Later, after the traditional handshake line ended and the locker room finally quieted, Coach Morrison stood before the team.
"You've earned four more games."
He smiled proudly.
"The conference finals."
Cheers filled the room again.
Players hugged one another.
Equipment managers celebrated.
Even the normally serious coaching staff couldn't hide their smiles.
Across the room, Mason looked toward Noah.
No words passed between them.
They didn't need any.
Weeks earlier, they'd wondered whether trade rumors, fear, or uncertainty would end their story before it truly began.
Now they stood four wins away from the championship series.
Together.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Not because the road had been easy.
Because every obstacle had taught them how to lean on one another instead of standing alone.
Whatever waited in the conference finals, they would meet it the same way they had survived everything else.
Together.
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