Page 113 of Melting the Ice

Didn’t understand until he’d slipped his headphones on and was a few paragraphs into his reading. His phone dinged, and he glanced down at it.

It was a message from Brody, just across the table, supposedly deep into a discussion with Gina about their lab report. But he’d sent him this anyway.

Maybe I didn’t want to share you, Brody had texted him.

Brody glanced up at him, and Dean could still see the remnants of that red flush on his cheeks. They didn’t say anything, but Dean hoped his look spoke volumes.

Me too. I want to hoard you right back.

Chapter Fifteen

Brody felt different.

This whole time he’d expected that one day, he’d wake up, tie up his skates, and take his first smooth slide onto the ice or he’d even look over at Ramsey andknow.

But there hadn’t been one moment when he’d known more than any other. It had been a slow, gradual slide into acceptance.

A hundred tiny things had decided him.

How much he loved bending over the microscope in labs with Gina.

Writing lab reports, which everyone else hated, and he found he actually kind of enjoyed.

His parents’ acceptance. His dad sending him a list of good medical schools he might want to apply to.

Watching Dean on his field of play, the relish and joy he took in tackling every single down as a new challenge.

Brody wanting hisownnew challenge.

The funny thing was with his decision solidifying in his mind, slowly taking shape and form with each game of his own, he actually found himself getting his groove back.

The ice felt cleaner, his blades sharper, his senses more attuned to the action on the ice.

Ever since he’d taken that penalty and he and Ramsey had argued about it, Brody had realized that his attitude was morphing, shifting.

And today, during this game? Brody realized midway through the third period that it had never felt better to play hockey.

He’d never enjoyed each and every second more.

The love he had for it had never been an issue—but now, it was sharper and deeper, more well defined, and it didn’t make him want tokeepplaying hockey. He just wanted to play it now, to enjoy every moment.

Ramsey looked his way and then tilted his head in the direction of the ice. Zach barked at them from behind, and Brody vaulted over the boards, joining Ramsey as they skated where the Napa Buccaneers’ center was heading—Finn and the goal he protected.

The Evergreens were up two goals to nothing, and there wasn’t much they needed to do except to remain vigilant, of which Coach B and Zach had both reminded them during the last TV timeout.

With that lead, Coach B had also been letting some of the younger, less experienced defensive pairs take the bulk of the second and third period ice time.

But they’d all seen the Bucs pushing to score, notching a number of shots on goal during the third period, and Coach B had obviously decided that it was time for their defense to stiffen up again for the final five minutes of the game.

“Come on, come on,” Ramsey crowed as they circled around the back of the net. He went on the attack, shoving the centeragainst the boards, and they nearly went down with the force of it as they battled for the puck, sticks clashing.

Brody took advantage of the slowing of the action, skating into a slightly better angle in front of the right winger, who’d been a fucking pest the whole game. On the off chance that Ramsey lost this, he wasn’t going to let the guy grab the puck.

Ivan joined in, apparently deciding he’d had enough of this bullshit, and of course it was his interference that made the center go down.

Brody was already moving fast towards the knot of players when the ref blew the whistle, calling roughing on Ivan, who made a face.

“Wrong-ass call,” Ramsey called out, popping up with an assist from Brody as the ref led Ivan to the penalty box.

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