Page 123 of Melting the Ice

“Ah,” Dean said.

If he had to guess, there was more going on there than just conflicting opinions, but he wasn’t going to say anything if Brody hadn’t picked up on that, yet.

“Didn’t Ramsey say he was coming by too?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, whereisRamsey?” Brody wondered. “He’s supposed to be here.”

Next rotation, they slowed near where Elliott and Mal were skating. “Where’s Ramsey?” Brody asked them.

Malcom shook his head. “No idea.” He glanced over at Elliott. “Though this idiot here might know. He’s plugged into every opportunity at this place to cause trouble. Same as Ramsey.”

“Unfair,” Elliott complained.

“Buttrue,” Mal stressed.

“Hm, alright,” Brody said. He looked concerned, the crease between his brows deepening. Dean wanted to reach over and smooth it out. Tell him everything was going to be okay, but it was hard to when there were no guarantees Dean could make.

“You’re worried,” Dean said as they skated away, Brody digging in his pocket for his phone. Dean could never have pulled that move off, but then Brody was a damn fine skater.

“Yeah. I’m gonna text him.” But then before he could, his phone blared out, ringing. Brody stared, uncomprehending, at the screen and then answered it. He cut sharply over to the boards, leaving Dean to fend for himself, which he did. Barely.

Then he could only watch as Brody’s frown grew more and more pronounced the longer the phone call went on.

Finally it ended, and Brody looked up at him, and Dean realized he was more than worried. He was upset.

“That was the hospital,” Brody said, panic rising in his voice. “Something’s happened to Ramsey. He was riding here on his bike and something happened. An accident? He’s hurt, and in the ER.”

Dean put out a hand. “Tell me where and we’ll go, right now.”

Brody looked shaken, and Dean knew that as much as Brody had been there for him, now he could return the favor. “Come on,” he coaxed him. “We’ll get our shoes, and I’ll drive.”

“He’s just this way.” The nurse motioned to them.

Brody’s heart was in his throat and had been ever since he’d answered the phone, about half an hour ago.

It had taken time to get their shoes and for Dean to lead him to his car and to take the wheel himself, driving them to the hospital. Then they’d had to find out where Ramsey was.

It had all taken time. Time Brody was worried he didn’t have. Nobody would give him a straight answer about what had happened. Only that Ramsey had been hit, while riding his bike to the rink for the fundraiser.

He’d gotten the call because apparentlyhe,Brody Faulkner, was listed as Ramsey’s emergency contact.

He knew Ramsey didn’t know his parents and had spent years in foster care, but he didn’t realize that out of everyone Ramsey knew—and that was alotof people, both in the nakedandclothed sense—he was the one Ramsey trusted the most to have his back when it counted.

And how had he paid Ramsey back? By taking half an hour to get to the right spot in the fucking hospital.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Dean soothed next to him, his voice pitched low for only Brody to hear him. “It’s gonna be just fine.”

Brody wanted to retort he didn’t know that, but he also couldn’t help but be incredibly grateful for Dean’s calming, supportive presence. Without it, Brody was pretty sure he’d have flown apart into a million pieces.

When the nurse had told Dean that he wasn’t Ramsey’s emergency contact, he’d stared back implacably at her, and Brody had added, hurriedly, that he wasn’t going anywhere without Dean. To the point of reaching out and grabbing his hand.

The nurse had finally nodded and led them back to where Ramsey was supposedly being treated.

She pulled the curtain back, and there was Ramsey, a small bandage above his left eye, a woozy look in his expression, and then he smiled, like nothing was fucking wrong.

Brody wanted to throttle him.

For scaring him this way. For being alright, in spite of it.

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