Page 129 of Melting the Ice

“You gonna tell anyone?” Coach asked.

Brody was surprised. “You’re not going to tell them?”

“Son, you’re going to finish out this season and play the next, right?” When Brody nodded, he continued. “Then I appreciate knowing your future plans. It helps me understand how I can help you—and how you can help me, to win hockey games. But it’s not their business what you’re doing in a year and a half. If you’re gonna end up heading to Carolina, to their camp, or to medical school. That’syourbusiness. All that matters is that you’re their teammate, on and off the ice.”

Brody was surprised. He didn’t know why because what Coach said made sense. What did it matter what he was going to do after he graduated, as long as he committed himself to the team now?

He’d told Ramsey—or Ramsey had toldhim—because Ramsey was more than just a teammate or a line partner. He was a friend. One of Brody’s best friends.

“Okay,” Brody said, nodding. “I worried . . .I worried they might not take me seriously. Or treat me different, if they knew.”

“Brody, you’ve earned their respect. If they don’t, then that’s on them. And if you choose to tell themandthey choose to disrespect you because of that, then you let me know, okay?”

Brody nodded, though he didn’t have any intention of squealing about anyone being shitty to him.

But Coach B leaned forward, his gray eyes intent on Brody. “Don’t pawn me off with that bullshit, Faulkner. Anyone’s shitty to you because of this choice, you come to me, okay? Promise me that.”

“I . . .” Brody hesitated. He didn’t want to promise, not verbally anyway, if he didn’t intend to.

“I get not wanting to be a tattle. But this is important. I’m not just teaching you to play hockey, but how to be men. What you’re doing is brave and impressive.”

“I haven’t done it yet, not officially.” Even though he knew he needed to let the Hurricanes know his decision. “And anyway, it doesn’t feel brave. More stupid, if I’m being honest,” Brody protested. But that didn’t mean he was going to do anything differently.

“Hockey’s never a sure thing, but you’d be excused from believing it’s more of a sure thing than med school,” Coach said. “It’s brave to look at your future and see a different path than everyone else. So you’ve got to promise me, if anyone gives you shit, you tell me.”

“I will.” Brody caved. What Coach said made sense. And he couldn’t deny it felt good that he’d continue to have his back,andthat Coach didn’t seem to respect him any less for the decision he’d made.

“Besides,” Coach said as Brody stood, “do you think I thought any less of Zach for deciding he was done in the pros?”

“No,” Brody said. He hadn’t even had to hesitate before he’d declared it. Of course Coach hadn’t thought less of Zach for that, and Zach was here, wasn’t he? In grad school and yet still helping Coach B coach this team. It proved that there wasn’t justonepath to loving hockey and having a life.

“Of course I didn’t. Everyone’s journey is different. And if you want to talk to him about it, you always can, too. He’d be a good resource.”

“He would be,” Brody said. He wondered why he hadn’t considered talking to Zach before. Maybe because in his head, he’d seen Zach as an ex-pro player. A guy who’d made different choices than Brody. Not as someone who’d picked something else they loved over hockey. But Zach had made a way to have both in his life, and Brody could see that was a pattern he might want to emulate.

“Good. Think on it,” Coach said, rising to his feet. “I’m honored you still want to play on my team, Brody, and we’re lucky to have you.”

He knew if he’d been smarter, he’d have madethisyear his last, with the difficulty of balancing the demands of NCAA hockey and all his homework, but just for another year he wanted it all. After all, he’d done it this far, hadn’t he?

Brody went to the locker room to get ready for practice feeling lighter than he had in weeks. Maybe even lighter than he’d felt since the beginning of the season.

Even though the decision hadn’t been easy, the aftermath sure felt easy.

Ramsey was sitting on the bench in front of his locker, a grumpy expression on his face.

“You feelin’ alright?” Brody asked as he passed him.

“Ugh,” Ramsey said. “Fucking protocols.”

“They’re for your own safety,” Malcolm said from across the room.

“Ugh,” Ramsey repeated. “Did you hear that? A fucking parrot in this fucking room.”

“Ramsey,” Brody warned.

“If you want to play, they should just let you play,” Elliott chimed in.

More, Brody thought, because it would bring a frown to Mal’s face than because Elliott actually thought it was a good idea to duck the concussion protocols that Dr. Robison put into place.

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