Page 132 of Melting the Ice

Dean didn’t know; he’d barely given hockey a second thought before he and Brody had moved in together.

Before he’d fallen for Brody.

“I’m gonna go over there, you want to—”

“I can talk to those guys any time,” Dean said, not wanting to leave Brody’s side. “I don’t mind slumming it with the hockey guys.”

Brody elbowed him, but his eyes were glowing as he gazed up at Dean. “You wanna grab us some beers?”

Nobody watching them would think for half a second that they were just two platonic bros, hanging out at a party. This felt like a date, and Dean discovered helikedthat.

“Yeah,” Dean said and let his hand brush against the small of Brody’s gorgeous back. Felt Brody relax into his touch. “I’ll be right back.”

It would be so easy to lean down and brush a kiss across Brody’s mouth.

He knew, from the way Brody’s gaze flicked to his lips, that he was thinking about it.

But they hadn’t even had the conversation about how serious this was. Or how Dean was head-over-heels, fucking-wildly-in-love, yet.

Dean figured they had time for that. Maybe if he gave it enough time, gaveBrodyenough time, by the time it came up, Brody would feel a fraction of what he did. He wouldn’t just shake his head, regretfully, as Dean bared his heart and his soul.

“Okay,” Brody murmured. He reached up, curling his fingers into Dean’s T-shirt, like he wanted one last touch to ground him, to remind him Dean was real. “I’ll be right here.”

It hurt to move away from him, but Dean made himself do it, heading into the kitchen and its makeshift bar. Dean made quick work of grabbing two beers from the cooler while making bland small talk with a guy and a girl, her mentioning he was impressed by a sack during Dean’s last game, and him gazing up down at her like she was saying something life-changing.

Did he and Brody look at each other like that?

Dean was pretty sure he looked atBrodylike that. Every time he opened his mouth, Dean probably stared at him like he was spouting the mysteries of the universe.

Well.

He’d never promised to be subtle. Or discreet.

Brody hadn’t seemed to mind at the fundraiser that they were pressed together in an entirely unplatonic way. And he hadn’t been shy about touching him tonight, either.

Maybe he wouldn’t have minded if Deanhadkissed him.

Maybe he should’ve.

Maybe Dean was already disappointing him . . .

Shut up, he told that annoying voice.Brody likes me just fine.

But youlovehim.

He did.

With the kind of dedication he’d previously reserved for his football career.

He returned to the living room, and to Brody, handing him the other bottle, and Brody clicked it against Dean’s own. “Hey,everyone this is Dean,” Brody said, and the few people Dean hadn’t met yet nodded back at him.

“My . . .uh . . .roommate,” Brody clarified. He glanced over at Dean, and Dean knew all his expressions well enough at this point that he could see the apology in it.

He knew not everyone in this group played hockey. Some were friends of players. Which would explain why even after Brody had told his team about them, he was still being circumspect here and now.

Dean told himself that he wasn’t disappointed. That they were still figuring this thing out, and that Brody didn’t need to tell everyone. Not when they both knew the truth.

“Heard your dad was in town,” Ramsey said, blissfully changing the subject, directing the question to Finn. Who looked up, surprised. He downed the rest of the drink in his red plastic cup and lifted it up, like he was toasting an imaginary person.

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