Page 14 of Melting the Ice

“Me too,” Brody said. “But if it wasn’t, it’s not like I mind, you know? I got lots of friends who are queer.”

“I’m good friends with Wes, and he’s gay,” Dean offered, though he wasn’t sure before this moment he’d have called Wes agoodfriend—even if he was pretty sure Wes would’ve calledhimone.

“Yeah, sometimes I wonder, am I missing something? But I don’t know.” Brody shrugged charmingly.

“Yeah,” Dean said, because he didn’t know what else to say. “But yeah . . .uh . . .I think it’s working out okay with us? As roommates?”

Brody’s smile was blinding. He really was incredibly attractive—if you were into that, which Dean hadjustsaid he wasn’t, so it was bizarre how his brain kept sticking on that particular fact. “So far so good,” he said lightly. “You haven’t pissed me off yet. It’s hard rooming with people who aren’t athletes—”

“They don’t understand,” Dean agreed. “Honestly when Ramsey told me about you, I thought you’d be perfect.”

“Aw, only roommates a few days, and you already think I’m perfect.” Brody fluttered his eyelashes as punctuation to that ridiculous sentence, and yep, he had long curling eyelashes, over those sweet brown eyes. They were the kind of eyelashes that Dean would expect on a girl, except that it was obvious that they were on a guy. There was Brody’s definitely muscular build. His broad shoulders. The shadow of light brown scruff dusting his jaw.

“You haven’t clogged the toilet or left a dirty dish in the sink, plus there’s that sick blender your mom brought,” Dean said gruffly. “Oh, and you gave me that tip about the peas.”

Brody patted his knee approvingly. “You’re pretty okay, too. Maybe someday I’ll get used to how goddamn big you are. How tallareyou, anyway?”

“Six foot five,” Dean said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

But clearly he’d failed because Brody asked, “I’m confused. Is that a bad thing?”

“For a linebacker, yeah.”

Brody’s jaw dropped. “They want you to betaller? Seriously?”

“No, no,” Dean said, and he was chuckling now, amused even though this wasn’t a subject that he’d ever laughed about in his life. “That’s kinda tall for a linebacker, actually.”

“The NFL is weird,” Brody declared.

“Yeah, kinda. I guess. Don’t tell me the NHL doesn’t have ideal sizes for every position. What do you play?”

“Defense,” Brody said. “And yeah, I guess. None of the scouts have ever brought up my height so I suppose I’mnottoo tall.” He eyed Dean again, from his sock-clad feet to the top of his head. “Unlike some people.”

“So you’re gonna go pro, huh? Cause you were drafted?” Dean asked because he was genuinely curious about someone who’d had all these gifts practicallygivento him, and he was stillhesitating. He hadn’t missed how the last time they’d discussed this, Brody had been nebulous and then changed the subject.

Brody shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, Ishould. I always wanted to, but then I got injured last year and I’m . . .well, wondering now. I could play pro hockeyorI could do something else, discover what else I can do, what difference I can make in the world.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “You’re really gonna throw being drafted away?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.” Brody’s tone was crisp and defensive.

“I’m gonna get drafted and make it to the fifty-three man roster, my first season,” Dean said gruffly, more than a little surprised at how Brody was un-sticking his normally reticent tongue. He’d only ever felt as comfortable this easily with Wes. Nobody else had ever managed to get under his defenses so easily. Or get him to talk so quickly about himself. About the things he wanted.

About all the plans he held so close to his chest, picking over them obsessively until they felt worn at the corners.

“Yeah? You got a guarantee or something?” Brody’s question wasn’t rude; it was more inquisitive. Curious.

Dean could see, easily, how he could be a scientist. That he’d want to deep dive into something and figure out exactly what made it work the way it did.

“No. There’s no guarantees.” He’d give anything for that not to be true, but it was. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll do anything they want, be anything they want, to make sure that happens.”

Brody stared at him, and for a brief, horrible moment, Dean was worried he’d exposed too much.

“You’re that committed,” he stated, rather than asked.

“Yeah.” There was a part of him that wanted to say why, but he never shared that. He hadn’t even told Wes why he worked harder than pretty much any guy on the defensive side of theball or why he was so desperate to have his name called during draft night. And if he hadn’t told Wes . . .well, he might feel comfortable with Brody, but he barely knew him.

Brody nodded. “I get it.”

---