Page 23 of Melting the Ice

“Not looking to hook up tonight?” Brody asked.

It would be easier—would makeeverythingeasier—if Dean ditched him and found some girl who would pant over him the way Brody was trying not to.

But Dean just shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “There’s always strings and who’s got time for that?”

“Not you,” Brody agreed. He didn’t think he knew anyone busier than his roommate.

“Exactly.”

Brody tilted the neck of his beer bottle, tapping it against Dean’s. “To not hooking up with anyone,” he said.

Dean grinned. “You not doin’ it to make Ramsey crazy?”

“I’m not doing it because I don’t want to. I . . .” It was hard to explain. Especially hard to explain to the guys Brody knew, especially the guys on his team. None of them understood his reticence. His dislike of casual relationships. His need to be comfortable and familiar with someone before he got naked with them. “I don’t really want to, that’s all.”

“Understood,” Dean said quietly, and Brody thought he maybe actually did.

“Thanks,” Brody said, meaning it.

“’Course. Who am I to judge? I work all the fucking time. And when I’m not working, I’m at practice, or in class. I’ve got no time for anything else.”

“Why is that?” Brody asked.

Dean’s expression went wry and he took a long drink of his beer. “Let’s just say that my parents aren’t both doctors. Or that either of them are actually involved in my life.”

Brody wasn’t surprised; he’d observed enough about Dean’s life to realize that he’d grown up very differently. But he still felt a pulse of sadness. Dean was a great guy, with such a bright future. One he’d apparently fought for on his own.

“Yeah,” Dean continued, suddenly looking awkward. “I don’t talk about this much.”

“I understand.” And even though Brody knew his situation had been like night and day from Dean’s, hedid.

They were both lone wolves, fighting for what they wanted, for what they needed, in a world that didn’t always understand them.

A world that assumed that with Brody’s face and his hockey prowess that he’d want to have sex with as many people as possible. A world that assumed every kid who got this far, with this bright of a future ahead of him, had two supportive parents.

Out of the corner of his eye, Brody saw Finn walk in, a far-too-bright smile plastered across his face, eyes dark and a little haunted.

“Hey, one of my teammates just showed up, and I wanted to talk to him real quick. You okay here?”

“You gonna abandon me, Faulkner?” Dean teased in a low voice.

“Just for a minute,” Brody promised.

“It’s alright. Take your time. I get it. I’ll go find Wes and Marcus, make sure they don’t get carried away in a dark corner.”

Brody headed Finn off before he hit the kitchen—and the booze.

“Hey,” he said to the goalie, “great game today.”

Finn shot him a look, bleak and tinged at the edges with something ugly. The something that Brody had slowly been growing more and more concerned over.

There was a desperation to be good, to be thebest, baked into Finn’s DNA. Maybe Brody couldn’t fix it, couldn’t take it away, but he could try to make it easier to deal with. Show Finn that he understood the pressure, too.

“They almost won. If you hadn’t saved that goal—”

Brody interrupted him, putting a reassuring hand on his arm. “But I did. That’s what I’m there for. You don’t have to handle the whole defense on your own, Finn. That’s what we’re there for.”

“But—”

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