Page 8 of Melting the Ice

“I will,” Brody said.

“Yeah, you will. You’ll be good. I think we got a real shot this year, maybe even win the conference.”

“You think?”

“Youdon’tthink Elliott, Mal, and Ivan aren’t a fucking dynamite line?”

“They are,” Brody said cautiously.

“And with Finn at goal, you don’t think we’ve got a real shot?” He gave Brody one of his cockiest grins. The one thatlured practically everyone to his bed. “And then there’s us. Best defensive pair in the conference.”

The waitress brought the food, saving Brody from answering—or from saying what he really wanted to say. Which was:don’t jinx it before the season even starts.

“You really gotta learn to relax. Unclench. Or something.” Ramsey said this as he shoved three french fries in his mouth.

Brody grimaced. “How do you getanyoneto go to bed with you?”

“My huge dick,” Ramsey said, waggling his eyebrows.

“You’re a fucking Neanderthal,” Brody said.

“But that’s the best kind,” Ramsey retorted with a wild grin.

Chapter Two

Brody leaned down andtightened the laces on his skate for the third time.

“You doin’ okay there?”

Glancing up, he saw Zach, the new assistant coach, standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest.

He wanted to like Zach, but the truth was, Zach was only slightly less intimidating than Coach Gavin Blackburn, who was the winningest coach in Evergreens history, and who had only now come back to Portland after a successful, if short, stint in the NHL.

The only reason Zach wasn’t just as ridiculously intimidating as Coach Blackburn was that 1) he was young, maybe only a handful of years older than some of the seniors on the team, and 2) he’d been a player here himself, playing for Blackburn during his first coaching stint.

“I’m fine, knee’s fine,” Brody said automatically. If he said it enough, maybe he’d finally believe it.

Zach crouched down in front of him, his blue eyes serious. “Didn’t ask about your knee. I know Coach got the all-clear from your PT.”

“Right.” Brody felt like something—possibly any one of his hidden fears—had been exposed. “It isn’t my first time back on the ice, you know.” He hated how defensive, howafraid,he sounded, but he couldn’t help it.

He was kind of a wreck. And not even the fun kind.

“Maybe not your first time on the ice, but Coach B and I know you’re gonna start out at your own speed, whatever that is,” Zach said quietly.

“Alright.”

Zach put a hand on his knee. “You got this, Faulkner. I promise.”

“Thanks,” Brody said and pushed himself up off the bench.

His knee felt more than fine. Frankly, it was probably stronger than it had been before the tear. Both his surgeon and his PT had come highly recommended and he’d spent what felt like a very long spring and summer doing all the strengthening exercises they’d recommended.

He’d already done his stretches, loosening up his muscles, and there was nothing to do but to face his anxiety—and the ice just outside the locker room door.

“You comin’, Bro?” Elliott, the sophomore forward, stuck his head just inside the locker room door.

“Yeah,” he said, trying not to look like he was procrastinating, but then what the hell, they all knew him too well, even Elliott, even though they’d barely gotten to play together before his injury. “I’m coming.” And then because he felt like heshould, Elliott’s young, uncomplicated face waiting there patiently for him, he stood and walked over to the door and actually managed to get through it.

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