Page 114 of Melting the Ice

“You good for penalty kill?” Brody asked.

Ramsey shot him a dirty look. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t ask me that.”

Brody rolled his eyes. “I’mallowed.”

“You’re skating really fucking well,” Ramsey said, as they circled up for the faceoff. “By the way.” Like it was nothing. Like this was something they should be discussing right now, down a player for the next two minutes.

“Thanks,” Brody said dryly. He could feel it though. Not just a little, but literally surging through him. His growing certainty allowing him to finally enjoy playing in a way he hadn’t all season long.

He wasn’t going to stupidly make this decision quickly, but the more he leaned into the shining kernel of truth inside him, the better he felt.

The more likeBrodyhe felt.

Mal took the faceoff, but he lost the puck and that smug fucking center from Napa took it, circling around the back ofthe goal before passing the puck to one of his wingers, Ramsey skating in front of him to try to take it away.

This year Ramsey had become easily the best defensive man on the team, and so he usually let him take the lead on penalty kill. It had been working for them. They had one of the best penalty kill rates in the conference. But today, Brody met Ramsey’s eyes across the ice, and when the winger passed to the one by Brody, he went after it. Nicked the puck right out from underneath him, and he realized out of the corner of his eye that there was a big, wide-open sheet behind him.

It was risky, but they were up two goals, and another quick glance told him they had only four minutes left in the game.

Maybe in an earlier game, he’d have let the opportunity go, his confidence and his joy diminished. But today, he took it and grabbed it and made a quick cut, gaining the speed that was why he’d been drafted in the third round, crossing across the midpoint, Ramsey shouting his encouragement.

Brody could feel the rest of the players breathing down his neck as he sized up the goalie and the shot he wanted to make.

He’d only get one chance, but he was gonna make it a good one.

The Bucs’ goalie had not been prepared for an aggressive push like this, and Brody made another split-second decision and went low instead of high, slipping to the right suddenly and sliding the puck in between the goalie’s lower pad and the goal post.

He watched it go in, no disbelief because he’d taken his shot and he’dknownit was going to go in.

The horn sounded and he was overtaken by Ramsey and the rest of the team, shouting in his ear and smacking him on the back.

“Shit,” Ramsey said when they collapsed back on the bench a few moments later. “You fucking lunatic.”

“Hey, can’t let you have all the fun,” Brody said lightly, but he already knew this wouldn’t just be probably the best game of his career, but the game he remembered. The one where he gotten his groove back.

“Didn’t know you were worried about that.” Ramsey grinned, fully aware because he’d only mentioned it offhandedly a million times that he was the leading defensive scorer in the conference this season.

“I’m not.”I’m not now.

“Great play, Faulkner,” Coach B said, leaning down by his helmet. “Fucking great vision.”

Brody already knew Ramsey was gonna ask after the game.

And inevitably, after he’d showered and was sitting on the bench in front of his locker, Ramsey dropped down next to him, wearing only a towel around his waist.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” he asked.

Brody raised an eyebrow. “I took a reasoned chance and scored. Don’t you do it all the time?”

“No, you’re playing like . . .like you used to. No.” Ramsey stood and began to pace. Clearly he wasn’t worried about giving the whole locker room an eyeful because his towel was flapping, barely hanging on for dear life. Brody rolled his eyes. “No, you’re not playing like the old Brody, you’re playing like anewBrody. You weren’t this good even last year, before you got hurt.”

“From the way you’re looking at me, I’d think you were pissed about it.”

“I’m not pissed. I’m fucking confused.” Ramsey stopped in front of him, a frown creasing his face. “What the hell is going on, Bro? You decide to stick with it?”

Brody knew what he was asking. He hesitated. He should tell Ramsey the truth, but Ramsey was weird about this, weirder than he’d ever expected he’d be, and he suddenly didn’t knowhowto say it.

“Not sure yet,” Brody said, even though he was pretty fucking sure, at this point.

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