Page 131 of Melting the Ice

“Joy,” Ramsey said, not exactly sounding enthused at the prospect.

“Maybe give Finn some shots to block,” Zach suggested.

Ramsey glanced over at Brody and Brody could tell they were both on the same page. Maybe Finn didn’t need any more testing. He felt brittle enough, already. The last thing they wanted was to test him right out of the net.

“Sure, can’t hurt to work on that,” Ramsey said.

“Good,” Zach said, nodding. “As for you, Brody, I’m gonna work with you and Greene on your communication. You’re way too used to skating with Ramsey.”

“For good reason,” Ramsey said mournfully.

“Hey, it’ll be over soon,” Brody said. “I stopped by Dr. Robison’s office today, on my way in, and he said your scans were clear.”

“You asked the doctor about my scans?” Ramsey sighed. “Why am I even surprised?”

“You shouldn’t be?”

Ramsey’s frustration broke into a fierce grin and the next thing Brody knew, he had his arms full of his best friend.

“You know, I’m gonna fucking miss you,” Ramsey said under his breath.

“You aren’t even going to be on the team next year,” Brody reminded him, after clearing his throat a bit.

Ramsey pulled back, and he was grinning that old carefree Ramsey grin. The one that Brody had seen the first day he’d skated onto the ice at Hossa Rink and knew he’d found the right place to play hockey.

The path Brody was taking might be different now, but it still felt like reassurance, like he was coming home.

“Yeah, still,” Ramsey teased. “Guess you’re gonna have to come visit me, once I’m a big shot hockey player.”

“Try and keep me away,” Brody said. And that was a promise.

“Shouldn’t have let Wes talk me into this party,” Dean said as he and Brody walked up to the frat house.

“Why not? You had a free evening. Our game was earlier, so it worked out.” Brody grinned at him. “What, are you not feeling social this evening?”

Dean shot him a look. He knew it was full of heat and full of promise. “You know I’m not. Except when it’s you.”

“Except,” Brody retorted, grinning over at him, “we wouldn’t be doing much talking.”

Dean leaned in, feeling his blood quickening. Brody was potent tonight. Hot as fuck—all smug and cocky—knowing just the effect he had on Dean. “Oh, I’d be talking alright.”

Dean could give it right back, because he watched as Brody’s pupils dilated, his body angling closer, like their two bodies were magnets and he was inextricably drawn in and couldn’t fight it any longer.

“Yeah?” Brody’s voice had gone gruff as they climbed the stairs up to the front porch.

“Later,” Dean promised. He shot Brody a grin. “You dragged us to this party, after all.”

Brody rolled his eyes but he was still glued to Dean’s side as they walked into the living room, crowded with people.

“You still happy we came?” Dean teased.

He actually wasn’tthatdisappointed he was spending part of the evening at this frat party. As long as he was with Brody, he was practically guaranteed to have a good time.

“Yeah,” Brody said, and Dean followed his gaze. There were some of his football guys on the other side of the room—Wes and Marcus, of course, and Damian, the starting running back—but Brody was looking at the other side, where a knot of hockey players had gathered.

Ramsey was there, holding court. Dean recognized Elliott, too, one of their young forwards, and an older guy, with dark hair and dark eyes, glowering over at him. The goalie was there, too, Dean only realizing it was him because they’d played him in beer pong during the last party they’d been at.

His hand had shook, with nerves or pressure, and he’d actually gotten more intense when someone had brought up his dad, who was apparently some big shot famous hockey player.

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