Page 95 of Melting the Ice

Dean nearly choked. “They’re gonna want to talk about your sex life?”

That was finally the thing that made Brody laugh, long and loud, tossing his head back as he did. He elbowed Dean. “No,no, God no. All this future bullshit.”

“Why would they?”

“Because I was stupid enough to text my dad and ask him about prereqs for medical school. I should’ve asked anyone else—or googled it or something—but it was a weak moment.”

But Dean knew there was more to it.

“And?” he asked.

Brody sighed. “And I’m worried if I go to my advisor, word will get around. I don’t want to talk to anybody about it on campus.”

“Didn’t your coach tell you to take this year to think about it? To explore your options?” Surely that would’ve helped Brody feel more settled about it. That he hadtime. That he hadoptions.

Dean didn’t have any fucking options. It was make the NFL or go back to his shitty little hometown and grind out a living for the rest of his life.

“Listen,” Brody said as he walked past him towards the kitchen, Dean following behind him. He grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and tossed one to Dean, who caught it. “You know exactly what it’s like. This culture. This attitude. You’re on it, you’re either making it, or it was all a waste. You’re a failure. Nobody understands youchoosinga different path.”

“Yeah.”

Brody waved his arms, clearly passionate about this argument. “It’s like a fucking cult. Like they’ve all been brainwashed to believe thatthis—playing pro hockey or getting drafted to the NFL or whatever it is—is all there can be. There’s nothing else. You either make it or your life’s over.”

Dean froze, the water bottle halfway to his lips. He’djusthad that thought.But for me, it’s true. I didn’t come from money or a secure home. Brody’s got options I never had.

But Dean wondered, for the very first time, if that was really true.

He’d made himself into a football player; couldn’t he make himself into something else? Anything else? The only thing it required was a base of skill and then a shit ton of hard work.

“I see it, in your face.” Brody’s voice overflowed with frustration. “You buy into it, too. It’s eitherthisor nothing.”

“I don’t know . . .” Dean hated how he stuttered, but this was radical fucking thinking for a kid who had only hadthisas a goal for the last ten years.

Make it and get out.

Or fail and live a hard, pointless life.

“You know,” Brody said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know because you’ve been brainwashed, too.”

“Realizing it should help you, yeah?” Dean managed to say.

“Yeah, except I think I’m still partially brainwashed,” Brody said wryly. “And everyone around me still is. You think if I decided to say fuck it to pro hockey and go to medical school, everyone wouldn’t think I was nuts?”

Dean wanted to say no. But that wasn’t fair to Brody, who was asking the hard questions—even if they were hard—and deserved some hard answers.

“Everyone would think you’re nuts, especially if youcouldplay pro hockey,” Dean admitted.

“Exactly,” Brody said heavily. “Even my parents, who you’d think would be fucking thrilled at the thought I’m considering going into medicine, are freaking out.”

“Yeah?” Dean couldn’t even imagine his mom raising her head from her routine of work and partying to give what he did a second thought. But Brody was making himthink, and once he’d started, he couldn’t stop. It wouldn’t necessarily be easier to have parents who were that invested, like Brody’s parents, either. A different kind of hard, maybe, but hard all the same.

“They’re here Thursday night and we’re going to dinner.” Brody paused. “You should come with us.”

“What?” Dean couldn’t help the flat exclamation that came out of his mouth.

“You should come with us.” Brody paused. Reached out for Dean, and to Dean’s shock, tugged him back into his arms. Brody tilted his head back, those sugar eyes sweet and undeniably persuasive. “I want you to come with us.”

“You want me to meet your parents?”

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