Page 97 of Melting the Ice

And maybe that was all the carefree that Ramsey had anymore. While Brody had been changing, evolving, Ramsey had been doing it too.

They’d just been doing it in opposite directions.

“Listen, I’m sorry, too,” Ramsey said and reached for him, and a second later, they were hugging tight and hard. “I’m here for you, if you need it. You know that, right?”

“Now I do,” Brody said as he pulled back. He was feeling better than he had in days. Weeks, maybe. Of course, just in time for his parents to roll into town.

Ramsey winced. “Thanks for reminding me I was an asshole.”

“I promise toalwaysbe there to remind you of that.”

“Thanks,” Ramsey said, chuckling. “You wanna grab a smoothie or something?”

“Actually . . .” Brody hesitated. “My parents are in town. I think they’re worried about me.”

“They should be,” Ramsey said. It was weird, still, to hear that serious, earnest tone in his voice. Weird, but kinda nice, actually.

“We’re going to dinner, and I roped Dean into going with us,” Brody said, because he didn’t want to touch,they should be worried about youwith a freaking ten-foot pole.

“You’re bringing Dean to meet your parents?” Ramsey’s mouth fell open.

“Not like . . .not likethat.”Except that Brody wasn’t sure it wasn’tnotlike that.

Ramsey shot him a look that said he agreed. “You sure about that?”

“No,” Brody admitted. “But he said he’d come, help me play interference a bit, with them.”

“I’d think they’d be thrilled you’re considering doing something with your life and your degree besides playing hockey for a living,” Ramsey said.

“You’d think,” Brody muttered. And he wouldn’t say they weren’t cautiously interested or optimistic, based on the handful of texts they’d exchanged, since he’d asked his dad about medical school—but the truth was, they were brainwashed, too.

He fully expected them to ask something like,but if you just wanted to be a doctor, what was all this for? The early morning practices, the special camps, the one-on-one coaching, the college recruiting?

Brody wasn’t sure. Not anymore.

But if he was going to move forward, he knew he needed to be sure.

As sure as Ramsey was.

“If he’s willing to go, and deal with youandyour parents, he must really like you,” Ramsey said.

“I . . .we’re not like that, we’re friends.”

Ramsey shot him a knowing look. “Don’t bullshit yourself, Faulkner. You know he does. And you like him, too.”

“We’re friends,” Brody repeated, even though he could admit to himself—maybe not to Ramsey, or to anyone else,especiallyDean, yet—that the term didn’t quite fit. Not anymore.

“Sure,” Ramsey said, and of course now was the time he chose to find that casual, devil-may-care grin, andnowwas the time he chose to shoot it in Brody’s direction.

Brody rolled his eyes, but it was a palpable hit.

Maybe he wasn’t doing a very good job of lying to himselfora very good job of lying to everyone else.

“But have a good time. Give your mom a hug for me,” Ramsey said.

“They’ll be around for the game tomorrow, so you can give her one yourself,” Brody said.

“Good.” Ramsey smiled. “How ’bout you giveDeana hug for me, then?”

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