Page 131 of Cold as Ice

Elliott had been quiet all evening, even though they were studying as they usually did, Mal dragging him to Sammy’s to tryto cheer him up, but a peanut butter banana smoothie didn’t do it, and neither did the blowjob that Mal had given him later, back in Elliott’s room.

Mal couldn’t blame him. The whole situation was unjust, and there wasn’t much he could do about it. They’d talked about maybe opening an official case with the provost, but Elliott had seemed reluctant to take on Dr. Prosser without any actual hard evidence.

Mal wasn’t sure he blamed him.

“That’s awful,” Jane said sympathetically. “So unfair.”

“It is. I want to break something when I think about it.” Elliott was such a good guy—andsmart, too, and a fucking brilliant hockey player. This shouldn’t be happening to him.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’d change your mind, but seeing you become his number one defender is more than a little surprising. And satisfying, too. Like you’re growing into the man I always thought you could be if you could get out of your own ass for a second.”

“Thanks,” Mal retorted.

“And hearing about him going to toe to toe with your dad? Chef’s kiss,” Jane said. “Have you thought about contacting Dr. Bricker yourself, again?”

Had he? Only about a million times. But he worried that it would look exactly like what it was: that Malcolm was madly, stupidly in love with the guy.

And while he wasn’t really worried that Dr. Bricker would happen to inform the Toronto scouts of this, Maldidworry that it made him look even less impartial and it certainly didn’t magically improve their case.

“Yeah,” Mal said. He pushed his hash around his plate. He’d been hungry when he’d walked into Jimmy’s, but now his corned beef was curdling in his stomach.

“I get it. But you’ve got to fight for him. Fight for a future if you want it.”

“Of course I want it,” Mal objected.

Jane’s gaze softened and she reached across the table, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “Of course you do.”

“You going to take any of your own advice?” Mal wondered. Maybe it was unfair to turn the tables on Jane like this, but frankly he wanted the distraction—and the change of subject.

“Honestly, is it still a bad idea to get involved with Ben? Absolutely. And I’m doing it anyway. Like I said—sometimes you’ve got to take a risk. Sometimes you’ve got to fight. Even fight dirty.” She paused, shooting Mal a lopsided smile. “Yes. Even you can fight dirty.”

“I just choose not to,” Mal protested.

“And that means you can choose differently,” Jane pointed out. “Play dirty. Fight dirty. If you really want something, you’ll find a way to get it.”

“It’s not—”

“No, it’s not your dad’s way. But he’s not always right, Mal. For him, or for you.” She squeezed his hand again and then let go.

“That’s kinda what Elliott was trying to say, I think. The other day. He wasn’t happy to hear about how my dad’s pressured me to do this internship. He thinks I should skate as long as I want to.”

Jane made a terrible faux shocked face. “And now you’re just seeing this?”

“I thoughtIwanted it, too,” Mal said. “But things are different this year . . .it’s different playing this year. With Elliott, and Ivan too, of course.”

“But you’re not in love with Ivan and hoping that he’ll be drafted to your future NHL team,” Jane said dryly.

“No,” Mal agreed.

“I think it’s not that your situation is all that different. It’s thatyou’redifferent.”

Mal could feel it too. He was having more fun on the ice than he ever had before. He’d approached it so doggedly and diligently before. But now, he was leaning into his instincts more, and as Elliott liked to claim, he was, “skating now with his heart, not his head.”

Mal pushed his hash around his plate more, forced himself to eat another bite. “Yeah,” he agreed, because Jane was not wrong.

Jane was rarely wrong.

Which probably meant Jane was right about this fighting for what he wanted thing, too.

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