Page 109 of Cold as Ice

“This isn’t right,” he said.

“Yes, it is. Black. Two sugars,” Elliott said dully. He wanted to scream. To yell. To tell Mal that he’d ruined him for every other guy—for every other teammate—forever.

But what was the point of saying it now?

“I’m not talking about the coffee,” Mal said. He leaned in as Elliott sat down across from him. “I’m talking about this test. I don’t know what’s going on. Your work’s all right. But the answer’s wrong. Just like your quiz, a few weeks back, but worse. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but this isn’t right, Ell.”

Elliott swallowed his shame and said, not even trying to hide the plea in his voice, “Don’t make it worse, okay? Just . . .just let it go, Mal.”

Mal stared at him with shocked blue eyes. “What?No. This is wrong, Ell. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but somehow Dr. Prosser is trying to fail you.”

“Why would she do that?”

Mal shook his head. “I’ve got no fucking clue, but somehow I think she changed your answers.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Elliott said. “Just face it—I fucked it up.”

“No. Never. I’m never going to believe that.”

Another Elliott—the Elliott of only a few days ago—would have been thrilled at how hard Mal was fighting for him. Would’ve been over the moon at his uncompromising loyalty and his incredible belief in Elliott.

But this Elliott didn’t know how to react to this Mal. Angry and vengeful and full of righteous frustration—and all of it for Elliott.

“I wish you would,” Elliott said morosely.

“Why? God, why are you being this way? You’d fight for me, every day of your life—just for me to fucking pay attention to you, and now, when it really matters, you’re gonna just give up? Roll over and play dead?”

“I . . .” Elliott stared at the tabletop. “I guess so.”

“Fuck that.” Mal reached over and his fingers were firm on his chin as he lifted it. “Fuck that.You won’t. I won’t let you.”

“It’s not your decision.”

“Did youeverlet me wallow in my own shit?” Mal demanded.

No, he had not.

He’d harassed and poked and teased Mal until he smiled or snapped. But either way, he’d gotten out of his own ass, every single goddamn time.

Elliott took a long drink of his coffee. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“No, you fucking didn’t.” Mal answered his question with a resolute expression that told Elliott that he wouldn’t give up. Even if he pushed him away. No matter what he said.

And suddenly it occurred to Elliott that maybe Malcolm felt the same way about him that he felt about Mal.

Because why else would he believe in him this way?

“What do you even want me to do?”

“Just sit there while I look through this test,” Mal said.

Elliott made a face. “What if I don’t?”

“Elliott Archer Jones,” Mal said firmly.

“Fine, fine,fine,” Elliott retorted.

He pulled out his phone. Found himself navigating to the sister chat without really intending to.

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