Page 113 of Cold as Ice

“I thought you might,” Coach said, with a glimmer of a smile. He shot Elliott a supportive look. “Anything I can do, just let me know.”

“We will. Thanks for understanding,” Elliott said. Paused. And added, through the lump in his throat. “And I’m sorry, sir, for letting you down. For not passing the class.”

Coach shocked the hell out of him by getting up and intercepting Elliott before he could follow Mal out of the room. “No,” he said firmly, putting his hands on both of Elliott’s shoulders and then pulling him in for a tight, quick hug. “No, it sounds like the school’s failedyou.”

Elliott let out a gust of breath as Coach let go. “Thank you,” he said.

Coach patted him on the shoulder, again. “Of course. I mean it. Now go out there and figure out how we’re gonna keep you on this team.”

It hadn’t beenthatbad, Mal decided as he sat on the bench in front of his locker and got ready for practice.

Ramsey was whining about being out for a game or two, due to the concussion he’d sustained right after the fundraiser. Some asshole driving one of those obnoxious pedicabs had nearly run him over, and he’d only just managed to dodge it—just to end up falling off his bike and hitting his head on the sidewalk.

Mal understood his frustration. He always wanted to be on the ice, too. But he also wanted to yell at how insensitive Ramsey was, because soon, Elliott might not be able to be on the iceat all. And not just for a game or a practice or two, butpermanently.

He might lose his chance at that incredibly bright future just because nobody could prove that Elliott hadn’t failed that goddamned test after all.

“Ugh. Fucking protocols,” Ramsey muttered.

“They’re for our own safety,” Malcolm said, agreeing with Brody, who’d just finished telling him the exact same thing.

Mal just hoped he’d stop, before he couldn’t stop himself from snapping. Or before Elliott put two and two together and lashed out.

“Ugh,” Ramsey repeated. “Did you hear that? A fucking parrot in this fucking room.”

“Ramsey,” Brody warned.

Brody couldn’t know about Ell’s situation, but Mal wanted to agree.

“If you want to play, they should just let you play,” Elliott said. Because of course he would think that.

Especially now.

“No way,” Brody said. “If you’re not passing, you need to stay on the bench. Coach wouldn’t put you in, anyway.”

“Believe me, I know that. I practically fucking begged him earlier today.”

Mal tried to tune out Ramsey and Brody bickering. Normally that wasn’t their way. Normally it wasn’t even Brody’s way, buthe seemed testy at how insistent Ramsey was that he get back on the ice immediately. If Mal had to guess, Brody was actually worried about the guy.

“Think Brody’s man might have something to say about that,” Elliott chimed in.

Mal glanced over to where Elliott was lounging on the bench, feet stretched out in front of him. He’d said it so casually.

Yeah, theyallsuspected that Brody was seeing his football playing roommate, Dean, but Brody hadn’t told them yet. Hadn’t even told them that he liked guys.

But Elliott had said it anyway. Thoughtlessly. Without considering the implications or the consequences.

What if he did that withthem? What if he just blurted out that they were together, and the Toronto scouts found out? What if that ruined their chances of playing together? Of being in the same city?

Fear made him snappish in a way that he hadn’t been with Elliott in a long time now.

“Ell, you can’t fucking say that shit,” Mal hissed. Hoping he would shut the fuck upnow, before he ruined something before it even began. Now, belatedly,stupidly, he realized he should have told Elliott about the scouts, because he might be more aware of how this could get monumentally fucked—but it was too late for that now.

“Why not?” Elliott shot him a glance full of confusion and with an extra fillip ofwhat the fuck crawled into your ass suddenly?“Aren’t they together? But at the fundraiser—”

Mal tensed and was about five seconds from grabbing his arm and dragging him off. Reminding him that even locker room bullshit could have real life consequences, when Brody said, “Yeah, you’re right. Dean’s my man.”

“I thought so,” Elliott said, shooting Mal a triumphant look that promised his own brand of kind of sexy retribution later.

---