Page 31 of Cold as Ice

Ugh. You’re the worst, baby bro.

You love me!

Constance sent him a whole string of different colored hearts, and he glanced up from his phone to pull the door to Sammy’s open.

Immediately he spotted the back of Mal’s head, curls damp from the shower, in the far corner.

He’d dump his bag off, then order, but as he approached, something in the way Mal spoke brought him up short.

“Yes, sir, of course sir,” Mal said and in the season and a half they’d played together, Elliott hadneverheard that particular deferential tone from the guy. Not even to their coaches, and of all the guys on the team, he was probably the most respectful when it came down to it.

But this wasn’t just respect. It was something more than that.

Something deeper.

Almost something . . .well, Elliott would’ve called it fearful, but he’d never seen Mal afraid of anything.

“Yes. I’m taking care of it.”

Elliott watched as the back of Mal’s neck tensed at the reply.

“I apologize. I . . .Iamtired. It was a long game. We—” He hesitated. Had the person he was talking to interrupted him?Elliott didn’t generally feel protective, and he’d never imagined that the person he’d begin with would be Malcolm, but he didn’t like any of this.

“Yes, well, it was a tough game. Lots of shots on goal, but no luck.”

Elliott knew he should make himself known. He should tap Mal on the shoulder and let him know he was here. Or drop off his bag, unobtrusively but obviously enough, and go order. Stop listening in to at least Mal’s side of the conversation.

But he couldn’t quite make his feet move.

Instead, he stayed put and listened to Mal continue to apologize without actually saying the words,I’m sorry.

“He always has a lot of shots.” Mal paused. “I’m okay with the number I have. It’s a good supportive line. A team. His style isn’t always mine, but that’s okay.” He paused a second time. “No, it really is okay.”

Elliott realized that Mal was talking abouthim. He knew out of everyone on their line, he had the most shots on goal this season, but then Malcolm wasn’t that far behind. While he liked his approach—it worked forhim, and that was all that mattered—there was something to be said for Mal’s more deliberate, studied approach too.

Mal was agreathockey player, and it seemed like he was also apologizing for maybe not being great enough.

Maybe if they’d been friends, Elliott would’ve sidled up to the table, snatched the phone, and told the person on the other side of the line just how full of bullshit they were.

But he and Mal weren’t friends.

On top of that, there was something in the way Mal spoke to this person—so fucking carefully—that made Elliott hesitate.

Made him not want to dig Mal further into this hole.

Even if it was a hole that Elliott didn’t quite recognize.

Mal went so long without replying that for a minute, Elliott wondered if maybe he’d ended the conversation. But then Mal said, “No, sir. I know my grades are important. I’d never prioritize hockey over them. I know—”

His neck tensed again. “I know,” he continued again, in a voice that sounded forcibly relaxed, “I understand that to you it’s a game, but I know I can make it my career.”

There was another short pause, and then Mal said, “Bye, Dad,” and Elliott nearly fell right over.

Sure, Finn had said Malcolm’s dad had called and that’s why he’d ducked out early. But Elliott had never imagined that the person he’d been talking to—the person who’d undeniably been lecturing him, riding him, and ultimately givingMalcolmhell—was hisdad.

They all knew Finn’s father kind of sucked. Not specifically. Specifically, he was a kind, generous guy. Tough, but decent. Finn’s struggles didn’t originate with the way his dad treated him, but the way the world treatedhimbecause of who his dad was.

Malcolm’s dad seemed like a whole different story.

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