Page 93 of Melting the Ice

“I got into it with Ramsey,” he finally said.

“Yougot into it withRamsey?” Dean couldn’t believe it and wouldn’t have, if Brody didn’t have that look on his face that promised this was the truth.

“He’s . . .he’s becoming different. More serious. Especially on the ice. And me . . .” Brody trailed off. Then sat up. Pressed a last kiss to Dean’s mouth and scrambled off his lap, before Dean could grab his arm and convince him to stay, any way he could.

Dean waited a second and then saidfuck itand followed Brody, into the bathroom.

He’d grabbed a washcloth and was cleaning up. When he was done, he handed it very matter-of-factly to Dean so he could do the same.

Dean figured this was the point where they were supposed to be separating thefriendsfrom thebenefits. But fuck that. This was important.

Brody might be trying to hide it, to mask it, but he might be the most upset that Dean had seen him since they’d met.

“And you what?” Dean asked. He finished cleaning himself and tossed the washcloth into the laundry basket in the corner. Brody was leaning over the sink, eyes squeezed shut. Like now that the lust wasn’t fogging his brain anymore, he could think again, and he didn’t really want to.

“I lost my temper. I got pinned by an asshole on the other team and I fought back and I shouldn’t have. I knew I shouldn’t, but I did it anyway. Then of courseIgot penalized, and well, we’d been trying to keep them off the power play—”

“Olympiaisreally good on the power play,” Dean inserted gravely.

Brody looked up and met his gaze in the mirror. He looked confused—and also, weirdly pleased. Which was exactly the reaction Dean had been hoping for.

He shrugged. “I’ve read a few articles,” he said. An understatement. Between homework and practices, he’d been binging everything he could about hockey and Evergreens hockey specifically, wanting to understand exactly what Brody was going through. Hoping that maybe when he needed it, he could be a friend.

Though that was kind of delusional, wasn’t it? Because friends didn’t do anything they’d just done. Or want to do it again. Or want to hold their other friends close, after, and make sure they were okay.

“You’re reading about hockey?”

And watching some of your highlight packages on YouTube. I might be more embarrassed if you came in and saw me watching those than what youactuallycaught me watching.

“Uh, yeah, a little.”Don’t ask me why. Please don’t ask me to fucking explain.

“Huh.” But Brody didn’t.

Dean didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“So, to make sure I understand,” Dean said, returning the subject to what had happened during Brody’s game, “you fought back, were the one who got the penalty, and then the Sabretooths went on the power play.”

Brody nodded. Their eyes met in the mirror again. “And they scored, almost immediately.” He sighed, then added wryly, “It sure didn’t help that I’m usually on the penalty kill, and I couldn’t exactly help out.”

“Probably not,” Dean said.

“Anyway, Ramsey chewed my ass out for it.Ramsey.”

“That’s why you fought.”

Brody’s jaw took on a stubborn tilt. “I didn’t need him to remind me not to get penalized in the first place. I didn’t do it for shits and giggles. And I sure as fuck didn’t need him to lecture me about it after.”

“You still won, though,” Dean reminded him.

“Yeah, thanks to Elliott. No thanks to me.”

Dean considered the problem. Maybe if he’d known all this happened and this was why Brody had come home early, he wouldn’t have been quite so eager to have sex. Maybe he’d have asked Brody if he wanted to talk about it first.

But then he realized the sex had actually helped Brody work some of that frustration off. It had been the best kind of distraction.

But like all distractions, eventually it was going to end.

“So, last time I checked, hockey’s a team sport.”

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