Page 37

I pinned a grin on my face, trying to dig myself out of the hole my harsh words had dug. “Hey, come on. Tell me it’s not true. Coop has told me stories over the years. His trips out to Denver. The parties. The women. Who can resist Flock, eh? Those poor ladies are only human, after all.” Every word was like spitting pins, and a bitter taste filled my mouth.

The bravado, the swagger I expected in return, didn’t come, though. Instead, Brody dipped his head a little. In the bright light of the gym, he reminded me of a much younger version of himself. “I’ll admit I’ve had my fun, but that’s not where my head, or any part of me, has been these last six months.Being injured takes its toll. There’s insecurity. The anxiety. The pressure to stay at the top.”

“So why do it to yourself?” My voice was softer now, my grin replaced by a gentle smile.

He closed his eyes for a long beat. “I’m not good at anything else. I have to keep playing. Without hockey, if I’m not ‘Flock,’ who am I?”

At the tremble in his voice, my heart lurched. I hadn’t considered he’d ever feel vulnerable. I’d always thought of Brody as bulletproof. Invincible. My brother’s exasperating, larger-than-life best friend who cruised his way through challenges on his looks and his skill on the ice. I’d never seen this side of him. Or been allowed to see it.

Brody bunched his hands at his sides and the skin at my palms prickled to touch him. To undo the knots of his fingers. I took the tiniest roll forward, my skate clattering on the polished wood below my wheels.

“Brody…”

As I moved toward him, his eyes widened, and he turned away, running his hands through his unruly hair.

“Okay. Let me see you stop.”

I blinked. “Sorry?”

“Show me how you stop.”

Did he think I was a beginner? That I didn’t know how to stop in a pair of rollerskates? At a loss for anything sensible to say, I skated out a little, turning back in his direction. Before I hit him, I executed a tight turn, spinning on the spot with my arms above my head like a ballerina.

After a few rotations, I slowed, but just before I stilled, his hands were at my waist, stalling my momentum. But this time, there was no playfulness in his eyes, no laughter in his voice. “As beautiful as your dancing is, you can’t turn like that on a derby track. You’ll get pulverized. Use a hockey stop.”

“A what?”

“You need to change direction and move off as fast as you can.” Brody demonstrated, keeping his feet parallel before bringing them to a right angle like a skier. “It’s probably harder on skates without blades, but I think you could do it. Stopping like this will give you a better chance of keeping ahead of everyone else.”

I tried the move, standing still. I almost tripped over.

Brody scowled, then kicked off his sneakers, leaving him standing in white socks. “This’ll give you more of an idea. Hold my hips.”

I swallowed. “You want me to hold your hips?” I had to check I’d heard him right.

“Yep. Come around back, and you can feel their movement.”

Holy hell, was he serious? He wanted me to feel the movement in his hips? Brody didn’t know how many times I’d dreamed of feelinganymovement in his hips, let alone in my hands. But my fantasies took place in entirely different circumstances. I hung back, hoping the neutral expression I was going for wasn’t coming across as uptight.

His smirk made a welcome return as he studied me. “It’s okay. This isn’t a pickup line. I just want you to see what I mean.”

With a mental eye-roll, I cursed myself. Message received loud and clear.

I pushed off and stood behind him, my trembling fingers hovering at his sides. He brought his hands to the outside of mine and pulled them down to rest on his hips. The hard outline of his bones fit nicely into my palms. I held my breath, desperate to release it, but huffing and puffing would signal I wasn’t entirely at ease. I wanted Brody to think I manhandled sex gods all the time.

Before I was ready, he twisted his feet around on the floor, bringing them to a right angle with ease. At the end of themaneuver, he kicked his glorious hips out to the side. “Do you feel that?”

Did I ever. It was all I could do to hang on for dear life. Seemingly satisfied that I’d “felt” enough, Brody released my hands and stepped back, a glint of something a little worrying in his eyes. “Okay, your turn. Skate out, turn around, and come at me. Just stop before you hit me.”

My gut churned at the thought. “Seriously. What if I miss? Plow into you?”

Brody shrugged. “Then my team won’t renew my contract, and you’ll have to look after me til the end of my days.”

I swallowed away a fist-sized lump in my throat. I’d happily sign up to look after him. Breakfast in bed forever, but a life of eating scrambled eggs with me in Tuft Swallow was probably the furthest thing from his mind.

He cocked his head, hands back on hips. “Come on. I trust you.”

“But what ifIdon’t trust me?”