Announcement Hello, lovelies! It's Christmas this week, and I'm spending some time with my family in New Engnd, so I decided to upload this week's chapter a day early before the festivities start. To those who celebrate the holiday, be it for secur or spiritual reasons, I wish you a very Merry Christmas! And to those who don't, I hope you're having a great week as well!

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  Daisy

  21 Years Ago

  My mom called out to me as I rushed towards the frozen pond, and she was unable to catch up before I hopped onto the ice. It was a gray day, snow trickling from the sky, and my skate-bound feet met the frozen water and instantly felt at home. Mom was still strapping on her skates, and Dad slowly approached with two steaming mugs in hand: one coffee, one hot chocote, while my brothers awkwardly toddled alongside him.

  The ice was freedom. Speed, propulsion, momentum, and a million other words my six year old brain hadn’t learned yet. All I knew was I was moving faster than I’d ever gone, and I leaned into the turns and felt the wind pushing through my hair beneath my knit-cap.

  “Ollie, slow down!” Mom said, finally finishing tying her skates and heading to the ice.

  Dad caught her by the elbow. “What are you so scared of? The boy’s a natural. Just look at him go.”

  His words were kind and painful at the same time. Much like with some other stuff, I didn’t know why yet. All I knew was that as I zoomed about across our pond, I felt more alive and more like myself than I ever had.

  “Betcha we got an Olympic hopeful on our hands here,” Dad grinned.

  20 Years Ago

  The frozen pond stretched out for a mile past the back of our house, and all of us kids eagerly rushed onto the ice. There were eight of us, all at my house on a snow-day because I was the only one with a pond, the only pce we could skate. We set up goals for a hockey game while my brothers watched from the sidelines and Dad from the window to make sure nobody fell through the ice.

  We divided ourselves into two teams, and I shot past everyone again and again, sinking goal after goal after goal into the enemy net. My brothers cheered me at the shore, and I could vaguely see Dad fist-pumping in the kitchen window. Eventually, however, the opposing team’s goalie, Freddie Trammel, started messing with my teammate Calvin Erickson after Calvin finally got a goal of his own in.

  The whole world burned red before my eyes. Calvin was my friend. I’d only invited Freddie to even out the teams.

  Before I could stop myself, I flew over and buried my fist in Freddie's face, leaving him on the ice with blood coming out of his nostrils.

  People left pretty quickly after that, and ter on, when I went inside, Dad was standing there beaming at me.

  “Good work out there,” Dad said.

  “But… But I hit him,” I said, shame beginning to build up within me now that the anger had cooled.

  “He was messing with your teammate. You gotta look out for the people on your team. You did good. Besides, a real man knows when to throw the first punch.”

  Mom wasn’t home yet, so it was just us ‘boys’. My brothers stood behind Dad, nodding eagerly and looking at me like I was the coolest person in the world. And Dad was… Dad was proud of me. He was always proud of me when I did good on the ice.

  So I smiled and nodded, and pretended like what he was saying didn’t make me feel gross.

  12 Years Ago

  “You cost us the game, girly-man,” Harrington sneered as we cleared off the ice. We’d lost a district championship, meaning we weren’t going to states. And I’d missed the goal that would have tied the score and brought us into overtime, so he wasn’t wrong: it was my fault.

  But I didn’t care to take that from a guy who was too busy sleeping with half the team’s girlfriends to get a single goal himself all season.

  “Maybe if you spent a little more time practicing and a little less time on your hair, you’d be better, you fucking faggot,” Harrington said, skating in front of me and blocking me from getting off the ice.

  The rest of the team had left. Coach was nowhere to be seen. Most of the crowd had cleared out. But my dad and brothers were still in the stands watching my every move.

  So I did what a real man did and threw the first punch. My affect melted away beneath the fire of my rage, and I gave into the brute I was deep down in my soul. Because honestly, Harrington made everyone so miserable that it fucked up the team’s morale, and as an Enforcer, it was my job to protect my teammates. And as a man, it was my job to be angry, to be violent, to inflict pain to keep others in line.

  I wish I knew then what I know now. About myself. About the world. About men and women and everything in between. Maybe if I had, I’d have been able to protect myself a little bit better. Or at least I could have known why every punch I threw hurt me as much as it hurt the other guy.

  Now

  Grand Marais was exactly how I remembered it: quaint and sleepy and scenic, a gorgeous lighthouse by the breakwater a punctuation mark to the pce’s rural beauty. Lake-effect snow trickled from the sky, while I watched through the window of the inn Adam had checked us into. We were close to the shore, looking out at Lake Superior. A few cars drifted across the road, and the whole thing felt beautifully peaceful and nostalgic.

  Mom had brought us here on vacation a few times growing up, mostly for the local festivals. It was always my favorite part of the Summer: this beautiful, tranquil pce of unspoiled nature, the people living in harmony. After the divorce, we’d stopped coming here, and the st time I’d been back was for a hockey tournament when I was fourteen. It hadn’t been quite the same.

  And now…

  Now, I knew that as beautiful as this pce was, as friendly as the people here seemed, the odds that they’d be okay with me if they knew what I was were low. This was not a pce that was trans friendly, and it probably never would be. As long as I could keep my cover, as long as the mask stayed on and I was Better Than Perfect, I’d be safe. But one small slip-up and the charming small-town facade would crumble and give way to intolerance and bigotry. I was lucky. I’d mostly been able to dodge that thanks to how early I’d transitioned and how I’d turned out. But at the same time…

  If I was smart, this would be the st time I’d ever set foot in Grand Marais. If I was smart, it would be added to the list of pces I loved that would no longer love me back.

  It was a long fucking list.

  That, plus the fact that I didn’t feel safe leaving the inn on my own because of Aleks looking for me basically meant I was stuck here alone until Adam got back from his meeting. The one this morning had gone well, and he had to take care of this one before we could leave. We’d spend the night here, then hit the road in the morning.

  Adam. Oh, Adam. Such a kind man. Respectful. Witty. Charming. Upstanding. Galnt, even. Not to mention extremely handsome, with a deliciously lithe yet toned body, beautiful hair, some very sexy tattoos…

  One of which was a bi pride fg. Which gave me some hope that maybe he… He might not react terribly if he found out what I was. But it wasn’t a guarantee. There were, unfortunately, people in the queer community who wanted very much to drop the T from LGBT.

  Still, there was something about him… Something I found very comforting. Reassuring. Warm and kind and… Protective, but in a hot way instead of a toxic way. Being around him was nostalgic in the same way being in Grand Marais was, and it was driving me insane not knowing why. But it was probably better not to know, because if we’ve overpped in college then he might… He might put it together. Who I’d been. And that would complicate things fiercely.

  I id on my bed in the inn, inside a cozy little room that felt like a keside cabin with dark brown walls and a buoy dangling from the ceiling. The bathroom off to the side had an almost ‘outdoor shower’ vibe about it, which I appreciated as someone who’d always loved those. The television was the most modern object in the room, and I had the lights down low to help me rex.

  Said rexation was shattered when my phone started ringing the specific ringtone of a video call.

  After I got done yelling at the sudden intrusion upon my inner piece, I hurriedly put my hands over my face and whispered, “Better Than Perfect.” Then, I picked up my phone and saw it was an unknown number. But since Adam had been making calls from my phone…

  Dammit, I had to answer it.

  I swiped for ‘accept call’ and gulped, then gulped for a different reason when an absolutely gorgeous redheaded woman appeared on my screen.

  “Uh… Hi?” I squeaked, hoping the naked lust on my face wasn’t too obvious… But damn she was pretty! I’d always had a thing for petite girls, and… Well, you get the idea.

  “Hello!” the redhead said. “Are you Daisy?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And you are?”

  “I’m Rose Duggan. Adam’s boss. He’s been calling from this phone and said you might pick up if I called.”

  “Oh! Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Duggan. Adam speaks very highly of you.”

  “Well that’s certainly good to hear,” she replied. She appeared to be sitting in her living room, warm lights bathing her as she sat on her couch in a simple blue housedress with red flowers on it. Her hair was wet and she wore no makeup or jewelry but she was still just… Holy shit, SUPER fucking beautiful. “You can just call me Rose, though. Honestly, I find it weird that Adam doesn’t.”

  “I think that’s just how he is, you know?” I offered. “He’s very respectful and I think he cares a lot about boundaries. Maybe he doesn’t wanna seem overly familiar with you?”

  “And yet he comes out drinking with Crispin and I on Fridays. And he’s gonna be a groomsman at my wedding next month. And he’s in a fantasy baseball league with my soon to be husband,” Rose pointed out.

  As if on cue, a gorgeous blonde giant, nearly six and a half feet of sculpted muscle and masculine aura, wandered through the kitchen behind Rose. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and… God damn, I’d heard of power couples, but that was… He was… They were both…

  I don’t know if my bi ass can survive this conversation without squeaking, I thought.

  “Is that Adam’s girlfriend you’re talking to?” the giant said as he mixed himself a drink.

  “Not his girlfriend,” I said, entirely too quickly and with a noticeable whine in my voice.

  “She said, sounding distinctly disappointed,” the giant said, walking up behind Rose and kissing her atop the head.

  “I… Uhhh…”

  “Kyle, darling, go easy on her or you’ll scare her away,” Rose said, reaching up and stroking his face.

  “Right, right,” Kyle said, looking down at Rose like she was the most enchanting woman to ever live and… Oh wow. That was love, right there. Pin and simple, true and unvarnished love of the kind that would probably st a lifetime. I didn’t know whether to be jealous or to beg for a threesome. “Sorry, miss. Just looking out for our boy.”

  “Man,” I corrected him instantly, out before the internal cringe could stop. “He doesn’t like to be called ‘boy.’”

  “That right?” Kyle said.

  “He’s never mentioned that to us,” Rose said.

  “He finds it infantilizing,” I blurted, feeling distinctly less than Better Than Perfect.

  I half-expected a fight, half-expected to have to expin to Adam that I’d gotten him in hot water with his employers over something small, but instead, Rose only smiled. “Good to know. I’ll remember that going forward. Thank you for telling me.”

  “Wonder why he never mentioned that?” Kyle said.

  “It’s just not his way,” I said, remembering how he’d blushed in the car, how nervous he’d looked back in Duluth… He wanted to be taken seriously, treated like the grown adult he was, but he also didn’t want to push himself onto anyone, didn’t want to be seen as a tantruming child demanding respect he hadn’t earned. It was a tough bance to walk, and I didn’t fully understand it, but… But I could tell it was important to him.

  “Good to know,” Kyle said, kissing his fiance on the cheek. “I’m gonna head to bed.”

  “See you soon,” Rose said. Then she turned back to me and continued, “So, I’m assuming that Adam is meeting with the client right now?”

  “Yeah. He left about ten minutes ago,” I said. “The client picked him up to drive him to the meeting. I think he’ll be back in an hour, maybe?”

  “Oh, dangit,” Rose said, putting a finger to her temple in a gesture that I read as frustrated.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I was hoping to catch him on the way out,” Rose expined. “There’s been a change up. The client is sending a representative instead of the big boss. And unfortunately, this one takes their business rather… Literally.”

  “And what business is that?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Adam didn’t say what this one actually is.”

  “They’re looking to start a minor league hockey team, and the person they’re sending is… Well, a hockey pyer. And st I checked, Adam doesn’t even know how to skate.”

  My eyes went wide. “Could you text me the location they’re supposed to meet at?”

  ***

  By the time I arrived at the lighthouse, Adam was already on the ice with the client. It was… It was not pretty. His opponent was a great big bear of a man, decked out in a helmet and jersey, skates strapped to his enormous feet and a hockey stick in his hand. He loomed over Adam, whose naked fury was so intense not even I could misinterpret it.

  The behemoth white man pointed and ughed as Adam struggled to stay on his own two skate-cd feet. The ke was frozen over for miles around, and two cones were stationed by the lighthouse as a makeshift goal. Lanterns were pced at ten foot intervals on ice and solid ground alike, giving the air of an outdoor rink set up for a nighttime game.

  A very undylike rage spiked through me as I saw this giant clown looming over Adam and mocking him. My fists gathered and my jaw clenched as the world blurred red. A kaleidoscope of memories blurred before me: a lifetime on the ice, brandishing my fists and bringing my opponents to the ground. Bloodying noses and cracking teeth. Smming guys twice my size into walls and flipping over charging opponents. I was an enforcer to my core. A goon. A thug. A brute. And whatever else Adam was, right now, he was on my team, and that meant it was my job to bcken the eyes of anyone who messed with him.

  I got out of the car, the cold night air hitting me, passing through me, and… Stilling me. I gulped as I realized what I was doing, what I was giving into, what I was slipping back towards… Oliver. If I did what my instincts were telling me at that moment, that was Oliver reasserting himself. And that made me feel like I’d bitten into an apple with a razor bde hidden at the core. I wasn’t him anymore, and I didn’t want to be: not angry nor hostile nor masculine. I liked who I was now: girly and pretty and soft. I didn’t get cold often, but the thought of slipping like that, the thought of backsliding into the brute I’d been, that chilled me to the bone and froze my cells in pce.

  I folded my arms together as I approached, my mask cracking. I needed to concentrate. It was too te for me to stop whatever bizarre aggressive negotiation this was, but I could… Shit…

  Shit. I’d come here with no pn and no resources other than the hockey knowledge I was terrified of showing off because of the agonizing dysphoria it would yield. Now I was approaching the ice not sure what I was going to do.

  Offer emotional support, I guess?

  Shit.

  “Who goes there?!” the burly baritone of the beefy behemoth bellowed. Something about this guy… Did I know him from somewhere? Lotta that going around tely.

  “Uh… Just Mr. Kurosawa’s traveling companion!” I said, repeating in my head Better Than Perfect, Better Than Perfect, Better Than Perfect like a drumbeat.

  “Daisy? What are you doing here? I thought you were gonna hang back at the hotel?” Adam said, tilting his head to the side.

  I stood at the edge of the ice, arms still folded together, while the men loomed a few feet away. The big guy, bearded and barrel-chested and brazen, was about my age or perhaps a few years older. He had a face that looked like it had been punched a few too many times to still be considered pretty, but not enough times to make it all the way to ruggedly handsome.

  “This is your woman?” he said, and his voice… Oh, no. “Inconceivable!”

  Brett Harrington. Three years my senior, we’d pyed on the same high school team for a minute. I’d found him annoying, if also hot, when we’d known each other. And now he was here, and my panic became a bramble bush strangling my lungs and heart.

  Adam, for his part, had his hands shaking around his hockey stick, gripping it so tight his knuckles were whitening. I was pretty sure that meant he was either pissed or embarrassed or both. Either way, he said, “She’s not my-”

  I didn’t let him finish. I may not have been comfortable with being an Enforcer again, and the thought of getting back onto the ice for the first time since my injury made my ACL throb psychosomatically, but I did not like how Harrington was talking to Adam. I didn’t like his dismissive attitude and ‘manlier than thou’ vibe, and I never had. He’d hazed younger guys on our team, called them ‘girly-men’ and goaded them into getting into fistfights when the coach wasn’t looking. He’d slept with other guys’ girlfriends and then refused to apologize. The only reason he hadn’t messed with me personally was because the one time he’d tried, I’d beaten him bloody (I may or may not have been the one to start him down the road to ‘not so pretty anymore’). I really didn’t wanna have to do that again, especially not when that would ruin Adam’s business deal.

  But I couldn’t just let him walk all over Adam. The idea of watching this good man get stampeded by this terrible one hurt more than any phantom agony in my leg.

  “Why’s that so hard to believe? I said, stepping to the edge of the ice in my boots and draping myself around Adam, stroking his cheek and fingering his hair.

  Adam’s jaw dropped and his eyes bulged and his cheeks went even redder than they’d been before in the cold Minnesota air.

  “Because he’s a girly-man!” Harrington ughed.

  Hot anger and cold shame warred inside me. Better Than Perfect, I reminded myself, and the mantra afforded me a modicum of composure. “Every accusation is a confession, you know.”

  Harrington balked. “Beg pardon-”

  “I said what I said,” I cut him off.

  Adam kept silent. I was keeping him propped up, and he seemed unsure of whether to look at Harrington or at my boobs (which were only five inches from his face).

  “Who do you think you are?” Harrington sneered.

  He didn’t recognize me. Good.

  “I’m Mr. Kurosawa’s woman, like you said, but which you apparently don’t believe,” I fired back. Better Than Perfect, Better Than Perfect, Better Than Perfect. “And you, it would seem, have no idea how to conduct business in a professional manner.”

  “My business is minor league hockey. And my boss, upon giving me this assignment, said I could screen investors in any way I choose. I choose to do so via my craft!”

  “I’d take that more seriously if you were any good,” I said, monotone slipping in despite myself. Because God, this guy was a complete clown on the ice. The only reason Adam was losing was because he couldn’t skate. The amount of games Harrington had cost us with his sloppy stick work had been the bane of my existence at one point.

  “Beg your fucking pardon, woman?!” Harrington excimed.

  “Don’t talk to her like that,” Adam growled.

  “I will-”

  “I’d like to remind you that if you come away from this meeting with no investor money because you felt like being a sexist asshole, your boss is not gonna be happy with you,” Adam kept firing back. I flinched as I felt a new sensation, but then calmed when I realized it was his hand wrapping around mine.

  “And I’d like to remind you that you agreed to a higher loan rate with less interest if you lost our little scrimmage,” Harrington said.

  “Well then it seems you’re at an impasse,” I said. “Perhaps you should settle it like real men. Next goal wins.”

  “But I’m already winning,” Harrington said.

  “What, you don’t think you can get one more goal on him?” I smirked. “I mean, I don’t think you can, but if you don’t wanna take the risk-”

  “I never said that!” Harrington said.

  “Then put your money where your mouth is,” I said, my words ice, my thoughts a blizzard, my heart pumping thunder-snow through my body and soul. “Girly-man.”

  My stomach churned in discomfort as I forced out that st insult. Shame. There was nothing wrong with being girly, and if anything, terms like that one were inherently transphobic. But I’d said it, because I’d wanted to hit Harrington where it hurt, because I…

  Because even if I wasn’t enforcing with my fists, I was still a thug when it came to trash talk. Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit-

  “You’re on!” Harrington said.

  “Cool. Lemme just have a word with my man-panion here,” I said, dragging Adam away by the colr.

  “Hmph!” Harrington intoned.

  Adam and I stood at the edge of the ice, and I pressed our foreheads together so I could whisper. Oh Lord, but that felt nice. “Okay, so-”

  “What are you doing here?” Adam said quietly, his tone clipped but his beautiful smile flickering on his face.

  “Rose called me, looking for you,” I said, his warmth spreading into mine. It wasn’t like what I’d felt before, when I’d seen him getting dressed down on the ice. Warm, not hot. A hearth, not a pyre. Strong, but not thuggish. It felt good. God, he felt good. And still so familiar. Not in the way Harrington had been, either. “She wanted to warn you about… Well, this.”

  “Dammit. I really need to get a new phone.”

  “Yes. But that’s not the issue here,” I said. “You just need to get one goal on this guy. Clear it past the line out there, come back and put the puck between the cones.”

  “I can’t skate. I have literally never done this before,” he grimaced. “God, I’m so-”

  “Nope,” I rolled my eyes.

  “You don’t even know what I was gonna say-”

  “Something to the effect of ‘not man enough’ I’m sure.”

  “... Maybe.”

  “Trust me, you’re more of a man than this guy. By a significant margin.”

  “Do you know him?” His brow crinkled, the skin shifting over mine.

  “We went to high school together. He doesn’t recognize me, though.”

  “Huh,” Adam furrowed his brow against mine. “Small world.”

  “Tiny, really.” Nailed it!

  “Any advice?”

  “Two bits,” I said. God, he smelled so good. He had that delicious man-musk guys get while working out but before they’re completely drenched in sweat. Our mouths were so close, his luscious lips practically begging for it… No, no, I couldn’t get distracted. And neither could he. “First off, skating is all in the ankles and the knees. You’re leading with your arms and your hips like you’re cross country skiing.”

  “I, uh, was just doing that recently.”

  “You can tell me all about that ter,” I said. “The other bit of advice is this: this guy’s stick work is atrocious. If you can keep out of his range, he won’t be able to stop you. So py for distance instead of getting up close. Think you can manage?”

  “I can… I can try,” Adam nodded. He cupped my chin in his hand, and my nipples stiffened as I stifled a swoon. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. Now go fuck him up.”

  He grinned. “Will do. Though I still don’t get this weird-ass white people sport.”

  I just ughed as I gave him a thumbs-up.

  Adam slid out onto the ice, his nervousness fading with each inch he covered. Harrington was silent as he dropped the puck onto the ice, his back to the ke, and Adam hit it the second it made contact with the ground. It soared back past the half-rink line of cones they’d set a dozen feet out. Adam worked his lower leg-joints and shot forward past Harrington, his confidence steadily rising. I wanted to cheer him on, push him further so he could do his best.

  Hm. Hockey didn’t have cheerleaders. But we did have puck-bunnies. It was too cold for me to whip off my top, but I could still help out. The thought of finally getting to be that girl in the stands hollering after her man on the ice sent a tingle of euphoria up my spine.

  “Fuck him up, Adam, fuck him up!” I shouted, cpping in time with my cadence. “Fuck him up, Adam, fuck him up!”

  Adam picked up his speed, all the apprehension gone from his stride as he cleared the mid-rink line and gradually turned back to face the goal. I pantomimed a swinging motion, and he got the message: he wound back a shot and sent the puck flying past Harrington just as he caught up to Adam.

  Adam who, in turn, unched past Harrington at breakneck speed. I kept on chanting and swinging my hips back and forth and letting my boobs bounce, at which point Harrington stopped looking at his opponent and started staring at me.

  Oh dammit. It had worked too well.

  Except he wasn’t staring at my body. He was staring at my face, locking eyes with me, a look of realization slowly coming together on his stupid fucking face.

  “Hey, eyes on the puck, big guy,” I said, pointing at Adam closing in on the goal.

  “Oh shit!” Harrington said, rushing back towards his opponent… Right as Adam wound up another shot and put it between the cones.

  “Goal!!!” he screamed like the most adorable dork on the pnet, jumping into the air and putting his hands up like Bobby Orr (apparently five years in Boston meant he knew at least that much about the ‘weird-ass white people sport’).

  It was hirious and awesome… Until he went face-first into the snow just off of the ice.

  “Oh, God!” I said, running over to him, rolling him over and cupping his reddened face with my palms. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” Adam said, “Your hands are freezing.”

  “Oh, shit I… No, that’s because you were just face first in the snow, you goober!”

  “Yes, but also your hands are freezing,” he said, cracking a smile.

  I smiled back, my hair flowing down and framing his face again, creating a clear line of sight by which I could see him and only him. And I liked what I saw. I liked the dorky sincerity, I liked the quiet intensity, I liked the old fashioned chivalry, and I liked the sense of adventure. I like the angur face and the shaggy hair and the tight body and the deep, reassuring voice, the right bance of handsome to pretty. If I wasn’t careful, I could really fall for this guy.

  I couldn’t read his face as he looked up at me, but… It didn’t look bad. I think that maybe he liked looking at me too.

  “That was a cheap trick,” Harrington said as he skated over to us, his eyebrows knitted together furiously.

  “No, it was just… Aggressive negotiation,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, whatever. Drop by the office in the morning and I’ll sign the damn contract.”

  Adam sat up. “Sounds like a pn.”

  “And just so you know,” Harrington said, locking eyes with me again, “I know who you are. Took me a sec, but I recognize you under all that bullshit. That was what I meant by a cheap trick. You. Girly-man.”

  I took a step back, anxiety fring. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, sure you don’t, Livvie, sure you don’t.” His old ‘demeaningly feminine’ nickname for me. Fucking hellfire, he really did recognize me. And then he turned to Adam and said, “Just so you know, your ‘girlfriend’ there is a biological male.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said, entirely too quickly.

  “Pfft. Whatever, dude.”

  “That’s enough, Harrington,” Adam snapped. “I won, whether you like it or not. Now get going before I reconsider my initial offer.”

  Harrington just grumbled as he took off his skates and stalked away across the snow. After he’d gotten into his car and left, I turned to Adam and said, “Well, some people don’t change, I guess.”

  “Yeah,” Adam said, standing up and meeting my gaze. “But some people do.”

  “That right?” I said nervously.

  “Definitely.”

  “In what regard?” I said. Did he know? Did he suspect? Did he believe Harrington?

  “Oh, lots of regards,” Adam said. “For instance, I have been changed by my time in the frozen north. I know how to skate now.”

  “Let’s not get carried away,” I grinned, “You’re less bad at skating now.”

  “Heh. Fair enough. Maybe you can give me some more lessons then?”

  “It’s been a while since I was on the ice-”

  “Yeah, but it seems to me it’s like riding a bike. And besides, this is your home state, right? You seem like a regur Yuki-onna. You telling me you didn’t grow up on the ice?”

  “I… I did,” I said, pursing my lips.

  Adam slid out a few inches further onto the ice, holding out a hand for me. The snow flurried around him, moonlight creeping out from behind the clouds to cast a golden halo around his handsome face. He extended a hand. “Then why don’t you show me what you’ve got?”

  I should have said no. I wanted to say no. But the ice called to me, as it had since my childhood. And now, so did this beautiful prince of a man.

  I wanted to say no, but I needed to say yes. After the dysphoria and panic I’d just felt, I needed reassurance. That I was still me. That I was still cute and soft and girly in spite of having all these gross boy-thoughts running through my head. In spite of the fact that I was still a brute deep in my soul. So I stepped out onto the ice, holding Adam’s hand as we went further out together. I let him pull me forward as I guided his skating with gentle pointers and tips. Our hands locked together, and he arched his arm so I could do a little twirl for him. I felt like I’d finally come home. I’d expected to panic, expected painful fshbacks to my injury, but the bad memories were dwarfed by all the joy I’d known from my days racing across the ice. From my first time on our pond to my st time in the rink, I loved the ice. I loved skating. I always had and I always would. In that respect, I hadn’t changed, and I was… I was okay with that. Even if I was worried about what Adam thought of all this.

  If he believed Harrington, if he suspected what I was, he gave no real indication. Nor did it seem to bother him. For now. Still, I wasn’t ready for him to know the whole story. It was just too risky. And the way he made me feel was just so… So fucking girly, like a princess traveling with her own personal knight in shining armor. Just so utterly Gender. Yeah, I was probably chasing a high that would fade with time as we got to know each other, and yeah, whatever this was between us might not survive the truth, might not survive after we made it back to Boston, but right now this was good.

  Right then and there, under the moonlight, in view of the lighthouse, on top of that frozen ke, fingers locked with Adam’s, I felt very good indeed.

  At least, I did up until the ice underneath me cracked and I fell feet-first into the dark, frigid water below.