by Alexa Ross
Kenzie grasped the old woman’s skates, assessing them. Her feet were perhaps one size smaller, meaning she would have to stuff them with old socks to make them fit. But as she eyed them, holding the skates in her thin hands, she remembered blissful times when she’d skated in the suburbs of Concord alongside her mother and father, back when they’d been happier, when they’d been free of the trials of old age and abandonment.
“Why not,” she said.
In the next few minutes, Kenzie cleaned the plates and wine glasses and Bryce blotted out the fire. Kenzie wrapped herself in her coat, and Bryce leafed through a pile of winter clothes near the door, ultimately wrapping her neck in a knitted scarf.
“You’ve been here 12 years, right?” she asked, tucking her chin beneath the scarf. “Did you knit this scarf yourself? Deep in the forest, you’ve been knitting? All this time?”
“Knitting is a good life skill,” Bryce said, his face stoic again. “Trust me. My stuff keeps me warm. It’s no fashion statement. But again, I don’t see many people.”
Kenzie eyed herself in a crooked mirror near the corner, having to stifle a laugh at how silly she looked in the winter gear. “I look like a marshmallow,” she joked.
“The best-looking marshmallow I’ve ever seen,” Bryce said.
Kenzie blushed at the compliment. She followed him from the cabin, carrying her ice skates close to her chest, and then tucked herself into the passenger seat of his truck. She watched from the inside as Bryce revealed his face and upper body with a single swipe of his long arm over the windshield. The snow fluttered around the vehicle, giving them visibility. He grinned at her from the exterior, pointing up at the sky. As he opened the door, he spoke. “You won’t believe what the stars look like once we get there,” he said. “They’ll be extraordinary.”
He eased the truck down the driveway, the snow tires crunching through the near foot of snow. He told her he often fished at the lake in the summertime, switching his diet from venison to trout from June to September. Kenzie loved that image of him, wearing Huckleberry Finn-style overalls, his feet in the grass, and his pole in the water.
“Why are you grinning?” he asked her.
“I’m not sure. I think I’m just surprised how this night is going, is all,” she said.
He parked the truck along the side of the road, saying they had about a mile to walk into the forest before they’d find the lake. “It’s really hidden in there. I don’t know many who know where it is,” he told her. “That’s the beauty of it, though. It won’t be tainted. Ever.”
Kenzie popped out of the passenger seat, dropping into the foot of snow below. Her boots immediately disappeared. She felt outside her body, so far away from the person who’d thought an evening at the movies with Austin was romantic. Perhaps Bryce had appeared in her life to show her what living actually meant. But could that be possible, since he hadn’t really interacted with other humans in nearly 12 years?
She couldn’t say, but she didn’t want to dwell on her questions, either. She followed Bryce into the forest, crunching beside him and growing fatigued with each step. “Walking through the snow isn’t easy,” she murmured, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably.
Bryce was walking evenly, as if he walked through the snow all the time. She imagined the muscles of his thighs, flexing and stretching as he moved. He peered down at her curiously, watching her strain. “Do you think you can make it?” he asked.
“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Kenzie said, her breath already staggered. “Mind over matter, right?”
But as the minutes crept by, Kenzie grew slower and slower. Soon she was gasping, leaning heavily upon her knees. She dropped her ice skates into the snow and watched them recede from view. Above them, the stars twinkled between the tops of the trees.
“Come on, let me carry you,” he said.
Kenzie’s ears perked up. “Oh, I couldn’t let you do that,” she said, her voice raspy. “I’m a grown woman.” She hadn’t been carried since she was a little girl, safe in her father’s arms.
“Of course you are, but that doesn’t mean you’re as tall as me or as strong as me. Not because you’re a woman, but because you don’t live out here full time,” Bryce said, teasing her. He lifted her ice skates from the ground and wound the tied strings over his shoulders. He then brought his arms forward, gesturing. “Come on. Get in.”
Kenzie laughed, hardly able to believe she was allowing this. “I suppose we wouldn’t get there till morning if I kept on like this,” she said. She wrapped her thin arms around his neck and then leaped slightly, watching as his firm muscles caught her legs and back. He lifted her higher, far from the snow. Her muscles felt immediate relief without the gravity of the planet upon her shoulders.
“Oh, gosh. Can I hire you to do this all the time?” she asked, tossing her head back.
“You can’t afford me,” Bryce joked.
They continued down the mountain, the hill flattening. As Bryce walked, Kenzie marveled at the strength of his tense muscles, at the smell of his musk. With just a few inches between their mouths, Kenzie had to force her half-tipsy self not to kiss him. But just imagining what it would feel like, with his bearded chin upon hers, with their soft lips locked beneath the moon, made her nearly crazy. It was unbearable, wanting him so much.
Stop it, she thought to herself. She assumed she was just needy, post-relationship with Austin. She hadn’t gone through a traumatic breakup before. Maybe falling quickly for someone else was a part of the process.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Kenzie caught a glimpse of the lake, she gasped audibly. Her eyes grew wide, like a child’s. Safe in Bryce’s arms, she turned to face him. Her nose touched his, but she reared back quickly, hopeful he knew it had been an accident. He stopped, gazing down at her. They caught their breath, white fog flowing between their lips.
“We made it,” he said simply.
The frozen lake had been covered in snow in the recent fall. Bryce placed Kenzie gently at the edge of the lake and began to swipe out an area for them on the glassy surface. Kenzie rubbed her hands together, the excitement from their brief touch making her warm.
Once Bryce had created a wide clearing, he walked delicately back toward her, still in his boots. A permanent smile was strapped across his face, assuring Kenzie that he was in his element. A woodsman, safe deep in the forest atop a frozen lake. “You ready to skate?”
“I’m game,” she said, laughing. She knelt down and began to transfer her socked feet from her boots to her skates, getting dots of snow on her stockings and watching them melt. She began to tie her laces, conscious of Bryce watching her.
“Care if I do it?” he asked.
Kenzie gave him a sassy look, raising her eyebrows high. “Am I not doing it well enough for you?”
“It’s just that you have to tie them really tight. As it is, your ankles are going to flop around out there. You might strain something.”
“Oh,” Kenzie said. She raised her hands and watched as Bryce knelt before her, taking the laces into his hands. He yanked at them, nearly tugging Kenzie’s foot forward. He tied loopy, tight bows at the top of each and then gave her a deep, excited look. “Let’s get out there.”
Kenzie grabbed his hand and he lifted her up to a standing position. She began to march through the deep snow, stabbing her skates into the older layers of snow beneath the new. Bryce placed his gleaming skates upon the glass, looking briefly tentative, before leaping out onto the ice and skating easily, making smooth lines. He looked graceful but powerful, like a hockey player.
Soon, Bryce turned back toward her, catching sight of Kenzie’s first attempts to get out on the ice. Kenzie placed her right skate on the ice, her left skate still stabbed safely in the snow. The right skate swept forward and then back, with Kenzie’s body teetering. She gave Bryce an embarrassed wave. “I’ll make my way to you eventually,” she called. Her voice echoed off the trees around them.
But Bryce appeared be
fore her almost instantly, taking several long strides on his skates.
“You make it look so easy,” she said, flashing her white teeth. “Maybe I should just stay on the sidelines, let you do the figure eights.”
“Come on,” Bryce said, taking her hand. Their fingers fit together perfectly, catching Kenzie off guard. She swallowed sharply. “I’ll guide you.”
With Bryce’s assurance, Kenzie swept her other skate onto the ice, wavering from left to right. Bryce placed both hands around her waist, gazing into her eyes as he stationed her firmly. “Don’t be nervous. I think you’re psyching yourself out at this point,” he said.
Kenzie took several deep breaths. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Matching Bryce’s movements as he skated backward, still holding her up, Kenzie began to skate. Her movements were sloppy at first, with shards of ice splashing behind her, but she didn’t fall, not with Bryce’s strong hands around her. Thus, she could take risks and maneuver with more ease, conscious that she wouldn’t smack her face on the dark ice below.
“It’s easy with someone holding you up,” Kenzie said. “Why don’t those Olympic athletes have someone grabbing their waist all the time, just in case?”
“It would be the smart thing to do. Frankly, they’re idiots,” Bryce said, laughing. “But I guess you’d have to be if you committed your entire life to ice skating.”
“It seems you have. That, and to being an all-around woodsman,” Kenzie said, taking larger glides, leaving a single skate on the ice and tracing her route with a clean line.
“Can you blame me?” Bryce asked, gesturing toward the woods around them. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”
After several more strides, Kenzie stopped, clinging to Bryce’s firm forearms and catching her breath. She blinked several times, growing accustomed to the chill of the air. The stars twinkled above, mirrored perfectly in the black glass below. The snow-topped trees sparkled, looking Christmassy despite it being February. Kenzie had celebrated Christmas with Austin, eating cinnamon rolls next to the tree. He’d given her a glittering necklace, and she wanted to wonder what he’d gotten Tori.
But no. She wouldn’t allow her mind to reroute into Austin territory. The full moon appeared from behind a cloud, illuminating the snow. Kenzie shook her head, almost imperceptibly.
“I suppose I wouldn’t have left this place, either,” she said. “It’s a wonderland.”
Bryce took her hand, giving her more freedom, and the pair skated a few times in a circle inside the snow barrier he’d created.
“I used to come near here as a kid,” Kenzie said, feeling nostalgic suddenly, perhaps because of the lateness of the hour and the wine dulling her head. “My parents took me, when they were happier, when they were still trying to build something.”
Bryce parted his lips, looking uncertain. “Did you hike? Ski?”
Kenzie nodded. “We did all that, yes. But there was this one particular part that sticks out in my memory. There was a giant corn maze, somewhere near the border. I was seven, maybe, and fearless. I would dash into the corn maze, yelling for my mom to time me. But always, when I got halfway through, I would get lost and frustrated. I would come up on one dead end after another, until I would start crying. Seriously, this happened every single time.”
Bryce didn’t speak for a moment.
“But inevitably, my dad would run in after me, find me in about five seconds, and scoop me up. I was such a brave kid, until everything got messy.” Kenzie laughed. “But after that, we would drink hot chocolate and walk through the woods. My parents would hold hands as I ran ahead of them. It was a time I couldn’t get back later. But I keep the memory.”
“It’s beautiful,” Bryce finally said, sounding tentative. Kenzie remembered that he hadn’t spoken much about his past. Perhaps she could egg him on, try to leech information out of him.
“Was the corn maze about thirty minutes from here?” he asked, his voice deep. He appeared thoughtful. “With a pumpkin patch, and that big green barn?”
“The green barn,” Kenzie said, incredulous. “Yes! Have you been there? Is it still running?”
“I’m not sure,” Bryce said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I went there when I was a kid as well.”
Finally, Bryce had revealed something from his life. Kenzie simmered with excitement, but she didn’t want to give herself away. “Oh?”
“Sure. We would do the corn maze and drink the same hot chocolate,” Bryce said. “I was probably around seven, just like you. We would explore the orchard, pick out a pumpkin, and then go to the neighboring town, at the base of these mountains.”
“Your parents must share your love of the outdoors,” Kenzie said. Beneath her, her skates faltered a bit, sending her head forward. Bryce reached out a hand, catching her before she smacked the ice below.
Bryce’s face grew wistful. “Going on those trips to the maze, and exploring the town, were some of the happiest times I had as a kid. They’re some of the memories I cherish most. Some of the only times when I felt I belonged.”
Kenzie felt he was closing the door on his memories now. He clamped his mouth shut, his eyes growing gray and faraway.
“But you must have created more memories later?” Kenzie asked finally, trying to dig. “I couldn’t, since my parents divorced, but you—”
Bryce shook his head, turning his skates toward their base, where their things lay in the snow. “My parents? No. I haven’t talked to my parents in a long time,” he finally said.
Kenzie followed him toward the snow and collapsed upon the white fluff, still looking up at Bryce’s troubled face. Pressing her lips together, she searched for something else to bring up, something beyond the seemingly troubled past he wasn’t prepared to reveal. She brought her fingers around her ankles, noting how tender they felt.
“Skating is not for the faint of heart,” she said, flashing a grin.
Bryce released the crinkle between his eyebrows. He looked grateful that she’d dropped the topic of his parents and his memories. He began to unlace his shoelaces, his movements hurried. “You’re looking almost blue, Kenzie,” he said. “Let’s go sit by the fire. The clouds are coming over the moon, anyway. We’ll lose light fast.”
Kenzie untied her skates and slipped her feet into the frigid air, wiggling her toes beneath the wool. She donned her boots once more, her shoulders slumping with sudden fatigue. Her ankles and calves ached. She gave Bryce a cartoonish, needy look, and he grinned. “I know just what you’re up to.”
“I’m not up to anything,” Kenzie said. “I just know for a fact that I can’t get through that snow. So you can either leave me to die out here or you can carry me.” She winked, happy to be playful with him again.
Bryce strapped the ice skates around his neck, two hanging on either side of his chest. He lifted Kenzie easily, drawing her face close to his. He swiped his fingers through her hair. Gazing into his eyes, Kenzie tried to draw out the truth of his past. What had darkened him so much that he’d refused to leave his cabin in the woods for 12 years? Was he so stoic, so clamped shut, that she’d never learn the truth?
As they walked toward the truck, Kenzie felt her eyelids close. She leaned her head heavily against his shoulder, her chin bouncing slightly as she snoozed. With her head so close to his muscly chest, she could hear the strength of his heart booming beneath his ribcage. She’d never been so attracted to a man in her life.
Once they reached the truck, Bryce eased her into the passenger seat, attempting not to wake her. But her eyes snapped open quickly, taking in the sight of his reddened cheeks above his beard.
“We’ll get you home soon,” Bryce said, his voice soft. “Then you can rest.”
But with Bryce sitting beside her in the driver’s seat, easing the truck back up the mountain, Kenzie’s nose steamed with the smell of him. She sat tensely, unable to find words, listening to the crackly radio. It was after midnight now, and the local radio played only oldies. The
DJ, a man named Marty, explained that a famous actor and singer from the ’40s had hidden out in their mountains for several years, attempting to hide from his many Hollywood scandals. A song, sung by that particular singer, began rasping from the speaker. Bryce chuckled.
“What?” Kenzie asked, glancing at him.
“It’s just all these legends this town has,” he said, shaking his head and turning the volume down. “They’re always talking about people who’ve lived here, or people who have died here, or people who have created famous pieces of art here,” he said, laughing. “But the only people I’ve ever known who have lived here are suckers who’ve gotten stuck here, or alcoholics, or people like me who just want to be left alone.”
