Ink and Ice

by Erin McRae

  "He did?"

  "I did?" Brendan echoed as he walked into the room, Zack right behind him. "What did I do?" he looked between Aaron and Katie.

  "I told you I had invited Zack. When we were finishing up a class with the little kids. You said it was cool, although it’s possible you weren’t quite focused at the time," Aaron said.

  Katie briefly turned her murder eyes on Brendan.

  “Hi, Zack!” Aaron said brightly to deliberately change the topic. “How was your drive?”

  “Very peaceful. I would have been here earlier, but I got stuck behind a tractor.” He held out a foil-wrapped casserole dish. “Also, I brought food.”

  Aaron’s stomach gave a pleased flutter at the sight of Brendan accepting the dish from Zack. Folding Zack into the little domestic routines of TCI was definitely promising. Also, he appreciated guys who could cook.

  Behind Aaron, quietly enough that he was pretty sure he was the only one who could hear, Katie muttered, “You could have just asked me.”

  “Yeah, but this is more fun,” he whispered back.

  “Nightmare child,” she retorted.

  Another door squeaked and slammed, this time from the back of the house. Huy bounded into the kitchen from the back deck, glowing with the joy that seemed to be his default state of being.

  “Aaron!” Huy beamed and threw himself at him, hugging him so hard his feet lifted off the ground. Aaron laughed and squeezed him back. They didn’t spend a lot of time together off the ice, but the daily routine of training at TCI hadn’t felt complete without his energy. Or his playlists of all Canadian dance music all the time at seven a.m. warmups.

  Charlotte got a hug too. Once Huy had set her back on her feet, he turned to face Zack. He looked ready to tackle-hug him too, but Zack backed up a step, Aaron suspected unconsciously. Belatedly, he realized that Zack probably didn’t know anything about his and Huy’s history. Certainly, he wondered what he thought of the exuberant display of physical affection between them all.

  Huy looked Zack up and down. "Who are you? Are you a hockey guy? I don't bite!"

  Aaron recognized Huy evaluating someone he’d put in the ‘potential hookup’ category and had to stifle a laugh.

  “He is the journalist,” Charlotte said tartly, returning to her perch on the stool. “Here to write about Aaron.”

  “Ohhhh.” Something in Huy’s face shuttered, and Aaron watched in awe as Huy switched his public face on. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You too. Technically, my assignment is to cover all the top U.S. contenders for the Olympic team slots. Not just Aaron. And I’m not here on the record tonight. Aaron took pity on me and invited me along.”

  “Pity, hmmm?” Huy looked between Zack and Aaron in a way that was entirely too knowing. Aaron wished he were close enough to step on his foot.

  ZACK FELL INTO THE conversation at dinner as if he’d been part of the group for ages. He and Aaron sat next to each other at the table, occasionally bumping elbows while Aaron bantered with Huy and Zack talked hockey with Charlotte.

  Aaron still missed home: The quiet summer nights on the island, boat trips on the lake, time together with his family. But on nights like this, Aaron was happy. The people gathered around the table tonight weren’t his blood, but they were as much his family through shared work and commitments.

  “Do you want a tour?” he asked Zack once the table had been cleared. Aaron wanted some time alone with Zack, but if he was eventually going to write about TCI life, seeing the farm—off the record or on—was a must.

  “Of?” Zack asked, setting a last stack of plates by the sink. Brendan was busy washing dishes and had waved away their offers of help. Katie, Charlotte and Huy were starting a card game and would probably be occupied for a while.

  “The farm, obviously,” Aaron said.

  Zack’s forehead creased. “What is there to see?”

  “What is there—” Aaron repeated, staring at Zack’s confusion in suddenly dawning realization and consternation. Was it really possible for someone to not know what there might be to see on a farm? “Have you never been on a farm?”

  “Farms, yes. A Midwestern American farm, no.”

  “Why not?” Aaron was curious.

  “Because I’m from Florida and write about wars,” Zack said.

  “Wars affect farms, right?” Aaron asked.

  “Yes, but again, American farms.”

  “Well, now you’re writing about figure skating. And we’re figure skaters who take breaks on an American farm.” Aaron grabbed Zack’s arm and pulled him toward the door. “We’ll be back later!” he called over his shoulder.

  “What the hell does a farm have to do with figure skating?” Zack asked as Aaron towed him into the yard.

  The evening air was warm and humid. Clouds were building up to the west, and the sun shone dramatically across them to make the sort of sunset worthy of any Instagram post.

  “Looks like there’s going to be a storm tonight,” Aaron said, looking up at the sky.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “On a farm,” Aaron said. “Weather matters.”

  “Okay?”

  They strolled shoulder-to-shoulder down the track that led to the barns. “Whatever you do, there’s always factors that are beyond your control—on a farm and in skating.”

  “Ahhhhhh.”

  “Rain, the other skaters, not enough rain, the quality of the ice, bugs, the vibe of a competition,” Aaron listed.

  “External factors.” Zack sounded both amused and exasperated. “Everyone deals with them. How are yours different?”

  “Ugh.” Aaron kicked at a pebble in the path. He wanted to show Zack this part of his life—of all their lives—that was so important, but so hard to explain. He didn’t have the right words.

  Zack waited patiently. Aaron could feel the weight of his attention like a warm hand on his arm.

  “Katie asks me that too,” he said. “Whenever we start talking about my programs for a season. She wants to know what makes me different, as a skater.”

  “What does make you different as a skater?”

  “I don’t know,” Aaron burst out. “Except that I come from an island that’s weird the way this farm is weird. And I don’t mean farms in general, I mean, this farm. It has an energy to it, and it’s why Katie and I get along so well. But no one else really understands what it’s like to be us,” he said. “And that’s an asshole thing to say, so don’t write it down. Or find a way to make it sound better. But it’s true. Right now the only thing that feels different about me is that you’re here talking to me instead of everyone else. Usually I don’t get that much attention.”

  “My job here is to talk to you,” Zack pointed out. “Because of the narrative potential your season has. Although, to be clear,” he added. “I do like talking to you. And as I told the others, I’m off the clock tonight.”

  “I know,” Aaron said. “But your interest in me has no impact on my skating. On my career, maybe; media buzz drives a lot of calculations when it comes to funding and Federation support and even what the judges think. In a season like this one, every little bit could tip the balance in my favor. But none of that impacts what I do on the ice. I have a literal once-in-a-lifetime opportunity this year, and I have no idea how I want my skating to look this season.” It was the first time he’d admitted that to anyone; he knew Katie and Brendan would tell him it was still early and he had time to work out a vision for himself, but he was starting to get frustrated.

  They rounded the corner of an outbuilding and were suddenly standing in front of the barn.

  Zack stopped suddenly. “There are cows.” He sounded alarmed.

  “Yes, it’s a dairy farm.” Aaron was amused, and also relieved to take a break from his own angsting about his season.

  “There are so many cows,” Zack said.

  Zack, war reporter and tattooed god of attractive biceps, was so unnerved by a bunch of dairy cows that Aaron n
early doubled over laughing. “You’ve never seen a cow, have you?”

  "I've seen cows," Zack said, sounding somewhat affronted. "Just not big American dairy cows that weren't in imminent danger of—well, anything."

  Aaron laughed harder. "If you think this is weird," he said, catching his breath. "Wait ’til you see my island."

  "Was that an invitation?"

  Aaron stopped laughing abruptly. Instead he felt himself flushing to the roots of his hair. Which was the worst possible reaction to have to someone—especially a journalist writing about him—teasing and possibly flirting with him.

  "Do you want to know what I think?" Zack asked. "What makes you different?"

  "Sure?" The setting sun made Zack’s skin glow golden. Aaron couldn’t help but stare.

  "The thing where you manage to convince everyone around you you're normal ninety-nine percent of the time, and then that last one percent—something flashes out of you. Like the ice, like the island maybe, is in your blood."

  "It is." Aaron was acutely aware that his heart was now beating in his ears, almost drowning out the sound of his own words, the way it did whenever he stepped on the ice for a performance. "All of that."

  Zack reached out a hand and traced the shell of Aaron's ear. "I've never seen anything like it. And I don’t know why you hide it."

  Goosebumps broke out up and down Aaron's arms. "The island's too strange," he said. "Too much mine. I can't walk around giving all my secrets away."

  "Can't you, now?" Zack's words were half amusement, half-dare. "I've seen videos of Katie and Brendan skating. And I've seen them look at each other when they don't think anyone else is watching. They don't keep anything for themselves."

  “Everyone keeps something,” Aaron protested. Even the idea of sharing the island made him feel exposed and vulnerable. But there was, somehow, something appealing about that. He wanted Zack to have his secrets.

  He leaned his cheek into Zack’s hand.

  Zack shook his head. "No sense in keeping something to yourself if it’ll help you win." He shifted to trace Aaron’s jawline.

  Aaron’s brain took a moment to be able to form words. "What do you know about it?" Unless he was mistaken, Zack was closing the space between them. His eyes gleamed in the fading light.

  "People are people.” Zack shrugged. He was close enough now that Aaron could smell his aftershave, warm and herbal. “Whether they're in a war zone or on the ice. You're holding something back. And,” he said, his voice low and quiet, a command just for Aaron, “you should stop that."

  Aaron leaned up onto his toes and kissed him.

  Zack returned the kiss, long enough for Aaron to know that he was into it, before he pulled back a fraction of an inch. "That wasn't what I meant, you know."

  Aaron’s knees felt weak. He’d gripped Zack’s arms without realizing it; they felt as lovely to touch as he’d always hoped they would.

  "I know.” He loosened his fingers a little so Zack could step away if he wanted to. “Do you mind?"

  Zack only moved closer. "Not at all." And with that, Zack threaded his fingers through Aaron's hair and pulled him in for a much more thorough kiss.

  Zack was much bigger than Aaron, which Aaron had known from their skating lessons. But catching Zack’s weight when he needed to was one thing. Zack, taller and broader and backing them up against a nearby fence was another entirely.

  Aaron was really, really into it. From Zack’s tongue in his mouth to his muscled thigh pressed between Aaron’s legs and against his dick. If it weren’t for the cow cams that made up Katie’s freakish farm surveillance system, he would have been down to fuck Zack right here.

  Is Gabe still out here working on the cameras? He was trying to figure out how likely they were to get away with surreptitious handjobs when his phone barked. Loudly.

  Zack jumped back with a look so wild Aaron had to laugh at him again.

  “My phone,” he said, fumbling it out of his pocket.

  “That’s a messed-up ringtone.”

  “Our dog.” Aaron told the usual lie.

  “Hmm.” Zack sounded skeptical, but Aaron didn’t have the brain bandwidth to deal with that right now. His hands were so unsteady—Zack was a really good kisser—that he couldn’t get the fingerprint sensor to work and had to type in his unlock code instead.

  There was a text from Huy.

  Huy: Idk what you guys are doing out there, but Katie’s heading out to make the rounds on the cows or sthg. Look lively!

  Aaron: Thx!

  Aaron replied, with sincere gratitude, and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

  “Katie’s coming. We should probably look less like we’ve been sucking on each other’s faces.”

  “Which would be...how?”

  Aaron grabbed Zack’s hand and dragged him away from the barn and away from the house. “Do you want to see the chickens?”

  THEY ARRIVED BACK AT the house as the fireflies started to flicker along the tree line. The rest of the group was gathered out back on the screened-in porch that looked over the pastures and distant treeline. Katie wasn’t there, which meant that all Aaron had to deal with was a suggestive look from Huy and a pointed eyebrow-of-disapproval from Charlotte. But Brendan didn’t seem to think anything was amiss, and soon Zack and Aaron were settled next to each other on the wicker loveseat.

  Aaron leaned into Zack occasionally and was rewarded by the warm press of Zack, shoulder to thigh, against him. The heady memory of Zack’s mouth pressed against his made Aaron deeply regret his early morning ice time and the fact that he’d driven here with Charlotte. Going home with Zack—he was pretty sure that was on the table if he wanted it to be—was both logistically unwise and more socially awkward than even his generally high tolerance for awkwardness could take. But despite the disappointment of that, Aaron’s mind felt quiet in a way he hardly ever felt anywhere that wasn’t the island. For a few hours tonight he had stopped worrying—about the season, about expectations, about letting his family down—and let himself be.

  Chapter 8

  AFTER THE DINNER AT the Farm

  Somewhere on I-35

  THERE WAS SOMETHING to be said for thinking things through while driving. Zack was glad for the rental car and the empty road when he finally pulled out of Katie and Brendan's at eleven—late, he was told, for skaters.

  He flipped on the radio... and that was the thing about radio in the dark. No matter where you were, the experience of it was more or less the same: a bunch of songs you didn’t necessarily love whispered into your ear by a DJ that felt like he was speaking just for you. The only thing that changed from state to state and country to country was the language and how much God was part of the mix.

  Zack wished the farm were further out and the drive longer, because Aaron—who was apparently boy crazy and made of trouble—had kissed him, and it was completely a delight. And also a giant problem.

  One, he had to admit, that he'd been courting since he arrived.

  Zack knew the most obvious answer was to not entertain the situation further, wrap up whatever background he could pretend to himself that he still needed here, and go home. Or go to Phoenix and try to get an interview in person when he still couldn’t get anyone on Sauer’s team to answer his calls. He only had a week left on the temporary lease for Marie’s in-law apartment anyway. Perfect timing.

  If Zack hadn’t become wildly, inappropriately, emotionally entangled with Aaron—and hadn’t just spent half an hour making out with him in a field, what the fuck was his life?—he could give up on Sauer and make the story entirely about Aaron. But journalistic bias worked every which way. Focusing on Aaron because Zack liked him was as fucked up as avoiding focusing on Aaron for the same reason. Both versions of the situation were now a complete ethical nightmare, no matter the extent to which Aaron was complicit—knowingly or not.

  Zack resisted the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel. He didn’t want to leave the Twin Cities. He didn’t wa
nt to go back to Miami and find a new place to live. To go back to the life he had before, writing little pieces here and there from the comfort of his apartment until he got bored enough to overcome his own better sense and fly back into the type of trouble he no longer believed his body and brain could handle.

  Aaron was here, of course, but so were Katie and Brendan, and Twin Cities Ice and the few other skaters he’d already met. Marie, too. It was a warm and welcoming community, with people who loved their work and were devoted to it. All of which Zack enjoyed. But there was also the feeling of something else, lurking under the surface, that Zack couldn’t stop rolling around in his head. There was also a fuzziness here in the space that separated people from animals.

  The more that people relied on their instincts, the more their ears seemed to prick up at things seen or heard. This adventure was full of that, and Zack was aggressively interested. He didn't have that experience of the world himself, no extra senses and no animal instincts, but he knew it when he saw it. In a war zone he’d learned to watch the animals to know if he was safe, to know what would happen next, to know who the monsters were.

  Finding people with that magic here—Aaron and Katie mostly, but also Marie—had suddenly made life outside a warzone seem a lot more interesting than it had in ages.

  Zack knew he needed to stop thinking with his dick, to consider whether he was having addictive tendencies, and call this whole non-thing out as a rebound, but he also knew that if he did so, he wouldn’t be being entirely honest with himself. The situation was ill-advised, yes. But it felt real and mutual.

  The light in Marie’s front window was on when he pulled into the driveway. And Zack, having already made a series of bad choices in his life (from war zones to marriage to kissing Aaron by the cows), decided there was no time like the present to make just a few more.

  Instead of following the walkway that led around to the back of the house and his own entrance, Zack banged on the front door. He realized only belatedly that the sound was too urgent.