Page 75 of The Devil Wears Tartan

There’s a hesitation in her voice I don’t want to face, not here in the sunlight when I’ve just figured out how good it feels to be with her out in the world.

How right it feels to have her by my side.

“So let’s get you skating!” I interrupt, putting some fake gung-ho enthusiasm in my voice as I lunge for her arm and tow her away from the bench.

“Wait, wait, wait!” she yelps. “I didn’t say I was ready!”

“Ah, but when the student is ready, the teacher appears,” I drawl, fighting back laughter at the way she screams every time we hit even the tiniest of bumps in the ice.

“Moira, slow down!”

We’re moving at about half the speed of an aerobics class for people in their eighties, but I don’t point that out to Kenzie.

“Slowing down!” I announce like I’m calling out instructions to a flight crew.

“That is also bordering on condescending,” Kenzie hisses.

I try to hold in another laugh, but a snort slips out. Kenzie glowers, but she still grips my arm extra tight when we hit another bump.

“That guy at the skate tent said the ice conditions were good,” she complains.

“These are good conditions,” I tell her. “It’s just a little choppy where everyone’s been getting their skates on and off. It will be better when we get out there on the path.”

I start tugging her forward a little faster. She squeals and squeezes her eyes shut.

“Kenzie!” I say on a laugh. “You’ve gotta keep your eyes open!”

I’ve never seen her be so cute before.

“You’re whipping me around like a hockey puck! Of course I’m going to close my eyes!”

“Then maybe you should try steering yourself.”

We’ve reached a less crowded part of the path, and just as I predicted, the ice is much smoother. I pry Kenzie’s arm off mine and dig my blades in to push off and glide a few feet ahead of her.

“Like that,” I say gently.

She purses her lips and then tries to imitate my motions. She shoots forward a few feet, and her screech turns into a laugh.

“I skated!” she crows.

I take another stride to catch up. “You did! Look at you!”

The momentum from her first push is still carrying her forward. All of a sudden, her eyes go wide, and a look of horror twists her face.

“Wait, how do I stop?”

I chuckle and grab her arm again. “Okay, get ready for lesson two.”

By the time we make it down to the red-roofed huts that house the Beavertails stand and a few other concessions, Kenzie has gotten some mild control over her movements. She comes to a wobbly stop at the picnic table Lydia and Ty managed to score for us.

“Well, don’t you two look adorably gay out there?” Lydia sing-songs as we get ourselves settled.

I shoot her a look, but really, my heart feels like it has grown wings in my chest, and I can’t stop smiling. I’m having a ridiculous amount of fun, and even though Kenzie might make a show out of grumbling about my ‘condescending’ encouragement, the beaming grin she turns on Ty when they compliment her skating proves she is too.

“We’ll grab the Beavertails,” Lydia announces. “Moira, I assume you want that one with lemon? What about you, Kenzie?”

“Um...” Kenzie looks over at the long line stretching in front of the stand. “I don’t think I’ve ever had one actually.”

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