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awe and fear of this man? I had dreamed of
    having him like this, lying in this very bed, looking so completely at ease. And here he was,
    but I felt no sense of accomplishment, only confusion.
    I’ve read all your books.
    Regardless of his abrasive and unpolished flirtation, the fact that he’d read my books
    warmed me more than I cared to admit. He was the only person from my past who admired
    my present.
    His bangs hung in his closed eyes. I wanted very badly to reach up and brush them
    aside. But as I lifted my hand to do so, the movement stirred him and he turned over and
    blinked at me.
    “Morning,” I said.
    He scowled at the blank clock. “Still no power?” His voice was rough and broken with
    sleep.
    I shook my head.
    He burrowed back under the covers. “Wake me when it’s back.”
    I whipped off the cover. “Come on, get up. Don’t make me face them all by myself.”
    Ethan’s eyes remained closed. “What’s that infernal racket?”
    “My father’s trying to break open the front door,” I said. “Though he should know by
    now, escape from this family is impossible.”
    Ethan grunted something under the covers.
    “Come on, get up.” I shook his shoulder
    “No.” He burrowed deeper.
    38
    Astrid Amara
    “What? Don’t tell me you’re not a morning person.”
    Ethan stuck his head out from under the sheets and glared at me. “I’m not.”
    I grinned madly. “A flaw!”
    He scowled, eyes barely open. “That’s not a flaw. It’s a trait. Now leave me alone.”
    I shed my sleeping bag shell and made my way to the bathroom. Indeed, it was clear
    that our house was snowed in. The cars in the street were mere lumpy suggestions under a
    shroud of white. Every nuance of the landscape was buried. The snow had frozen in the
    night and now the ground looked glossy, deadly in the early light. Smoke rose from several
    houses across the street, and I admired those families for their priorities. They woke up at the
    crack of dawn to light fires, whereas my family woke up to pry doors open with heavy
    equipment and to search the towel drawers for missing heirlooms.
    My black hair looked particularly spiky this morning, and the stubble was dark on my
    pale skin, making me look like a thief. There was no hot water so I briskly splashed my face
    before returning to change. I looked at my one outfit and realized the airline would clearly
    not be dropping off my missing luggage any time soon.
    I went to my old wardrobe. As I feared, my old clothes were still there, hanging as
    though my mother could transport me through time and once again dress me daily.
    Ethan’s head reappeared from under the covers. He smirked at me. “Look, your high
    school clothes are still in the closet, just like you.”
    “Shut up.” I reached for a rugby shirt that looked like it would still fit. I noticed Ethan’s
    eyes never strayed from my torso as I changed.
    “You’re thirty,” Ethan reminded me so helpfully. “When are you going to tell them?”
    “None of your business,” I replied, but my answer was muffled by the shirt. It was
    tighter than I remembered. Years of rowing had bulked up my chest and arms since the time
    I had been a skinny high school geek. “Did you ever tell your parents?” I asked.
    Ethan nodded. “Back in college.”
    Holiday Outing
    39
    “How’d they take it?” Ethan’s mother was a lot like mine. It couldn’t have been a pretty
    sight.
    Ethan shrugged. “At first they were upset, but they came to terms with it. By the time
    my mother died, she was a card-carrying member of PFLAG and setting me up on blind dates
    with local men.”
    I found a pair of trousers from high school and pulled them on. They were a bit tight in
    the thighs, but at least they were clean. “I don’t think mine will react the same way.”
    “Your mother doesn’t seem to have a problem with me being gay,” he said reasonably.
    My eyes widened. “She knows about you?”
    Ethan rubbed his hand over the stubble on