Alas! Chapter One of Book Two! Thanks for waiting, y'all.

I hope you enjoy it! We do start out with Adam's perspective, but this chapter is going to largely deal with Lacey. However, particularly for those of you who enjoy the romance, there is LOTS of honeymoon-phase sweetness going on!

By the way, please give me feedback about Stuart's Scottish accent/dialect. It's accurate from what I know of having dated a Scottish guy many years back, plus looking up various sources, but I don't want it to be too difficult to understand. If it is, maybe I should dial it down some. So please let me know about that.

Til next chapter!

/

"To love a person is to see all of their magic, and to remind them of it when they have forgotten." – Unknown

March was the best, most fulfilling month Adam had experienced in a long time.

For one thing, he was back in the game. Literally.

His shoulder had healed much more quickly than Dr. Bartlett had anticipated it would, thanks to physical therapy and rest. By the middle of the month, he was able to return to practices, suit up in the heavy hockey padding himself, and handle the stick, although he still relied most heavily on his right arm to steer the puck. And to boot, it all happened in plenty of time to sharpen up his game by the April playoffs. He almost wished Max Shipley wasn't in jail right now so he could see for himself that all the damage he thought he was doing out behind the locker rooms of Driskell was for pretty much nothing.

Hockey was good again.

And now there was Lacey.

Adam had had no idea that falling in love could be one of the best things to happen to a person. He thought of Lacey constantly when he wasn't at practice or at a game-and truthfully, he thought of her a little then, too. And even though he thought he knew quite a lot about her when they were only friends, he was finding out more things each day, and hoarded the knowledge like gold. They talked on the phone every night when they couldn't see one another, which was often the case, given the obstacles of her Cat's Cradle schedule and his practices and training. But he managed to make up for her nearly-overlooked eighteenth birthday by taking her out on a nice date-technically their first-to an upscale, authentic Italian place he hoped would make her forget all about Olive Garden, and then to Walker Art Center to show her the contemporary art displays there. He took an immense amount of pleasure just in watching her childlike enthusiasm over the things she encountered. He'd been there plenty of times since he was a kid, thanks to his mom's penchant for the creative, but Lacey had never been to an art gallery before and kept pulling him from showcase to showcase, afraid she wouldn't get to see all the galleries. Adam didn't want her to rush, though, and promised to come back with her in the summer to catch anything they missed and to walk through the gardens, which hadn't yet opened for the season.

But as much as he loved the conversation, laughter and dates, nothing beat the physical aspect, the fact that he could hold her as often as he wanted and there could never be enough kissing. He sometimes worried that his zeal might make him look like a pushy scumbag and would remind her in some way of Max. But not only was romantic affection new to him, he found he was better with touching than with talking when it came to expressing his feelings. He sometimes wondered if being an athlete and learning how to communicate with his body had anything to do with that. .

When his parents found out the turn the relationship had taken, Adam's mom had been predictably thrilled. She liked Lacey, and had been hoping for a while that he'd have the chance to experience a nice traditional high school romance. His dad, however, was a little more reticent, and told Adam he needed to be sure to talk to Lacey about what her plans were after high school and what she wanted to do with her life.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Adam had heatedly inquired over Lynn's turkey meatballs the night the subject arose.

"It just means you need to be sure you have common goals," his father had replied calmly.

"Oh. You mean like, make sure she doesn't want to be a manager at an office supply store or something else that'll embarrass you, right?" He set down his fork hard.

"Adam," his mom cautioned, "you're getting a little defensive. And Phil, I'm sure they'll find time at some point to have that conversation."

Adam looked down at his food while he pulled his anger back in check.

"She's a nice girl, Son," his dad left the subject simply, taking a big sip of riesling.

Meanwhile, Lacey's sisters and Stuart were as welcoming as they always had been to him. Darlene-whom he still called Ms. Primmer-seemed to remain suspicious of him on some level, even though she wasn't nearly as cold as she had once been. Otherwise, the trickiest obstacle was including the twins in his and Lacey's time, yet also reserving some of it for themselves. Having never had younger siblings, this wasn't a familiar struggle to Adam, but Lacey was an old hat. She had no problem telling the girls to get lost when she wanted them to. But they really weren't any trouble, even if they talked a lot and sometimes descended upon him like a pair of hungry coyotes right when he came in the door. He didn't come by yesterday-what had he been doing? Had he thought playing against the Eagles last week was hard? What pro team did he want to play for? How was Stella, and could he bring them pictures of her? What did he think of The Backstreet Boys (he had to modify his response to that one)? And usually, from Ariel, a question about Portman.

Leave it to Ariel to be the one who would fancy Portman. Halen was more romantic and sensitive, and because Adam was aware he had formerly been her crush, he was a little nervous about how she might handle the news of his now being her sister's boyfriend. But Halen thankfully seemed unbothered.

The most awkward thing so far had been running into Davy a time or so. Adam wasn't really comfortable enough around the guy to verbally thank him for having tried to stop the attack on him that night at Driskell, but he did appreciate it–mostly because Davy McBrayer would have had every reason to let him take a hard fall. Adam was ashamed to recall that he hadn't been very nice to Davy when they were on the Hawks together during their pee-wee days. Davy wasn't an especially talented hockey player, having only made the team because his stepfather was friends with Coach Riley. But even though Davy had given it his all, Adam and his other little jerk friends spent as much time reminding him of his clumsiness as possible. Adam had been incredibly embarrassed about that fact when he'd found out Davy was Lacey's almost-stepbrother. But either Davy didn't remember Adam's bullying or had chosen not to make an issue of it, and he always regarded Adam with politeness. Though, what else could be expected from Stuart's son?

Even if the family dynamics were to have been complete chaos on both sides, though, Adam didn't think anything could pull him away from Lacey now that he had her. And there was one thing she definitely would not be facing without him:

The prison visit with her dad.

Stuart and Ms. Primmer hadn't thought it a good idea for their daughter to go through with, but she'd been insistent, proffering Dr. Hemby's number so that either of them could process the decision with the therapist themselves. It was all that could be done, because, as Lacey had pointed out, she was now eighteen and the ultimate decision rested with her.

"And I told them you were taking me."

Adam had hesitated, realizing his offer to Lacey on the drive home from the lake house may have been a little short-sighted. The last thing he wanted to do-particularly this early in their relationship-was to make her mom and Stuart feel like he was taking over her life in any way. He opened his mouth to tell her maybe she should let one of them take her to the correctional center after all, but she'd already taken care of that, too.

"I told them it might be hard on all of us if I get anxious beforehand and they're with me, which is kind of what I said to you before, and I think they finally saw what I was saying. But do you know what's weird?," she asked him as they chatted on the phone the weekend before the visit was to take place. "Stuart may actually be taking this harder than my mom is."

"...Oh," Adam replied, not sure what else to say as he was a little surprised by this, too.

"Did he talk about it much, or give any reason why? Or is it just a feeling you have?"

"Just a feeling, I think. I mean, he was like Mom in that he said he was afraid it might make my anxiety worse, but it just seems like...I don't know. Something's been different between us."

Adam recalled the detail about Stuart his dad had mentioned when telling him the story of the kidnapping; how the man had set upon Doug Primmer like a bulldog when he had gotten his hands on him, beating him to a pulp before the police could intervene. It was much like what Stuart had been prepared to do in defense of him and Lacey several weeks earlier, proving how protective the usually-jovial man could be over the girl he saw as his own daughter. He secretly wondered if that might have something to do with this.

Despite naysayers, Lacey took the afternoon off school one Friday in late March (Adam already had Fridays off during the last semester), and they headed to Minnesota Department of Corrections in St. Paul. Lacey had taken her emergency anxiety medication beforehand, and seemed relatively calm. But Adam was anything but, at least on the inside. What if this thing set her off and she had a full-blown panic attack like she had at Halloween? Could he actually handle it and know what to do for her? What if her dad said something to upset her? How could he talk her through that?

But Adam knew he had to stay steady as a rock for her at all cost.

"Do you want to do something afterward? We could go back to my house and watch a movie or something kind of low key," he looked over at her as they turned a corner and saw a surprisingly tidy-looking building, partially rounded with decorative windows dotting the front. It was anything but what he'd always imagined a prison to look like.

"I think I just have to wait and see how I feel."

It was then that he noticed Lacey had managed to peel off every bit of her nail polish just in the hour drive to St. Paul.

He parked in the nearest space, then turned to her.

"Hey." He took both of her hands in his and stroked them with his thumbs. "I think this is going to be good for closure, and you're going to be alright. Okay?"

Lacey nodded, giving a wobbly smile. "I know."

They got out of the car then, locking her purse in the trunk before he took her hand tightly as they made their way to the door.

There was a waiting area Adam was told to remain in, and he sat down on the edge of a hard plastic chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit. Lacey, meanwhile, was escorted back to a place beyond his line of sight. Adam didn't typically pray very much, but right now, he wanted to shower Lacey with all the divine intervention he could call down.

/

"This way."

The no-nonsense corrections officer led Lacey to a small room where she was frisked, traced with a metal detector, and her jeans pockets searched. Her hands shook the whole time, and it was all she could do to put one foot in front of the other as they made their way down the next hall.

Why am I doing this? I don't want to do this. I can't do it. What if I faint when I see him?

Lacey didn't realize tears were spilling down her cheeks until the wary corrections officer asked, "You gonna be okay?"

All she could do was nod. She still had the option of turning back now. But then what? Her heart would probably never, ever heal from this.

She was led down a long corridor and into a spartan room with no windows and whitewashed walls, furnished only with tables, chairs, and vending machines in the corner.

"W-wait. I don't talk to him through a screen?" Lacey turned quickly to the officer escorting her.

"Mr. Primmer has the privilege of visiting in the dayroom due to good behavior." She recited the line as though she said it often. "I'll be standing close by, so I assure you you will be safe."

Lacey swallowed back more tears, picking a random table to sit at, her back rigid and her hands fretfully clutched together.

It seemed an eternity and a half before the corrections officer returned, leading in a man wearing a light blue jumpsuit. As he came closer, Lacey's heart pounded so hard she became lightheaded. This was it. This was her dad.

The man was very thin and of medium stature. His face was careworn, though Lacey recognized the piercing eyes instantly. Doug sat down across from her and regarded her for a moment with a blank expression before finally speaking.

"Lacey," the corners of his mouth tilted up into something of a smile. "You came."

But all she could do for the moment was study him. He looked so normal, and still so young. This was the man who had come into her room and snatched her up in the middle of the night, stealing her away from her parents and sisters and tossing her into the back of a car he drove so recklessly she had been thrown around in the backseat like a rag doll before sailing into the windshield.

Yet he didn't look like the monster Lacey's imagination had embellished, the sinister figure she'd seen in her nightmares.

"I brought enough change to get you a drink from the vending machine," he informed her eagerly, reaching to dig in his pockets. His voice was soft and uncertain. "I like Mountain Dew. D-Do you?"

"I don't care much for Mountain Dew," she answered flatly. How could he talk about vending machines right now?

"Oh, okay. Is there something el-"

"Doug," she broke in, her stomach twisting at the sound of her voice speaking his name. "I came here because I want to talk about the night you took me." Lacey's voice broke and she swallowed down a wave of nausea.

Her dad was quiet for a moment as he slowly pocketed his quarters again. "I…" He began, dodging her eyes. "I know. And I thank you. For coming to talk."

"Do you have any idea what you did to me?" Lacey was surprised by how easily the words came to her, and she hurled them like grenades. "I have been sick my entire life with panic. I pull my hair out at night, I chew my nails down until they're bleeding. I have hot flashes, had night terrors for the first couple of years afterward, and I was made fun of plenty for acting like a freak at school. I actually had to become a totally different person for everyone else in order to look like I'm not falling apart on the inside. And you did this. You."

She sat back and stared at him, awaiting a response.

Tears began to run freely down her father's face as he continued to look down at the table. He didn't try to stop them from dripping down onto the shiny metal surface.

"I know," he murmured, then finally lifted his chin to regard her eye-to-eye, speaking up. "I know. And there isn't a word good enough for a guy who does that to his own kid, Lacey. I've tried while I've been here to-"

But Lacey held her hand up. "And you think you're going to be released and go on to live a perfectly normal life while I continue to suffer with this forever? How is that fair?"

Doug was quiet, but fumbled a lot with his fingers. Something about the mannerism was so familiar-she had seen it in herself-that her head fairly spun.

"I just needed to come in here and face you, tell you what you did to me. And I want to know one thing: why? You obviously didn't really want me. This was all to get back at Mom. But what made you think stealing me was the best way to do that? And what would you have done if you'd gotten away with it? W-Were you…" She swallowed hard. "...planning to kill me? Abandon me? What exactly?"

"Lacey," he shook his head. "I was high on speed. There was no 'plan.' I don't know what I would have done with you. Maybe I would have left you somewhere and called the cops to come find you…? I mean I really don't know because I wasn't thinking that far ahead. I wasn't thinking at all, I was just jacked up on junk. But I can tell you this." He leaned forward a little, causing Lacey to lean back, and she could tell he noticed by the flash of pain in his eyes. "I wouldn't ever have killed you. Ever. Because even though I was high, I remember looking at you when I came into your room, and thinking…" He looked away.

Lacey wanted to stop him, but she steeled herself and continued to watch him.

"...I remember thinking, 'This is my baby. Where have I been?'"

But she couldn't deal with those words and turned away, sickened. "If you really thought that, then...then you wouldn't have hurt me."

"What happened was, I made the stupid decision to snort coke. It's on me. I'm not blaming anybody for anything. That was a choice I made, even though your Mom tried to stop me from making it. It took me a long time to own up to my responsibility, but I did. And I'm telling you now," he spoke with more and more confidence as he talked, "the words "I'm sorry" and "I apologize" and all that bullshit will never be enough to make up for what I did. But it's all I have to offer you, Lacey. God, if I could go back in time…"

Tears flooded his eyes once again, and he swiped at them angrily. But it was an anger Lacey knew wasn't directed toward her.

She watched him for a long time before she spoke again. "How long have you been clean?"

Something akin to pride crossed her dad's face then. "Twenty-nine hundred, twenty-eight days and counting."

"Why don't you just count years?" Lacey narrowed her eyes, unsure why this bugged her. The fact was, every little thing the man did or said bugged her.

"Because in NA–that's Narcotics Anonymous–we take it one day at a time," he explained. "And it has been a daily choice to stay away from the stuff, even in here, because you can still get it places. Some days are harder than others, but I go to my meetings every week, go to the church service, and talk to my therapist to keep myself straight."

"Okay," Lacey responded stiffly. "So now you're a new person, right?"

Doug looked away again. "Listen Lacey, I can accept that you're never gonna believe me when I try to tell you how far I've come. My therapist and I have talked about this for a month, ever since you asked for a visit."

It dawned on her that as she had been preparing for her visit with her dad with Dr. Hemby, he also had been processing it with his own counselor. There was a human being on the other side of this villainous persona she'd always assigned to her dad, and part of her didn't like it. Her entire life, Lacey had counted on him being a monster. Exactly why she'd somehow needed him to be would have to be ironed out with Dr. Hemby later, but for now, she felt something in her heart click into place that had been hanging loose, broken. Yet the sudden shift overwhelmed her.

Evidently taking her silence as an opportunity to say more, her dad continued, "But I was so proud of you when you were born. I can tell you about that day. I can tell you everything I remember about you up until you left. My therapist and I, we made a list together of my memories of you. I actually remember it by heart now. Do you want to hear it?" His voice was hopeful.

"Thank you, but no. Not now." But the words came out softer than her last had.

A wounded expression once again passed over his face quickly, but he nodded. "I understand."

They sat awkwardly, neither of them talking, until Lacey decided she'd had enough for one day. But before she could stand, Doug tried again to engage her.

"So, you're graduating this year. Any big plans for the fall? You going off to college? Getting a job?"

Lacey sat there staring absently at the clock on the wall behind her dad as he asked his questions. She had a choice in this moment-to humor him and give him a glimpse into his daughter's life, or not to. In answering, she felt in a way like she would be letting him off the hook for what he'd done.

And she couldn't, wouldn't, do that. Not yet, and maybe not ever. So she stood up.

"I'm ready to go," she called over to the guard.

"Cagney and Lacey," her dad said suddenly.

She looked down at him, confused.

"That's the TV show we named you after," he gave a lopsided smile. "Your mom and I watched the tube a little too much in those days, probably...right before the commune and all...and the minute she saw the word on the screen, she loved it. And Isabelle was for my grandmother. So you sort of have a family name."

The guard approached, ready to escort Lacey out of the room, but she hesitated.

"Why are you telling me all this? I mean, why is it important?"

"Because I want you to know where you came from," he replied boldly. "And you might feel trapped being my daughter, but I'm damn proud I had you, even if another guy had to pick up the pieces I left behind by being a dick. You tell Stuart-I think that's his name-thanks for me. Okay? He did me a solid. And he had every right to pound me into the ground like he did that night."

Lacey stood there another minute, looking down at him. The thought drifted past that she had this man's nose and eyebrows, but it didn't make her angry.

"I promise if I get out, I won't come near you. You have my word. But thank you...for coming, and letting me tell you some things."

"Alright, it's over, Primmer," the guard broke in before turning flat eyes on Lacey. "You ready, Miss?"

Lacey nodded, following as the woman led her back toward the door she'd come in through. She had planned to make her exit without looking back at her dad, but couldn't quite pull it off, turning her head slightly to see the man sitting with his hands folded on the table, looking small and sad. But before she left the room, he threw her a fond wink and a nod.

It was over.

Heading back into the lobby of the correction center, holding onto Adam for a moment, and riding silently back home beside him all felt surreal. Apparently sensing her need for space to process what she'd just gone through, he spoke only once on the car ride back toward Hopkins. "You're probably tired. I'll just take you home."

"No," she replied, looking out the window. "I don't think I'm ready to face Stuart and Mom and their questions. Can you please take me somewhere else?" She finally looked over at him.

He nodded and changed his course when they were around twenty minutes from her house. They drove to Edina, and Adam pulled up at a place called Bredesen Park. It was a sunny day, and the temperatures had risen to nearly fifty degrees, so Lacey wasn't opposed to the suggestion of a walk.

"It might clear your head a little."

"Yeah. Let's try it, anyway."

For the next hour, Lacey and Adam strolled slowly, arms around each other, down a pleasant little trail that wove through trees, creeks, and ponds that were beginning to thaw as winter was slowly thinning into spring. Lacey enjoyed the companionable silence as they each looked around at the signs of life that were popping up all around them.

At last, she asked, "Have you ever heard of Cagney & Lacey?"

He thought for a moment. "I think I have, but I don't remember when or why."

"I was named after the 'Lacey' on the show, apparently."

"Ah. So at least you finally learned where your name came from then," he smiled and squeezed her shoulders. "It's a beautiful name, you know."

She was quiet for a spell, then spoke again. "He wasn't scary at all. He was kind of humble, and sad. All this time I expected this one-dimensional bad guy."

"Yeah? Do you think you'll visit him again?"

"I really don't know." Lacey pondered the question for a bit. "But I don't think I will. I guess my main objective for going was to get some closure, and I believe I'm starting to. As soon as I unpack it with Dr. Hemby over the next six years," she chuckled.

"You know you're brave, don't you?" Adam leaned down to kiss her head. "The whole thing might have been Dr. Hemby's idea, but you're the one who took it and ran with it."

"Yeah...I guess so," she smiled. "I'm pretty proud of myself for that."

They finally circled around to the park entrance, and when they got back to the car, Lacey commented, "You know, you've still not seen Titanic."

"Oh no," Adam groaned. "I know where this is going."

"Absolutely," she winked. "We're going. Now. You wouldn't believe how cathartic it is."

He laughed. "'Cathartic'. All this therapy is teaching you deep words."

"Glad it's good for something. Well hey, it's good for a lot, actually. I highly recommend it. Anyway, there are showtimes constantly. Bet we could catch one within the hour. Humor me?"

And he did.

Just before the infamous drawing scene, which Lacey somehow didn't think about when pressuring Adam to come with her, she felt her cheeks grow hot and was unsure she wanted to watch while he stared at a beautiful naked woman right beside her. When Rose came out in her robe and began twirling her tassel playfully, she whispered "Be right back, going to the bathroom!" and popped up out of her seat before he could reply. She did, in fact, go to the bathroom, but then stood at the back of the theater, waiting until Rose's hand slapped the inside of the car window before she conveniently returned to her seat. Adam wordlessly passed her the popcorn.

But when the emotional sinking scenes occurred and Jack pleaded for Rose to go on to live a good life and die an old woman in her bed, Lacey cried just as hard as she had the first time. And she could swear she saw tears in Adam's eyes, too, even though he vehemently denied it later.

But she knew better. And she loved him that much more for it.

/

The next morning, Stuart stood in the kitchen by himself, singing along to his Billy Idol album as he fried eggs for everybody for Saturday breakfast. He would have appeared to anyone else to be in a delightful mood, but Lacey sensed tension the moment she entered the room. But she had gotten up early specifically to catch him by himself.

"Good morning," she smiled, heading for the pot of coffee he'd already made.

"Mornin'!" Stuart gave a quick nod. "Get ye some coffee there. Tis fresh."

"Thanks," she took out an Elmo mug Ariel had gotten her for a joke on her birthday and filled it up. "I thought this was Mom's week for breakfast."

"'T'was. I took it from 'er. Joos' felt like cookin'." He finished up the plate of eggs and covered them with a sheet of foil before moving them over to start on pancakes.

"Stuart?"

"Aye?" He went to get butter out of the fridge.

Lacey took a deep breath. "Are you mad at me? For wanting to go see my dad?"

"Wha? No." Taking out a mixing bowl and a whisk, Stuart started dropping ingredients in on top of one another briskly, still not meeting her eye. "Spare a minute, joos' gotta focus on mixin' th'cakes."

Lacey paused, then tried again. "Stuart, you haven't had to focus on making pancakes my entire life. Talk to me about this. I mean, I want to tell you about my visit, but I feel like you and Mom don't want to hear it."

Stuart began whipping the whisk around the bowl, and didn't make a comment or change his expression for several seconds. Then he shook his head. "Lass, I'll 'ear anythin' ye 'ave t'say, ye know that."

"Then why do I feel like you won't?," she pressed on. "I mean, let me change that: I feel you'd hear it, sure. But you might not really listen. And when it comes to this, I need someone to listen to me. Mom's not always great at that, and even though I know you love her, you have to admit she has the habit of turning her ears off when the conversation doesn't go the way she wants."

Stuart paused his whipping to grease the pan without looking up. "Lacey, ye know she joos' worries aboot ye. An' I do, too. Wi' this thing ye deal wi', somethin' this big could go either way. It coul' either make things better, or make them worse. I was so relieved ye wouldna b'lieve it when I saw ye come in last night fro' the movies wi' Adam wi' a smile on yer face."

"I know you and Mom worry. I've given you plenty of reason to. But Stuart, it could also give me anxiety for there to be tension between me and you guys. You know that, right?"

"I do, right 'ough," Stuart glanced up at her before pouring pancake mix into a perfect circle in the pan. "Well, woul' ye like t'talk aboot it, then?"

"Right now? With you?"

"Who else?" Stuart shrugged.

Lacey smiled. "I'd actually really like that. If you're up to hearing it."

"I'll 'ear it if one thing," Stuart turned his gaze from her back to the pancakes. "If ye'll stop th'minute ye feel uneasy. A'right?"

"Alright," she took a deep breath, then smiled earnestly. "I'm ready"

Stuart finished up the pancake he was working on, then turned the stove off. "All this will keep. Let me get another cup o' coffee an' let's sit doon."

Lacey fidgeted as Stuart filled his mug and came over to sit. As tense as the subject matter was, there was something comforting about sitting at the kitchen table with her gregarious stepdad over steaming cups of coffee as the old Kit Cat Klock ticked on the wall, its eyes moving back and forth in what had always been a soothing motion for her. The sound of Billy Idol's "Eyes Without A Face" was being crooned over the CD player, the only song the artist sang that she actually liked.

"So," Stuart pulled out the kitchen chair across from her, lowering into it and working to fit his long legs under it as he always did. "Tell me."

And Lacey did. She told him how it felt going inside the corrections center, what it was like seeing her dad for the first time, and how what she was expecting and what actually happened didn't fully line up.

"And it isn't like I'm not still angry at him," she finished up a half hour later. "But he doesn't seem like a big monster anymore. More like just a really foolish, messed up man. And if I'm to be honest...he doesn't even seem so messed up anymore. He's been clean for years, he goes to Bible Study and NA meetings...and I'm glad I guess, for him, that he's managed to turn things around. But I'll never forget what it was like, Stuart, to be grabbed out of bed…" she paused, having to gain control of her racing heart. "...and…you know the rest. All of his NA meetings and therapy sessions can't undo that. I can't help it, I can't forget no matter what I do."

"Lacey," Stuart leaned in. "I don' think ye'll ever ferget it. It's more like learnin' to live wi' it an' bein' at peace wi' the past. Ye know, when I were a lad, I'll not ferget standin' by as 'elpless as ye please while m'sister was mugged an' 'er wee red purse she carried around was ripped off 'er shoulder. When the lads took out all 'er ''ard-earned pocket money, she were shoved doon onto the concrete, cryin' . Tha's when, by the way, I made a vow never t'watch someone vulnerable be 'urt on my watch ever again. So ye can better b'lieve I were to jump in when you an' yer lad were in that row wi' those wankers after the game that night."

"Wow," Lacey mused. "I never knew that about you. You and Mom never talk about your pasts, and sometimes I wish you would."

"Some pasts are 'ard t'talk aboot. Like yers. Bu' what 'appened finally was that I came t'peace wi' the fact that I couldna really do anythin' at the age I was when m'sister was banged up, but that now she an' I both turned oot safe. When I'd pass thugs on th'street after then, an' even noo, I 'ave t'remind m'self o' that lest m'blood gets t'boilin'." He reached out and patted her hand. "An' yer a strong one. Ye can learn t'close that ol' bloody chapter up in yer 'ead, too."

Lacey smiled, fiddling with the handle of her mug, before looking back up at him. "What about you? Are you at peace with the night Doug took me?"

Stuart sat back, letting out a bigbreath. "That one I'm still workin' on m'self. Like ye are. Th'fact that I couldna keep 'im fro' gettin' ye still weighs 'eavy on me. An' if ye've been sensin' anythin' fro' me, it's that this whole thin' 'as joos' brought it to th'forefront all over again. It's been th'same wi' yer mum, she joos' does a good job of 'iding it."

"You both do," Lacey chuckled. "You guys have the best poker faces of anyone I know. But Stuart, the fact that you tried to protect me, and that you went after the guy...then beat him up when you were able to get him out of the car... that just lets me know I meant something to you, even though I wasn't actually your kid."

Stuart's eyebrows shot up. "Who says yer no' m'kid? Lacey, let me tell ye somethin'. When I first met yer mum an' she tol' me she 'ad a baby, I wasna keen on the idea since I already 'ad my Davy. I didna think I 'ad it in me t'be a father to two bairns. Bu' then, ye know what 'appened? I met ye one night after a date wi' yer mum. She brought me back to 'er sister's apartment joos' long enough fer me t'see ye. An' the minute I did, an' ye looked up at me wearin' those pink footie pajamas, smilin' like the friendliest wee thin' I'd ever seen, I joos' suddenly didna mind anymore. Th'more serious me an' Darlene got, th'more like yer dad I felt. Then one day it joos' started feelin' like th'most natural thin' in the world. An' today, yer as much mine as those lasses upstairs are."

His warm eyes crinkled at the corners, and Lacey felt her own begin to brim with tears.

"Really?"

"Sure, sure. An' now I see th'smartest, prettiest, best 'earted young woman I've ever known. It joos' kills me t'see ye fight fer life, an' when ye said ye were goin' t'see 'im, I 'ad a rough time reconciling it. Bu' now, I'm glad ye did. I underestimated 'ow strong ye really are."

Lacey smiled. "Stuart, you are my 'real dad.' You're the only one I've ever had, you know?"

"Aye. An' it's always been an 'onor." Stuart punctuated the phrase with a wink. "So now d'ye wan' to 'elp me wi' pancakes before yer sisters come flyin' doon th'stairs wantin' me t'put Skittles in 'em?"

/

"What did your mom say when you told her?"

Adam sat on the rug in front of the fireplace with her, picking the olives off of his pizza slice.

"I haven't actually talked to her yet. Hey, leave them there on the box lid, I want them," she interrupted herself when she saw what he was doing. "Anyway, I told Stuart he could tell her anything I said to him. And maybe he did, or maybe he didn't. But I guess the thing about Mom is, I've known her long enough to know that if she wants you to tell her something, she'll ask. And she hasn't, so I guess she doesn't want the information."

Adam started a pile of olives for her on the pizza box lid as he shifted to rest his back against the sofa. Only would a real bear-skin rug make somebody choose to sit on the floor versus on a comfortable couch, and Lacey now understood what made them such a hot commodity for people of the Bankses income level. Not that she didn't feel sorry for the poor creature who was shot so that she could lounge in comfort on its fur. Apparently the guilty party had been Phil's father.

"Does it bother you? I mean, that she doesn't want to talk about it?" Adam asked after processing the information for a few minutes.

"Not really, to be honest. It kind of took everything I had to repeat the whole thing to you and then to Stuart. If she doesn't want to know, maybe it's better for both of us that she doesn't find out. It might trigger some serious anger and bad feelings, and I feel pretty done talking about it anyway. I mean I do still think about it at night sometimes, but I'm going to be talking to Dr. Hemby about it and maybe after time even that'll go away." Lacey reached over for Adam's olives. "The crust won't cause an energy crash for you tomorrow, right? I know you try not to have a lot of carbs before games."

"It'll be fine. Besides, I ave different rules for pizza," Adam chuckled. "Julie mentioned something by the way about you and Connie going with her to help her pick out a dress for the Spring Formal at UM. You all did a lot of bonding at the lake house, huh?"

"I think so," Lacey pulled off another slice of pizza, careful to hold it over her plate so no part of it came remotely close to landing on the Banks' rug. She still thought it a little rebellious for Adam to have encouraged sneaking their pizza into the drawing room and letting them eat it on one of the family's heirlooms. But she was learning all the time that Adam had a tiny disobedient streak in him, and it was exhilarating. "Nobody at my house can believe it. Lacey actually has friends! Because just after Julie called to ask me that last Saturday, Kristy called and invited me to her house for a sleepover next weekend. Wasn't that sweet?"

Adam looked up cautiously. "Kristy Averman's Girlfriend?"

"Yup. She's super cool." Lacey took a bite of her pizza, then paused when she noticed Adam still staring at her. "What?"

"Don't make me go on double dates with Averman."

Lacey snorted, setting her pizza down. "Adam, that was so wrong. Who knows, you might get to know Averman on a whole new level!"

"That's just what I'm afraid of," he winced.

She laughed. "Hey. If I can go see the Vulcans with you, you can definitely go on dates with Kristy and Averman for me."

"I've already seen Titanic for you. So technically you're repaid already. And don't act like you didn't enjoy that game."

"Oh, I did," a small teasing smile formed on Lacey's lips. "I watched you the whole time you were explaining to me how hockey works."

That was the great thing about officially dating Adam-she was able to be perfectly honest with him now about the things she had thought in all the months prior. And it was so much fun.

"So I remember," he raised his eyebrows as he took another bite, chewing it and swallowing before continuing. "And I got a pretty good kick out of it. Especially 'cause, weren't you still with Max at the time?"

"I was. But you were hot, and sitting close to me, so couldn't I at least enjoy the view?"

"Heh. Guess so. That's okay, I won't tell you all the-many-times I got to enjoy a view of my own." His eyes danced by the fire's glow. "Only I've got a much better handle on my facial expressions than you do."

"Hush," she nudged him with her sock foot. "I can't help having a transparent face. And hey, I think I'm getting pretty good at figuring out what you're thinking."

"Oh yeah? Go ahead, have a go. What am I thinking right now?" He set his pizza down and rested his elbow on the couch.

"You're thinking how hot I look stuffing my face with supreme pizza while dropping half of it into my lap," Lacey tried.

"Well sure, there's that," Adam answered evasively. "But that's not all."

Lacey peered at him over her glass of Coke. "Um...you're thinking your dad's going to walk in here any minute and kill us for eating on this rug?"

"I wasn't thinking about that, but yes, that could very well happen. Do you give up?"

"I don't want to, but I think I'm going to. Because you're right, you can be hard to read when you want to be," Lacey gave him a suspicious look, feeling like she was going to be sick from eating so much and setting the rest of her pizza slice down.

"Alright. I'm thinking about how I've been planning on doing something all night, but I'm not sure how you're going to take it and if it's the right decision." He turned serious, his big eyes searching her face.

A small sense of fear surged through Lacey's veins as she wondered what on earth he could possibly mean. Was he thinking they needed to break up? No, surely not. He wouldn't be as flirtatious as he had been all evening and definitely wouldn't have kissed her as ardently as he had for several minutes on the couch while they'd waited on their pizza delivery a little while ago.

Or, okay, he was a guy, so maybe he would have.

Either way, her heart began pounding in her ears. Good ol' anxiety.

"Lacey, it's okay. It's nothing bad. I mean, I don't think it will be. I'll be right back." Adam closed the pizza box and stood up, leaving the room.

Taking a deep breath, Lacey waited. Okay, so it wasn't anything bad. Then what was he going to do?

Adam re-entered a few minutes later holding something in his right hand that he apparently wasn't keen on showing her just yet. He came back over to where they were sitting and knelt back down on the rug, a little closer to her. She set their plates up on the couch and shoved the closed pizza box over, giving them room for whatever was going to happen next.

"I've been wanting to give you this ever since we started dating. But I was trying to give it a little time, because honestly, I was scared of what you'd think. I mean, I know we haven't been together that long yet, even though I think you'd agree we've had feelings for each other for months. And, um...the other thing," he went on, now appearing visibly nervous, "is that I know Max did this, too. And I don't want you to have a negative connotation, or think I'm trying to push you into something-"

"Adam," Lacey interrupted. "Just do whatever it is you're going to do. Are you giving me keys to a new car?" she jested, remembering what she'd asked him the night he'd surprised her with the Northern Lights.

"Mm, something that means a little more than that, actually." She watched him swallow and finally, he opened his hand.

There, in his palm, sat a high school ring. It wasn't quite as big and gaudy as Max's had been, but the shape was more refined, and more...Adam. Versus carrying a large round stone, the sapphire was a long rectangular style with Eden Hall's signet in the middle, a '19' engraved on one side and a '98' on the other. Beside the graduation years on one side was etched two hockey sticks intersecting over a puck, and on the other side, the symbol of the Ducks.

"I-I know you might have bad feelings about wearing a high school ring, and I get that. I mean, the way Max seemed to bind you with his in some kind of sick prison. But Lacey, it's not like that with me. I want you to have it because I want to show everyone that we're together. But only if you want to be known that way. The last thing I want is t-"

Lacey gently placed a finger on his lips, and smiled. "Adam, absolutely I'm going to take this, and I'm going to wear it. On my finger this time. And only if it fits, of course."

He reached up and took her hand, giving it a quick kiss. "I think it will. Max probably had bigger fingers than me. Here, do you want to try it on?"

She took the heavy, solid gold ring from Adam and examined it more closely. On the inside was engraved the phrase, "Fire in my heart and ice in my veins."

"It's a hockey quote," Adam explained, as though it were necessary. That was exactly how she'd describe his relationship with the sport he loved.

Lacey slipped it on the middle finger of her right hand, which was her biggest. And even though it was still just a little loose, it fit much better than Max's ever did.

She looked up, and they smiled at one another. "It was always a little small for me anyway, which is why I didn't wear it much." He held her hand up, admiring it.

"I promise you, I feel honored," she assured him. "If you trust me with it. I'll be really careful."

"I know you will. And I do want you to have it to symbolize the relationship, but also, I want you to keep it on you to remind you how I feel even though it might be really tough for us to see each other over the next few weeks." His tone was gentle, but serious. "You know the playoffs are coming up, and I'm going to have to work twice as hard as usual to play my best, given the setbacks and all. I want senior year to be the best yet. We all do, because after this season…it's all gonna end."

He looked back toward the fire for a moment, and Lacey could see the wistfulness that flashed in his eyes. Of course he'd want to savor the playoffs. The Ducks, as the team had always known them, were about to be disbanded as high school ended. They had been together since the sixth grade.

"Adam, we have plenty of time," she answered him earnestly. "You only have a month to be a part of the Ducks. It's okay to take all the time you need, even if 'we' have to take a backseat for now. I promise." She wanted to believe her words, and she mostly did. But another part of her was a little afraid of losing the best thing she'd ever had.

He looked back at her and leaned in close. "Kiss me," he gave an almost lusty whisper, and she quickly obliged him. The boy did love to kiss.

And she was kind of hooked on it this time around, too.

The two of them embraced, falling backward and fairly sinking into the soft fur of the rug as Adam kissed not only her lips, but all over her face.

Life could not be more golden.