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She stopped and looked at Hannah, asking for permission to go on. Hannah nodded.

“So the list was a way of trying to organise my thoughts. A way to stop me from falling for someone who on paper didn’t suit me.” Lottie shuffled her feet.

“And the list on the other side?” Hannah asked, wanting to understand.

“Well. Yes. I realised that all of those things were true from a certain perspective, but that you can’t rationalise how you feel about someone. There’s a limit to how much you can capture on paper.” As Lottie gazed at her, Hannah realised she could feel her heart beginning to thaw after the icy shock of last night. “Since I wrote that first list,” said Lottie, “I’ve got to know you better. I’ve realised that I can’t explain away how I feel about you. The distance between us is inconvenient, and you have your quirks. But so do I.”

“Quirks?” said Hannah, mildly amused.

“You know you do,” said Lottie, a smile growing on her face. She nudged Hannah’s arm. “You were utterly terrifying last night. That glare.” Lottie shuddered.

“Hmm, well. Maybe.” Hannah looked into her coffee.

“I wish I could unwrite that list. I wish you’d never found it. But you did. I’m so sorry,” said Lottie, reaching out a hand and resting it on Hannah’s. “And for the record, you aren’t actually an ice maiden.”

Hannah felt the warmth seep into her skin and up her arm. She looked at Lottie and knew she had forgiven her already.

“I should have waited for you to explain last night,” said Hannah.

“I don’t blame you,” said Lottie. “It’s been a lot, these last few days.”

Hannah nodded. She turned her wrist so that her fingers entwined with Lottie’s.

“The thing is,” said Hannah, blood pounding in her ears, “that I’m falling for you, too.”

Lottie’s face flooded with colour, and she took Hannah in her arms and pressed their lips together.

Immediately, Hannah felt the vacuum that had been left by their separation filling again. She pulled Lottie in and wrapped her arms around her. It was an awkward position on the front step in the snow, but when Lottie’s tongue reached her lips, she really didn’t care.

Neither of them even noticed the melting snow dripping onto their coats from the eaves of the house, or the sound of the sheep bleating in the background.

“Are you two going to stop necking out there and come in?” Freya’s head was poking out of the living room window above them.

Hannah jumped back and laughed. Lottie turned her head and shooed Freya back again.

“I’m sorry about her,” said Lottie, her cheeks almost purple with embarrassment.

“I’ve heard far worse,” chuckled Hannah. She pulled out her hip flask again and took a sip, feeling that she had now moved on from the coffee portion of the day.

“Rum?” Lottie enquired.

“Yep.” Hannah watched as Lottie fingered the faded engraving on the flask. “It was my grandfather’s retirement gift when he left the police,” said Hannah.

“You’ve never really talked about your family,” said Lottie gently.

“There was never really very much to say. I never had good people around me like you had, or like those you have now. I can see how much Anne-Marie and Anya love you all.” Hannah screwed the lid back on and put the flask away.

“But he was different?” asked Lottie.

“Yeah. He encouraged me. Told me I could be whoever I wanted to be. It’s because of him I got to university. And, I guess, that’s where my endless fascination with getting to the truth came from.” She put the flask in her inside pocket. “Although I know the truth is sometimes complicated.”

Lottie nodded. “It is.”

“Perhaps we should go in, like Freya says. I think I might have lost the feeling in my feet,” said Hannah with a grin.

It was a Christmas Day unlike any Hannah had experienced before. She was in the bosom of a loving family in a tiny rustic cottage in the Highlands of Scotland. More often than not, she was hand in hand with a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman who she was falling for more and more as each moment passed.

She knew they needed to talk about the future at some point. But today was not that day.