Page 21 of Tossing the Caber

“You seem agitated.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying.”

Laurel’s face colors with offense. “Just because we’re married now doesn’t mean you get to tell me about myself.”

“That’s not why I think you aren’t alright.”

“Save it.”

Beacon squints. “You’re angry with me.” He says it plainly because there’s no point in beating around the bush. He unfastens the clips holding his sash in place and folds it neatly before setting it aside, then sets to unbuttoning his vest. “Will you tell me why?” After getting to hiss at his teammates, Beacon feels much more secure in his ability to deal with his capricious new husband.

“I don’t expect you to care,” Laurel responds.

“I care.”

It gives Laurel pause. “How can I believe that? Why should I try?”

Hurt, Beacon asks, “What have I done to suggest I don’t care about you?”

“You ran,” Laurel says, seeming so small in that moment. His tail swishes through a hole in the seat of his pants, which sag when Laurel unbuttons his trousers. “We could have talked about whatever it was that upset you, but you fled and avoided me after.”

Chastened, Beacon tries, “I was occupied with games yesterday.”

“Don’t patronize me. I tend to my stall for only half of each day because I am expected to spend the rest of it withyou. You could have made time.”

Beacon tilts his head to the side in reluctant acknowledgement. “I could have.”

“Why didn’t you?”

His swallow hurts. It’s time, isn’t it? Can’t run from the confession anymore. “Because I have a secret.”

Laurel doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. “I won’t ask you to trust me with it.”

“You don’t need to. I owe you an explanation.”

“Then stop avoiding it and tell me.”

“I will admit, I assumed my parents would have made it known to your father before securing the betrothal agreement.” Laurel waits. “I was startled to have been wrong.”

“You’re delaying, Beacon.”

“Working up to it,” he corrects.

Laurel crosses his arms. “Building the atmosphere?”

“Yes.” Beacon hazards a small smile. “I’m a man.”

“I can see that,” Laurel parries dryly.

“No, you can’t. That’s why I ran. I was taken by surprise that you didn’t know.”

“Knowwhat,Beacon?”

“I was born a woman,” he confesses, feeling very much like the words are wrenched free of his chest, leaving shredded bits of his pride behind.

“That’s not possible,” Laurel says.