Snow Storm

Epilogue

“We’re going to be snowed in.”

Harley looked up from his laptop and smiled. “Just in time, yeah?”

Claude pushed the wheels of his chair forward, gliding into the office. His office. Harley’s. It had heated floors and carpets under the desk so he could dig his toes into the threads when he was lost in thought.

The room was painted a warm espresso, filled with shelves weighted with his book collection. His own novels sat more discreetly behind some potted plants—his request, though Claude tried to talk him out of it. There were photos on the wall—a full year of new memories that were slowly taking over the old ones.

He still thought about Darren from time to time, but not as often as he’d once expected to. He’d gone back home and found Darren made good on his promise of leaving him alone. Harley suspected Claude had something to do with it, but he decided in that instance, ignorance was bliss. He didn’t care what Claude had to do to make him go away. It was his own version of a punch, and Harley was willing to live with the knowledge that his lover was ruthless.

Because he trusted that would never apply to him.

He was happy now. He understood how that felt deep down in his bones. He still missed his dad with a ferocity that sometimes brought him to his knees, but each passing year made the bubble around his grief larger and larger.

This office was a symptom of his absolute and utter contentment and of truly moving on from his past. It was the place he was composing his next series in a voice he’d been neglecting since his first novel. The voice that had been uniquely his own.

He had no idea how well it would do, but that didn’t matter now that he was home.

“Everything sorted?” He shut his laptop and pushed back as Claude came around the desk. Harley made sure there was enough room for his chair to fit, and he lifted his legs, letting Claude slide them over his thighs and down the backside of his armrests.

“Lyric and Aminah are at their place. Barn’s secure. Daniel’s on his way back to town—he’s giving Sam a ride.”

“Dorsey—”

“He and Charlie were getting cozy by the fire,” Claude said. “Might have wedding bells one spring if Charlie can actually be the man who tames my cousin.”

Harley thought about how those bells could be their own someday, but they weren’t necessary. He was far too happy to care whether or not he had a ring on his finger.

Claude reached to lift him from the chair, but Harley stopped him. He was four months post-op to help with the pain and pressure on his spine. His legs were weaker now—too weak to walk without crutches or his walker, so the chair was better.

And though his upper body was stronger than ever, Harley was refusing to let him take any risks. “Six more weeks,” he chastised.

Claude rolled his eyes, but he sat patiently while Harley shifted to the very edge of his own chair so they were as close as they could get. Then he kissed him. “Regrets?”

“For what?” Harley asked, leaning back. “Moving in with you? Loving you? Letting Lyric document that I’m so happy my ex had a literal meltdown and has filed for divorce from the man he left me for?”

Claude burst into laughter, and Harley knew that he took no small pleasure out of knowing that Darren’s life was in the toilet. Claude rarely wished ill on anyone, but the way he’d attempted to smear Harley’s name while he was recovering from the event at the book signing was apparently crossing the one line he had.

And Harley wasn’t going to stop him or make him reveal his secrets.

It no longer mattered. Harley didn’t hate Darren. Not anymore. He was apathetic about his existence. But he’d never wish him well. He’d never wish him true happiness. This feeling, he now knew, was meant for people who’d earned it.

Who deserved it.

“I love you.”

Harley smiled and kissed him for that. “I love you too. Do you have plans for us tonight?”

“Well, since you won’t me cheat on the six-week rule, then heated blankets, and we watch the ball drop?”

“Will you kiss me at midnight?” Harley asked.

Claude took him by the chin and met his gaze. “Before…”

Harley smiled. “During?”

Claude leaned in and let their lips brush together. “And after.”