Page 11 of Snow Storm

Chapter 4

Harley

Harley and Weshad spent a good part of their childhood in Boulder, Colorado, so when he first caught a glimpse of the East Coast mountains, he was decidedly unimpressed. Later, as he did research for his books, he learned how ancient those mountains were, and his opinion changed.

And there was something to be said about being high up, surrounded by clouds and snow. The Rockies were too tall for a spa like this. Not that Harley was a big fan of staying in hotels or resorts.

But he understood why his brother had picked this place. The Wrought Iron Resort was out of the way of the public eye. It was secluded enough that people likely wouldn’t recognize him after his outburst, and it would give him a chance to regroup without being bombarded by not-so-well-meaning members of the public.

Which was what he needed. Maybe.

Probably.

He wasn’t even sure at this point. He’d never lost it the way he had at the signing. He didn’t even remember what happened after hitting Ethan. It was still a blur. The only reason he knew that he got on the elevator and wandered into the parkinggarage was because there were readers around with their goddamn camera phones, uploading videos every ten seconds.

Ethan was kind enough not to call the cops, and the agency hadn’t let him go because there was also video evidence of Ethan being wildly unprofessional and borderline abusive with his language. Harley had avoided the online gossip like the plague, but Wes told him that at least seventy percent of people were on his side.

Which was something, he supposed.

There were entire pages on Reddit now dedicated to addressing how he’d been treated. Wes said that people were appalled at how the reader had behaved and what he’d said, and some were even calling for a boycott of the bookstore because the mods had let it all happen.

But that didn’t mean there weren’t other people who disagreed. People who felt like Harley owed the world his private life and all the details in between. People who—maybe rightfully—believed Harley should face harsh consequences for getting violent.

He couldn’t really argue with that. He’d never hit someone before, and he could still feel the echo of pain in his knuckles from when his fist had connected with Ethan’s jaw. Granted, the hit hadn’t been very hard, and he hadn’t left a mark, but the fact remained he hadn’t realized he could be that man.

Yeah. He was probably going to break down again if he wasn’t careful. And right then, he didn’t feel like himself at all.

Wes had looked up the spa and made a reservation right after he saw the video, and Harley was resigned to spend the holidays completely isolated from every one of his normal comforts. It wasn’t ideal. But he wasn’t sure he had a choice if he wanted to save his career and public face.

“I’m not going to tell people you’re in rehab,” Wes said as they sat in the parking lot. “But I’m not going to correct themif that’s what they assume. Everyone who has a public incident always goes to rehab. It might not be the worst lie.”

But itwasa lie, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. He wasn’t an addict. He wasn’t an alcoholic. He was just really fucking sad and really fucking tired of not being respected. It wasn’t the first time a reader had gotten inappropriate with him.

It was just the first time it had been that bad and happened to occur when he was that close to his breaking point.

“Look, if you’re pissed I can’t stay,” Wes began when Harley offered nothing but silence, but he stopped when Harley held up a hand.

“I get it.”

“I’m not trying to abandon you.” Wes almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself now. “And it’s not like I’m unsympathetic to what happened. Your agent was way out of line, and frankly, he probably deserved to get punched. But Carla and the kids really want to go to Mom’s, and this is…hard to explain. You know how Mom is. It’ll be difficult enough when she starts asking questions. I’m sure her friends have all seen the video, and…yeah. It’s better if you’re not there. You’ve been through enough.”

Yeah, he had. He also knew his mom would have reveled in his downfall. She always told him that the life he’d chosen was going to lead to disappointment and pain. He couldn’t face her saying I told you so. He wanted no part of that.

But it was fine, really. He hadn’t planned on seeing her anyway. He’d planned on spending the holiday alone, working on his book and hoping that he made a good pitch for why they should take a risk on something that wasn’t fantasy.

So he wasn’t losing much. Except his own comfortable bed, and his little tea cabinet in the kitchen, and the familiarity of everything that belonged to him.

He was an expert at burying his head in the sand though, so he knew he’d get by for however long he needed to stay. Wes had booked him a room for two weeks, which would get him through both Christmas and the New Year. Maybe then, it would have died down. After that, he’d just have to face the people he knew personally having seen what happened.

Like Darren. There was no chance in hell his ex hadn’t seen the video. He would tell all their former mutual friends, and laugh about it with Jacob, and probably talk quietly about how he’d made the right choice in leaving.

And then he’d reach out with hope and prayers and pity—with a side of offering his help in some way.

But would he take accountability for his part in this?

Ha, what a joke. Why would he? He never had before.

Harley slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

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