Page 49 of Snow Storm

Most of his stuff had migrated to Claude’s place, but not everything, and he’d been struck with an idea the night before. Harley meant what he said about hating when people he knew read his work, but that wasn’t true for everything he’d published. He had a single novel—a tattered paperback written almost two decades before—sitting at the bottom of his luggage.

It was his good-luck charm. He took it with him everywhere.

The novel had been the birth of his career. He’d spent two years querying the book to agents, but no one wanted it. He’d started to contemplate quitting, but his father told him to try again. To move on. To write something new and different.

So he did.

And the advice had worked. He’d never forgotten about the little novel no one wanted. He’d pitched it a few more times after his first two books made lists, but it was still rejected. This time, however, instead of wanting to quit, he took matters into his own hands and self-published it under his real name.

Over the last six years, he’d gotten a grand total of one hundred and twenty-four sales on that book. It wasn’t even a fraction of what he’d earned from his mainstream work, but those hundred and twenty sales were honest.

They wereimportant.

The book would never win awards, but they were the first two characters he’d ever brought to life, and that meant something.

Slipping into his room, he dropped to his knees beside his suitcase and removed a hoodie from the zippered section. Beneath that was a sweater he never wore, and wrapped inside the soft knitted wool was the book. The cover wasn’t anything special to look at. He’d found an artist online and had her draw two hands clinging to each other. He’d added a title himself with a free graphic design website online, and that was it.

This And Every Moment After

By Harley James

So many people thought his real name sounded like a pseudonym, and so far, no one had connected the dots between him and R.J. Ruiz. He didn’t mind at all. It allowed him to feel a little more free to be himself—and that’s what the book was. It was absolutely himself in ways his other works weren’t.

It was a love story that he’d created, one he’d dreamed that would come true for him. He’d started to lose faith after Darren, but now, when he thought about Claude and his perfect handsand lush mouth and the way he made Harley feel like no one ever had before, he started to think that maybe it was a sign.

Maybe the love story wasn’t a lie after all.

Tucking it under his arm, he closed his case and then made his way into the lobby. Claude was nowhere to be found. In fact, the lobby was completely empty and silent, apart from soft Christmas music coming from the lounge.

He made his way toward the bar, following the scent of mulled cider and cookies, and eventually, he found Aminah and Lyric curled together on one of the lounge sofas in front of the window. Snow was falling again, a white sheet against the grey sky. It was almost mesmerizing.

He watched the fat flakes as he listened to their quiet murmur, and he hated himself a little for disturbing their peace.

“You don’t have to hover like a weirdo,” Lyric said. “There’s room under the covers for one more. Claude won’t be back for at least an hour.”

Harley blinked. “Where did he go?”

“He and Charlie took the snowmobiles out to check on the roads and get a couple of things from the general store,” Aminah said.

Harley’s breath caught in his chest. The sky along the horizon was heavy and dark grey. A big storm was coming.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Lyric said. “He does this multiple times every winter. He knows what he’s doing, and he and Charlie have survival supplies if they get stuck.”

Harley hated that. He hated worrying. He hated that his mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario. But he trusted Claude to know how to manage a trip like this. This was Claude’s life, and right now, Harley was just a guest.

Walking over, he sat primly on the edge of the sofa until Lyric groaned and yanked him down. She flung the side of the heavy blanket over him and forced him to nestle in.

“If you’re gonna stick around, you have to get used to group cuddles,” she said. “Or you’ll be voted off the island.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Aminah told him. “You’re welcome even if you don’t like cuddles. Not everyone wants to be manhandled, my love.”

Lyric immediately looked embarrassed. “Sorry. I should’ve asked.”

Harley didn’t like being touched when he wasn’t expecting it, but he also had always been the kind of person who got comfort from being held. He’d felt starved for it all the time as a child because he lacked it so often, and then he’d fallen for Darren, who thought anything apart from fucking was a waste of his time.

He never thought he’d have anyone in his life who wanted to be close like this just for the sake of it.

“This is perfectly fine,” Harley said, nestling close. “It feels nice.”

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