Page 68 of Snow Storm

Claude’s gaze snapped toward the front window, but all he saw was the barely shoveled parking lot. Then he realized Charlie was pointing behind him. He twisted and finally found what his foreman was talking about. A bundled figure was sitting on one of the patio chairs, hunched into himself, and there was no one it could be except Harley.

“Go,” Charlie said. “I’ll drop these off with Aminah, and she can finish them.”

Claude hesitated. “I don’t want everyone else taking on extra work because of my personal life.”

Charlie lifted a brow at him. “You’ve been killing yourself with running this place for the last seven years, boss. Go make sure that adorable man who clearly likes you isn’t going to freeze to death.”

Part of Claude wanted to argue. One of the reasons he’d avoided relationships for so long was this right here—someone coming between him and his business. But it was also Harley. If something was wrong, it was really wrong.

His heart twisted in his chest, and he grabbed his coat and his cane, managing to wrap himself up just before he reached the door. The wind was high, and with the sun out and no clouds to keep in what little warmth there was, it was frigid.

He sucked in a sharp breath, then made his way over the icy patio to where Harley was hunched down.

“You know there’s a fireplace inside, right?”

Harley didn’t look up, but he nodded. “I know. I, uh…I was afraid if I came in and warmed up, I’d have a panic attack.”

“You can’t stay out here much longer. It’s not safe.”

“I know. I just…I don’t know what to do. It’s all too much.”

“Harley. Look at me.” He did, and Claude saw his eyes were red and his nose was glowing pink. “What if you had a panic attack in my arms? If you can’t avoid it, would it be better to be somewhere you felt safe?”

“Is anyone inside?” Harley asked very quietly.

Claude shook his head. “Only Charlie, but he’s just dropping papers off to Aminah’s office, and then he’s heading to his cabin.”

Harley took that all in, then eventually stood on shaking legs. Claude wrapped his hand around Harley’s arm and guided him to the door, then let him slowly step inside. Moving from harshcold to soft warmth was a lot, and he knew his lover would need a moment.

He shed his coat, then eventually helped Harley take his off, and the two of them made their way down to the sofas. The fire was low, but it was warm, and the tree lights were off, the sun through the windows glinting off the tinsel in the garland.

It had that odd, empty feeling of after Christmas. All the magic was slowly draining away, giving way to the monotony of the new year.

Claude knew most people hated it, but he didn’t. It allowed him to breathe a little easier.

“I think I’m okay,” Harley said as the pair of them sat. He kept space between them, but Claude wasn’t having that.

“That’s fine, but I’d like you here.” He spread his legs and urged Harley to curl up against him. It felt good to wrap around him and hold him. It felt right. He just wished his beloved wasn’t hurting. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

Harley said nothing for a long time. He rested his ear over Claude’s chest and worried his bottom lip until it began to plump. It wasn’t going to bleed if he wasn’t careful, so Claude used his fingers to pull it out from between his teeth.

“May I ask you a question?” Harley said in a very small voice.

“Always.”

“Will you give me an honest answer, even if it hurts?” Harley pressed.

Claude considered it. He wasn’t actually sure because it went against his very nature to hurt this man. But Harley deserved honesty. “Yes.”

A deep breath shifted Harley’s body against him, and then he said, “Do you think I have…tendencies of a sociopath?”

Claude almost choked on his own tongue. “I’m sorry, what?”

Harley let out a laugh, but it sounded closer to a sob. “A sociopath. It’s someone that?—”

“No, I know what a sociopath is,” Claude told him. He reached down and tipped Harley’s chin up. “Why the hell would you think you are one?”

“I don’t…I don’t necessarily think Iamone. I’m just wondering if sometimes I act like one. Or, you know…like maybe I have traits, or…”

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