Page 78 of Snow Storm

It wasn’t poetry, but it was the closest thing Claude had ever read, and he found himself turning to the last page just minutes before Harley walked through the door.

He was feeling emotions he couldn’t name, and he realized then he had an insight into the man he was in love with that only made that feeling stronger. This was who Harley was as a person—as a man, as a friend, as a son, as a lover.

The story was fiction, and the love interest was nothing like Claude, but it didn’t matter.

He could still see where he fit in Harley’s happily ever after.

And somehow, that was even better than having Harley make him promises that this was all going to work out.

“You home?”

Claude set the book on the table. “I’m here.”

Harley turned the corner, then stopped. His gaze flicked across the table, and his ears did the adorable thing where they turned all pink. “You read some of it.”

“All of it,” Claude said. “Come here.” When Harley didn’t move, he lifted a brow. “Do I need to say it twice?”

Harley crossed the room, his socked feet sliding over the wood. He hesitated an arm’s length away from Claude, then eventually let himself be drawn down beside him. Claude took Harley’s hand and kissed the fingers that had typed all those words.

“You didn’t hate it?”

Claude grinned as he lowered Harley’s hand. “I didn’t hate it.” That was an understatement, but he also knew how fawningmade Harley uncomfortable unless he had him naked and in bed. Which sounded good, except his body was hurting, and he didn’t think he could perform well.

He wondered if Harley would mind—if that would change things. At some point, Harley would need to come to terms with the fact that their honeymoon phase wouldn’t be nearly as steamy as someone else’s. The pills could only do so much.

Claude still had bad days full of pain and fatigue.

And today was one of them, brought on by the stress of losing Harley—if only for a little while.

“You look upset.”

“I think you know why,” Claude said.

Harley leaned over and dropped his head against Claude’s shoulder, taking his hand and playing gently with his fingers. “I do. Lyric was distracting for a while, but I keep thinking about how I’m going to be in some hotel tomorrow night with a whole country between us.”

“Not awholecountry,” Claude said, lifting their hands to kiss Harley’s knuckles. “And not forever.”

“No. Just until I sign the closing docs.”

A small part of Claude wanted to be irrational and ask Harley to promise he wouldn’t set eyes on his ex and want to reconcile, but that wasn’t fair. He trusted his lover. He trusted that this was real and that Harley had no interest in a man who had painted him to be the monster after everything he’d done.

“Then you’re all mine?” Claude asked instead.

Harley snorted and looked up at him. “I’m already yours. I just have some things to do. And while I’m gone, maybe you and everyone else can keep an eye out for me? For someplace I can stay?”

Claude wanted to keep him there—if not in his bed, at least on his property. But knew what Harley needed. He might be in love, and the relationship might have hope, but there were stillpieces of himself that he could only discover while he was on his own.

Claude had been there. He’d done it himself, and he wouldn’t be where he was—the man worthy of Harley’s love—if he hadn’t.

So this was it. They had their plan. And it was a good plan too.

“Kiss me,” Harley said softly.

Claude lifted his chin and did exactly that. It lingered, on and on, past the point they both craved breath and only stopping when they had no choice. Harley knocked their heads together and clung to him. “Don’t let me go.”

“For tonight?”

“Forever.”

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