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Lock & West

Page 26

by Alexander C. Eberhart


  “Jack wants to go see the pond,” Chels announces to us all, “so I’m gonna grab my jacket.”

  “Want to go with them?” I ask Lock.

  “Yeah.” He stretches with a yawn. “I’m about to pass out over here.”

  We bundle up with hats and scarves and Jack’s ear muffs, which he wears as an eye patch, and we exit through the back of the house into the beautifully landscaped backyard. Dad flips on the lights for us, and the house illuminates in twinkling stars.

  “Fishies!” Jack yells, running for the pond.

  “Don’t fall in!” Chels yells, running after him.

  Lock and I laugh, watching them dart back and forth. Lock takes my hand, each breath bursting to life in a puff of steam.

  “This has been an awesome Christmas,” he says to me, seemingly unfazed by the cold.

  “Y-Yeah.” My teeth chatter. “Totally top three for sure.”

  “I’d have to agree.” Lock smiles, the lights from the house mirrored in his eyes. “Did I tell you I was thinking about starting a list?”

  “Oh really?” I turn to him, interest piqued. “And what kind of list would that be?”

  “A list of my favorite moments with you,” he says, tilting his head down to kiss me so lightly the breath is stolen right out of my lungs.

  And sure enough, like a fucking Hallmark movie moment, little white snowflakes begin to fall, sticking to our hats and jackets.

  “Snooow!” Jack squeals.

  Lock laughs as his little brother bolts by, but then he’s looking at me again, and it’s all I care about in the world.

  “And where would this moment fall?” I ask him, a flurry or two sticking to my eyelashes.

  He pulls me close, whispering in my ear, “At the very top.”

  THE END

  Get your copy here!

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for reading Lock & West! I hope you laughed, cried, swore off carbs after eating an entire sleeve of Oreos, promised to vote in your next eligible election, and at last learned to love. If you failed to do any or all those things, I hope at least you enjoyed the book.

  If you’d like to keep up with my latest projects and shenanigans, pop on over and sign up for my newsletter at my official website: www.alexanderceberhart.com. You’ll get exclusive updates on my Works In Progress, friendly reminders when a new book drops, the occasional cat video, and absolutely no spam (unless you’re into that kind of thing, no judgement.)

  Want to help me personify the illusion I have friends? Follow me on social media! You can find all the links to my various and redundant SM Accounts on my aforementioned website.

  Lastly, if you enjoyed reading this book (or using it as a doorstop, coaster, flyswatter, etc), please consider leaving a review or suggesting it to your local library!

  Jokes aside, thank you for taking the time to humor me. You are the reason why I get to do this crazy thing I love. I hope you’ll continue to enjoy my work for years to come.

  All the best,

  -Alex

  Holy cow, can you believe they let me do another one of these things? I tried to warn them that things are just going to get gayer from here on out, but they just wouldn’t listen…

  Anywho. I’ve got slews of thankfulness I need to sling, so buckle up and let’s get thanking.

  The first thank you goes to my publisher, 7 Sisters Publishing, for having so much faith in me and my projects. I’m especially grateful to work side by side with Martina McAtee and her amazing eye for relevancy. Not only am I honored to call her my publisher but also my friend.

  The next gratitude grenade is going to be lobbed over the pond to my cover artist/editor, Molly Phipps. Molly, you were amazing to step into the editor’s shoes for this project, even with your hectic schedule. I promise, I’ll try not to get my next editor fired just so I can work with you again.

  I want to send all the love to my friends and family who support my needy ass on a day-to-day basis. Y’all know who you are. Thank you for making me feel so loved.

  And lastly, I want to thank my Cecil. You make every day a little brighter. Every night a little warmer. And every moment we share feels like home.

  -Alex(ander)

  ALEXANDER grew up in the Metro Atlanta Area, moving from suburb to suburb, just on the outskirts of the city. He’s always had a passion for writing, even from a young age. He still lives on the cusp of Atlanta, inching his way ever closer to finally becoming the City Dweller he’s always wanted to be.

  In the meantime, he spends his days writing stories with queer characters and drinking an unfathomable amount of coffee. When he isn’t crafting quality queer fiction, you can find Alexander most likely curled up alongside his boyfriend, watching a movie or some other equally lazy task.

  Find him online at:

  www.alexanderceberhart.com

 

 

 


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