Calvin looked a little sad. “They came to see me while I was in the hospital. I’ve never told any of them that I’m… gay.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked, but I knew it wasn’t.
Calvin forced a smile onto his face. “I know it’s not much, but if it’s a step in the right direction for you—”
I dropped the papers to the floor and grabbed him in a hug.
“Ouch!Fuck, baby!”
“I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, pulling back.
Calvin winced and put a hand on my shoulder, managing another smile. “I love you, Sebastian.”
You know that wholecry because you’re so happything? I wasso closeto that. I smiled and wiped under my glasses. “Yeah, well, you’re not so bad yourself,” I said, grinning.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Cal.”
“Can I come in? Or are we going to stay in the hallway for this?”
I scoffed and laughed. “Want to come have breakfast with my dad and me?”
Calvin smiled, and it was beautiful. “I would.”
Excerpt
Life has been pretty great for Sebastian Snow. The Emporium is thriving and his relationship with NYPD homicide detective, Calvin Winter, is everything he’s ever wanted. With Valentine’s Day around the corner, Sebastian’s only cause for concern is whether Calvin should be taken on a romantic date. It’s only when an unknown assailant smashes the Emporium’s window and leaves a peculiar note behind that all plans get pushed aside in favor of another mystery.
Sebastian is quickly swept up in a series of grisly yet seemingly unrelated murders. The only connection tying the deaths together are curiosities from the lost museum of P.T. Barnum. Despite Calvin’s attempts to keep Sebastian out of the investigation, someone is forcing his hand, and it becomes apparent that the entire charade exists for Sebastian to solve. With each clue that brings him closer to the killer, he’s led deeper into Calvin’s official cases.
It’s more than just Sebastian’s livelihood and relationship on the line—it’s his very life.
Chapter One
TUESDAY MORNING began with a brick through the Emporium window.
The seconds that followed were strangely silent. Nothing but the gentle patter of frozen February rain. Then my heart remembered to keep beating, and I could hear its thud, thud, thud in my ears. A few pieces of glass cracked from the top of the large bay window frame and fell to the wooden floor. The sound of New York City traffic invaded my quiet, cozy cave of a shop.
“What the fuck!” Max shouted. He moved to run by me at the counter, but I grabbed his shoulders.
“Be careful,” I said, pointing at the ceramic coffee mug I’d dropped when the shattered glass scared the ever-loving hell out of me.
Max jumped over the mess and down the steps from the register. He motioned wildly at the window. “What the fuck?” he declared again.
I’ll say.
I walked down the stairs and studied the scene. Glass was everywhere and rain was coming in. “Grab a trash bag from the office.”
“The glass will just slice—”
“To put over the displays before they get soaked. Go.”
Max ran to get the bags.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath. What a way to start the week.
Pushing my glasses up, I went to the door, threw it open, and stepped out into the miserable morning. Rain splattered my lenses and dampened my sweater. My breath puffed around me while I looked up and down the sidewalk, as if I’d find the vandal hanging out and waiting to be caught. A couple paying the meter nearby were looking at the window in horror, and a man walking his tiny dog had to pick the animal up to avoid glass on the sidewalk.
