Jacob closed his eyes. “Talk soon.”
He ended the call before Mason could say more, put the phone aside, and forced his body back into motion. Could he do it—kiss a man and make it believable?
He wasn’t attracted to men. Never had been. He liked women; the softness under his palms, the curve of hips, the trace of perfume at her throat. No confusion there. He didn’t want a man, not physically or emotionally.
That wasn’t the point though. Acting had never been about playing what came easy. It was about stepping into someone else’s hunger until it felt like your own. He didn’t have to want it himself, only to convince the audience he did. He’d built his career on roles that cut deep; this one would be no different.
Chapter 2
Liam
Liam Hart woke to California sunlight spilling across the sheets and the soft brush of skin beneath his fingertips. He stretched, his messy dark-blond hair falling into his eyes.
Emma lay curled beside him, breathing slow and steady, one hand resting over the gentle swell of her belly—four months along now. The secret was no longer only theirs, but it still felt miraculous every time he looked at her. She looked unfairly beautiful, even half-asleep, the kind of sight that made his chest ache with quiet joy.
The tabloids loved to call them Hollywood’s golden couple—two rising stars wrapped in a fairytale romance. They’d first crossed paths at a red-carpet event years ago, where her dark hair and green eyes caught him instantly. Now, at twenty-five, they were newly married, expecting a baby, and living in an apartment straight out ofArchitectural Digest. It was the Hollywood dream. He knew he was lucky, because not every kid with restless ambition got this far.
He slipped out of bed, bare feet padding across the cool floor, careful not to disturb Emma. The apartment opened around him in golden light, the kind that made even the marble counters and steel fixtures look warm.
Sometimes he caught himself staring at the place like it belonged to someone else—a future version of himself he used to daydream about when he was young, growing up in the Arizona heat.
Back then, all he had was a camcorder borrowed from a neighbor and two sisters willing to play out his half-baked scripts. His parents had cheered him on from the sidelines, hands clapping at every backyard premiere. The love and support of his family had carried him further than money ever could.
The coffee machine hummed to life, filling the air with its rich, familiar scent. Liam leaned against the counter, knee bouncing lightly, his mind already skipping from one thought to the next. He was never good at quiet mornings; there was always a spark of energy in him, a restless kind of happiness that pushed him forward before he’d even figured out where he was going.
His phone buzzed against the counter, and he snatched it up before the second vibration hit.
“Good morning, Carson,” he said, his voice carrying the easy warmth that came naturally to him.
“Got something for you,” his agent replied. “Check your email. Read ittoday, Liam.”
He cradled the mug in one hand, curiosity already tugging him forward. “That urgent?”
“That good. And that risky.”
The word made him straighten. Risky was what he wanted. Risky meant different.
Carson continued, brisk and to the point. “It’s a series—eight episodes for now, a prestige drama. If it hits, we’re talking multiple awards and seasons. Not the kind of role you usually play. It’s heavy and complex: a love story between two men withplenty of intimate scenes. A lot of straight actors will walk away just reading the first ten pages.”
Liam set his mug down, heartbeat quickening. His career had been built on the golden retriever roles that got applause without asking for too much. He would always be grateful for them and the doors they’d opened, but that wasn’t enough anymore. Not when something inside him kept urging him forward, looking for the role that would challenge him, and prove he was more than a smile and good timing.
“And get this,” Carson added, “Jacob Wolfe’s name is being mentioned.”
Liam blinked.Jacob Wolfe. Hollywood’s living legend. Notoriously private, rugged, magnetic in that silent-storm kind of way. The kind of man who didn’t just star in roles—he became them. If Jacob was interested, this wasn’t a gamble—it was a real shot at something special.
Liam ended the call, opened his laptop, and clicked into his inbox. The title stared at him:Wingspan.
By page ten, his coffee was forgotten. By thirty, he wasn’t reading like an actor anymore—he was inside the story. Two men, pulled into something neither of them had planned, their carefully built lives unraveling thread by thread. The story wasn’t about orientation or scandal; it was about yearning, about loneliness, about the terror of being truly seen—and the unbearable pull toward the one person who sees you anyway.
By the final page, his pulse was racing, the words still buzzing through him like they’d rewired something under his skin. This was it—the kind of role he’d been waiting for. The kind that could break him open and prove he wasn’t just the guy with the easy laugh and the pretty face. He didn’t need to think about it, didn’t want to. The decision was already made.
He grabbed his phone, heart hammering as he hit Carson’s number. “I’m in,” he said the moment the call connected, hisvoice steady despite the adrenaline rushing through him. “Get me an audition.”
***
The week passed in a blur of fragments—audition rooms, long nights with the script spread across his lap, and mornings where coffee went cold before he remembered to drink it. By the time Carson called again, Liam felt like the role had burrowed beneath his skin, living inside him, restless and insistent.
He sat at the edge of his couch, phone pressed to his ear, the late afternoon light pooling softly around him. Carson’s voice came through, steady but edged with an excited note Liam had learned to recognize.
