And part of me wants to hear it.
Max leaned back, grinning. “But thatvoice, Theo. Rich, clean, but it hits like a confession. He wasn’t singing notes—he wasbleedingthem.”
Theo frowned, but he didn’t disagree. “That kind of honesty could destabilise things. If the others feel overshadowed?—”
“Or,” Max cut in, “it lights a fuse. Youneeda little danger in a group like this.” He folded his arms. “He’s got stage pull, though, and that’s half the fight.”
Theo arched his brows. “And what’s the other half?”
“Finding where he bends.” Max’s voice was casual, but his eyes glinted. “He’ll follow, but he wants to be led. You heard it.”
Theo shot him a look. “This isn’t about collars and leashes.” Max’s lifestyle tended to seep into his everyday life.
Max chuckled, deep and amused. “Not officially. But don’t tell me you didn’t hear it too. He’s carrying weight, begging for someone to catch it.”
Theo exhaled through his nose, half-resigned, half-curious. “He intrigues me. But intrigue isn’t enough. We need balance.”
Max lifted his glass in a mock toast. “Then Liam’s our first balance point. One down—seven to go.”
Chapter Three
Sebastian Hayes walkedthrough the market, still feeling bruised.
Not just emotionally—though God knows Brandon had seen to that—but deeper than that, as if his chest had been hollowed out and left echoing.
A week wasn’t long enough to recover from watching a situationship collapse in flames. Then again, when you weren’t talking to most of your family either, there wasn’t exactly a safety net to catch you.
Thank God for Nate.
His older brother had swooped in with one of his “solutions,” which translated to:you’re moving in with Devon.Nate’s best friend, thirty-three, boot-wearer, child psychologist, and soft-spoken rescuer. Devon hadn’t even blinked before saying yes.
Sebastian had shown up two nights ago with a battered suitcase and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The smile was a shield. It usually was.
The trouble with shields was how heavy they got.
Camden Market was a distraction. He trailed his fingers over rows of leather jackets—too expensive, too daring, too everything. A busker started singingFast Car,and beforehe could stop himself, Sebastian was humming harmony. Instinctive, easy, sliding out of him before he realised, like breath fogging a mirror.
Focus.Coffee, not memories, remember?
Devon had mentioned a queer café near his place, and Sebastian had decided to check it out. A morning spent pretending to job-hunt sounded better than replaying Brandon’s last text on a loop.
And why the hell are you still torturing yourself like that?
Inside, the café was warm and buzzing, a safe space. He bought a latte and sat with his back to the wall. It was an old habit. Better to watch people than risk them watching you.
His phone burned in his pocket, begging him to check it. Begging him to reach for Brandon. He didn’t. Instead, he stared at a crooked poster pinned to the opposite wall.
Hot Leather Guys: Gay Male A Cappella. Leather. Lust. Lungs. Auditions open.
Sebastian huffed a laugh. “That issoridiculous.”
Which made it perfect.
The wordleathersnagged at something deep in him, half a scoff, half a want. He stood, snapped a photo, and nearly deleted it a heartbeat later. He wasn’t the type to be chosen for something bold.
Not anymore.
“You’d destroy that audition.”
