Home.
The word hung in the air between us, too heavy for something so casual.
I swallowed again, nodded once, and managed another crooked smile. “Thanks, Theo. For… everything.”
Theo’s expression softened, but only a fraction. “You’re welcome.” He paused. “You’re going to need this.” He openeda drawer, rummaged in it, and finally laid a key ring on the counter. “The big silver key opens the door downstairs. The one with the red sticker opens the deadlock on my door.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Theo grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
Just before he left, he glanced back. For a second, barely long enough to count, his eyes met mine, his expression unguarded. Something unspoken passed between us, and it felt raw and dangerous and somehow familiar.
Then the door closed behind him, leaving the air charged and the flat too quiet.
I stood there for a long time, my mug still warm in my hands, trying to breathe around the ache in my chest.
Something is going on here.
Chapter Seven
Theo
“…and cut.”
I brought down my hand in one clean, decisive arc, and the room obeyed.
Nine voices stopped together. Silence stretched, alive with the shimmer of what we’d just created. Then, from somewhere near the back, Zane let out a low whistle.
“That was hot.”
Julian grinned, sweat shining on his collarbone. “We’re officially not a disaster anymore.”
“Barely,” I said, but even I couldn’t disguise the flicker of pride that warmed my tone. “It’s cleaner, I’ll say that much. And the phrasing locked this time.”
“Becausesomebody,” Finnley said, jerking a thumb at me, “has been drilling us as if we’re auditioning for the bloody Royal Philharmonic.”
“That’s because I want you to sound like you deserve to,” I said evenly.
Julian coughed. “Not that I’m nit-picking, you understand, but… isn’t the Royal Philharmonic an orchestra?”
Finnley shrugged. “I don’t know about you, babe, butmyvoice is a freakin’ instrument.” He grinned.
Julian laughed. “So say we all.”
Max snorted. “Aha. Julian is a closet sci-fi fan.” He gave Julian a knowing glance. “And justwhodid you ship in Battlestar Galactica?”
He flushed. “Apollo and Baltar.”
“When you’ve quite finished?” I stared at Max and Julian. Then I looked around at the nine faces, some of them tired and flushed, everyone buzzing. “Okay. We go back to rehearsals every Tuesday and Thursday from now on. So I’ll see you on Tuesday.” I bit my lip. “Bring water, not egos.”
“Bossy,” Julian muttered under his breath, but he was smiling. They all were. The vibe in the room was miles ahead of the chaos of our first attempt.
I should’ve felt good, but I didn’t, not entirely. I’d been off all evening and I knew it. Every time I should have been counting bars or cueing the bass line, my focus had slipped sideways to the memory of Cameron’s voice that morning, low and rough with sleep. To the flash of bare feet on my kitchen tiles. The way sunlight had caught in his hair when he’d said morning as if it meant something.
My own nocturnal activity that still sent a flush of shame through me.
I couldn’t even look at him this morning.