Page 61 of That Defining Moment

“I’ve got a Neumann,” Lysander said.

“You could have a Neumann dipped in gold and it wouldn’t matter if you’re just another talking head.” Meredith’s glasses caught the light as she tilted forward. “Your hook isn’t your story. Your story is the foundation, but the hook is getting the other side into the room. That’s where the tension lives. That’s what makes someone choose your podcast over the thousands of others on the charts.”

Lysander’s thumb found the edge of the desk and pressed into it. He knew where this was going.

“Do you know what Dane’s up to these days?” Meredith asked.

Lysander’s shoulders tensed. “Yeah,” he said. “I know what Dane’s up to. He’s got a new boyfriend. Nineteen. Not a male omega, just a regular kid. They’re still making content together. Their subscriber count’s nowhere near as big as ours was, but they’re not hurting for money.”

Meredith watched him through the screen. “Do you think you could stomach sitting across a table from him?” she asked.

He tried to picture it. Dane in the leather chair, four inches from the pop filter, those long legs stretched out the way they always were, taking up more than his rightful share of the space. In the early days with him, Lysander had been taken in completely by his easy grin and carefully styled sweep of blond hair, and hadn’t cared about the mansprawling, because he’d thought it Dane’s due.

The thing about Dane was that Lysander hadn’t understood how bad things were while he was with him. He’d known it wasn’t good. You didn’t need a psychology degree to clock that your boyfriend arranging a queue of alphas to fuck you through a full heat while he stood by the door keeping count didn’t exactly make for a good relationship. But knowing something was wrong and being able to understand why were different skills, and Lysander had only acquired the second one after Hamish.

“Lysander.”

At the sound of his name he looked at the monitor. Could he hold his nerve while Dane did what Dane always did: went on a charm offensive and reframed the narrative to make everything sound like just a bit of fun between consenting adults?

“Let me think about it,” Lysander said.

Meredith nodded once. “Take your time. But not too much of it,” she said. “For what it’s worth, the podcast is in good shape even without him. You’ve got a setup that most indie producers would saw off a limb for. Dane isn’t the difference between a good show and a bad one.” She paused. “He’s the difference between a good show and a number one. That’s all I’m saying.”

“What would you do,” Lysander asked, “if you were me?”

Meredith looked at him for a long moment. Then she smiled, lifted one hand in a wave, and ended the call.

The monitor went dark. Lysander sat in the silence of Diwa’s studio, the acoustic panels absorbing every sound except his own heartbeat.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hamish came through the yellow door at twenty past seven, and Lysander jumped him like a guided missile.

His arms locked around Hamish’s neck before the alpha had even got both feet over the threshold, his carry-on bag dropping to the hallway tiles with a thud, and the alpha pulled him in so tightly that Lysander’s feet left the floor.

He buried his face in the crook of Hamish’s neck and breathed him in deeply. His alpha smelled terrible after twenty-two hours in the same clothes, but the strength and concentration of his pheromones made his knees go soft.

“Hi,” Hamish said into his hair.

“Shut up.” Lysander’s fingers dug into Hamish’s blazer. “Don’t talk. Just stand here and let me smell you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sander.”

Lysander took a loud, theatrical sniff of Hamish’s neck. The alpha’s thumb traced a slow circle at the base of Lysander’s skull, right where the tension had been living for weeks.

Behind Hamish, Cassian was standing on the front step with two suitcases and a tote bag slung across his body. He watched Lysander and Hamish with dewy-eyed reverence.

“You two are so beautiful together,” Cassian breathed. “This is exactly like the video of the pug snuffling around his pug friend after they hadn’t seen each other for a couple of months. Except it’s not Hamish’s arse you’re sniffing.”

From somewhere behind Lysander, Stephen lost it completely. Lysander ignored him. “Cass.” He loosened one arm from Hamish’s neck. “Get in here.”

Cassian abandoned both suitcases on the step and launched himself at them. He wedged himself into the embrace, his arms going around both of them, his chin hooking over Lysander’s shoulder. The tote bag swung between their legs and something inside it crunched under the pressure.

Lysander held him. He pressed his cheek against Cassian’s hair and felt the younger omega’s grip tighten around his waist.

Lysander shifted his weight. Cassian’s arms tightened. Lysander tried to step away, but Cassian followed, moulding himself into Lysander’s side like cling film.

“Cass.”