CHAPTER ONE
“I'm worried about Felix,” Leo said as he leaned against the bathroom counter. He had partially undressed from the smart, tailored suit he'd worn to the Grammys ceremony, the stark black lines of his jacket long discarded, leaving just the mostly translucent aquamarine shirt behind, the tail barely tucked into his pants as he strained to get closer to the mirror. “Damnit,” he added, making a lopsided frown at his reflection, “I think I'm getting a stress zit. I hope it wasn't in any of the pictures.”
“You're gorgeous,” Caleb soothed, reaching out to stroke a hand across his back. “And I really doubt it.” Like anyone could see a minuscule, barely there red spot when they had the rest of Leo to look at—Caleb still felt blinded every time he shot him that devil-may-care smile, those so-blue eyes glowing with mischief and affection and adoration. Sometimes it was still hard to believe, even after two years of this, that he was back where he belonged. That not only had he been forgiven, but that his life was this perfect. He felt swollen with anticipation, for when the bubble might burst.
Leo relaxed into his touch, infinitely trusting, which was even more amazing when you considered his normal somewhat prickly demeanor. But not with Caleb. Ever since he'd given his trust back, he'd never wavered, not for one second. But then that was Leo. He'd always been wrapped up in a set of fascinating contradictions and as he'd grown older, nothing had changed, except he'd become more set in his ways.
“Seriously, stop trying to distract me, I am worried about my little brother.” Leo turned in Caleb's arms, his back against the countertop edge.
“Worried because you conned him into spending two weeks alone with Max when it was the last thing he wanted to do?” Caleb wondered, not for the first time, how on earth they would survive the inevitable cataclysm that happened whenever things came to a head, finally, between Felix and Max. But then, there'd been a part of him that expected the worst with Benji and Diego too, and they'd totally figured their shit out.
Two out of three ain't bad, he thought to himself.
“No,” Leo said, laughing. “That was inspired. I couldn't have come up with a better scenario myself. And it's not like I hadn't been trying. Felix just . . . refuses to take a chance and tell him the truth.”
Of course he'd been encouraging his brother to tell Max how he felt.
“Are you sure . . .?” Caleb hesitated. Maybe it didn't matter what Felix did. Star Shadow was officially on a break now, as of the end of the Grammys. If Felix and Max blew up their friendship, it would hurt, but it probably wouldn't affect the band.
Caleb hadn't used to think of the band and their brand in those terms before—that had always been Benji's obsession—but ever since he'd come back and they'd resurrected the career he'd so thoughtlessly and desperately thrown away seven years earlier, Star Shadow and making the most of their opportunities had slowly become something he cared about so much that he had trouble letting anything get in the way.
His sponsor Brian had told him so many times he had nothing to atone for, but was that really the truth? Wasn't committing himself and making sure Star Shadow continued to bring joy and music to the masses the best kind of apology he could make? Being a good bandmate and being a good friend the most appropriate way to prove he'd changed?
“Then what are you so worried about?” Caleb finally changed the subject. If Felix wanted to tell Max how he felt—that was between them. Caleb didn't think it'd go well, which is why he couldn't understand why Leo kept pushing, but it was their lives.
“Felix,” Leo said, turning back towards the mirror, poking and prodding again at the nearly invisible spot on his cheek, “driving all the way back to Venice Beach. It's so late. He'd had a beer.”
“He's going to be fine,” Caleb said, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. Leo was all committed to his brother finding love, but still worried about him driving home. Was Felix twenty-four or fourteen? It was like Leo couldn't quite make up his mind.
“If only . . .” Leo wheedled. “If only we lived in a house where everyone could stay over, if they wanted to.”
“Oh brother,” Caleb said. “Not this again. Who’s even going to stay here? Felix has his own house. Mel moved to New York for work.”
“Yes, this again,” Leo retorted. “That house was perfect.” Even Caleb could admit—though never to Leo—that this one had been nice. It was near Benji's neighborhood, but still close to the beach. The entire circular front drive had been bursting with bright pink bougainvillea and the rooms had been big and cool and relaxed. Leo had loved it. Caleb had tried not to think about how much he'd liked it.
“If you needed glasses,” Caleb said, reaching out and pulling Leo against him again. He wiggled provocatively, and Caleb sighed. “I told you, if the house is right, I'd consider it. But this house has . . . I don't know . . . memories? Good ones.”
Leo looked back at him, his reflected gaze pinning Caleb. “And bad ones too.”
Leo rarely mentioned or even referred to the years when Caleb had been gone, and he'd been living here alone. He'd moved on, he'd forgiven Caleb, and Caleb had eventually moved back in. They'd found new happiness again. Caleb was sure that Leo would say, if asked, that it didn't make any sense to dwell on the past. Not when the present was so happy and the future looked even better.
But tonight? Tonight, when this was the culmination of all their hopes, he'd done it anyway.
Caleb hesitated, but those blue eyes were inexorable, staring at him. Challenging him. “Uh,” he said.
“If you don't want to buy another house, you just need to tell me,” Leo said, and then wiggled out of Caleb's grasp, walking over to their big oversized walk-in closet. “Then I'll tell the realtor,” he said, his voice muffled. “But I feel stupid going to look at all these great places, when you end up hating all of them.”
“I don't hate them,” Caleb said quietly. That was true. He didn't hate them. There wasn't even anything really wrong with them, but there was this voice that kept telling him it was a mistake to move. A mistake to buy a new house, even though they had enough cash they could buy ten houses. “I just like this one.”
“I do too.” Leo walked out of the closet, wearing only a pair of skintight briefs, leaving nothing to the imagination and sending Caleb's pulse through the stratosphere. His voice and expression had softened, and Caleb thought if he kissed Leo, he wouldn't push him away. Not now. “I just wouldn't mind having some additional space.”
“Maybe,” Caleb said, clearing his throat as he began to unbutton his own shirt, “maybe we could look into an addition.”
Leo gave him a soft, chiding look, like he could see right through Caleb, straight into him, into all those ugly places that he tried to hide, and tried to hide from. “Maybe,” he said. Even though they both knew perfectly well that there was no extra room on their small, beachfront lot for an addition. If they wanted a bigger house, they would need to buy one. But for right now, Leo seemed to have let the problem go, and so Caleb decided that now when they had so much to celebrate, what was the point of continuing to argue about it? They'd figure it out—someday, anyway, Caleb reasoned.