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“When the bridge breaks down?” Rian added helpfully. “In ‘Phoenix Song,’ it’s louder and heavier than the rest of the song.”

“Yes.” I pointed at Rian. “That.”

Kinsey stared into the middle distance. “Am I not doing that?” He sang a few bars of bridge.

“But it’s the same,” I said, as Rian was shaking his head. “It’s more or less emotional depending on which track, but it’s not this big emotional breakdown. You need, like…” I waved my hand. Kinsey was a bad influence.

My squirrel brain was trying to use words for something I could only hear. If this is what writing music was like, no wonder Rian was driving himself nuts. “Like in Capote’s ‘Use You’ and Olivia Ruiz’s ‘Omega Don’t Cry.’ You need, like, a back and forth.”

Ben jumped in his chair. “Yes, you do.” He grabbed me and kissed the side of my head. “You’re a brilliant muse. Kinsey, get another guitar.”

Kinsey rubbed his hands together. “See, this is why I came here.” He grabbed another guitar while Rian waited patiently for his instructions.

“Okay, now both of you start at the top. Try making it your anthem, Kinsey.”

“You said it was a bad breakup,” Rian added. “But when you’re singing, you’re moving around a bunch, like you’re trying to keep yourself softer than you want to be.”

“Yeah, I’d pictured this angry sort of ballad…thing.” Kinsey strummed the guitar thoughtfully. “But maybe it’s more like…”

“The bouncy blues song you belt out while you’re driving,” I piped up. “You’re doing the ‘told you so’ hands and everything.”

“Sorry, what?” Ben laughed.

“Let me show you.” I took Ben’s hands and mimicked Kinsey’s hand motions, the shaking hand into the air. “It’s like this universal motion every singer does when they’re singing a song like ‘you screwed me over, but you messed up because I’m awesome.’”

Rian smirked. “She’s right, Kinsey. Better own it.”

“That’s perfect.” Ben gestured at both of them. “Try again with Rian playing at the same time, like the two of you are dueting.”

Kinsey’s face lit up. “Oh, yeah, bring it up a notch.”

“Like when you recorded ‘Dirt on my Boots,’” Ben said, naming one of the tracks on Kinsey’s first album. It was a really fun, fast-paced song about getting out of town, and it had been covered and turned into a duet a whole bunch of times.

I rubbed my hands together. “Oh, yeah, Rian and Kinsey singing at the same time. Best day is best.”

All three men looked at me with surprise.

My stomach sank. “Sorry, is that not…” My cheeks got red. “Sorry.”

Rian shook his head. “It’s fine, honey. Ben was talking about playing guitar at the same time.”

“I mean, I’m down,” Kinsey said, looking at Rian. “If you want to play around? I totally get if you’d rather not.”

I had a whole existential crisis in two point five seconds, trying to decide if Kinsey had figured out Rian was Burns or not. Judging by the furious calculations on Ben’s face, he was probably thinking the same thing.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” I told Rian, my stomach still churning, praying he wasn’t mad at me. “Or butt into your song,” I told Kinsey.

“It’s all good,” the other alpha said. “You got a good ear, and doing a loud duet is a great angle.”

Rian didn’t look mad; he looked thoughtful. “Duet. You want to take the first half…”

Kinsey’s thinking look resurfaced, and I fought not to snicker. They were all adorable.

“They’re both trying to decide which parts to take, aren’t they?” Ben said dryly.

“Yes.” I put my chin on his shoulder.

Rian snapped his fingers. “That fixes the bridge.”