Free Bittersweet Symphony (The Damaged Souls series Book 2) by Belinda Boring Page B

joined with a brand new emotion, one that was unexpected but very much welcomed.
    Happiness.
    Fuck. I was happy—really happy—the grinning-like-a-fool kind of contentment.
    Damn. She was good.
    “Have fun with Rebecca last night?” I fired back, enjoying how satisfying it felt to see his features drop. I guess he didn’t realize that Caylee had confided Rebecca had stayed home as well with no Marty.
    I wasn’t the only one missing his girl.
    “This is why I refuse to tie myself down to one chick,” Troy chimed in, feigning a sense of superiority as he jokingly looked down his nose at us. “You both sound like miserable old men, lost without your women telling you what to do!” He followed his ribbing with a good-natured wink. It was hard not to remind him he loved the girls just as much as we did.
    “You’re just jealous you have to go out searching for a willing bed partner,” Aidan laughed, quickly beating on his drums like he’d delivered the punch line to a funny joke. “Every day . . . you’re a trollin’.”
    “And tell me you’re not doing the same.” Troy’s brows lifted, challenging his fellow band mate and best friend to deny it.
    Aidan sniffed. “I have standards, bro.” He placed a heavier emphasis on the bro—his lips curled into a smirk. “Just because she has two legs and a nice rack, doesn’t mean she needs to go home with me.”
    “Who says I take them home?”
    “Fucking semantics,” Aidan countered. “Their place then.”
    “Wrong again.”
    “If the next words out of your mouth is you take care of business in the bar’s bathroom, you’re nastier than I’ve ever given you credit for,” Marty interjected, giving Troy a wary glance.
    To which Troy rolled his eyes in response. “I’m not a complete heathen.” When his eyes twinkled, I knew he was getting ready to be a smart ass. “That doesn’t mean I don’t take advantage of a nice and quiet alleyway . . . the back seat of my car.”
    “Dude,” I blurted, forgetting my inward vow to remain silent throughout this twist in topics. What my friends did with their sex lives was just that . . . private. “I fucking sit back there!”
    Troy shrugged. “And I don’t fuck where I sleep. It keeps things simple.”
    “You keep telling yourself that then.” I chuckled. I’d lived where he was—held the same beliefs of keeping people at arm’s length—keeping pleasure and business separate.
    That was until Caylee showed up.
    She’d changed everything.
    Marty shrugged, agreeing to disagree. There was nothing much he could say. He’d also held that same philosophy for years. “As long as you remember, no glove no love. Need to protect your . . . assets.”
    “Sock your cock.”
    “Wrap your crap.” Aidan snickered. “You know . . . to avoid the clap. Damn, I’m good. I rhymed and everything.”
    “Whatever.” Troy waved his hand, dismissing us. “All I meant is you guys sound whipped. Didn’t mean to turn it into a hate-fest.”
    “Don’t be a crier when your dick’s on fire!”
    Spinning around, my heart skipped a beat. Caylee was standing in the garage doorway, arms folded against her chest as though she’d been listening all along to our crazy banter.
    “Oooooh, she’s brought her A-game!” Aidan crowed, finally standing up from behind his drums. He clapped Troy on the shoulder as he passed by. Approaching Caylee, he high-fived her.
    Every part of me shouted to rush over—my body aching to hold her tight against me.
    Inside, I stood there like an idiot . . .watching . . . willing her to come to me so I didn’t look like the desperate school boy in need of some affection.
    Even though that’s exactly what I felt like.
    Fuck, when did I become that guy?
    My next thought was just as revealing—who the hell cared.
    She was mine and I would act however I wanted. I just needed to get out of my own way.
    “Hey, darlin’,” I whispered, my breath brushing over her ear as my arms wrapped around her