Page 9 of Rocked: The Price of Dreams

Didn’t sound like it. But I didn’t know him. “Are you sure it’s okay we’re here?”

“Absolutely.” Kyle thumbed toward the doorway. “Come on. Let’s eat, then we’ll play.”

“Lead the way.”

As we entered the kitchen, the color drained from Kyle’s face. He rushed to the sink and swiped up the half dozen empty beer bottles. “Shit, sorry. I’ll put them in the trash.”

“Don’t worry about it, bud.” Hunter bit into his sandwich.

“No. It’s not okay.” Kyle charged out the back door. The smashing of glass in the garbage can clattered through the air. So did Kyle’s cursing. “Son of a bitch.”

Concern darkened Hunter’s eyes. The heaviness in the air pressed against my chest. My mom always came home from work smelling like beer and cigarettes. There were always wine glasses left on the counter and an open bottle or two of wine in the fridge. Derek enjoyed the occasional drink after work. But I’d learned over the past few weeks that Kyle’s dad drank, sometimes too much.

When he came back inside, his gorgeous smile had returned. My stomach twisted and sank. He didn’t need to hide the truth or pretend around me. I understood shitty parents. Family? Who fucking needed them?

He grabbed a sandwich from Hunter’s stack on the counter and handed it to me. “Here. Eat. Then, we’ll head down to the basement.”

After demolishing the sandwiches, I followed the guys downstairs. The stench of cigarettes and beer wasn’t as bad down here as it had been in the living room. A black sofa and a huge rear-projection TV stood at the far end of the mustard-carpeted room. My pulse quickened at the sight of the huge drum kit, the rack of four guitars, and the mics to my left. Yes...I’d entered the man cave.

“This room is incredible.” I headed to the guitars and slid my fingers over the frets on a red Fender. “You have your own space to play.”

“Yep. It’s cool.” Kyle dashed over and snapped up three more beer bottles off the lamp table and bar, then tossed them into an empty beer box, tucking it out of sight behind the counter.

“You don’t have to do that.” Concern softened my tone as I stepped toward him. “It’s okay.”

He lowered his chin. “It’s not. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t ever have to be sorry around me.” I eased over to him and gave him a big hug. Shit...Where had this come from? I’d never been a hugger. I’d never really embraced anyone to comfort them before. If fact, I’d rarely been hugged. I couldn’t recall one time when Mom had given me a cuddle. Not once. Not ever. Inhaling the scent of his laundered T-shirt, I rested my cheek against his chest. His quick heartbeat pounded in my ear. As I squeezed him tight, his warmth enveloped me and sank into my bones. He just stood there with his hands by his sides, like he didn’t know what to do. I smiled, half sad, half amused. I hated that he was embarrassed by his dad, but he probably hadn’t been hugged by many girls either. I got that. But this, hugging my friend, was nice. “No one is perfect. But you’re the best. Always remember that.”

“Um...thanks.” He eased out of our embrace. Redness darkened his cheeks.

“Are you two getting fresh on me?” Hunter grabbed a guitar off the wall.

“No,” I snapped. I wasn’t into Kyle. Or Hunter. They were...just my buddies. “That’s what friends do. Hug.” I held my arms wide. “Are you feeling left out? Would you like one too?”

“Nope. I’m good.” He shoved the Fender into my hands. “Right now, I wanna play.”

Kyle nudged his elbow against my arm. “You ready to learn that thing?”

I ran my hand up the neck, the steel strings cool beneath my fingertips. Excitement hummed through my veins. “You think I can?”

“Fuck yeah.” He walked over to the wall, grabbed another guitar, and plugged it in.

Hunter swiped the Gibson off the rack and hooked the strap over his shoulders. “Lesson one, here we come.”

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, the guys ran through the basic chords and scales with me. The moment I struck the strings, and the sound reverberated through the amp, fire ignited in my soul. Warmth wrapped around me, settling in my chest. Tingles shivered each hair on my skin. My heart had never beaten so hard. Oh wow.

After two hours of practice, we strummed out the chords to “My Best Friend’s Girl” by The Cars, and “Wild Thing” by The Troggs.

“You’re a natural.” Kyle’s eyes glinted as he watched my fingers glide over the strings.

“I think I found my baby.” I cuddled the guitar against my chest. “I’m in love with the electric.”

“You rock on the acoustic.” Hunter slayed out a riff. “But you come alive on that thing.”

“Thanks.” I tinkered on the strings. Yeah. I had.

Kyle glanced at his watch. “Shit, guys. You gotta go. I have to cook dinner and you don’t wanna be here when Dad gets home.”

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