Damaged Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

It’s stirring, and I never knew Callie could sing like this. Her voice rings clear and heartbreaking, a sweet counter-harmony with her father’s voice. And with every fraught word full of love, I hear it.

She’s singing to me.

Especially every time her wet lashes lift and she looks up, her eyes finding mine through the crowd.

The way she looks at me says everything.

She saw my message.

She read every word.

The raw shock rivals the heat rising up my throat, ringing my chest and burning through my veins.

Everything that tells me the girl I love just happens to love me too.

The entire crowd is as silent and entranced as I am—even Barry, though I catch a faint whisper of him singing along with the lyrics. He’s never been able to resist a tune, always joining in, and despite everything, his voice is still heavy and soulful.

It’s truly the perfect moment.

I don’t want it to break.

Still, I need to talk to Callie. I need to be with her.

The two-hour concert feels like an eternity, even if it’s a happy one.

As the crowd erupts into cheers, applause, and a proper standing ovation, I’m bolting to my feet. I catch Barry gently by the arm and forge through the crowd, leading us to the stage.

Practically useless.

People swarm the stage like fire ants, demanding autographs and pictures, screaming praise at both Landrys.

I catch Callie’s knowing eye through the sea of bodies. She grins like the sun and tosses her head to one side—and I realize she means backstage.

I nod, clasping Barry’s hand tight before breaking away to push through a thinner spot in the crowd, while she ducks through a group of people and vanishes.

I manage to slip around a rattled-looking bouncer, into the wings behind the stage. The entire space is more dimly lit than the main floor. Empty.

All the staff must be out there trying to manage the wild crowds, leaving this bare-bones area scattered with rigging and equipment. Just as I draw to a breathless halt, Callie emerges from the other side, ducking down from the steps leading to the stage.

We stall in our tracks, our eyes locked.

My grip on Barrett’s hand loosens.

Just in time to catch Callie as she flings herself at me, wrapping her arms around me and burying her face in my chest.

“Roland!” she gasps.

I melt into the warm, perfect shape of her, the rightness of having her this close to me again.

Sweet fucking mercy.

I thought I’d lost her forever.

“How did you know I’d be here?” she whispers breathlessly.

“I didn’t,” I blurt out, grinning like madness incarnate as I bury my face in her hair and breathe her in. “Barrett wanted to see your old man’s show, and I hoped you’d be here. Though I figured after that article you never wanted to see me again—”

“Hell no.” She shakes her head. Her voice is trembling, but clear, her face pressed to my chest. Damn. She must feel my heart pounding against her. I certainly feel hers. “I...I just read it earlier tonight. I was avoiding things. I needed to see you, but Dad had his show, and now you’re here and—”

“Hey,” Barrett cuts in with this huge smile. “Does this mean you’re Roland’s girlfriend again?”

I stiffen, then let out a happy groan, closing my eyes.

“...sorry,” he throws out.

“I think it’s a legitimate question.” Callie looks up at me, those deep grey-eyes turned silver by their wetness, like two moons shining down on me. “So you’re a changed man, huh?”

“Still a certified bastard,” I point out, tightening my arms around her. I can’t help myself. “But I’m a bastard who’s madly, truly, and deeply in love with you, Callie. A bastard who wants to give you the entire universe. I want you back at the magazine, Callie. Our deal honored. It’s all yours. No strings...”

I trail off.

There’s still a secret, unsettled part of me trying to shut off that isn’t used to being emotionally buck naked like this.

Trying to lock the words inside me, to keep me from being honest, to protect me behind my damnable armor.

To hell with that armor.

I’ll take every blow in the world if it means keeping this woman.

So I clear my throat, look her dead in the eye, and sweep her up with my hands on her hips.

“More than anything else, I want you back with me,” I admit roughly. “Not as a fling. Not as some dirty damned secret. Be the woman I need. Be the woman I’ll love and cherish for the rest of my life.”

Callie bubbles with a laugh that’s wet and strained with tears, pressing a hand over her mouth.

“You...you do love me,” she stammers in disbelief.

God Almighty, do I ever.

“I’ll say it six hundred more times if that’s what you need to believe it. Fuck, make it an even thousand. We can always negotiate—”