Five
“I have a higher guitar part that’ll go over the top of that.”
The sound of humming grew louder as the band members, gathered together on Quinn’s back porch, worked through the last part of a song they were writing. Jase sang some lyrics, the words indistinguishable from where Carey sat at the kitchen island right inside the house, yet the rough huskiness of his voice still made him shiver.
“God, he has such a beautiful voice,” Layla remarked, as if reading Carey’s mind. “It fits in so well with the sound they’re going for.”
“Mmm. He was always singing in the barracks back in the day, and around his shop, stuff like that,” he said. “But I remember it being background noise, nothing that struck me as ‘Oh, s**t, this guy’s an amazing singer.’”
“Same here.” She toyed with the edge o
