Wild Flame (The Wild: A Rock Star Romance Book 2)

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “Fine,” I answer. The word comes out as a breathy sigh.

  She tilts her head. “How are you really feeling, Kira? How are you doing? You haven’t said anything about the B.A.B.Y,” she spells out the word, “since you took the test.”

  I shrug casually, flicking a piece of lettuce off the table and onto the floor. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not having it,” I say simply, like it’s no big deal even though this is a huge deal.

  I’m not even one-hundred percent decided yet, but I need to say the words out loud to see how they feel, to gauge how I react.

  It doesn’t feel good saying it. I feel dirty and like I’ll never be clean.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?” she asks. “I know it would be difficult, but … that’s your baby, Kira.”

  “Mia,” I say sharply. “I can’t do this. I can’t be a parent.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” she challenges.

  I sigh in defeat. I don’t have an answer for her.

  Continuing on, undeterred by my silence she says, “I know for a fact you haven’t told Rush, because Hollis would’ve said something if Rush knew.”

  “You told Hollis!” I shriek, getting a few head turns from nearby.

  “Of course not,” she scoffs, offended. “I’m not going to blab your secrets to my boyfriend, but Rush is his best friend, and if you had told him you’re pregnant I’m sure he would’ve shared with the guys.”

  “No, I haven’t told him,” I admit reluctantly.

  “Don’t you think he deserves to know before you do something drastic? He should at least know, be allowed to be a part of the conversation. He might be loud, and obnoxious, and cocky as hell but he’s still a decent guy … well …” She gives a sheepish look.

  “What?” I prompt. “What’d he do?”

  “He got shit-faced drunk the other night, because apparently you’re ignoring him. Cannon had to drag him back to the hotel.”

  “Oh, God,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “See, this is another reason why I can’t tell him. If he’s so immature he goes and gets plastered because I’m not talking to him, what will he do when he finds out I’m growing his spawn?”

  “Rush has a lot of growing up to do,” she agrees. “But so do you.”

  I feel like she’s slapped me. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  She finishes her bite of sandwich and swallows. “I just mean it’s clear you haven’t dealt with things when it comes to your mom.”

  “You’re bringing my mother into this?” I hiss, picking apart my sub. I need to eat, but thanks to this line of conversation there’s not a chance in hell I will.

  She tucks a piece of her pretty red hair behind her ear. I used to envy her for her gorgeous natural red locks. I’ve since learned to appreciate my dark hair and not nitpick every aspect of myself.

  “I’m not saying you need to go speak to her if you don’t want to, but maybe see a therapist or something.”

  “I don’t need a shrink.” I wave a piece of torn up bread at her.

  “Don’t take it so offensively,” she snaps, straightening her shoulders. “It might help you.”

  My face screws up in irritation.

  She reaches across the table and places her hand over mine, her eyes soft. “Kira, all I’m saying is think before you do something drastic. Make sure this is really what you want.”

  “To kill my baby you mean?” Saying it that way I feel like a monster to even be thinking it. It’s a choice, a personal one each woman has to make depending on her situation, one I’m still not certain I’m ready to decide on.

  “That’s not what I was saying,” she defends with a shake of her head. “I’ll support you no matter what you decide. I would never judge you for anything, and you should know that by now. I only want you to understand, once you go down that route, go through with it, there is no changing your mind. It’s done.”

  I press my lips together, my throat closing up. “I’m so confused,” I voice aloud. “Lost … nothing makes sense right now.”

  She squeezes my hand, having never let it go. “Then wait until it does make sense.”

  I’ve been avoiding Rush for two weeks straight. His texts finally stopped after the first week and he hasn’t shown up at my place or come into The Sub Club.

  I should feel good about this—this is what I wanted after all, to not have to see him. Having to face him, and know I need to tell him is too much. He doesn’t need to know, not until I’ve made up my mind, because at the end of the day I’m the woman and this changes my life far more than his.

  Pulling on my scrubs I get ready to head to the hospital. Queasiness hit me hard this morning so I’m not looking forward to my day at all, but I have to grit my teeth and get through it.

  I grab my bag and swipe my keys off the counter, locking up as I head out.

  My beat-up ancient Honda Civic sits by the curb. It’s banged up, rusted, with peeling paint but it still gets me from point A to point B without sounding like it’s going to die so in my book it counts as pretty reliable.

  I climb in and toss my bag over onto the passenger seat.

  Gripping the steering wheel in my hands I sit there for a moment, longer, unable to move. I feel frozen in time, suspended, and for just a second I allow myself to believe everything will work out, that it’ll be okay.

  But in my life only one thing has always remained true—it’s never okay.

  Swallowing past the lump in my throat I put the car in drive and pull away.

  Glancing in my rearview mirror I spot a red truck. My heart skips a beat in my chest, thinking it’s Rush, but a second later I realize the truck is too small to be his.

  I feel stupid and ridiculous for my reaction, for the flood of emotions that hit me when I thought it was him. I’m the one avoiding him, but I can’t help but miss him, and I wish I could hate him for that—hate him for making me like him and care about him.

  I’m pathetic.

  I force all thoughts of Rush from my mind—which is easier said than done.

  Arriving at the hospital I park in the garage and walk through the new part of the hospital over to the older main part. It’s a complicated labyrinth I once thought I would never master, but somehow I have.

  I’m still shadowing Dr. Hawkins along with a few of my classmates, so I spend my morning with her as she makes her rounds.

  Around noon we’re dismissed for lunch and head to the cafeteria in the hospital to eat. I packed my lunch so I find a table and sit down. Sometimes I sit with my classmates. I’m not friends with any of them, but we do talk and chat. You kind of have to in order to make the time go by faster.

  I finish my basic turkey sandwich and small bag of chips. Wadding up my trash I throw it away. I have time to kill before we have to join back up with Dr. Hawkins and since I don’t feel like sitting by myself or joining my classmates, I start walking through the hospital.

  There’s no destination in mind, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised when I end up on the maternity ward.

  I find myself standing in front of the glass separating people from the newborns.

  I watch the babies, some sleeping, others screaming, some just wiggling. All so tiny and innocent, helpless in this big bad world.

  I press a hand to my stomach, to the small life growing there, already relying on me to take care of it. Tears come to my eyes. How can I possibly think of getting rid of my child? Some people have no choice, but I do, and I’ve always been able to do anything I’ve set my mind to—why can’t that apply to being a mother?

  A nurse walks up to me with a kind smile. “Student?” she asks.

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “Thinking about working in the maternity ward?” she questions. She’s probably in her forties with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and kind brown eyes.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

  She looks down then, noting my hand against my stomach. “Ah, I see. How far
along are you?”

  “I don’t know yet?” I admit. “I’m not sure.”

  “Let me guess,” she smiles, “you’re terrified?”

  “You have no idea,” I breathe a sigh.

  She pats my shoulder. “I think every woman, whether a pregnancy is planned or unplanned, is terrified.”

  “I don’t want to be a shitty mom. Not like mine,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “We all have a choice to be who we want to be—no one makes us into what we are, only we do. Some people make the wrong choices.” She shrugs, gazing through the glass at the babies. “They have to live with the consequences of those mistakes—but not their children. You have the choice to rise above? So what will you do?”

  “Be better,” I answer. “For my child. For me.”

  She smiles. “Then you have your answer.”

  “What answer?”

  “You already know,” she replies and walks away.

  She’s right, I do know.

  I have the power to be who I want to be in this world.

  I’ve always chosen to be a fighter, to climb high above my childhood and not let it shackle me to the ground, and now I choose to still do those things, but I’m adding another to the list.

  I will fight.

  I will climb.

  I will be a mother to this child, the best one I know I can be.

  14

  Rush

  “Pizza’s here!” Fox announces and I look up from the couch as he carries in several large boxes. My stomach rumbles to life.

  The last thing I want to do is be stuck here in the suite with Fox and Cannon, but Kira’s still ignoring me, and there’s nothing to do in this God forsaken town. I could go to D.C. and find plenty of entertainment, or hell I’ve heard West Virginia is full of strip clubs, but Cannon is watching me like a hawk. There’s no way I’m making it out of here without him knowing, and I’ve given him plenty of reason to worry thanks to my drunken binge.

  It was stupid to let myself get that wasted, I know, but I needed it. Sometimes the numbness is the only thing that comforts me and I wish he could understand. It doesn’t mean I’m an alcoholic. I don’t have to drink—but I want to.

  Fox spreads the pizza boxes out on the coffee table.

  “I’ll grab drinks,” I say, and hop up.

  Cannon glowers at me where he lounges in one of the big oversized chairs.

  “What?” I blink innocently. “I’m allowed to drink soda, right, Dad?”

  He leans forward. “Is it so bad that I worry about you? Huh? Is it wrong I hate the idea of my friend continuing down a certain path? You’ve been toeing the line for years, and then when we got here, I thought you were doing better, only having a drink a couple times a week. I won’t watch you spiral out of control again. I mean it.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything that’ll piss off Hayes and jeopardize our career.”

  He stands. “Dammit, Rush,” he snaps, the veins in his neck straining. His hands flex at his sides like he’s fighting not to punch me. “I’m worried about you, not our career, and it pisses me off you’d assume otherwise.”

  “I had a moment of weakness, is all,” I explain, trying to sound rational. “It was foolish and it won’t happen again.”

  He stares me down, those green eyes of his seeing far more than most people ever do.

  “I wish I believed you,” he says.

  Between us Fox’s head bobbles back and forth like he’s watching a tennis match. His eyes settle on me, waiting to see if I’ll say or do anything.

  Looking away, my jaw clenched, I whisper, “I wish I believed me, too.”

  Stomach stuffed with pizza, I lay on my back stretched out on my bed, with my arms crossed behind my head. I stare up at the ceiling, confused and lost.

  Everything used to make sense, then my parents died and nothing did anymore. I thought … I thought coming here I was doing better, I was happier and focused on music, and Kira was a welcome distraction … but now it all seems like it’s just been a Band-Aid—an ill-placed one and it’s falling off now.

  The door to my room cracks open and I raise my head slightly.

  “What do you want?” I ask, my tone sharper than I intend.

  Cannon walks into my room and stands over me, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “I feel like I should apologize for being a hard ass, but I’m not going to.”

  I snort, looking up at the ceiling and away from him.

  “Then why are you here?”

  He sighs and out of my peripheral vision I can see him run his fingers through his normally perfectly coifed hair before rubbing his stubble-free chin.

  “I worry about you. I was there, all of us were, when you lost your parents. Watching you go through that … it fucking sucked, man. But it’s been eight years and you still haven’t dealt with it—don’t you think it’s about time you did?”

  “There’s nothing to deal with.”

  He shakes his head and I turn my head to him.

  “If we were still back in L.A. you’d be at a club every night, drinking yourself into oblivion, and doing God knows what else. It’s not healthy, Rush. You had to bury your parents, it sucked, I get it.”

  “No, you don’t,” I growl.

  “I do!” He shouts. “Because there are so many times when I ask myself how long it’ll be before we have to bury you.”

  “That’s not fair,” I snarl, my upper lip curling like I taste something unpleasant.

  “Isn’t it? The accident was just that, an accident—you’re choosing this because you won’t deal with your demons, blame Kira for not speaking to you all you want, but that’s not the reason you’re like this. It never was.”

  I sit up straight, my face contorted in anger. “It wasn’t an accident. That asshole was texting instead of driving his fucking car like he was supposed to. My parents died and he lived, all over a fucking text message. How fucked up is that?” I throw my arms wide. “And here I am, left behind.”

  “Exactly.” He pokes my chest. “You still have a chance to live.”

  “That’s what I’m doing. You just don’t approve of how I do it.”

  He shakes his head and starts to walk away. He pauses, looking back over his shoulder. “Do whatever you want, Rush. I’m done trying.”

  He leaves, slamming the door closed behind him.

  Finality rings in the air, long after the echo of the door closing fades away.

  15

  Kira

  “I’d rather be home in my pajamas right now,” I grumble, walking with my arm looped through Mia’s. She insisted on getting me out today.

  She laughs, tossing her head back. “Look who’s turning into me?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m pregnant and I’m pretty sure drinking and clubbing is frowned upon in this state.” I stop walking and Mia halts with me. My eyes widen in horror. “I was having drinks and I had to be pregnant already. What if I’ve totally fucked up the baby by drinking?”

  “Don’t be dramatic, Kira. I’m sure plenty of women drink before they know they’re pregnant. When do you see your doctor?”

  “This Wednesday,” I say, beginning to walk again. It’s Sunday now, so only a few days to go. I’m dreading it, because while I know I’m pregnant I still wish there’s a chance the doctor will tell me I’m not.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” she asks lightly.

  “It’s at two, can you?” I reply in relief. It’ll be nice to have her with me.

  “Not a problem,” she says easily. “I’ll be there. I can drive you.”

  “I’ll already be at the hospital,” I tell her. “Just meet me there.”

  “Okay. Look,” she points, “we should go in there.”

  I glance at where she’s pointing and my mouth drops. “Not funny!”

  “I’m serious,” she pleads. “Come on.” She pulls me into the—gulp—baby clothes store. “You told me you decided to keep the b
aby, you’re going to have to get this stuff eventually.”

  “Yeah, but not now,” I protest.

  “It’ll be fun.”

  She releases her arm from mine once we’re safely inside the clothing store.

  I move toward a table of tiny little pants and pick up one labeled newborn. I gape at the tiny size. “Is the baby really going to be this tiny when it comes home?” I ask her.

  “You’re the one studying nursing,” she reminds me. “You should know the answer to that better than me. But yeah, they’re that small.”

  “How am I not going to royally screw this up?” I voice the concern that’s been eating away at me. “A baby is so small and helpless.”

  “You’re going to do great. I believe in you. You’re one of the greatest people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing and you’ll be an amazing mom. Not to mention, this kid is going to have the best auntie ever.” She points to herself.

  I laugh a little and put the pants down.

  “I guess looking wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” My fingers graze over a tiny fluffy pink jacket.

  Mia grins from ear to ear. “I knew you’d give in.”

  I shake my head. “You’re impossible.”

  Lowering her voice, she says, “When are you going to tell Rush?”

  I groan, swiveling away from her and over to a display of onesies.

  “I don’t know,” I admit, picking up a plain white onesie.

  “Kira,” she says softly but in a warning tone, “you have to tell him.”

  “I know, I know.” I swivel to her. “I’ll do it soon.”

  She narrows her eyes. “I mean it, you have to tell him.”

  “I’ll tell him after my doctor’s appointment,” I reason logically. “Once I know everything is okay.”

  She raises a brow. “Will you really?”

  “Yes,” I sigh, exasperated.

  I’m terrified to tell Rush. It’s scary as hell to think about telling him he’s going to be a father. I don’t imagine him having a good reaction. I sure didn’t. I can’t possibly begrudge him for it, either, when I was the same way. I have to make him understand I decided to keep the baby, and I in no way think he’s obligated to be a part of our kid’s life. I won’t allow our child to ever be a burden, not when that’s all I was to my parents.