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

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “How is this fun?” I counter. “We’re trapped in a car headed to a prison to see my estranged father. Nothing about that rings fun to me.”

  She rolls her eyes and replaces her cup of water in the holder in the middle. “I mean, this.” She waves her fingers between us, eyes steadily on the road. “It’s like … a road trip or something. A girls’ trip, before the penis inside you arrives and has to tag along everywhere,” she jokes.

  “Bleh, when you say penis inside me it sounds way too sexual.”

  “Well, I mean, there is a penis growing inside you. You’re having a boy.”

  “God, Mother Nature is weird,” I mutter. “I can’t believe I have to see my father, for the first time in years, knocked up. I wanted to be everything my parents weren’t. I wanted to go to school, get a degree, have a decent job and be successful. Now, I’m just like them.”

  There’s an exit coming up and she changes lanes, getting off and pulling onto the side of the road. I’m silently grateful, because I do have to pee—but I also know I’m about to get a scolding. She unbuckles her seatbelt and twists around in her seat to face me.

  “You are nothing like them. Having a baby, in no way, shape, or form makes you like them. You’re still going to school, you’re still going to get a decent job, you’re still going to be successful, you’ll just also wear the title of mom while you do it. There is no shame in becoming a mother, Kira. Motherhood is the hardest damn thing in the world. Some people throw it away like it means nothing while others struggle to get pregnant. Life’s not fair, it’s true, but there’s nothing in the rulebook that says because you had an unplanned pregnancy it lumps you into the likes of your parents. The only thing that could ever make you like them is if you act like them—and I don’t see it happening, do you?”

  “You always know what to say.” I brush a tear away.

  I never used to cry, ever. Crying doesn’t solve anything and it makes your eyes burn, but ever since I got pregnant I’m a weepy mess.

  She reaches over and hugs me—well, as best she can within the small confines of her car. It might be sporty and cute, but it’s about as small as one of those tiny clown cars you see at the circus, and with our bags stuffed in the back it’s even more claustrophobic than normal.

  “I love you, Kira.” Pulling away, she holds my shoulders forcing me to look at her. “You’re my sister. Not by blood, but by choice—and remember, we all have a choice. They made theirs, now you make yours.”

  She sits back and tugs on her seatbelt. “Um,” I start, placing a hand on her arm, “I need to pee before we get back on the road.”

  She laughs, shaking her head. “With as many pee breaks as you’ve already had, we’ll be lucky to make it there in a week.”

  “Ha, ha,” I intone sarcastically. “Make fun of the pregnant woman who has no bladder control.”

  “You’re not even that pregnant,” she remarks.

  I narrow my eyes as she pulls back onto the road from the shoulder and heads down the street to a McDonald’s. “Tell that to me again when you get pregnant.”

  She snort-laughs. “Yeah, that’s not happening for a good long while.”

  “That’s what I thought, too,” I sigh, touching my stomach. I should start feeling the baby move soon, which both excites me and freaks me out.

  She gives me a sympathetic look.

  “Have you thought about any names?”

  I bust out laughing. “Are you crazy? I’m so tired and stressed I can barely function, let alone think about naming a human being.”

  “You’ll have to come up with something eventually.” She turns into the fast food parking lot and finds a spot near the door to park the car.

  “Nameless Marsh has a nice ring to it,” I quip, undoing my belt.

  Her brows raise in surprise. “Not Nameless Daniels?”

  I narrow my eyes. “What has Rush done to deserve the baby getting his last name?” I counter defensively.

  She shrugs nonchalantly. “He might’ve fucked up, but he’s a decent guy at heart and I know he feels guilty.” Tapping her chin she adds, “I know, you could make a new last name out of both of yours.” She thinks for a moment and shoots a finger into the air. “I’ve got the perfect one … wait for it.”

  “I have to pee,” I warn her, “so unless you want me to pee on your leather seats, you’ll spit it out.”

  “You’re no fun,” she grumbles. “But if you combine your last names you get Danish.”

  “I’m not giving my kid Danish for a last name. Nice try.”

  I hop out of the car and she scurries after me.

  “I might as well pee while we’re stopped,” she explains, when I look back at her.

  I speed walk inside to the bathroom and thankfully one stall is open.

  A sigh of relief escapes my lips at the pleasantness of emptying my bladder. I swear the thing is the size of a pea already.

  Finishing, I flush the toilet and yank up my leggings—my poor ass can’t afford maternity jeans. Opening the stall, I wash my hands and dry them.

  “Kira?” Mia says from behind one of the stall doors.

  “Yes?” I hedge, worried she’s going to start in again on Rush.

  “I want to get a frappe while we’re here. You want anything?”

  “No, I’m good,” I answer. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

  I head outside, feeling the heat of the sun pierce my skin. The farther south we go, the warmer it’s gotten. I hope it means heat is headed our way.

  I hop up on the back end of the sports car, swinging my legs while I wait for her. A few minutes later she comes out, sipping on a caramel frappe with a brown bag emblazoned with the large golden M on the front.

  “I swore I thought I heard your stomach grumbling so I got you a Big Mac and fries. You’re welcome.”

  I laugh. “We have snacks in the car.”

  “I also got me one,” she continues. “You cannot stop at McDonald’s and not get food. It’s blasphemy.”

  I roll my eyes, but smile. “Thanks, Mia.” Hopping down I take the bag from her when she holds it out and we climb in the car.

  We sit there and eat, staring at the fence in front of us. The brown paint on it is peeling, and I idly wonder why anyone would paint wood brown. Seems like such a waste of time.

  “What do you think you’re going to say to him?”

  “To who?” I blurt, thinking of Rush.

  She stares at me. Blinking once. Twice. “To your dad,” she answers.

  “Oh, him,” I mutter. “No idea. Whatever comes to me in the moment, I guess.”

  “Who did you think I was talking about?” She probes, one brow raised shrewdly.

  “Um … no one,” I mutter.

  “Mhmm.” She purses her lips. “You thought I meant Rush.”

  “No, I didn’t,” I defend. “I don’t even think about him.”

  She smirks. “You’re so full of shit I’m shocked this whole town doesn’t already reek of it.”

  I playfully push her shoulder. “Give me a break.”

  “I can’t,” she says seriously. “Because you love him and he loves you, and I just want to see you two happy.”

  Picking up a fry I rip it into pieces. “I accepted a long time ago my life isn’t meant to be happy.”

  “Don’t say that,” she pleads, our food lying forgotten in our laps.

  “It’s the truth,” I sigh heavily, wishing I could exhale my burdens as easily as I do my breath. Instead, they stay bottled inside, forever trapped in a prison of my own making. “Some people are meant to soar, while others stay behind with their feet planted firmly at the roots. That’s me, Mia. There’s no escaping this life.”

  “There is a way,” she reasons. “There’s always a way. You’re just too stubborn and you’re afraid of having your heart broken.”

  “I have had my heart broken,” I snap at her. “I’ve had it punched, slammed, stepped on, thrown—you name it, it’s happened. Whatever is l
eft of it … I have to protect at all costs.”

  “Life’s nothing without a little risk.”

  “Then I guess I’ll only ever have nothing.”

  It’s dark when we arrive at our hotel. I don’t even know what town we’re in. Mia might’ve gotten me to agree to this shit show, but I made her call the lawyer back and take care of all the details. I wasn’t interested in being here and I didn’t want to know any more than I had to or put in any effort.

  I wanted my father to feel as insignificant as he and my mom always made me feel.

  I drop my bag on the bed nearest the wall. “I’m going to shower,” I mutter to Mia, who’s already calling Hollis to let him know we got in okay.

  Selfishly, and despite myself, I wonder if Rush knows where I am and what I’m doing.

  It shouldn’t matter to me if he knows, or if he cares, but dammit it does. I keep trying to convince myself I hate him and want nothing to do with him, yet half of my thoughts are occupied by him. I wish I could cleanse him from my brain with bleach, but since that won’t work, here I am.

  I close the door to the bathroom behind me, and pee, before I get out of my clothes to shower.

  It’s a pretty nice hotel Mia booked—nothing extravagant but way better than the thirty dollar a night room I could’ve afforded.

  The warm water cascades down my body, soothing my aching muscles, but doing little to make me feel better overall.

  It’ll take a miracle for that to happen.

  I’ve always been so strong, I’ve had to be. I couldn’t let things tear me down and make me a shell of who I am, but lately I feel like a weak and pathetic version of myself. As if layer by layer I’m finally being exposed for who I truly am, which is a frightened girl begging to be loved and accepted.

  Those two things seem like such simple, easy things to expect, but they’re not. Not for me, not for anyone really.

  Stepping out of the shower I dry off my body with the towel and fluff it against my hair to help it dry faster.

  Wrapping the white towel around my body I step into the room and rifle through my bag for my pajamas.

  “My turn,” Mia chimes, hopping off her bed and heading for the bathroom.

  I tug on the pair of gray cotton shorts and a white tank top that hugs my bump. I dig out my hairbrush and stand in front of the mirror near the door, smoothing the dark strands. They hang limply over my shoulder like a discarded dishrag. My brown eyes look sad, haunted. I hate to admit it now, but the only time I’ve seen them light and almost happy was during the months I spent with Rush. I didn’t even notice it then, how happy he was making me. I think it happened so slowly, so gradually, I became immune to the symptoms—of happiness, caring, I guess even love.

  Turning to the side, I cup my hands around my growing belly.

  A piece of Rush and me, created from our pain, but also from the good parts of ourselves too.

  Maybe that’s our issue—maybe the tiny bit of good we had left went to our son and that’s why things are so fucked up now and we’re both in the position of facing the pain of our pasts head on.

  But if that’s true, I’m glad our child got those good pieces. I don’t want him to be like us, hanging onto a past that’s only sinking us like a ship.

  The bathroom door opens and I jump, my hands flying from my stomach and my hairbrush flinging across the room.

  Mia looks at me in shock, her lips slowly curling into a smile at having caught me admiring my bump.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says, picking up my brush and putting it in my bag. “But I’m kind of glad I did.”

  “Oh, shut up.” I playfully push her shoulder and pass her to climb in bed. I’m exhausted, but I doubt I’ll sleep knowing what I face tomorrow.

  She laughs and changes into her pajamas before burrowing into the other bed. She turns the TV on and flicks through the channels, stopping on Discovery Channel.

  “Why am I not surprised?” I mutter.

  “This is good,” she defends. “You’ll see.”

  I roll over, and close my eyes, choosing to ignore her and to my vast surprise, I fall right to sleep.

  Cracking my eyes open I find it’s pitch black in the room, not a hint of light leaking in through the curtains. I spare a glance at Mia in the other bed and have to stifle a laugh. She’s passed out with her hands clasped under her head, with a light snore emanating from her open mouth.

  Picking up my phone from the side table it immediately lights up and I squint at the time.

  It’s a few minutes before five. I know there’s no chance I’ll fall back asleep—I was lucky enough to sleep the first time—not with only hours to go until we have to be at the prison to meet my father and his lawyer.

  I fiddle with my phone, and for some God forsaken reason, decide it’ll be a dandy idea to look at my old texts from Rush.

  One reads: You in that tight ass red dress = instant boner. You enjoy torturing me, don’t you?

  Another: Every time I see you at work all I can think about is bending you over the counter and showing you what I can do with my foot-long.

  I giggle at that one, but my heart aches—for pushing him away, for being a liar, for … well, everything.

  But shit happens for a reason, and I guess we both need to walk these paths we’re on.

  I read a few more of his messages and finally toss my phone onto the bed away from me before I decide to do something stupid, like text him, or call him.

  Despite the early hour, I know—I know—he’d answer right away.

  That only makes me feel worse instead of better.

  Rolling onto my side to face the wall, I clutch the other pillow against my body, hugging it like it’s a person.

  “I’ve made a mess of things,” I whisper out loud, the words bouncing off the walls of the barren hotel room.

  “You know what you do with messes, you clean them up.”

  I flop over and find Mia blinking sleepily at me.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you up,” I tell her, feeling bad I’ve disturbed her rest.

  She shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep much anyway. I was worried.”

  “About what?”

  She sits up, her vibrant hair looking like a swath of bees have attacked it and made a hive inside the strands. “You, stupid. I’m worried about you. I might’ve convinced you to come here, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand how difficult this is for you. The last thing I want is for you to be hurt, but I know you have to do this. It’s time to clip the bonds holding you down.”

  “I know,” I breathe, staring across the small space at her. “You were right to make me come here. Even if nothing good comes of it, I think I would’ve spent the rest of my life asking what if I had come. Now, I have the chance to know.”

  She runs her fingers through her hair, trying to make sense of the mess. “Should we go get breakfast? I know it’s early, but I’m already hungry and surely something is open.”

  I nod in agreement. I don’t feel hungry, my nerves are too tightly wound, but I’d much rather be anywhere than stuck in this room.

  “Cool.” She stands and heads for her bag, pulling out her clothes.

  An hour later the two of us are dressed, with hair fixed, make up on and walking out the door in search of food. I don’t know what it is about looking nice that instantly makes me feel like a badass ready to take on the world.

  I am Kira. Hear me roar.

  We slide inside onto the buttery leather seats of her car and she pulls out her phone, searching for places to grab breakfast.

  “There’s a Waffle House nearby, is that cool?”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” I reply.

  She snickers. “We’ll have to take a picture and send it to Hollis. Waffle House is his favorite place in the world—do you know he found an article on the internet that says they have a food truck that caters weddings now? He told me that was his one request at our wedding.”

  I snort. “Aren’t th
ere like ten Waffle House’s where we live? Why do we need to send him a picture? Also, what did you say to that?”

  “We have to send him a picture just to fuck with him, duh. He thinks that’s our thing, so he’ll be jealous—and if he’s jealous that means hot, fuck-me-until-I-can’t-walk sex when I get home. And I told him not to give me any wedding requests until he puts a ring on it.” I open my mouth to speak but she finishes with, “To which I added, I didn’t want a ring any time soon.”

  “Good for you, girl. And I guess if it means you get bang-me-against-the-wall-and-pull-my-hair sex then I’ll pose for your silly picture.”

  She laughs and puts the address into her navigation system.

  “Speaking of Hollis, how did you finagle bringing me to a prison without him or your dad demanding they have to tag along?”

  “Well, Hollis has to work, and I didn’t tell my dad. All I said was I had to work extra shifts at The Sub Club so I couldn’t help at the studio for a few days. No biggie, he’ll never know.”

  I stare at her wide-eyed as she exits the hotel parking lot. “Who are you and what have you done with my goody-two-shoes best friend? The Mia I know would never lie to her father.”

  “That’s before said father basically watched me in a porno,” she mumbles.

  I laugh, despite the fact it shouldn’t be funny it is, because it’s one of those awkward traumatizing things that’s so dumb but you never get over it.

  “It was a security tape,” I remind her, “and he didn’t mean to see that. Give him a break.”

  She flicks her blinker on with far more aggression than is necessary. “He still doesn’t need to be so overprotective. I’m twenty-three years old and it’s exhausting dealing with him. I love him, you know I do, but sometimes I want to shake him.”

  “Just wait until you have kids,” I warn her. “Then he’ll really go off the deep end.”

  She snorts. “Yeah, Hollis won’t have a dick left when that happens.”

  She zips her tiny car into the parking lot and parks in front of the yellow and black themed building. No matter where you go, these places all look the same.