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

by Micalea Smeltzer

  The number flashes across the phone, the city listed beneath it, and I almost don’t answer. But I do anyway, because I know I can’t ignore things forever.

  “Hello?” I answer, tucking my cell between my shoulder and ear so I can continue to assemble my macarons.

  “Hello, Kira? It’s Mitchell Williamson—Quinton Marsh’s lawyer.”

  I roll my eyes. “I know who you are Mitchell,” I intone dully.

  “I wanted to inform you your father passed away last night.”

  “I figured,” I sigh. “It was inevitable, so I don’t really see the need for this chat.” I forget about the macarons and rest my hip against the counter. “If that’s all you have to tell me—”

  “No, no,” he rushes quickly before I can hang up. “There’s the matter of his will and burial.”

  I roll my eyes and tug on my hair slightly. The bite of pain in my scalp serves to remind me I truly am having this conversation.

  “Mitchell, I honestly don’t care about any of that.” It’s probably rude of me to call him by his first name and not Mr. Williamson, but I don’t give a shit.

  “Everything is arranged for the burial here in North Carolina—you don’t have to worry about that. I thought you might want to attend—”

  “Nice try,” I draw out the words. “Then what is this about?”

  He exhales on the other end of the line and I decide I better go sit down on the couch, because I have the feeling this is going to turn into a lengthy conversation.

  “All your father’s assets have been left to you. You’re the last living family.”

  I snort. “The man was a drunk, abusive, asshole who could barely hold down a job. What kind of assets could he possibly have?”

  “Well,” Mitchell clears his throat and I can hear the sound of papers shuffling, “when his parents died he inherited everything, a house, a small bit of land, and some money. Since he was in prison, he couldn’t do anything with it, so it all goes to you now.”

  “How much are we talking about?” I ask with a sigh. Yeah, I could use the money but the last thing I want is to accept anything that in any way is a part of my father.

  “If you sell the land…” He muses, and there’s more shuffling. “North of a million.”

  My phone drops to the ground with a clatter. I bend over and quickly pick it back up, pressing it to my ear.

  “What did you say? Repeat it slowly,” I beg, sure I’ve heard him wrong.

  “Including the value of the house, land, the money and investments left behind, it’s worth over a million dollars.”

  Seconds, that’s all it takes for me to go from a broke ass bitch to having wealth I could’ve never imagined.

  Even though the idea of not having to worry about money sounds amazing, it feels wrong to accept it. I hated my father, I didn’t know my grandparents, and in my mind that in no way adds up to me being deserving of this.

  But it’s not just me I have to think about anymore. My son’s future is far more precious and important than my pride and dignity.

  “What do you need from me?” I ask, and Mitchell begins listing off what I’ll have to do.

  When I hang up the phone, I toss it on the coffee table and lean back against the cushions of the couch.

  “Is this real life?” I murmur aloud.

  That’s when I feel it, the small little fluttering in my stomach as the baby moves, and I begin to cry, because this is very much real and for the first time in perhaps my entire life, I have hope.

  44

  Rush

  “I swear I blinked and it’s July,” I mutter, banging my drumsticks against my knees.

  “You’re telling me,” Cannon replies, grabbing a bottle of water and tipping it down his throat.

  We’re minutes away from going on stage to open for Willow Creek at the county fair.

  Fox slings his electric guitar over his shoulder and flicks his dark hair out of his eyes. It might seem like a normal gesture, but when he does it, I notice he uses it as an opportunity to check out Calista in the corner sitting and talking to Mia. He barely speaks to her and avoids being around her at all costs. One day soon I’m going to have to have a talk with him, man to man, that he needs to grow a pair and tell her how he feels.

  Looking around at the people gathered in the tent—the four of us, Mia and Calista, Hayes and the rest of Willow Creek, plus some of the board members for the fair and people on Willow Creek’s team—I can’t help noting the visible and very prominent, at least to me, absence of Kira.

  I haven’t seen her since the day I showed up confessing my greatest sin of all—betraying the love I had for her, and whatever fragile trust that had been built between us.

  I’ve been sober two months and it’s getting harder to stay away. I miss her. I want to see her and make things right, but I know words will mean nothing to her, and she deserves proof I’m better and I’m changed. So I keep going to AA and hanging out at The Paper Crane Project, and when I’m not at those places I’m either in the studio drumming my heart out, pounding my pain and heartache into my kit, or I’m at the hotel hanging with Patch. I’ve grown even more attached to the cat. If I could take him everywhere with me, I would. He might be old and lived a rough life, but he’s living the life of a king now.

  A guy pokes his head into the tent. “You guys are on in one minute.”

  “It’s show time, boys.” I grin and clasp my drumsticks in one hand. “You all warmed up?” I ask Hollis.

  He grins back. “You betcha.”

  “Ready?” This time I address Fox.

  “Fuck, yes.”

  “You?”

  Cannon straps his bass across his front and stretches his fingers. “Hell yeah.”

  It’s been too long since we’ve been up on stage playing a crowd. I’ve missed it like crazy. We had a small gig at Griffin’s, a local coffee shop, but it hardly counts. This too might be a small venue, but it’s not shabby and at this point I’ll take anything. I love the feeling of being on stage. The adrenaline. The cheering. The music pumping around us like a tangible force.

  It’s the closest we’ll ever come to real magic in this world.

  “Ten!” Someone calls out.

  I stretch my wrists and then fist bump each of my friends before we’re jogging on stage to cheers. Most of them might be here for Willow Creek, but after our set, they’ll never forget us.

  Hollis grabs the mic and speaks into it. “How you doin’ Clarke County? You ready for a show you’ll never forget?”

  Cheers echo back as Fox and Cannon get into position, hooking their instruments to the speakers.

  Hollis looks over his shoulder at the three of us and I raise my drumsticks.

  He counts down on his fingers.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  Magic.

  My boots thud against the stairs as the four of us exit the stage after the end of our set. I’m soaked in sweat, and I’m fucking glad I wrapped a bandana around my forehead, keeping my hair at bay while I played.

  We crash into the tent, all of us grappling for a water.

  “You were amazing,” Mia cries, wrapping her arms around Hollis’s neck.

  “They weren’t too shabby,” Mathias mutters, always the cynic.

  His icy blonde haired wife smacks him in the chest. “Shut up, they were good. Don’t be rude.”

  “Yeah, ignore Mathias. He lives with a stick up his ass. It’s very uncomfortable,” Emma, who is Maddox’s wife, pipes in.

  They weren’t here earlier so they arrived after we went on. We’ve never met their wives before, except for Hayes’s—Arden—but they’re equally recognizable from all the tabloids they’re always pictured on.

  “I don’t have a stick up my ass,” Mathias defends. “I’m a fucking realist.”

  His wife, Remy, rolls her eyes. “If you were a fucking realist you would’ve never started a band in the first place, so give me a break, you oaf.”

/>   Their ease and camaraderie as a group makes my chest pang, because once again my thoughts are zeroed in on Kira. I want that with her. I want to laugh, and poke fun at each other. I want to be a family.

  The thought hits me like a ton of bricks.

  It seems like something I should’ve already realized, loving her and all, but for some reason I haven’t truly grasped how much I want her to not only be my family, but to make our own together.

  Across the way, Mia’s eyes connect with mine, despite the fact Hollis is holding her against his side. Her eyes are sad, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking about.

  I dip my chin in a nod to her, a gesture that I know, and I’m going to get her back. I’m going to prove myself worthy. One day at a time.

  45

  Kira

  I sign my name on the line, feeling both excited and scared. It’s a strange combination, but not an entirely unpleasant one.

  The salesman holds out his hand to shake mine. “I’ll go get the keys for you.”

  “Thank you so much,” I say, smiling.

  Thanks to my inheritance, I can say goodbye to my clunker and buy a reliable car to cart this baby around in. It’s still scary putting so much money into a car, but I want my child to be safe.

  Unfortunately, I’m going to be stuck in my lease on the apartment until it ends. My slimy bastard of a landlord somehow learned of my inheritance and wants to charge me an arm and a leg to get out of my lease. I’m not sure that’s even legal, but I’ll lose even more money trying to fight him. So I’ll be there until my lease is up in November and then it’s good riddance to that shit hole too.

  Ten minutes later I’m sliding behind the wheel of my shiny red Toyota RAV-4.

  I rub my hands over the black leather steering wheel, inhaling the scent of brand new car.

  I had planned to get something used, with low mileage and in good condition, but ultimately decided I might as well indulge while I can since I plan on keeping this car for a very long time.

  With a wave at the salesman I pull out of the lot. Mia invited me to come with her today to the Clarke County fair to see The Wild and Willow Creek perform, but I declined—insisting I had to get a car today, because frankly, and stupidly, I’m scared to see Rush.

  It’s pathetic, I can’t avoid him forever—but I need more time.

  I know the more time I let go between us the more likely it is he’ll start sleeping around if he hasn’t already, or worse, move on—but I’m learning while I have to be open with my feelings, and willing to speak about them, I also still have to protect myself.

  I’ve been going to therapy twice a month and it’s helping a lot.

  I’m understanding I can’t change people and I can only change how I react to them. She’s helping me learn that not everyone’s promises are empty, or their love conditional. There are good people out there, like Mia, and her family.

  I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. I make mistakes, we all do, and I’m learning to evaluate and decide what kind of mistakes are unforgivable.

  Now that it’s summer I don’t have to worry about school, and I’ve been enjoying every moment by learning everything I can about becoming a mother, and baking. I didn’t feel comfortable at first, accepting the gift of baking supplies from Rush, even after we talked, but I realized he was truly doing it because he wanted to, not because he expected anything in return.

  Instead of heading back to my crap hole apartment, I go to Target, strolling down all the baby aisles. I’ve bought a few things, mostly stuff I’ve ordered from Amazon, but there’s so much more I need to get and have—but Mia made me swear not to buy a whole bunch of stuff before my baby shower which is only days away. With the baby due a little over a month from now, it’s crunch time.

  I pick up a box of baby blankets, a set of four in a soft muted blue, nearly green, color, white and gray. Touching my fingers to the soft fabric, tears well in my eyes, because through most of this pregnancy I’ve been scared to death, and now … now I feel excited, and picturing my sweet baby boy wrapped in a blanket, held in my arms, makes me emotional. I can’t help wondering what parts of him will be me and what parts will be Rush. Regardless, he’ll be perfect.

  Moving down the aisle I pick up a pack of small white socks. It’s crazy to me that he’ll be so tiny. I’ve been around babies before so it’s not like I’m unfamiliar with the concept of their size, but somehow it’s different realizing this baby is mine.

  I still haven’t picked a name, and I think it’s because any time I start to think about it I feel sick. In my heart I know Rush should be a part of such an important decision.

  I hang the socks back on the rack and browse through the different bottles and binky’s wondering how anyone ever decides what to get. There are far too many choices.

  When I start to get overwhelmed, I decide it’s best to leave—after all, according to Mia I won’t need to even think about buying most of this stuff for myself.

  Getting behind the wheel of my brand new car, I cradle my now large stomach.

  So much has changed since I got pregnant. I fell for Rush even though I didn’t know it, I pushed him away and lost him because of it, but most importantly because of that mistake I’ve learned so much about my past and bit by bit, I’ve started to move on from the wrongs that have been wrought against me.

  Everything is a ripple effect—this baby the biggest one of all, but I have a gut feeling that once the waves settle, my landscape will be entirely different—better, because when you learn to love yourself it lights up your world.

  46

  Rush

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Cannon asks from the doorway of my room.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” I retort, tearing off a piece of tape and applying it to the package.

  “Wrapping a fucking car seat, that’s what it looks like.”

  “Ding, ding, ding. Mr. Rhodes you are correct. You win the award for He Who Asks Dumb Questions.”

  I’m being a dick, but my friends are going to the baby shower for my kid while I’m not invited. I’d be lying if I didn’t say the snub stings, but since I’m giving Kira space, I’m not forcing the issue.

  Even though I won’t be there, I researched my ass off to get everything my kid will need and what will be safest. I don’t want Kira having to worry about this stuff on her own.

  “You should just come.” Cannon sits down on the floor beside me, tearing a piece of tape and handing it to me.

  “I wasn’t invited,” I grumble under my breath.

  I’m being sulky, but it hurts. It’s like a kick to the stomach to feel like people think my kid is better off without me in the picture.

  Several months ago this would have sent me running for a bottle of alcohol, while saying I was fine, but not now.

  Instead, when they leave, I’ll be heading to my AA meeting.

  “Don’t tell her these are from me,” I beg him, waving my hand at the crudely wrapped packages already stacked by the door to my room.

  He raises a brow. “Why the hell not?”

  Adhering one last piece of tape to the car seat box I answer him. “I don’t want her to think it’s charity, or guilt, or whatever the fuck else she might assume if it comes from me. This is me wanting to provide for my child, so he has the best I can give him, and even if we never work things out and I don’t get to be around him much, I’ll still feel better knowing he’s taken care of.”

  “You’re going to work it out,” he declares adamantly.

  I shrug indifferently, like it’s no big deal and isn’t weighing heavily on my mind every minute of every day.

  I can see now how I leaned on alcohol like a crutch, thinking it made me feel better, gave me some sort of freedom from the pain when really it was only masking it.

  It made me do stupid shit, like thinking hooking up with that chick in the club was a good idea.

  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to clear that mistake from my con
science.

  Fox pokes his head in the door. Cannon and I both look up at his intrusion.

  “We better get going,” he announces. “Are you coming?” His gaze swings to me.

  I shake my head. “I have AA,” I answer him, because it sounds better than saying I wasn’t invited.

  His brows furrow. “Can’t you skip one?”

  “Fox,” Cannon warns, standing up. “It’s important he goes to his meetings.”

  Honestly, even if an invitation had been extended to me, Cannon probably would’ve made me turn it down and go to AA anyway. I can picture him now, dragging me inside the building and plunking me in a chair, telling me in his stern voice to get my shit together.

  “I’ll help you guys load this stuff up,” I mutter, standing and grabbing one of the larger boxes that contains a stroller.

  It takes us several trips to get everything loaded and before the trunk closes on Cannon’s SUV, I stand back and take it all in.

  “I might’ve gone overboard,” I admit, seeing the large vehicle stuffed full.

  “Ya think?” Calista blurts.

  I send her a scathing look. She doesn’t even know Kira, but she gets to go.

  “Y’all better get going,” I tell them, taking a step away.

  Kira’s baby shower is being held at Hayes’s house, which is about an hour away. Mia organized the whole thing, and I’m sure it’s going to be far more than Kira would ever want, but I can’t blame Mia, because it’s not like I held myself back with getting gifts.

  Fox gets in the back while Calista heads for the front passenger seat.

  Cannon watches me with his eerie light green eyes, twisting an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

  “You’re doing good, man. Don’t screw it up.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m not going to go off the deep end. I have too much to lose.”