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

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “Thank you.” I mean it wholeheartedly. Her faith in me gives me all the more reason to fight for my sobriety.

  The door opens and the doctor comes in.

  I barely hear all the things she says to Kira, even though I try to pay attention, because all I can think about is seeing our baby.

  When I met Kira nearly a year ago now, I never could’ve fucking imagined we’d be here, in a doctor’s office getting ready to see our baby.

  I couldn’t have imagined any of this journey.

  It’s been a long, difficult road to only be a few months—it feels more like years, instead—but I wouldn’t change a thing. Even if Kira and I don’t get back together, I’m still glad we’ve both faced our demons. Otherwise, they would’ve kept haunting us and our lives would never reach their full potential since we’d always be clinging to a past long gone.

  “You two ready to see your baby?” Dr. Wren inquires, looking between the two of us with a kind smile.

  Kira looks over at me with a smile, extending her hand. “We are,” she answers.

  I wrap my hand around hers, still surprised at the ease in which she touches me now, when she was so afraid of any kind of contact unless it was sex.

  Dr. Wren turns the screen so the two us can see it easier and squirts some gel on Kira’s stomach before pressing the wand against her.

  A moment later our baby appears on the screen.

  Somehow, it’s even more amazing than the first time.

  “He’s a wild one,” the doctor jokes. “I hope you two are ready to never sleep again.” She gives a small laugh, moving the wand around. “Look,” she points, “he’s sucking his thumb.”

  I lean practically completely over Kira’s body, gazing in awe at the squirming baby inside her belly.

  “It’s incredible,” I murmur.

  My gaze leaves the screen and I look down at Kira. The urge to kiss her is strong, but for once I restrain myself. I can’t do what I want, when I want, anymore. I have to think before I act.

  “He’s amazing.” Kira smiles up at me. “I hope you’re thinking of a really good name.”

  I chuckle. “It has to be epic so you can’t use your veto power.”

  I know it’s a big fucking deal, her giving me the chance to name our child, and I don’t want to blow it. I don’t know yet if she wants him to have her last name or mine. I’m selfishly hoping for mine, but I won’t push the issue, not with her giving me this opportunity.

  “Make it count,” she says, her brown eyes soft and shining with the promise of so much more.

  “I will,” I vow, and I know we’re both talking about so much more than his name.

  I sit down across from Kira, dropping the greasy paper bag between us.

  “God, I love Five Guys,” she moans, diving for the bag and quickly pulling out her fries and cheeseburger.

  “I bet you do.”

  She pauses unfolding the foil from her burger and glares at me like she wishes she could incinerate me. “I’m so glad to see your delightful, dirty sense of humor is still intact.”

  I pull a fry out of the bag and pop it in my mouth. “So are other parts of me.”

  She rolls her eyes dramatically and lets out another low moan with her first bite of burger. An older couple a few tables away look over.

  “She’s pregnant,” I defend.

  “Who cares what they think,” she retorts, going in for a second monstrous bite.

  I can’t help but grin at her, because I fucking love the way she refuses to be anything but herself.

  I finally take a bite of my own burger and it’s damn good.

  “I have something to ask you,” I begin, my voice soft and hesitant, because frankly I’m scared of her answer.

  “This sounds dangerous.” She raises a brow and wipes her hands on a napkin, listening carefully.

  “I need to go back home, to Tennessee—to finally clean out my parents’ house and put it up for sale.”

  “Okay,” she replies, dragging out the word. “What does this have to do with me?”

  “I want you to go with me.”

  I hate admitting this weakness out loud, but pretending to be strong is just as weak.

  “Me? Why?” she blurts.

  I answer honestly. “Because you get it.”

  Our situations might be totally different, but she understands what it’s like to struggle and let go of the things holding you back. I know my friends would pack up and go with me but … this is going to be a big fucking deal for me and I don’t need too many voices and conflicting talks about things. I need one steady and solid presence at my side and that’s her.

  “I don’t know,” she hedges, breaking a fry in half. She lifts her dark eyes to mine. “I don’t want to push things too far, too fast with us.”

  “Please?” I’m resorting to begging now. “As friends, nothing more. I promise I won’t try anything.”

  She sighs, but a smile slowly lifts her lips. “Why is it I can’t say no to you? I really hope our son doesn’t inherit that trait from you or I’m screwed.”

  “You’ll go then?” I dare to hope.

  She nods resolutely. “But don’t make me regret this, Daniels.” She points a finger at me in warning with her adorably cute mad face.

  “Never,” I vow.

  49

  Kira

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Mia asks, sitting on the end of my bed as I pack my bag.

  “No,” I answer honestly. “But I can’t believe you’re not gung-ho for this. I know you’re secretly Team Rush.”

  She puffs out a breath of air, blowing her hair out of her face. “I like Rush, I want to see him redeem himself and you two ride off into the sunset—I’m a romantic now, sue me. But you’re also my best friend, and I want you to be happy and not rush into anything you’re not ready for.”

  “I’m not planning on sexing him up, if that’s what you think.” I push down on the clothes inside so I can zip it easier.

  “That’s not what I thought. I don’t want to see you hurt, that’s all.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I tell her, blowing hair out of my eyes with a breath. “Besides, I think this will be good for Rush and me. It’ll give us time away, the two of us, to talk about things and see where we want to go with this whole thing.”

  “Do you know where you want things to go?” she hedges, knowing she’s treading on thin ice.

  I shove my zipped knock-off Vera Bradley looking bag out of my way and park my ass on the bed beside her.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honesty, exhaling a sigh. “For the first time I’m hoping for more, but I’m not counting on it. I’ll be okay either way.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” I answer with a nod. “Because I am enough.”

  She smiles, her blue eyes shining with the threat of tears. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far.”

  “Don’t go getting all sappy on me now,” I warn her, feeling tears forming in my eyes.

  “Oh, shut up,” she scolds, practically tackling me into a hug so we both fall back on my bed. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too.” I’ll never understand what I did to deserve a friend like Mia, but I’ll never stop being thankful for her.

  Letting me go, we both sit up and she points a finger at me like a bossy mother reprimanding her child. “If you get uncomfortable, or things go south, whatever—you call me and I’ll be there to get you as fast as I can. I don’t care what kind of traffic laws I have to break.”

  “It’ll only be a few days—a week tops.”

  “Still, Rush is newly sober and this is going to be a big test for him, going to his childhood home. Hollis says he hasn’t been inside since his parents died. It’s bound to be in terrible shape. Watch out for rats,” she warns me.

  “I doubt there are rats.” I roll my eyes at her dramatics.

  “You never know.” She shrugs in a whatcha-gonna-do-about-it gesture.

 
There’s a knock on the door and I look at her. “He’s here.”

  “I don’t know why I feel like you’re leaving me and I’m never going to see you again,” she sniffles, wiping at the corner of her eye.

  I smile and grab her hand. “Things are changing, and with that comes a feeling of loss—but you’re not losing me, Mia. Just like I haven’t lost you to Hollis. This is just … the next phase of life.”

  “You’re right,” she agrees with an exhale, still looking sad.

  There’s another knock on the door.

  “I better let him in before he barges his way in here.” I stick out my tongue and roll my eyes dramatically, even though Rush would never do that.

  Mia grabs my bag and carries it as she stays behind me.

  I swing the door open to reveal Rush standing on the opposite side. He’s so large he fills up the entire doorway and he has to duck when he walks inside.

  “We better hit the road,” he says, sliding his sunglasses off and sticking them on his shirt. “Traffic is going to start getting heavy.”

  “Unless we left at three in the morning—it’s going to be heavy no matter what.”

  He chuckles. “You’re right. This your bag?” He points at the bag Mia holds.

  There’s an awkwardness in the air between the two of us and I know it’s because neither of us really knows how to proceed. Are we just friends? More? What is this weird in-between state and how do we deal with it?

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  He holds out his hand to take it from Mia and she glares at him. “I might be rooting for you, but if you hurt her, I will not hesitate to punch you in the nuts.”

  He chuckles, his eyes flickering over to me. “Noted.”

  She finally hands him the bag and I turn to her. “I have to go. Stop acting like a crazy over-protective mom.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “You’re being silly.”

  She hugs me goodbye and follows us outside as I lock up my place.

  With one more hug on the street, she finally gets in her car and drives away.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Rush asks, standing beside his truck with my bag slung over his shoulder one-handed. “She’s not pregnant too, is she? Because she’s acting super fucking emotional.”

  I snort. “Absolutely not. I think … a lot of changes have happened for her and me in a short amount of time. It makes you … nostalgic, I guess—desperate to hold on to what was, but we all have to move forward eventually.”

  “Makes sense.” He opens the back passenger door on the truck and places my bag on the seat beside his duffel. “Do I need to boost you in?” he jokes, shutting the door and opening the front one for me.

  “If you’d get a footboard, I wouldn’t need a boost,” I scold him.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” He grins boyishly at me—so light and playful. His blond hair flops over his forehead, draping into his eyes and he pushes the strands out of the way. “Up you go.” He motions for me to get in, holding out his hand.

  With a dramatic sigh, I take his hand and let him help me into the truck.

  He starts to close the door but I hold my hand out, stopping him. “I have to go pee.” He looks at me in disbelief. “I’m pregnant,” I remind him. “I pee a lot. It’s not my fault this baby likes to use my bladder as his personal trampoline.”

  With a sigh, he helps me back out and I waddle up the stairs and into my apartment to empty my bladder before we finally get on the road.

  Because I’m evil, I commandeer the AUX cord. As soon as the opening notes begin Rush shakes his head.

  “No, nope, turn that shit off.”

  I sing dramatically to Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On from the Titanic soundtrack.

  “You’re the worst,” he tells me, shaking his head, but there’s no hiding his smile. “Absolutely awful.”

  His complaining only encourages me to sing louder and add in lots of flailing and hand gestures.

  When the song ends, he breathes a sigh of relief, but it’s short lived when I put a remix of it on instead.

  “This is my punishment for all the times I’ve tortured the guys in the car,” he gripes.

  “Payback’s a bitch,” I say, even though I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  After the remix is done, I put one of my regular listened to playlists on, because I don’t have the energy to keep messing with him even if it’s fun.

  I stick my phone in one of the empty cup holders and wiggle around, trying to get comfortable, which is pretty impossible these days.

  “Are you nervous? To go back home?”

  He exhales a heavy breath, flicking the blinker on to change lanes. “Fucking terrified,” he finally replies. “But I’ll never be ready for this. It’s something I just have to do.”

  Noticing the way his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, I can’t help wishing I hadn’t asked, but we’re hours away from him having to face this reality … and if it becomes too much, I’m afraid of what he might do and how helpless I’ll be to stop him.

  Only an hour into our trip I have to stop for a potty break.

  “Are you regretting asking me to come?” I ask, exiting the bathroom to find Rush standing across the way with his back against the wall, one leg propped against it, and his arms crossed over his muscular chest.

  “Not at all.” He grins, slipping away from the wall to fall into step beside me. “In fact, I was thinking about how happy I am I asked you along.”

  “Is that so?” I say in a sarcastic tone.

  He slips in front of me, walking backward. “Oh, yeah. Who would complain about a hot chick for their road trip companion?”

  “I’m sure most males would love a very pregnant, moody, has to pee all the time, woman tagging along. Sounds like the dream.”

  “You’re my dream.”

  I push his shoulder and brush past him. “If you start with all that sappy Disney rated crap, I’ll punch you in the nuts and Mia won’t have to.”

  He laughs fully, and it makes butterflies flutter in my stomach—it’s a feeling that’s so odd for me I nearly feel sick from it, but it’s not entirely unpleasant.

  He slings his arm over my shoulders and steers me outside the double glass doors of the gas station to his truck.

  “No sappy shit, noted. Just us.”

  Hours later Rush shakes me awake.

  “Wh-What’s happening? Where are we? Are we here?” I blurt out each question in a short and clipped voice, my blurry eyes swing in every direction as I take in our surroundings. “Why are we at a Holiday Inn?”

  “We’re stopping for the night,” he explains. “We have about four more hours to go before we get there.” He stifles a yawn. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, and we’ve already lost a lot of time stopping, so I figured we’d take a break.”

  “Are you making fun of my non-stop need to pee?”

  He grins, holding up his thumb and index finger a slight width apart. “Only slightly.”

  Sobering I ask, “Did you need more time?”

  He looks away from me, out the windshield and the muscle in his jaw ticks. “Maybe,” he admits. “I don’t know what I’m going to do seeing that house again, going inside it … packing away their stuff. It’s like I’m packing them away as if they never even existed.”

  “They existed, Rush, and they’ll always exist. Right here.” I reach across the console and touch my fingers to his chest where his heart thumps steadily.

  “You’re right,” he breathes, hesitantly reaching across to place his palm against my stomach. “They’ll exist in him, too. I’ll make sure he always knows his grandparents.”

  “I wish I could’ve met them,” I confess on a whisper. “They sound like good people.”

  “The best,” he sighs, the weary kind full of regrets. “They would’ve taken you under their wing and my mom would’ve doted on you. They would’ve wanted you to know what real parents are supposed to be like.�
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  I smile at his words. “One day, you’re going to have to tell me more about them.”

  “I will,” he vows.

  After a long pause, the two of us grab our bags and head inside. He gets one room with two beds, which surprises me since I expected him to ask for one. I’m actually kind of sad we won’t be sharing a bed, but I don’t tell him, because again I have to remind myself how important it is for us to take things slow.

  Rush slides the keycard into the door and swings it open.

  Immediately to our right is the bathroom and then we walk a little further to find two queen beds, a TV stand with a TV, and a small desk.

  Rush tosses his bag onto one of the beds.

  “You want to shower?”

  I shake my head. “I showered this morning.”

  “Me too,” he replies.

  Awkwardness falls between us, heavy and pulsating like a living being.

  I clear my throat. “I guess we should go to bed then—get up early.”

  “Y-Yeah,” he stutters, and it makes me happy to see his composure slip. Since I met him, he’s always been so together, never letting his emotions glimpse through, but now there’s a vulnerability to him. It’s a reminder to me of how human we all are, even if we try to pretend we’re not.

  He closes the curtains and I yank my pajamas out of my bag.

  “Turn around,” I command him when he comes back over.

  “Why?” He grins boyishly, a challenge in his eyes. “I’ve seen you naked numerous times and in many positions.”

  “But never with a basketball attached to my stomach. Turn around,” I hiss, shooing him with my hands.

  He sighs dramatically, like I’m such a pain in his ass, but finally, thankfully, turns around to face the opposite way.

  I make sure he stays looking away as I change out of my clothes and into a maternity tank top and a pair of cotton shorts.

  “I’m done,” I announce, and he turns around.

  “Fuck,” he groans hoarsely. “Your tits have gotten so big.”

  “They’re enormous,” I sulk forlornly, because they hurt at this size. “It’s miserable and this baby isn’t due for another month so it’s only going to get worse.”