Wylder and the Almost Rockstar (Reluctant Rockstars Book 2)

by Michelle MacQueen

  As she watched them drive away, she thought of a twelve-year-old Logan losing both his parents. That would destroy Wylder even at nineteen.

  When she turned back to the sidewalk that led to the quad, she found Sebastian waiting for her.

  “Don’t you have another class to go teach?” She walked past him.

  He fell in step beside her. “I wasn’t lying to your parents. You are a bright girl, Wyld Child.”

  Hearing that nickname didn’t confuse her as much as it once had. It no longer drew her to Sebastian, so she didn’t correct him. “I don’t know if a teacher has ever said that to them before. At my old school, all the teachers loved Becks. He wasn’t the best student, but he tried, and he’s the kind of guy adults fawn over. Me… I was the little sister who could never live up to that.” She paused, looking around at the ivy-covered buildings at each corner of the quad.

  “Defiance Academy has never treated me like that.” As much as she fought coming here, it was home. They wanted to protect her, to help her figure out who she was.

  “This place is special.”

  “Is that why you’re back?”

  He didn’t answer for a long moment. “I’m back for my brother.”

  “So, you convinced Logan to come? I figured when I didn’t get to see him in Nashville, I wouldn’t see him again.”

  “It wasn’t me who convinced him, but that’s probably something you need to ask Logan about.”

  She nodded. “I will.” Her shoulder bumped his. Well, it bumped his arm since he was much taller than her. “For a moment there, when I saw you in class, I worried you’d come back for me.”

  He rubbed his neck and blew out a breath. “I think… Wylder… I think that ship has sailed. You and I aren’t a good idea.”

  A smile spread across her face. “And what brought you to that conclusion?”

  “Well.” He looked down at her. “There was this girl who came all the way to Nashville for my brother. She made me realize something.”

  “And what was that?”

  “If she was willing to go to that effort, I needed to do the same. I don’t know how much Logan has told you, but I’ve had some issues in the past.”

  “He did tell me that, but he also told me you spent years devoting every minute to making sure your younger brothers had everything they needed.”

  He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Then I let them down.”

  “So, this girl…”

  “She made me realize it was time to get back to who I used to be, the guy who’d do anything for his brothers. Sober. Not prone to bad decisions that could get him fired.”

  “You mean me.”

  “Yeah.” He laughed. “I never should have suggested we continue our relationship.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have. But I can forgive you. I’m pretty hard to resist.”

  “You, Wylder Anderson, are nearly impossible to resist.”

  She hid her smile at that. “So, what happens next?”

  “I think we become friends.” He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Once I’m not your teacher, that is.”

  “Friends.” Seemed like she was collecting those. “Okay.”

  They reached Sebastian’s destination, and he stopped with his hand on the door handle. “Now, go study.”

  “That sounded very teachery, Mr. Cook. Good job.”

  He laughed. “You enjoy making this job harder, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely. Now go. Mold the minds of young people. Just don’t sing to them. Please.”

  He shared a smile with her, one that said he too was remembering their epic karaoke session in the Nashville restaurant where she’d learned he couldn’t handle hot wings, had no singing talent, and gave epic kisses in the rain.

  As he went inside, the book on Sebastian Cook closed once and for all.

  Now, Wylder had another Cook brother to drag back to the dark side.

  10

  “Logan. Logan. Logan!” Wylder pounded on his bedroom door. It was late, way too late to be on the boys’ floor, but she’d evaded security as easily as she’d slipped into Killian and Logan’s suite. They really needed to start locking their door at night.

  “Wylder?” Killian appeared from the bedroom behind her, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to make Logan mad.” She waved to his door. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Wylds?” Diego walked out behind Killian, and a smirk formed on her face.

  “Mind out of the gutter.” Killian crossed his arms. “We fell asleep watching a hockey game.”

  It was the most adorable thing ever, how they watched hockey together when Diego barely understood the game. He was fascinated by the stats, which she knew drove Killian nuts. As Killian said, no one should want to do math during a hockey game.

  “I’m sure you guys did.” Wylder chuckled as she turned back to Logan’s door to pound on it again.

  It swung open to reveal a disgruntled and rumpled shirtless Logan. “What?” The irritation lifted from his eyes when he saw Wylder. “Oh, hey.”

  She huffed out a breath. “I just woke you up after midnight, dude, get mad at me.”

  “What do you need?”

  “You, come on.” She pushed him back into his room and closed the door behind him. In the dark, she fumbled for a light switch.

  “What’s going on?” He reached for a shirt and pulled it on. Probably a good idea, because there was only so much shirtless Logan she could take.

  “I want you to yell at me.”

  “What?” He laughed, all sleep fading from his voice. “No.” He sat on the corner of his bed.

  Jumping onto the bed next to him, she turned to face him and sighed. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. Wylder, stop being weird.”

  “There! You were almost mean.”

  “Why do you want me to be mean?” He pulled his legs up onto the bed and turned to her.

  “Because, Logan, that’s what we do. We bicker and argue, swimming in the sarcasm river.”

  “Sarcasm river, huh?”

  Leaning forward, she pinched his arm.

  “Hey!”

  “How did it make you feel when I hurt you, Logan?”

  “I don’t know. Annoyed.”

  “Good.” She smiled. “Now keep that feeling. Repeat to yourself, Wylder is obnoxious, she’s loud.”

  “No.” He stood from the bed and paced across the room.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you came for me.” The words burst out of him like he hadn’t meant to say them. He stopped moving, facing the wall away from her.

  Wylder sat in stunned silence for a moment before climbing from the bed and approaching his back. “And that means you have to be weirdly nice to me?”

  His back tightened. “I…I know you talked to Luke about me.” He turned and looked down at her. “He didn’t tell me what you said, but after that, he told me I had to come back here. That this was where my life should be.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve never seen Luke so affected by anyone before. And you… even after you punched him… when I came back, I promised myself I’d do whatever I could to make up for how I treated you.”

  “How you treated me?”

  “When I left. Your calls, your texts, they helped more than you could ever know, yet I didn’t return a single one.”

  “Why didn’t you?” She needed his answer more than she needed her next breath.

  “I don’t know, Wylder. That’s the problem. I just… couldn’t.”

  She stared at him for a moment longer before stepping closer. “Okay, Logan, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to hug you, because I think you need me to. If you don’t want it, you’re going to have to stop me.”

  His breath hitched as she neared, but she didn’t stop until she slipped her arms around his back, pulling him closer. His warmth seeped through his shirt and into her.

  It took a moment for him to respond, but his arms lif
ted slowly, wrapping around her.

  “See,” she whispered against his chest. “This is nice.” It was better than nice. Logan felt good in her arms, strong and sure.

  “Wylder?” His breath warmed the top of her head.

  “Hmm?”

  “Thank you.”

  Reluctantly, she pulled back and looked up at him. “Now, Logan Cook, will you stop being weird? I’ve already forgiven you for being a douche, for making me come all the way to Nashville to get your butt back here.”

  “You failed though.” Mischief entered his eyes. “Got a big old F.”

  “How do you suppose?” She planted her hands on her hips and grinned up at him.

  “You didn’t get me back here. It was Luke.”

  “It was kind of me.”

  “Nope.” He lifted a brow, and it felt so good to argue with him she wanted to hug him again.

  “You can’t deny the draw of the Wylder. Admit it, Cook, you enjoy being my friend.”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  Music to her ears. “Well, I should let you get some sleep.”

  “About time you got the hint.”

  She opened the door and grinned back at him. “Rumor has it we’re getting a new assignment in ConMus tomorrow. Just make sure you don’t mess it up.”

  “Oh, baby, I won’t. You can be sure of that. You just bring your A game, and we’ll see how you match up.”

  She shared one final smile with him. “Night, Logan.”

  “Night, Wylder.” With a wink, he shut the door in her face.

  Logan was back, and later, as she crawled into her bed and fell asleep, she couldn’t stop smiling.

  Now, it felt real.

  “Songwriting is an art.” Mrs. Shepherd sat on the edge of her desk and regarded the class. “You all did wonderful jobs with your projects, writing songs to perform. Some of them needed more polishing than others, but even just finishing a song is a giant accomplishment. The people who can write hit after hit are rare in this industry.”

  “Like Taylor Swift,” Lauren Michaels asked.

  “Yes, but even the queen of pop herself has many collaborators. She’s known for writing her music, but she doesn’t do it all on her own. Few musicians do. That’s why the partnerships in this class are so important. You are learning to work with someone else on your artistic endeavors.”

  She stood and picked up a stack of papers before crossing the room to hand them out. “Writing a song for yourself is one thing, because songwriting is deeply personal. It’s a completely different job to write a song that will be performed by someone else. They put their own personal spin on it, but the words are yours. Songwriters bare their souls in the lyrics. It can be hard to let go.”

  Wylder looked down at the new project instructions in front of her.

  Logan leaned over. “So, we need to write another song?”

  She shrugged and focused on Mrs. Shepherd again.

  “Each pair will write a song on a predetermined topic we will draw out of a bowl. Once they’re finished, I will assign a song to each pair to perform for the class. This time, we’re only writing the lyrics. The performing duos will put music to the words. But there’s a twist. When it comes time to perform, you’ll draw the style of music, and the lyrics you’re given will have to be set to that type of music.”

  The class groaned, including Logan, but Wylder thought this sounded kind of fun. And performing just for the class would be much better than performing in the auditorium again.

  “I’ll bet Logan would rather perform for the cameras so he can falsely claim credit for his brother’s success again.”

  Wylder didn’t know who said the whispered words, but if she found out, she’d add them to her punchy list. Did people really think that? That Logan orchestrated everything and then lied?

  She looked sideways at him, but his gaze burned holes in the desk, refusing to lift. So, he’d heard it too. His fingers clenched around his pen moments before it slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor. He bent to pick it up, and Wylder pretended to tie her shoe at the same time.

  “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

  Logan sighed. “I’m used to all the rumors. It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Just let it go, Wylder.” He straightened before she could say anything else.

  Mrs. Shepherd walked down the row, having each pair draw a slip of paper from a small metal bowl. When she reached Wylder, there was only one left. Wylder pulled it out and unfolded it.

  TRACTORS.

  What?

  “What’s it say?” Logan snatched the paper. “Tractors? We have to write a song about tractors?”

  Mrs. Shepherd smiled down at them. “There are many songs to draw inspiration from about basic objects.”

  “But tractors?” Wylder looked up at her. “I know we live in Ohio, Mrs. Shepherd, but I’ve never even seen a tractor in action. The closest I’ve been to farmers is when they come into my parents’ hardware shop.” Which was probably closer than most students at this school got. Very few of them were actually from Ohio.

  Mrs. Shepherd lifted a brow. “I have faith in you two. You’ll figure it out.”

  But tractors?

  Wylder groaned as the teacher returned to the front of the room. The bell rang, releasing them from the class that suddenly just got a lot less fun.

  Wylder followed Logan out, matching his steps as he headed back toward the dorm. “What are we going to do?”

  “Write the song?”

  “But—”

  “Stop complaining, Wylder. It’s not like we can change it.”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  He nudged her arm. “It’s okay. Your indignation is kind of cute.”

  Cute? Logan Cook thought she was cute? She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not cute.”

  Logan laughed at that. “Okay, you’re hideous then.”

  “That’s better.”

  “Weirdo.”

  “Freak.” She stuck her tongue out.

  “Delinquent.”

  “Accomplice.”

  He had no answer for that because he was totally an accomplice in a lot of her troublemaking this year. One side of his mouth curved up, and Wylder couldn’t look away. The guy looked… happy? Despite what their classmate had said or the constant barrage of media stories about the Cook twins, there was something light about him today.

  “What’s up with you?”

  “What do you mean?” His eyes met hers and held.

  “You look, I don’t know, gleeful or something. It’s not the Stepford look you had when you first got back. There’s something different about you.”

  He opened the door to the dorm building and held it for her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do.” She smiled when he followed her to her room instead of heading for his.

  “Can’t a guy just have a good day?”

  “I suppose.”

  When they reached her dorm, he leaned down. “Don’t read too much into it Wylds.” His breath on her skin sent a shiver down her spine. Well, that was new.

  “Come on.” She yanked open the door, needing to get some distance. “I think we need to call in reinforcements.”

  They dropped their bags near the kitchenette—knowing full well Devyn would make her move them—and both fell onto the couch. Wylder pulled out her phone. “My brother or yours?”

  “Yours.” He leaned back. “Luke is in meetings with label execs all day today.

  “You talk to him a lot?”

  “Every day.” He shrugged.

  Wylder was glad for that. She dialed up Becks, and he answered the Facetime right away. He never ignored her calls if he could help it.

  “Hey, baby sister!” He grinned.

  Wylder groaned. “I’m only three years younger than you.”

  Becks shrugged and looked back over his shoulder to tell the people there
to be quiet. “Sorry, I’m at the studio. Skye made them stop recording when she saw your name flash on my phone.”

  “Becks, you could have at least finished your song.”

  He shrugged. “We’ll have to redo it a million times, anyway. What’s up? Who is that with you?”

  “Just Logan.” She turned the phone so Becks could get a better look.

  “Oh good, the only Cook brother I don’t have reason to hate. Yet. You’re not… dating him… are you, Wylder?”

  “Ew, no,” Wylder and Logan said at the same time.

  Becks blew out a breath. “Good. Focus on school. Don’t date anyone.”

  “Whatever, Becks, I didn’t call for a lecture. We need your help.”

  He pretended to tear up. “Nicky,” he called. “Wylder needs my help. This is a day I’ll always remember. When I’m old and giving your eulogy, I’ll mention this momentous occasion.”

  “You won’t be giving any eulogy if I kill you first.” Wylder narrowed her eyes. “If you want, we can call Luke for help. I mean, he is just as famous as you.”

  Becks scowled. “He is not! No, you came to me. I’m all ears.”

  Wylder shared a look with Logan. “Okay,” she said. “Tractors.”

  Confusion flashed in his eyes. “Um…”

  “Tractor songs,” Logan clarified. “Wylder is just trying to confuse you. We have to write a song about tractors for class.”

  A smile broke out across Beckett’s face. “Well, that’s kind of the best assignment ever.”

  “Becks, I’m only in this class because of you, so you owe me.”

  “You can’t keep pulling that out. Admit it, you love the class.”

  “Your brother is right.” Logan bumped her shoulder with his.

  “Those words should never pass your lips,” she whispered. “Okay, Becks. Lay it on me. We need your best advice. How are we supposed to write a song about something so stupid?”

  Becks pursed his lips, putting his thinking look on that just made him look constipated. “A metaphor.”

  “What?”

  “Turn the entire thing into a metaphor. A tractor could stand in for planting anything, not just crops. Like… hope. It could be planting hope and helping it grow. Anything can be a metaphor if you try hard enough.”