Wylder and the Rising Rockstar (Reluctant Rockstars Book 3)

by Michelle MacQueen

  Killian ran to catch up with them and slid an arm over her shoulders. “Nope, it was Logan.”

  Logan shoved him. “Don’t turn her wrath on me.”

  Killian grinned.

  “What has my stoic buddy so happy?” Wylder lifted a brow, not shrugging Killian off because his arm warmed her.

  “It’s Friday, and there’s no game tomorrow.”

  “Ah, got it.” She shook her head.

  Logan looked between them. “What am I missing?”

  Wylder laughed. “You might want to um… steer clear of Killian’s room tonight. A free Friday night when he doesn’t have to hit the sack early means—"

  “Date night,” Killian finished. “It’s been forever.”

  “You and D are together all the time, Killer. It’s not like you haven’t seen him.”

  “Yes, but date night. It’s different.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Oh my gosh, why did I even ask?” She shoved him away.

  He stumbled and still managed to give Logan a high five.

  “What about you?” Logan asked. “You have plans tonight? Pillow fights with Devyn or like painting toenails or something?”

  Wylder chuckled. “You obviously know me so well. But yes, as a matter of fact, I do have plans. Sorry if you wanted to, um, hang out.” They didn’t do dates, not officially. They did hangs that usually ended in kissing as long as no one else was around. Not like their friends didn’t know though.

  Logan hitched his bag higher on his shoulder and swiped his keycard at the front of the dorm building. “So, what are you doing?”

  The warm air in the lobby thawed Wylder’s limbs, and she sighed in relief as she unzipped her puffy white coat. “I’m going home for a bit.” She had to get to the bottom of why Becks still hadn’t answered her calls. If anyone would spill, it was her dad.

  But that wasn’t the only reason she wanted to go. Every year for as long as she could remember, her stepmom marked the first snow of the season by making her chicken noodle soup and homemade butter biscuits. It was the only thing that made winter tolerable.

  She didn’t know if Logan was waiting for an invitation, but he hesitated before following Killian into the boys’ wing.

  Wylder waved to the security guard at the desk and made her way to her room. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Logan with her, but if what she suspected of Becks was true, Logan couldn’t be there when she found out.

  She shucked her cold weather gear in the common room, draping it on the couch, and checked the time on her phone. Four in the afternoon. Classes were over for the week, but she had a ton of homework.

  And she didn’t want to do any of it. She would, just not now. Ms. Jones had been nice enough to grant her a gate pass when her dad called, and now he’d be here in half an hour. They were doing an early dinner because her parents were playing some card game with friends later.

  Yeah, they had more of a life on a Friday night than she did. How sad.

  Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she couldn’t hold off until dinner. Rummaging in the kitchen, she pulled out an empty bag of pretzels, cursing herself for being lazy and not throwing it out when she finished it. Now it was just a tease. She and the boys had already burned through most of the snacks she came back from break with, but she wouldn’t tell her mom that.

  There was one weird granola bar thing. She growled as she pulled it out. The word protein was in big lettering. Logan must have left it here. Or Killian. Whoever it was, she was going to kill them. This kind of thing did not belong in her kitchen.

  Yet, she was hungry. With a sigh, she took a bite. Was that… chocolate? And nuts. Oh gosh, she took another bite and moaned. “Why didn’t anyone tell me these were so good?” Logan would probably say he’d tried, but he’d certainly never uttered the word chocolate.

  She ate the entire thing in three more bites and checked the time again. Closing her cabinets, she walked toward the couch to ready herself for braving the cold once again.

  Bundled up, she made her way toward the circular drive near the front gates to find her dad’s familiar car waiting for her, beckoning to her with its warmth.

  Yanking open the passenger side door, she threw herself in. “Oh, you had the seat warmer ready for me. My butt thanks you.”

  Her dad didn’t look at her as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Hi, sweetie.” Something was off, but she tried to ignore it.

  “I have been hankering for Mom’s soup all week long.”

  He flashed her a smile before turning his eyes to the road. At the gate, she rolled her window down and flashed the gate pass. “Wylder Anderson.”

  The guard, one she didn’t recognize, scanned the list of names in front of him and nodded. “Go ahead. Your pass is for three hours.”

  “We’ll have her back in one,” her dad said.

  Wylder stared at him as her window shut. One hour? What was the point of even leaving campus? “Um, so, how ‘bout the Jackets?”

  He chuckled at that. “I’m guessing you didn’t watch the game last night?”

  “Never miss one.” He knew that was a lie. The only times she watched NHL games were when Killian trapped her in his room to make her study, and he always had them on. But her dad was a fan. “Are they doing well?”

  “On track to make the playoffs.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “What happens in the playoffs.”

  She would have laughed, but she knew he was serious. The Jackets were heartbreakers. Both her dad and Killian loved and dreaded the post-season. It was too stressful for Wylder.

  They didn’t say anything else as they passed from Riverpass into Twin Rivers, crossing the river using the main bridge. A caution, black ice, sign sat where there’d once been an accident. A car of teenagers plunging into the river, resulting in one death and other injuries. Since then, the bridge was like a fortress, with high, steel and concrete guardrails, warnings, and a lower speed limit.

  Once across the bridge, her dad turned the wrong way, and Wylder sat up straighter. “Do we have to stop by the store before going home?” This was how they’d get to the family hardware store.

  “Nope. Your mom is closing up before she meets us across the road at the Main.”

  “The Main? But what about mom’s soup? Biscuits dripping in butter and honey. I want to go home, Dad.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart. We figured this was the easiest way to spend time with you before we have to get to the Callahan’s for Euchre.”

  Wylder slouched down in her seat, more disappointed than she should be, but also suspicious.

  Her mom was already waiting at a booth with three hot chocolates when they walked in. Wylder slid into the booth, sharing a smile with her mom. Unlike her dad, her mom actually met her eyes. “Hey, hon. How has your week been?”

  “You’d know if anyone in this family answered their phones.” She tried to tamp down her irritation by taking a sip of hot chocolate and licking whipped cream from her lips.

  “Wylder,” her stepmom admonished.

  “No.” She leaned forward. “Don’t Wylder me like I’m crazy or something. He won’t meet my eyes.” She pointed to her dad. “Neither of you have answered your phones all week. Becks and Nicky have been sending me to voicemail. You’re all hiding something.” Her eyes narrowed. “Does Becks have a secret? He knows where Logan’s brother is, doesn’t he? What, did he go to some cabin only Becks knows the location of to hide?” It was weird to even consider that Becks was the person Luke confided in.

  Her mom’s eyes widened. “If we had anything we could tell you, we would. I think your brother is just busy. Nicky too. As for us… it’s the Christmas season. The store has been slammed, but we are sorry if you feel neglected.”

  “I don’t feel neglected, Mom, I feel lied to.”

  Mrs. Callahan appeared at the table with a tray of plates. She set a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a plat
e of biscuits in front of Wylder. “Your mom told me this is what you’d like tonight.”

  Now Wylder felt like a jerk. She’d practically yelled at her parents, and her mom was always thinking of her. The next best thing to her mom’s soup was Mrs. Callahan’s. “Thank you, Mrs. C.”

  She smiled and slid plates in front of her parents. “I’m heading out to prepare for our Euchre party, but Cara will take care of you if you need anything else.”

  When she walked away, she left silence in her wake.

  Wylder sighed. Whatever they were keeping from her, the guilt was written all over her dad’s face. That was probably why Becks hadn’t answered her calls. He was too much like their dad, terrible at lying to her.

  Her mom reached across the table and put a hand on Wylder’s arm. “Wylder, I promise, when there is something we need to tell you, we will.”

  It would have to be good enough.

  At least the soup warmed her insides like it was meant to do during the first snow. She just wished everything else didn’t leave her so cold.

  The frigid air burned Wylder’s lungs as she ran from where her dad dropped her off to the dorms, trying not to slip on the slick path. She needed to vent. Now. She’d never been able to unload on her parents. They were too good to her to deserve that, and she’d put them through enough.

  But unload about them? Absolutely. That was a teen’s prerogative.

  Marching through the girls’ wing to the back stairs, she headed for the boys’ part of the building. Killian was her usual venting partner. His family was wonderful, his mom a special kind of great, but he’d had some tough shakes in life, so the two of them allowed each other to say what they needed to without judgment.

  Everyone should have a friend like that.

  It was only six so Killian might have been down in the dining hall, but she was taking her chances.

  Pushing into his common room, she didn’t find anyone, so she threw open his bedroom door and froze.

  “Wylder!” Killian yelled.

  He and Diego were shirtless wrestling on the bed. Yes, definitely wrestling. She couldn’t help staring as a grin spread across her face. “Who knew our favorite nerd was hiding such goods under those t-shirts.”

  Diego flushed crimson.

  Killian threw a pillow at her. “I really need to start locking my door.” He groaned and hid his face in Diego’s neck.

  “So.” Wylder cleared her throat. “Date night started early, did it?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Logan!” Killian yelled. “Come take custody of Wylder.”

  Logan appeared a moment later, an instant grin coming to his face when he found what Wylder was staring at. “Dude, you’re friends with the Wylder Anderson. You need to lock your door.”

  “In my defense, I thought you’d be in the dining hall, Killer. I was just doing my due diligence checking here before my head exploded with annoyance.”

  “Wylds, I love you.” Killian sighed. “And I will talk you down from whatever cliff you’re on. But please don’t ask me to leave my boyfriend on date night.” He would. She knew it. If she asked, if she said she needed him, Killian would come. Diego probably would too. And that made her smile.

  She backed out of the room slowly, flashing them one final grin. “Carry on.”

  When she shut the door, a laugh burst out of her.

  “Come on.” Logan slid his hand into hers and tugged her toward his room, far away from his roommate.

  A plate sat on his bed next to his calculus book, and the smells coming from it were heavenly. “What are you eating?”

  “Stir fry. Sebastian made me a bunch of stuff for my fridge.”

  She waited for the weird feeling to hit her at the mention of Sebastian, but it didn’t come. Instead, she focused on the food.

  “I’m done if you want the rest.”

  “Oh, I definitely do.” Wylder snatched the plate and shoved a forkful of rice and water chestnuts in her mouth. “So good.”

  Logan lounged on his bed. “Didn’t you just eat dinner at your house?”

  She sighed and sat next to him, leaning her back against the wall. “Sort of. We went to the diner, but I could barely eat anything.”

  “Who died?”

  “What?”

  “That’s the only thing I know of that could take your appetite away. Is the world ending? Is this goodbye?”

  “No.” She took another bite and elbowed him. “But my family is keeping something from me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. They’re all avoiding me. Becks used to stop recording sessions when I called because he didn’t want to miss me. Now… I don’t know. Something is going on.”

  “Your parents too?”

  “My dad couldn’t even look at me tonight.” She swallowed another bite. “I even asked him about hockey. He loves hockey and had very little to say. I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

  “Sounds like they were probably just tired.” He bumped her shoulder. “You know, Sebastian and I can go an entire car ride together not saying a word.”

  “Yes, but you both are weird.” She smiled to let him know she was joking.

  He smiled back. “True.”

  “My family isn’t like that. Most people think we talk too much.”

  “No, really? I’d never have imagined that.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Make me.”

  “Oh, I will. Just as soon as I finish eating.”

  “I see where I rank.”

  She only grinned. Saying it out loud, telling Logan she thought her entire family was hiding something made her feel crazy. They wouldn’t do that. They weren’t that kind of family.

  So, she tried to let the worries go. It wasn’t hard with Logan at her side, but she knew they’d come back.

  4

  Wylder sat at her desk in ConMus class—the desk she normally shared with Logan, but he wasn’t sitting beside her yet. Tapping her pencil against the flat surface, she wondered what Mrs. Shepherd had to speak with him about so badly that she pulled him into the hall before class started.

  All sorts of thoughts about Luke and Logan and the tabloids surged through her mind. She couldn’t help but think of the worst possible scenarios. Like, maybe the label was going to press charges against them for misrepresenting themselves. Wylder’s pencil shot out of her hand and sailed across the room when Logan stepped through the door.

  “Ouch!” One of their classmates cried out. Logan arched a brow at Wylder, and she shrugged as he bent to pick up her pencil and took his seat beside her.

  “What was that all about?” she leaned in and whispered.

  “You’ll see.” He sank low in his chair the way he did when he was trying to disappear.

  Mrs. Shepherd leaned against her desk, crossing her arms as she gave them all a serious look. “In this class, we’ve mostly discussed the positive aspects of the music industry. We’re meant to use this class to give you a broad introduction to the field of professional entertainment to help you prepare for a potential career, both on and off stage. However, with Logan’s permission, I’d like to discuss some of the dark underbelly of the music industry.”

  A few snickers sounded across the room, and Wylder shot her classmates a glare.

  “Lesson number one,” Mrs. Shepherd continued. “There is such a thing as bad press, and it’s no laughing matter. What Logan and his family are going through is anything but funny.” She leaned back on her desk, sitting on the edge. “Unwanted media attention. How many of you and your friends or family have experienced that? Show of hands.”

  Wylder was surprised to see nearly every hand in the room shoot up in the air. She’d expected it to just be her and Logan.

  “It’s not fun, is it?” Mrs. Shepherd asked. “It’s a total invasion of privacy, but when you put yourself out there as an entertainer, you’re agreeing to become a public figure.”

  “Personally, I’d rather get a root canal,” Lo
gan said, and everyone laughed.

  “And those of you who have found themselves on the receiving end of bad media, how often does the press get the full story? How often do they get it right?”

  “Never.” A brunette girl in front of Wylder shook her head. “They never get their facts straight about my mom.”

  Wylder had a vague idea that the girl’s mother was a famous actress who spent a great deal of time in the tabloids after a nasty divorce from her actor husband.

  “They’re always saying my parents are back together, or Mom’s having a secret baby with the pool boy. It’s nuts. When I was little, it was upsetting. Now I don’t pay any attention to the things they say.” She shrugged, glancing back at Logan. “They’ll move on to something new soon, and everyone will forget all the crap they’ve said about you and Luke. Just hang in there.”

  “Thanks, Jess, that means a lot.” Logan nodded, and Wylder felt bad about not taking the time to get to know her classmates.

  “So, how do we handle the negative media attention?” Mrs. Shepherd asked. Logan leaned forward, a hopeful look on his face, like maybe their teacher had the magic fix he and his family needed so badly. Wylder reached under the table and grasped his hand.

  “Lay low and keep your head down,” one student suggested. “It’s all you can really do, or they’ll tear you apart.”

  “That is exactly what you should appear to do,” Mrs. Shepherd said. “In Logan’s case, the media will be on him and his family the moment either of them, or even their older brother, Mr. Cook, steps out into the real world.”

  “I’ve been there,” the guy in the front row said—the one who got to sing Logan and Wylder’s epic tractor song they’d written for their last big assignment. “My dad’s a senator, and when the press gangs up on us when we’re out, it’s scary. They make you feel trapped, like they might literally tear you apart if you don’t answer their questions. The lights, the yelling, it’s no joke, man. The best thing to do when they’re on you like that is to stay home.”