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

by Micalea Smeltzer

  I don’t know why I assumed that, it was silly of me, I guess. Something like alcoholism can affect anyone.

  I didn’t grab a napkin with my donut, and since there’s no point in wasting a good donut I take a bite and finish it in two more. I wipe my sticky hands on my jeans, which is gross, but I don’t dare get up to get something out of fear that I might not come back to this spot. The last thing I need to do is give myself any excuse to not be here.

  Daniel stands in front of the group, smiling warmly at everyone. He has the presence that somehow makes you feel at ease. I mean, look at me, I haven’t run yet even if I thought about it.

  “I’m so glad you all could make it out this evening. Chester, how was your daughter’s recital?”

  A man near the front who looks like he’s in his thirties speaks. Yet again, I’m surprised because this man looks clean cut, like the suit and tie type. But he’s here. Like me. Like all of these people.

  “It was great,” he answers, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “I think it’s one of the first times my ex and I have been civil in a while. It was … nice and she’s supportive of me getting help. I’m hoping soon she’ll feel comfortable to let me have the kids on my own.”

  “I’m so happy to hear that.” Daniel’s smile is wide and genuine. Clearing his throat, he says, “I suppose we should get started. We have a new face here and therefore I’m going to explain a bit about how I run things.”

  Even though Daniel doesn’t point me out every head swivels in my direction anyway. I stick out like a sore thumb sitting by myself, but also these people know each other so even if I was sitting closer, they would still find me.

  I lift my hand in an awkward wave, for once hating having all the attention in a room on me.

  A light sweat begins to break out across my brow despite the fact it’s fairly cool here.

  Thankfully, Daniel clears his throat and they all face the front again like eager students in a classroom.

  Daniel looks at me as he speaks. “This is a place of safety. For you, for all of us. It’s a judgment free zone. We’re all alcoholics for a reason, and we never look poorly on another for what that reason might be. Everyone is welcome to speak about their triumphs, their struggles and weaknesses, downfalls, any number of things. We often talk of other aspects of our lives and how they play into our personal struggles. But you’re not required to speak. All that is required of you is to listen to others and be kind. Anger and fighting is not tolerated. While you’re not required to speak and share your personal struggles, it is encouraged. There cannot be healing, nor progress, until you learn to share your burdens.”

  I nod as he finishes his speech. I’m not ready to speak today, and I’m thankful for that small reprieve. I can listen to the others, get to know them, and maybe learn to trust them all enough to share.

  “One more thing,” Daniel says, holding up a finger. “This is Alcoholics Anonymous. The anonymous part being key there. Anything you share here cannot and will not be shared outside this room, and you aren’t to share or speak about anyone else beyond these walls. Understood?”

  I nod.

  “Good, moving on,” he continues. “Would anyone like to share first?”

  A girl in the front row who looks like she’s barely twenty-three, if that, raises her hand. Her hair is dyed a vibrant yellow blond color, with pink on the tips and her natural dark hair growing at the root. Taking in her clothes, she’s dressed like a regular girl in jeans and a shirt with a band logo emblazoned across it. If I passed her on the street, I would never think she was an alcoholic—that she’s like me.

  I think I always believed someone looked like an alcoholic. It was part of how I’ve convinced myself for so long that I’m not one.

  But there is no clearly defined label that marks an alcoholic.

  “Come on up here, Holly.” He waves a hand, motioning her to take his place in front of the group.

  She clears her throat. “Hi, guys.”

  “Hi, Holly,” the room echoes.

  From off to the side I feel Daniel’s probing eyes assessing me. I don’t look at him. Holly’s the one speaking so that’s where my attention stays.

  “I had a setback this weekend.” She nervously wrings her hands together and bites her bottom lip. She’s obviously nervous and jittery. “I didn’t drink,” she’s quick to assure. “But I wanted to.” She exhales heavily with the confession. “I went with my friends out to eat, and they ordered drinks. I know they didn’t mean anything malicious by it, but it made me angry. I … I wanted to order a drink to prove to myself, to them, that I could be fine with alcohol. So, I did. Order it, I mean.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, rocking back on the heels of her scuffed pair of Converse. “As soon as I ordered it, I knew what a bad idea it was. I left some money on the table, said goodbye to my friends, and left.” She looks around the room, making eye contact with several people, myself included. “I’m almost a year sober. July tenth will be a year and I worked too damn hard to get to this full year, alcohol free, to lose it one night by trying to prove something I’ll never be able to prove. I know one drink will never be enough for me. I’ll always want more. I’m a better, healthier person now and I never want to be the girl I was before. I almost made that choice because of my own stupidity. Everything is a choice. To take the drink or not. We each have the power to decide. This time I made the right choice, but that doesn’t mean I might not make the wrong one in the future.”

  Daniel begins to clap and the others join him. After a moment I clap too.

  “Thank you for sharing that with us, Holly. Anyone else?” A man stands and Daniel motions him up as Holly sits down. “Tim, I’m so glad you’re sharing with us today.”

  The man laughs. He’s an older gentleman with a heavy gray beard and a baseball cap covering his head. He wears a plaid shirt and jeans, reminding me of a lumberjack—a scrawny one.

  Clearing his throat, he begins, “My wife of forty years threatened to leave me if I didn’t do something to help my sorry ass.” The way the others nod I know these are details they already know and Tim has added them for my benefit. “Francis is a good woman. She’s always put up with my shit, but I knew she was serious. I was goin’ to lose her if I didn’t give up the bottle. The sad thing is for a minute there I truly contemplated the choice—think about that, I considered giving up the woman I love, my soul mate, for a drink. What kind of bastard does that make me? But I’m four years sober now, my relationship with my wife is better than ever, our children respect me and … I found out this past weekend I’m going to be a grandpa. Me? A grandpa.” He shakes his head. “When my kids were growing up I was the worst of the worst. I was drunk all the time, even on the job—which is shit poor behavior when you’re a construction worker.” He gives a small laugh. “Maybe it’s dumb of me but I can’t help wonderin’ if this grand-baby is my second chance. A small little do over of sorts. I can’t go back and change how I was during my children’s childhood but maybe I can sort of make up for it.” He shrugs, giving another small laugh. “Ignore this old man’s rambling. I know nuthin’.”

  Daniel steps up to him and shakes his hand. “You’ll be an amazing grandpa, Tim. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  Tim sits back down and Daniel asks again who would like to speak.

  Another person raises his hand. I’m surprised by how quickly and readily they are to share their triumphs and failures with one another. This might be Alcoholics Anonymous but it’s obvious they’ve formed a camaraderie with one another, a family of sorts.

  When the hour is up everyone disperses, some leaving immediately, some hugging, and others who just seem to linger, like myself.

  Daniel plops down in the chair beside me. “What did you think?”

  I search for the right words. “It was different than I expected.”

  “What did you expect?” He pushes his glasses further up his nose.

  I grin. “Sitting in a circle,
holding hands, singing Kumbaya.”

  Daniel laughs outright at me. “We only do that every other week. You caught us on an off week. Such a shame.” He stands up, tugging his shirt down. Narrowing his eyes in a fatherly look of warning he says, “We better see you next week.”

  “You will,” I promise.

  “Good.” He gives me an awkward thumbs up and laughs at himself. Shaking his head he asks, “Are you ever going to give me your name?”

  I didn’t even realize I hadn’t.

  “It’s Rush.”

  He nods. “Good to meet you, Rush. See you next week.” He points at me in warning before walking away to speak with someone else.

  I let out a sigh I didn’t know I was holding in and stand, heading for the exit.

  I’m almost to the door when I hear a call of, “Hey, you! Hold up!”

  I turn to find Holly standing in front of me.

  She comes to a stop in front of me, her sneakers squeaking against the concrete floor.

  “I just wanted to say hi and properly introduce myself. I’m Holly.”

  “Rush,” I answer, shoving my hands in my pockets. I look over my shoulder, toward the exit.

  She laughs. “You want to get out of here, I know. That’s how I was the first few times.” She smiles at me, her eyes a light and clear blue. “I wanted you to know this isn’t always easy, but you’ve made a huge start by coming here.”

  I nod. “Yeah, uh, thanks,” I mutter, because it feels rude to leave her hanging.

  “Just remember you’re not alone,” she says, taking a step away. “We’ve all walked this path.”

  “Thank you,” I say, and somehow I actually mean it.

  Being here is fucking hard—it’s the biggest admission I can possibly make that something is wrong, that I’m not completely in control of my life.

  She waves goodbye. “See you next week.”

  Somehow, she seems to know I’ll be back.

  Heading outside I climb in Cannon’s waiting Land Rover. “How’d it go?” he asks, setting his phone down.

  I exhale and shove my fingers through my hair. I didn’t realize in there that my hands are shaking, but I can tell now. I look down at them, taking in the slight tremble that betrays my nerves.

  “Not as bad as I thought,” I finally reply.

  “My man,” Fox congratulates me, smacking me on the shoulder from the back.

  Looking out the window I mutter, “I can’t believe I let things get this bad.”

  I see Cannon’s frown in the reflection of the glass. “All that matters is you see it now, and see how important it is to keep going.”

  I nod, thinking about Tim and the story he shared of hoping for redemption with his grandchild since he was too drunk when his kids were growing up to be a decent father.

  I don’t want my child, my son, to grow up without a decent father because I choose to drink over being there for him. I want to be the kind of man he looks up to and aspires to be. It won’t be easy, getting better, but I can do it.

  One day at a time.

  Cannon’s phone buzzes again and he picks it up, groaning. He proceeds to call someone and when they answer he bites out, “You can’t come here.” There’s mumbling on the other end. “No,” he growls. More mumbling, and he sighs. “Fine, but I’m not paying for your fucking plane ticket so you can come here and be a pain in my ass.” The person says something else. “Yeah, yeah—I’ll pick you up. I’m not that much of an asshole.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can stay in Hollis’s old room. He lives with Mia now. Mhmm. Yep, just let me know.”

  He hangs up the phone.

  “What the fuck was all that about?” I blurt and Fox leans forward between the two seats so he’s more a part of the conversation.

  Cannon sighs. “My sister needs a ‘break’ and wants to get away and ‘spread her wings’ or some shit.”

  “So?” I prompt, already knowing where this is going.

  He lets out an irritated groan. “She’s coming here. To Virginia. To live with us. She’s going to be the end of me,” he mutters.

  The end of him? I don’t think so.

  With a smirk, I look back at Fox who has grown pale and is slowly slinking back against the seat.

  Cannon has no clue how close Fox and Calista have been in the past.

  I only know because I put two and two together and then Fox spilled the beans when I asked him about it.

  Fox and Calista made a pact to lose their virginity together.

  Those two have always had some strange bond—I think because Fox is the youngest of the four of us, and she was always tagging along, so they formed a sort of camaraderie since the three of us always picked on them.

  But, if you ask me, Foxy boy has always had a thing for Cannon’s little sister. I’m not sure what her feelings are.

  Now, the poor guy is going to be living with the girl he likes, under the same roof as his best friend and her brother.

  At least I won’t be the only one with a permanent case of blue balls anymore.

  35

  Kira

  My feet ache from the hours I’ve spent on them working at The Sub Club. Work is necessary, though, so I power through. I really need to pick up a second job, but there’s literally no free time in my schedule. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do. There’s barely enough money now to cover rent, food, and necessities and now I’m going to have a baby with needs to care for—not to mention, I really need a nicer place in a better part of town, and there’s always the chance my car could die.

  To say I’m stressed is the understatement of the century.

  I know I could always take Rush to court and get child support—but my stubborn ass wants to prove to him, to myself, to everyone that I can do this on my own. Plus, I frankly don’t want to ever see him again—or have to deal with him.

  Truth be told, I’m as angry at myself as I am him, because I know the only reason I feel hurt over what he did is because I do have feelings for him—deeper feelings than I’d care to admit.

  I never wanted to get involved with a man for this very reason—I knew if things went beyond sex, it would get messy, and here we are.

  “You okay?” Mia asks me, wrapping a sandwich.

  “Just peachy,” I snap back.

  I instantly feel bad the moment the sarcastic words leave my lips. She’s not the one I’m mad at. I’m not even sure I’m mad. Tired, and cranky? Yeah, definitely those.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble, but she’s already moved on to the register to check out the person she’s waiting on and doesn’t even hear me.

  It’s an hour until closing and the way I’m feeling even one more minute seems like too long.

  The customer leaves, slinging the plastic bag containing their sandwich from their fingertips.

  “I’m going to go wipe down tables,” Mia tells me. “Why don’t you … go to the back and just find something to do.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I agree, and take off my apron. I hang it on the hook and toss my plastic gloves in the trash.

  In the back is our break room, stock area, and refrigerators housing supplies.

  I pull out the chair in our break area and sit down, propping my feet up on one of the others.

  I’m already a grouchy bitch and this baby isn’t due until the end of August. True, it’ll soon be May, but that’s still a full three months before this boy makes his appearance.

  I keep trying not to think about things—about how quickly time flies, because even though it feels like forever before he comes, it’s truly not that long, and there are so many things he’ll need before he arrives.

  A car seat, stroller, crib, clothes, bottles, blankets, bibs, diapers—God, so many items and even though I have limited knowledge of screaming infants I know there has to be much more than that.

  My eyes fill with tears and I sniffle. “I’m so screwed.”

  “Are you okay?” Mia asks as she sets down a box in the doorway.
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br />   She approaches me slowly, like she’s encountered a wild animal or something. I suppose, lately, that’s how I’ve acted.

  I wipe my tears away. “No,” I answer honestly. “I can’t do this, Mia. I was crazy to think I could work, go to school, and take care of this baby.”

  She pulls out one of the other chairs and sits it in front of me before plopping down.

  “There’s no way I can provide any kind of decent life for him. I’m struggling enough on my own. I don’t want my son to think I’m a failure.”

  She takes one of my hands, holding it in hers. “He would never think that.”

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  “How could you possibly know he would?” Shaking her head, she continues, “I know, because he’ll grow up seeing a mom who loves him unconditionally, who works hard to provide for him, in you he’ll see quiet strength and he’ll grow up to be the kind of man who respects women because you’ll show him how important that is. You’re the best thing for this little baby. I know it. I wish you could see it too.” With her other hand she presses it to my growing stomach. “Besides, he’ll also have me—the most kick ass aunt ever. You can do this, Kira. You’re not alone, not like you think you are.”

  “This isn’t how I imagined my life,” I confess on a whisper, my voice cracking.

  “Does anybody’s life turn out like they imagine? I mean, I never wanted to get involved with a rock star. Now look at me.” She tosses her hands in the air. “He’s the love of my life. I can’t say it was love at first sight, but I know now he’s it for me. That’s the man I’m going to marry one day. When I was five, I wanted to marry a prince. There’s no point in holding on to an ideal your life can never live up to.” She pats my knee and sits back. “Let all that go. Live in the present and stop holding onto things that are only weighing you down. It’s only when you let go that you can fly.”