Wilde Freak (Rock Stars on Tour, #4)

by Candy J. Starr

  And after all, if they wanted to come to Paris, who was I to stop them?

  I messaged back to get the flight details, then asked if they wanted me to book a room at the hotel for them or if they preferred somewhere more central. This wasn’t a great location for sightseeing.

  She got back to say that of course she wanted to be near the hospital. Then she sent through a thousand questions. While I answered them, I ordered room service. This could take a while, but I was happy to answer every question she had. Looking up train schedules from the airport and the best restaurants to recommend—the normality of it relaxed me.

  Finally, I had to tell her I needed to go to bed.

  Sorry. You need your rest.

  Just talking to her had put things into perspective. Fiona would feel bad for a while—the nurses had warned me that she could act in irrational ways—but that didn’t mean she was pushing me out forever. She needed time to adjust. I shouldn’t expect anything more than that. I couldn’t let her moods get to me.

  The next morning, I didn’t even try to go into Fiona’s room. I waited outside, asking the doctor for news.

  “She’s making good progress,” he said. “We’re thinking of moving her to her own room today. If she’s well enough to swear at the nurses, we figure it’s time.”

  He chuckled. That seemed much better than the threat of restraints yesterday. From what I’d seen of the nurses around here, they could hold their own when it came to swearing.

  While I waited, I got in touch with Damo to ask how the tour was going, and then sent Ash an update.

  If anyone can sort her out, it’s your mother :)

  Ash wasn’t wrong there. Mom had a way with people. The more I thought about it, the more Mom coming here seemed like the right thing. Fiona would definitely take nurturing better from Mom than from me.

  My butt started getting numb from all the sitting, so I walked around the ward. I needed to stretch my legs, but I took care not to look into the other rooms. People needed their privacy even if the doors were open.

  Hospitals were such miserable places. It was all too easy to get too wrapped up in your own tragedy to realize you were just one of many.

  I kept walking, down to the cafe to grab a coffee. I wanted the chance to move around more than the coffee itself.

  A teenage girl wheeled up to me in a wheelchair, her leg in plaster. “You’re one of the Freaks,” she said.

  “Shhh,” I said, putting my finger to my lips. “We don’t want everyone to know that.”

  “Can you sign my cast? I wanted to go to your concert so bad, then this happened.” She smiled in a beguiling way.

  “Sure thing. Anything for a fan.”

  I looked around for a pen, something that would work on the plaster. The girl behind the counter handed me a Sharpie they used for writing on the take-out cups.

  “What’s your name?” I asked the girl.

  “Angelique,” she said. “You can sign it to Angie if you like.”

  “Is that what your friends call you?”

  “Yep. Angelique, what a lame name.”

  I signed her name with a big smiley face. At least, I hoped it looked like a smiley face. It was a bit distorted. Signing plaster isn’t as easy as you might think.

  “What are you doing in the hospital?” Angie asked.

  “I’m...” Shit, this kid looked innocent enough, but she was a fan. You couldn’t just say things to fans. They might mean well, but if they started posting on social media, that stuff could go viral real fast. “I’m visiting a friend,” I told her. That seemed vague enough.

  “Shouldn’t you be in Barcelona?” she asked.

  Damn. I stared at the containers of cookies on the counter. Maybe if I bought her a cookie, she’d stop with the questions. Unlikely, though.

  “I had a break, so I came back to Paris,” I said.

  She’d find out soon enough that I wasn’t playing in Barcelona if she went online, but that was the first thing that had come into my head.

  I took my coffee back upstairs, cursing myself for being careless. I needed to work out a story so I could get out of situations like that. The last thing I wanted was a bunch of reporters swarming the hospital and Fiona getting involved in that. My only hope was that I wasn’t newsworthy enough for most people to care.

  Chapter 12: Fiona

  I KNEW MATTY HAD COME back to the hospital, but he hadn’t even come into my room. I could hear him joking around with the nurses. Why didn’t he come in? Surely, he hadn’t taken me seriously when I told him to go away and not come back.

  I wanted to be strong, but I regretted the things I’d said to him. I needed him, and maybe that was selfish. Still, for a little while, I could cling to him. Later, when I was stronger, I could convince him that he should let go. That seemed like a plan. In a week or two, I’d make him see sense and free him from any obligation he felt. No one would expect me to do that yet, though.

  I strained to hear what he said to that nurse. I couldn’t hear his words, just that chuckle.

  If he was going to bother coming here at all, he should come into my room. He could brush my hair again. That had been nice.

  I picked at my blanket. At least the nurse had changed me into some decent clothes this morning. She’d put aside most of my sleepwear, saying that I couldn’t wear anything lacy until my skin healed.

  “But it’s expensive lace, not that cheap, scratchy stuff,” I’d told her.

  In the end, she held up a satin camisole and matching shorts in a pale pink.

  “I’m not sure the skimpy shorts are appropriate, but it’s not like you’re well enough to be climbing in and out of bed,” she’d said. “And that satin will feel lovely on your skin.”

  “That color suits me, too,” I’d said. “Well, it used to.”

  My heart sank. No color would suit me from now on. What color matched bruises and scarring?

  “If you get cold, let me know. I’ll get a jacket for you. It’s not a very warm outfit.”

  I shook my head. “This hospital is way overheated, if you ask me.”

  Before she left, I wanted to ask her to pick up the letter from under my bed, but the words stuck in my throat. What sort of hospital was this, anyway, that they didn’t clean under the beds? There could be all sorts of dust and grime building up under there.

  The rest of the morning, I’d slept on and off until I heard Matt’s voice.

  I yearned to call out to him, to ask him to come in here.

  Why didn’t I have anything entertaining in my room? My phone would be good, and a TV set would help too. Surely, I was well enough to go to a regular room. The doctor kept promising, but I hadn’t been moved yet.

  Another nurse came in later to take my temperature and all that other messing around.

  “You might be out of here soon,” she said.

  “Everyone says soon, but no one says when,” I said. “It’s all too vague.”

  “We can’t make any promises,” she said.

  I bit my lip. I didn’t want to ask, but I had to. “A letter fell under my bed,” I said. “Can you get it for me?”

  She looked at me without moving.

  “Please,” I added.

  She picked up the letter and handed it to me.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  As I read through the letter, a few tears spilled onto the page. I loved Matty. I loved him so much. He knew just the perfect things to say. I didn’t want to inflict myself on him, and I didn’t want his pity, but I had to accept that, right now, I needed him. I needed him to be with me, and I needed the love he gave me because, without it, I would have no reason for going on.

  I just had to hope that one day he’d forgive my selfishness for wanting him to stay with me.

  When I got to the last part of the letter, I trembled. He blamed himself for the accident? Why would he do that? If anyone was to blame, it was that stupid cab driver.

  “Matty,” I called out, not sure if my
voice was strong enough to for him to hear. But he heard me and came into my room.

  He smiled at me as though nothing had changed between us.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  I shrugged—well, half-shrugged; my left shoulder wasn’t of much use. “I’ve been better,” I said.

  “You’ve been a lot worse, too,” he said.

  He wasn’t wrong about that. I had a lot of half-memories of nights when either he or Ash had dragged me home from nightclubs. And those were just the nights I could remember. I was sure there’d been others I’d completely blacked out. How could he love someone like me?

  He came and sat beside me. Just the nearness of him made my heart settle. All the anger inside me flowed away. Even if it was for a short time, I’d let myself be happy with him.

  “I don’t blame you,” I said, trusting he’d understand I meant the accident. “How would you know the cab driver was an idiot? I didn’t even see what happened, just that he suddenly slammed on the brakes, then a truck came barreling into us.”

  He nodded. “Same. But I shouldn’t have told him to speed.”

  I gave him another half-shrug. You could talk forever about whose fault it was, but it meant nothing. That’s what happens in life. You can’t foresee every tragic event that might happen.

  “Will you brush my hair again?” I asked him.

  “Sure.”

  “And sing that song I like.”

  “Of course.”

  I shuffled over a little so he could sit on the bed beside me.

  “Don’t tax yourself,” he said.

  “I’m fine. I’m just shuffling.” I tried not to let the pain the movement caused show on my face.

  When he sat down, I leaned back against him. The warmth of his body against my back made me happier than anything had since I’d first woken up in this hospital. There was only the thin satin fabric covering me. Damn, this might not be good. I assumed sex was on the “off limits” list at this point, but the nearness of him stirred up a bunch of feelings in me, and this camisole only emphasized the swelling of my nipples.

  As the brush swept gently through my hair, I almost purred. “That’s nice,” I said.

  Matty carefully put his arm around my waist, making sure he didn’t get tangled in any of the tubes and wires coming off me.

  I laughed. “It’s kind of ridiculous, isn’t it? This tangle of junk coming out of my body.”

  Matty put his lips close to my ear. “Your laugh is the best sound I’ve ever heard.”

  “Oh, Matt, you do like to exaggerate.”

  “No lie. You seem in a much better mood today. I’ve got some news. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it, but my parents are coming here. They’ll get in tomorrow.”

  I tried to turn to him, but winced. “That’s fantastic. Your parents are lovely, and they might stop you from killing yourself looking after me.”

  “So long as you don’t mind being fussed over,” he said. “Mom can go a bit overboard.”

  “She’s not the only one in the family,” I said.

  Matty’s lips brushed gently against my bare shoulder, running a shiver though me. “Sorry,” he said. “I forgot for a moment.”

  “Don’t stop,” I said. “I might be injured, but I’m not dead.”

  He laughed. “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  His lips moved up to my neck, softly nuzzling against me. I squirmed, even though the movement shot pain through me. I’d suffer those small pains for this pleasure. His hand moved up from my waist to encircle my breast. I shut my eyes and moaned a little. God, I wanted him so much.

  “Shit, sorry.” Dr. Roche stood in the doorway, blushing in a way a man with his medical experience shouldn’t. “But I came to tell you that you’re out of here. At least if you have your own room, you’ll have some more privacy.”

  I figured I might as well ask the question on my mind. “So, how long until we can have sex?”

  Chapter 13: Matty

  WE MOVED FIONA TO HER new room. She had a private room, of course, with her own bathroom and lounge area. Even the colors and the decor looked more like a fancy hotel than a hospital room.

  “Best room in the place,” Dr. Roche said. “You even get a view over the city.”

  I looked out the window. He wasn’t wrong. Hopefully, being able to see the outside world like that would brighten Fiona up a little. A city view was always nice, but when that city was Paris, it became charming.

  “Shut the curtains, Matty,” she said. “I don’t like the sun coming in.”

  Okay, maybe I was wrong about the view.

  “I’ve got all your things at my hotel,” I told her. “I’ll bring them in.”

  “Don’t bother about makeup or any of that. It’s pointless worrying about how I look. There’s not much I can do with this face.”

  The doctor lingered around for a while. “Umm, about that other thing you asked...”

  “You mean about the sex?” Fiona said. “You’re extremely coy for a man who goes poking around in people’s innards.”

  Okay, it seemed the melancholy mood had passed quickly.

  “Ah, yes. Well, surgery is one thing, but I’m not a gynecologist. You will need to wait until everything has settled down. A few weeks, at least. You could cause further damage otherwise.”

  Even though the curtains were closed, the doctor stared at the window.

  “What about other things? Oral? Is that okay? Fingering? Is it the physical motion, or should I avoid orgasms altogether?”

  Fiona’s mouth twitched. She really enjoyed embarrassing that poor man. It’d been way too long since I’d seen that cheeky glint in her eyes. I’d have tried to stop her, but, to be honest, I rather enjoyed watching this, and I really liked hearing her say those words. Also, I wanted to know the answers as well.

  “I’ll get someone to come and speak to you about it,” Dr. Roche said, then rushed from the room.

  She laughed.

  “That was mean,” I said to her.

  “He’s a doctor. He should be able to answer questions about my body without acting like a schoolboy.”

  I guessed if torturing the medical staff made her happy, that was a good thing. So long as she didn’t torture them too badly. And really, I’d thought the French were much more open-minded than that. The poor man couldn’t get out of this room fast enough.

  “I really do think we should hold off,” I said. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve just had major surgery.”

  She smiled as though I’d just presented her with a challenge.

  Not long after that, she drifted off to sleep. She wasn’t as strong as she liked to make out, and I imagined moving rooms had tired her. I went downstairs to get something to eat and stopped by the florist.

  When Fiona woke up, her room would be filled with flowers. I wanted her surrounded by gorgeous colors and scents so that her room felt less like a hospital and more like a garden. In the end, I bought so many that I couldn’t carry them all upstairs.

  “I can get someone to bring them up later,” the woman said.

  I gathered a couple of the larger bouquets in my arms. “I’ll take these now.”

  When I got to the elevator, I realized I couldn’t press the button. I leaned to one side, trying to get my hand to it without spilling flowers everywhere, but one of the nurses rushed over and got it for me.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “No problem. Someone is very lucky.” She nodded at the flowers.

  Fiona still hadn’t woken up when I got back to her room. I put one of the bouquets on the table near the window, and another bouquet beside her bed. I sat in one of the armchairs, which was much more comfortable than the chairs in ICU, and thought about what else Fiona would like. I wasn’t sure if the fashion magazines she liked to read would upset her now. I’d never seen her read a book, so I had no idea about her reading tastes. She’d definitely need things to keep her entertained while she was i
n here. Maybe I needed to get some DVDs for her to watch.

  When she woke, she wanted me to brush her hair again.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea after what happened last time.”

  “I’m sure it’s a good idea,” she said, her voice husky.

  “You heard what the doctor said. I think we should avoid temptation at the moment, because, as much as I want to look after you, I’m not sure if I can control myself that easily.”

  “But it’s much more fun than just lying here.” She pouted.

  I worried that she’d think I found her undesirable now but that was so far from the truth, it was laughable. “It’s not that I don’t want to. Trust me on that. Every inch of my body aches for you.”

  “Are you sure you’re not just aching from the accident?”

  I moved to the chair beside her. “I’ll hold your hand. That’s as far as we’ll go.”

  “Boring.”

  “Boring, but necessary. You don’t want to be back in the operating theater, do you?”

  “I guess.” She tightened her hand around mine. “It is nice being close to you. But really, Matt, you need to get back on tour at some point. You can’t spend your life sitting by my bedside. Maybe, after your parents arrive, they could stay with me and you could rejoin the tour.”

  I grinned at her. “What makes you think I want to go back on tour? All that traveling and getting up onstage—I’m a bit over it. It’s nice just hanging out here.”

  “You can’t fool me,” she said. “That’s your life. The Freaks are doing so well. You want to be part of that. You might never get the chance again.”

  I wasn’t sure how to make Fiona understand that that wasn’t that important to me. Fame had never meant much. I liked playing music, but the rest of it, I’d happily leave behind.

  Then the guy arrived with the rest of the flowers.

  “My God, Matty. I’ll be living in a garden,” Fiona said. “I’m not even sure I have room for them.”

  She sounded happy, though. I moved things around so there were flowers no matter where she looked.

  “Put the roses next to my bed,” she said. “I like those the most.”