“I don’t know what else to give you. You can’t take those pills on an empty stomach.”
My head’s pounding. I sip some water and eat as much of the yogurt as I can tolerate, then swallow the pills.
Chaser crawls back into bed with me.
I peer over at him. Usually, he’s up and practicing guitar by now. “What are you doing?”
“It’s still early. I’m going back to sleep.” He holds out his arms. “Come here.”
I scoot over, snuggling up against his warm body. “Sorry, I’m so cranky,” I whisper.
“You can be as cranky as you need to be.” He runs his hand over my hair. “Don’t ever apologize to me.”
Tears sting my eyes and my nose twitches. “I’m sorry.”
“Shhh. Why?”
“I screwed up. I wasn’t supposed to get pregnant. How could I not even know? I feel awful. I shouldn’t be so upset but I’m so…sad.”
“You’re allowed to feel however you need to feel.” He squeezes me tighter.
I run my hand over my side. “The one thing my body’s designed to do, I can’t even do right. I’m so…embarrassed that I screwed it up.”
His eyes narrow and he cups my head pulling me closer until our foreheads touch. “You didn’t screw up anything. That’s not your only purpose in life.”
“But I want to have a baby someday. I want to be a mother. What if I can’t?”
It doesn’t seem to matter to Chaser that my rambling complaints all contradict each other. He has a gentle, patient answer for everything.
“We’re going to be fine. The doctor said most women go on to have totally normal pregnancies.”
“Really?” I peer up at him. “You asked the doctor about that?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” I don’t understand why I can’t let this go. “What if I hadn’t…what if today hadn’t happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“What would we have done? I’m on set for twelve, fifteen hours a day some days. You’re away on tour. I don’t want other people raising our children, Chaser. I had that and I hated it.”
He blows out a long breath, ruffling my hair. “I don’t know.”
“Would you have been angry with me?”
“Fuck no,” he growls. “Mistakes happen. You need two people to make a baby, so how could I be mad at you?”
I shrug, thinking over something his father once said to me. “I wouldn’t want you to think I tried to trap you.”
“Trap me? We’re engaged.” He laughs so hard, the bed shakes. “Mallory, you’re so embedded in my soul, you’ll never shake me loose. My heart’s been in your hands since the day we met.”
The intensity and passion behind his words melts my remaining fears.
“I want to marry you. Spend the rest of my life with you.” He sighs and reaches down, twining our fingers together. “You’re right, though. A baby right now would be tough. I hate leaving you so much. I can’t imagine leaving you and our child to go off on tour.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ll need to start selling a hell of a lot more albums so I can afford an extra tour bus for my family.”
My lips twitch into a smile and I rest my forehead on his chest. “You’d do that? It’s not very rock-n-roll.”
“Rock-n-roll is whatever the fuck I say it is.”
“Now, that’s a very rock-n-roll answer.”
“Anything else bothering you?”
“Everything’s bothering me.”
“Anything you want to talk to me about?” He shifts, reaching over me to pick up the discharge papers off my nightstand. “Anything you need me to run out and grab?”
“Give me that.” I snatch the papers away, folding them up and tossing them behind me. “No. They sent me home with…stuff.”
Instead of answering he frowns at his hand, twisting and wiggling his fingers. “So, many, paper cuts. What’s the big deal?”
“This whole experience has been humiliating enough. I’ve never been asked so many personal questions and felt so invaded.”
“I hate to break this to you, Mallory.” He tickles his fingers over my arm. “But from what I’ve heard, if you really want to have a baby, the stork doesn’t deliver them. You’re going to have lots of people up in your business. It’s not the neat and clean process shown on television. It’s messy.”
“How do you have so much knowledge about the subject?”
He shrugs. “I paid attention in biology class.”
“I bet you did.” I poke his side. “I didn’t learn about that until seventh grade. And even then, it was a bizarre, secret that we were never supposed to talk about.”
“Your mother—” He stops himself and shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
Just the mention of my mother brings me right back to that scared thirteen-year-old girl, desperately wishing someone would explain what was happening to my body. “My father wasn’t as evolved as you seem to be.”
He smirks. “No kidding.”
“And my aunt told me it was a shameful secret I should never, ever discuss with anyone.”
“That’s really fucked up. You shouldn’t be embarrassed about something that’s just…nature.”
“I guess.”
“Didn’t your father take you to the doctor?”
“Yeah, but my regular, eighty-year-old pediatrician. He gave me a book once about my changing body but it was all about how to cover up weird body smells and stuff. Nothing helpful. I didn’t see a…you know, girl doctor, until I came out here.”
“I hope you understand I’m not like that. If we have girls, I don’t ever want them to be ashamed of anything.” He pauses and seems to consider a few scenarios. “Although, you should definitely still have that talk with them.”
“You’d want daughters?”
“Hell, yeah, I’d love a couple little girls who look just like you.”
“A couple? No sons?”
He shrugs. “I don’t think we can really pick and choose. One of each sounds nice, though.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Chaser
Our talk seemed to wear Mallory out. I hate leaving her side but I can’t delay calling the band any longer. I stop to watch her sleeping peacefully for a few seconds before ducking out of the bedroom.
It takes a several phone calls to track down the band’s hotel. I’d left my itinerary along with everything else in my room.
Finally, I get Alvin on the line and explain what happened as plainly as possible.
“Is Mallory okay?”
“We’re getting there. I’m going to be a few more days, though.”
He’s silent. Alvin’s not one to thoughtlessly run his mouth, but I expected him to say something. “Bro, have you watched any of the tabloid shows?”
“Fuck no. Why would I watch that shit?”
“I think you should have a look tonight. Dirty Headlines is running a piece about you guys at seven.”
“About my fiancée’s miscarriage? Why?”
“It’s not quite about that.” There’s a muffled rustling sound in the background. Alvin yelps.
“Alvin?”
He comes back on the line. “Jacob wants to talk to you.”
Just what I need.
“Chaser! Where are you?” Jacob shouts. “You’ve gotta get here for tonight’s show.”
I glance at the clock. Even if I left right now, there’s no way I’d make it on time. “Can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t know if Alvin told you, but—”
“Alvin didn’t need to tell us anything. Why the fuck were you even trying to have a kid right now?” His vile outburst shouldn’t surprise me but I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it for a few seconds. He’s still ranting when I return. “We’re on tour for the next few months! Not the time to be trying to spit out a damn kid!”
“We weren’t ‘trying’, you asshole. And it’s—”
“Then what’s the fucking problem? Get your god damn ass—”<
br />
“Fuck you.” Blind with rage, I slam the phone down and yank the plug out of the wall.
“What’s wrong?” Mallory’s soft voice extinguishes my fury.
I toss the phone and cord aside. “Nothing. Why are you up? Come on, let’s go back to bed.”
She holds out her hands, stopping me in my tracks. “I can’t. I hurt all over and feel gross. I need a shower.”
“All right. Let’s get you showered up.”
The corners of her mouth tilt up a fraction, then her gaze lands on the massacred phone. “Was that the band? Are they upset? Do you need to go?”
“It was Jacob. He’s an asshole. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Chaser.” Her gentle, reasonable tone triggers my fight response.
“No. Not up for discussion. I can’t right now.” I take a few breaths. “I need to be with you.”
The doorbell rings and without thinking, I open the door. “Chaser! Can I ask you a few questions?” a reporter shouts. “Did Mallory have—”
“Get the fuck off my property.” I slam the door shut.
“What’s going on?”
“Apparently our tragedy is newsworthy.”
“What’s wrong with people? Why?”
“I don’t know.” I stare at the door and the walls around us. The doorbell rings again.
Mallory bites her lip. Her scared, tired eyes dart around the room. Jesus, after everything she just went through, she doesn’t need this extra stress.
“We can’t stay here.”
“Where should we go?” she asks.
“Home. Let’s go home.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chaser
Not a trace of guilt follows me to the airport. There’s a flight that would take me within hours of where we’re playing tonight. If there are no delays, I could probably get there in time to go on stage.
I book two flights home instead.
Am I destroying everything I’ve worked so hard for? A couple years ago, if you’d told me I’d leave in the middle of a headlining tour, I would’ve laughed. Now, other things just seem more important. I can’t explain it and I won’t defend it.
Mallory sleeps on the long flight to New York. I have to gently shake her awake when we land.
My father meets us at the gate and envelopes her in a gentle hug.
I hadn’t given him a lot of details when I called him and asked him to pick us up at the airport. Maybe he saw the news and understood my need to come home. No one should know how to find us here.
“Welcome home.” He pulls back and stares down at her. “Everything’s gonna be okay, princess.”
She gives him a weak smile and nods.
“You okay?” he asks, clasping my shoulder.
Am I?
The whirlwind of emotions I’ve been through the last few days hasn’t begun to settle. My biggest concern is Mallory’s health. The doctors assured us that physically, she was fine to travel.
Emotionally, I’m not so sure. Not after all the reporters clogging up our driveway, shouting obnoxious questions at us.
The ride to the house is quiet. Mallory rests her head on my shoulder and closes her eyes.
“House is all ready for you,” my father says. “Her car’s there. If you need to get anything.”
I snort. “You know I can barely drive that thing. My knees are too far up in the dash to work the clutch.”
“I’ll get someone to come pick me up and leave the truck.”
“You don’t have to. We’ll be fine.”
“Doe brought groceries but you might need other things.” He glances over at Mallory. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll worry about it later.”
At the house, Mallory sways on her feet. I get her to drink a glass of water before taking her upstairs and tucking her into bed. “I’ll be right downstairs.”
My father’s pacing in the kitchen when I return.
“She okay?”
“She seemed to be doing better until the circus of reporters wouldn’t leave us alone.”
“Then you better keep her away from the television,” he warns. “And grocery store magazine racks.”
“Seriously? All the way out here?”
He tosses a thin, glossy entertainment rag at me. One of those an-alien-ate-my-baby sort of papers. It’s wrinkled from being rolled up and shoved in someone’s pocket but not enough to obscure the picture on the front.
Mallory standing in between Andrew and me. Backstage at one of our shows. Her bright, beautiful smile obscene against the ugly headline.
Whose baby was she carrying?
“Motherfuckers.” I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing we hadn’t been so quick to leave L.A. Seems there are a few reporters I’d like to have a word with.
My father’s staring at me when I open my eyes. As if he’s waiting for some sort of answer. Maybe it’s exhaustion or misdirected fury but I grab a handful of his shirt and shove him. Hard.
His back hits the wall with a thud and his eyes widen.
“Don’t you fucking dare question her,” I snarl. “The baby was mine.”
He drops his gaze to where his shirt’s in my clenched fist and after a moment I release him.
“I can’t imagine the grief you’re going through right now, son, so I’ll let that slide.” He adjusts his cut. “Someone planted that article. You got any idea who would do something like that?”
I flick the magazine across the table. “Could be anyone. A reporter. Andrew’s ex. Take your pick.”
“Andrew?”
He’s a first-class motherfucker for sure but we came to an understanding. Besides, as big of an asshole as he is, deep down in his twisted soul, he cares about Mallory. I can’t picture him showing up to the hospital with flowers and offers to help us out, then turning around and hurting her on purpose.
“He’d be at the bottom of my list of suspects.”
“Well, last thing I need is her father getting wind of it.”
Laughter bursts from my lungs at the absurdity of his concern. “I don’t think they allow tabloids in prison, Dad.”
He doesn’t join in on my merriment. “Don’t fool yourself.”
“Fuck.” I run my fingers through my hair. “He’s the least of my worries right now. I left in the middle of a tour. The band’s going to kill me. Jacob’s a fucking mess. And I’m out of fucks for anything besides Mallory right now.”
“You need me to call anyone for you?”
I’m too old to have my daddy making phone calls for me, but I still give him Thom’s number.
“Tell him I’ll try to make Atlanta on Friday. If Nick can fill in for me, I’m fine with it.”
“All right.” He pats my shoulder. “Go take care of your girl.”
After he leaves, I prowl through the house, checking the doors and windows. Locking everything up tight. I leave one lamp on in the living room, then make my way upstairs.
Mallory’s curled on her side but stirs as I crawl into bed. “Is your dad okay?” she whispers.
“Shh, he’s fine. Don’t worry about him.” I kiss her shoulder. “Are you okay? Need anything?”
“Will you hold me until I fall back asleep?”
We’re going to be okay. We’ll make it through this no matter what.
I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close. “I’ll hold onto you forever.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chaser
Maybe my father’s worried I’m brooding too much or need to get out of the house. The next afternoon, he invites me to sit down at the table with the club for church. And by “invites” I mean “orders.”
“All right.” He holds his hands up, halting the conversation going around the table. “Our last two visits with the Lost Kings went well. Now it’s time we extend the same courtesy—”
“Brother, I gotta object here,” Mouse interrupts. “No matter how much titty-fuckin’ we all did down at Crystal Ball, I don’t fuckin’ trust their curr
ent president.”
Well, I guess I didn’t miss anything on the club’s last run to Empire. Every time my club visits Crystal Ball, the brothers come home and start bugging my dad to open up our own strip club.
“Good, ’cause Ruger ain’t coming. His SAA is the one making the trip.”
“That’s even worse,” Tally says. “Their prez wants to do business here but can’t drag his lazy ass out and show us some respect.”
“Let’s see what Grinder has to say before we blow off the Lost Kings. Bishop’s stopping by too.” My father shrugs a little too casually. “Maybe our three clubs can work out something that benefits everyone.”
“Great, Bishop and Grinder will probably kill each other. Problem solved.” Mouse slaps his hands together. “Saints and Kings don’t mix well.”
My father snorts. “They’re two obstinate fuckers, aren’t they?” He points down the table at Trick. “Stay the fuck away from Bishop’s ol’ lady this weekend. I don’t need more bullshit in this clubhouse over that fuckin’ whore.”
“Nora isn’t a whore,” Trick grumbles.
My father’s expression doesn’t change.
“Fine.” Trick throws his hands in the air. “I won’t tell her about the party. Nothing I can do if Bishop tells her.”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Hell help that fucking woman if she comes near Mallory again.
My father asks me to stick around after the meeting. “I know you’re headed to Atlanta for your show. Think you’ll be back for the weekend?”
“Sounds like you need me to.” I tap the table again. “Since so many different clubs are stopping by.”
“We’ll try to keep things friendly and casual.”
“Mallory’s staying here. You think you or Doe can check up on her?”
“You really need to ask?”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chaser
I was only gone for a couple of days, yet the atmosphere’s turned sour when I catch up with the tour.
Wheels of Fire (Hollywood Demons Book 3) Page 30