by Cherrie Lynn
“How are things this morning?”
“I don’t know. I’m so swollen. I’m freaking miserable. And my head is killing me.”
“Hmm. When do you go back to the doctor?”
“Next week. Thursday.”
“Maybe you should call and tell them you aren’t feeling well.”
“I’m just in a funk. Maybe I’m complaining too much. Or coming down with something.”
“Better safe than sorry, Ro. I damn sure don’t know what’s normal or not, but they will. Do you have a blood pressure monitor at home? If your head’s hurting that bad, maybe your blood pressure is getting high.”
“No. Do you have one?”
“No. Mom might, though. How about I go get it and we check it?”
“Aren’t you at work?”
“I have a little time between clients.”
Ugh. Anytime Regina thought there might be a problem, she would be over here with bells on, and Rowan simply couldn’t face it today. “Only if there’s some way you could get it without her knowing.”
“Don’t be so hard on Mom.”
Rowan sighed, settling on the bed and staring out the window at another sunny, smoldering day. “I know, I know, the whole one-and-only-grandchild thing. It’s the only way I’ve been tolerating her.”
“You can’t think running around all over the country with Zane was good for you.”
“I didn’t. That’s why I left.”
Savannah was silent for a moment, and Rowan heard uncertainty there. “It really tore him up when you left.”
He must have talked to Mike. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was said. When she didn’t speak, Savannah went grimly on. “That morning you left? In Denver? There’s been a lot of buzz about that show. They say he had some kind of emotional breakdown onstage. I didn’t know if you’d heard.”
“What?”
“It’s all over the Internet.”
Throat dry as the Sahara, Rowan walked back into the bathroom on trembling legs to get another drink of water. “Savvy, I don’t know what to do,” she said once she could speak again.
Leaving him had been one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. His eyes, his smile, his voice . . . they haunted her dreams while she slept and her memories when she was awake. Months ago she’d suffered the worst heartbreak she’d ever known, and just when she’d thought she might be coming out of it, that dream of happiness had been snatched away from her.
“Have you fallen for him?” Savannah asked.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, but thought it bordered more on a lie than a truth. “But I would like more time. I would like to find out.”
“There’s no huge rush, Rowan. He’s not going anywhere, you’re not going anywhere . . . but you do have some major responsibilities coming up, and he needs to respect that and give you time.”
“Your parents would never go for it,” she said tightly. “All I am to them is an incubator for their precious princess.”
“Rowan!” Savannah snapped. “It isn’t that way at all.”
“Yes, it is. Nothing is about me anymore. It hasn’t been since Tommy died. I’ve lost myself. I just want some-fucking-thing to be about me. For once. Is that so hard?”
Dead silence greeted her outburst, and for a horrible moment, Rowan thought Savannah might have hung up and washed her hands of the entire situation. Instead, she finally said, “I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I think so.”
Rowan drew a deep breath. It didn’t do anything to clear her dizziness. Her yelling hadn’t done anything to help her headache, either. The pounding between her ears felt like something about to burst. “We have years and years ahead to spoil this baby. And we will. But I need a life too. I’m looking forward to being a mother, but I don’t know if I want that to be my identity.”
“You can be whatever you want to be. You know we’ll help you if you need it.”
When she was with Tommy, her life had been all about him. If she were ever with Zane, really with him, she had no doubt circumstances would be exactly the same. The shadow standing behind the high-profile man, propping him up, but hidden from the world. She didn’t know if she wanted that again. But when she thought about that night on the bus, and the things he’d made her feel, her entire body responded. Her heart squeezed, her breath caught, and every second replayed in her mind.
She wanted that again. Her old life was in ashes; nothing would bring it back. Whether she could build something from this new one remained to be seen.
“Thanks, Savannah. I know you mean that. But I don’t know if your parents agree.”
“We’ll talk about it. I want us to get together soon. I also want you to check your blood pressure, like soon. Even if I have to go out and buy you a monitor right now.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Then will you let me get Mom’s?”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” Now that her outburst had passed, the pain in her head was receding somewhat. Still there, but duller. Not so much like a hammer bashing her skull with every beat of her heart.
“I’m not hanging up until you agree.”
“Jesus, okay. I’ll get it checked today, one way or another.” If nothing else, she could run to a pharmacy and shove her arm through the cuff at the do-it-yourself machine. Even though she damn sure didn’t feel like going right now.
“Promise.”
“I promise!” Ouch. Wincing, she lifted a hand to her forehead. “Stop making me yell.”
Savannah chuckled. “Stop yelling. Call me if you need anything, you hear me? If I’m in a session, call Mom. Rowan? Promise.”
“I promise even though I’m getting really tired of being treated like I’m six.”
“Love ya.”
“Love you too.”
For a moment, she contemplated collapsing back into bed after hanging up, but she knew if she did, she would never get back up. So she forced herself to her feet and roamed carefully down the stairs to the kitchen, joints creaking with every movement. God, she was falling apart, and she would probably never make it back up those stairs. Damn the idiot who had made this house two-story. She would need to start sleeping in the first-floor guest room before this ordeal was over.
Actually, it wasn’t a bad idea. The first few nights when she hadn’t been able to face her empty bed after Tommy’s death, she had slept anywhere but there. The couch. The guest room. His parents’ house.
When she was with Zane was the only time she hadn’t dreaded laying her head down to sleep. Maybe it was from the change of scenery. Or maybe it was him.
He’d had a breakdown onstage. In Denver. The night she left. A chill went down Rowan’s spine, her hands freezing in the middle of making her decaf. Please, let him be okay. After everything life had thrown at him, all the demons he exorcised through his music, the last thing she wanted was to be the cause of more of his pain. The hatching of more demons. Hell, to end up in one of his songs. How could she let that happen?
Coffee made, she planted herself in front of her computer, her heart thudding hard, her hands trembling. Because of the very public way in which her husband had perished, YouTube contained some of the worst moments of her life among its videos, and she feared she might be about to look upon another one. A quick search brought up several hits right away, each from different angles, each post by different concertgoers out in the crowd that night.
Her eyes surveyed the list of options.
August on Fire—ZL GOES OFF!!!!!—Denver
ZANE LARSON FREAKS OUT IN DENVER—EPIC!
ZANE ON FIYAAAHHH—Denver, CO
“I can’t watch this,” she said out loud, pushing her chair back. He’d brought her to tears with performances before; she couldn’t stand the thought of the performance being about her.
And it was “Faceless.” One of her favorites, but one of their most emotional songs. Even worse.
Tear me apart, watch me die<
br />
Can’t get close to you, it was all a lie
Cut out my heart, leave the scar
Who the fuck do you think you are?
WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
The bridge played through her aching head while she chewed her thumbnail, staring in horror at the still shots of him down on his knees. She’d never once seen him do anything like that.
“I didn’t mean it,” she whimpered to the empty room, when she should be telling him. Some impulse straight from the depths of hell made her click on some of the comments after pausing the auto play on the first video. It wasn’t promising.
Zane baby come here ill make it better
Hang tough bro
Wasn’t he seeing some girl? That bitch better not hurt him!!
The pregnant chick? Do you think that’s his kid?
God I hope not! I want him to be MY baby daddy LOL
AOF SUCKS
Zane has been thru so much! We love you Z!
ZAAAAAANE I <3 YOUUUUU please be ok!!
And on and on and on, with the speculation about whether he and Rowan were together, whether she was carrying his baby, or whether she was just a gold-digging slut who was messing with his head.
I’m a fucking person, she thought, wiping the sleeve of her robe across tears that sprang unbidden to her eyes. A person who had done a bad thing, a despicable thing, but who still had her reasons. And if this was the kind of backlash she would have to face being with him, then she’d made the right decision.
A quick check of his Instagram showed no new content since she’d left, but the comments on his last post—a selfie in front of the St. Louis crowd with over twenty thousand likes—had comments pertaining to the Denver show as well.
Hope you’re ok, bro, stay strong!
Why is he so adorable?
Fuck that bitch Zane!
WHO THE FUCK DOES SHE THINK SHE IS
You rock dude, dont let shit get u down
Come to Argentina!
Check ur dms! Check them! Let me know if u like wut u see
The last from a girl whose entire profile picture was of cleavage. Yeah, three guesses as to what was in that message, but Rowan only needed one. She wondered if he checked stuff like that.
God, she felt awful. Mentally and physically wrecked. She shouldn’t have looked at this stuff; it was only making it worse. The idea of going back to bed teased at her, but she honestly didn’t want to climb the stairs, so she went into the living room and lay on the couch with her face turned into the cushions to block the sunlight that was like a knife between her eyes.
She woke to two blurry figures shaking her frantically. Panic shot through her until one of the hazy faces became Regina’s, and beside her, Savannah’s. They both stared down worriedly at her. “What?” she whined, throwing up a hand to her head. It was about to shoot off her shoulders any second now. “Oh, Jesus . . .”
“Come on,” Regina said urgently, reaching for her to help her sit up. “We’re going to the emergency room. We’ll help you get ready.”
Damn the day Tommy had given these two keys to the house. Rowan would’ve shaken her head but she was afraid the movement would have accelerated liftoff. “No, no, I’m sure it’s—”
Regina’s tone brooked no argument. “Listen to me. My sister had preeclampsia, so I know the signs. You’re going. We’ll just get you checked out, okay? If you’re all right, no harm done.”
“I can call Dr. Madison . . .”
“Just come with us,” Savannah said. “Please? Did you ever check your blood pressure?”
“No, I came in here and fell asleep.”
“God, Rowan. We talked six hours ago. No wonder you haven’t been answering.”
She’d slept here for six hours? Weakness pulled at her and she didn’t relish the idea of getting off the couch. If she could lie here from now on and never have to move again, that would be fine with her. “I don’t know if I can get up,” she admitted.
“Dear God. How long have you been feeling this badly?” Regina asked.
Seven and a half months? But that wasn’t quite true. It had never been this bad. “A while, but today is the worst by far.”
“We should have brought Dad,” Savannah fretted. “He could have carried her.”
The idea of that made her feel so pathetic she forced herself to a sitting position with the other women’s help. The room spun and whirled so wildly she had to sit and let it calibrate before she dared let them help her to her feet. Legs wobbly, she hobbled along with them outside to Regina’s car at the curb. Her hair was a rat’s nest and she still wore her pajamas, but she was so sick she didn’t care. For the horrid ride to the hospital, she had to lie down across the back seat with her head in Savannah’s lap, worried that she was going to vomit all over her scrubs and Regina’s leather seats. Somehow, she managed not to.
Fear maintained an icy grip on her heart. Like most pregnant women, she knew about preeclampsia, but it was one of those things she’d never imagined would happen, so she didn’t know much about it. Besides, her checkups had always been fine.
She was only thirty-four weeks pregnant. If they had to take the baby now, would she be okay? Oh God, oh God . . . she couldn’t lose Tommy and his daughter. Not unless she went too. Because that would be it for her. She would check out.
Do you hear me, God? I’ve had enough. Just take me too.
The dream she’d had on Zane’s tour bus came back to her. Tommy holding their baby girl, waiting for her in a lush paradise, on the other side of an invisible chasm she couldn’t cross. They were smiling, so beautiful together. Too late, she thought. Was it too late? When was the last time she’d felt the baby move? Had she felt her today at all? Oh God . . .
She put both hands on her belly and sobbed. Savannah stroked her hair and scolded her mother while Regina broke traffic laws. “It isn’t going to help anything if we all die before we get there, Mother!”
There was a reply, but Rowan didn’t hear it. “Savannah, I’m scared.”
“It’s all right,” Savannah assured her quietly. “It’ll be all right, Ro.”
Tommy’s face somehow became Zane’s, and though he stood alone, he was telling her the same thing. It’ll be all right. He’d always assured her of that. He’d been the only person who could make her almost believe it.
“Please . . . I need Zane, Savvy. Will you get him? Will you tell him I’m sorry?”
She didn’t remember much else after that.
Chapter Seventeen
Rowan is sick. She’s asking for you.
The horror of receiving that message from Mike replayed in Zane’s mind on an endless loop during the flight from Portland to Dallas, where he caught a connecting flight to New Orleans. He’d left that night’s venue immediately, not even telling anyone until he was in a cab on the way to the airport that he wasn’t going to be there to perform and they would need to cancel. His own band members were probably ready to kick him out at this point, but he didn’t give a shit.
If Rowan was sick, and she was asking for him, then no force in heaven or hell would keep him away.
Not having details was the worst. What the fuck did sick mean? And was the baby okay? She couldn’t handle this shit; she didn’t deserve this shit. He came so close to ordering a drink on the plane that the words formed on his tongue at one point when the attendant came by, but something inside him wouldn’t push them out. Most days the need lay dormant, but in moments of high crisis, it always came roaring to the surface, his old coping mechanism, the demon he could never quite slay. But for her, he beat it into submission one more time.
Be okay, baby. Please be okay. I’m coming. He wanted to let her know that, but the last message he’d received from Mike said she was going in for emergency surgery. They were taking the baby. It was needed to save her life, but . . . if anything happened to Rowan’s daughter, she would give up. He knew her enough to know that. Neither he nor Savannah nor anyone else would be
able to save her.
Jase had arranged for him to have a car when he got to New Orleans. He’d left even his bodyguard behind, though he wouldn’t be surprised if the guy showed up in a day or two. Mike had told him the hospital name, and the navigation system took him there. But his brother intercepted him before he could even enter the front doors.
Mike was one of the most welcome sights he’d ever seen, and that wasn’t always the case. “How is she?” Zane demanded.
“She’s heavily sedated, but everything went well and she’s stable. The baby is a little over six weeks early and had some breathing problems.”
“What the fuck happened?”
“Toxemia. Apparently it wasn’t anything that could’ve been avoided.”
That did little to assuage Zane’s guilt for traipsing her all around the country, though he appreciated Mike pointing it out. “Can I see her?”
“She’s out of it.”
“I don’t care. I just need to . . . see. All right?”
“All right. Savannah and her parents went to get something in the cafeteria, so now is a good time if you hurry.”
He hurried his ass off, traversing the seemingly endless labyrinthine hallways with Mike until they stopped at a slightly ajar door and Mike motioned him in. “Go ahead.”
Zane took a deep breath and rushed inside, but he wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him.
She lay in the hospital bed, looking tiny and helpless with shadows under both eyes, her blond hair in disarray on her pillow. An IV ran into her arm; multiple medical bracelets wrapped up the other. Her skin was nearly as white as the sheets tucked in around her, and for a moment, his heart tripped over itself.
There was also the heart-wrenching flatness of her stomach. It made her appear even smaller, somehow even more vulnerable.
“Zane?”
Rowan’s sleepy green eyes, barely open, seemed to struggle to focus on him. “Hey.” He walked over and leaned over her, stroking an errant tendril of hair away from her forehead. “It’s me, honey. I’m right here.”
She blinked at him, her bottom lip trembling. “They cut me open. They took her out. They said I would die if they didn’t. Tommy said . . .” Her voice weakened and trailed away as a slow chill worked its way down his spine. She seemed to be looking at something beyond what he could see.