Bad Rules (A Wild Minds Novel)

by Charlotte West

  I turned to leave, to wake Warren, Kelly, and Ash. Addy caught my wrist. “I’m scared,” she said. “This was a stupid decision, to come with Warren. What if something happens to the baby? It will be my fault.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to you or the baby,” I said, though I wasn’t sure. Truth was, I was fucking terrified. My relationship with my biological parents was a nonstarter but I still had family—Addy, Ash, Warren, the rest of the band, even Addy’s pop, Billy. We were a motley crew.

  Gently I pried her fingers from my wrist. “Take some deep breaths. Count to one hundred. I’ll be back before you’re done,” I promised.

  Across the hall, I banged on Kelly’s door. The Scot answered shirtless. I mentally catalogued the image so I could appreciate it later. His blond hair was pulled back in a messy man-bun. “Aye?” he asked.

  “It’s Addy,” I said, nearly out of breath. God, my heart, I thought it might beat straight out of my chest. “She’s really swollen and has a bad headache.”

  “Let me get some clothes on.” The door swung shut. Kelly reemerged in a few seconds, medical bag in hand.

  “It’s preeclampsia,” I whispered as I followed him. I knew the word from doula training. Had even seen a woman with it. Hands a little more swollen than Addy’s, blood pressure in the stroke zone.

  He pushed into the suite. “We don’t know that,” he said.

  “That’s why you’ve been checking her blood pressure so much. You’ve been worried about it.”

  He hesitated for a moment. “Call the doctor and an ambulance.”

  A doctor, four paramedics, and two firefighters all in the suite and Ash didn’t wake up. Blackout drunks had nothing on the man. While Addy was loaded onto a stretcher, I slipped on my shoes and tried once again to shake Ash awake. Nothing. I couldn’t worry about my alcoholic boyfriend just then. Addy couldn’t wait. I kissed him on his stubbly cheek and left.

  Now

  I did my best impression of a fly on the wall as a medical team worked on Addy.

  She’d rode in an ambulance to Norway’s most prestigious maternity ward while I followed in a hired car. Before the tour, Kelly had researched hospitals in each country, made sure they were equipped for all birth-related complications. Thank god. Her blood pressure continued to hover around one sixty over one twelve. It wasn’t coming down. Blood was drawn. I listened carefully to the doctors and nurses. She had protein in her urine. An intense headache. Unusual swelling. The diagnosis was quick. Preeclampsia. At this late stage in pregnancy, the prescription was delivery.

  “We’ll be prepping Mrs. Price for a Caesarean delivery,” the doctor explained in a clipped accent to Warren.

  His face leached of color as he clutched Addy’s hand. Such a sad sight to see, such a big man humbled. All the money in the world and there were still things Warren couldn’t buy. “It’s early…”

  The doctor smiled, warm and kind. “Not too early. Your wife is thirty-seven weeks. Don’t worry, Mr. Price, your wife is in excellent hands.” He went on explaining the procedure, then the personnel who would be present—the NICU team, just in case. We got to say goodbye.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Warren murmured, kissing Addy’s cheek. He’d be allowed in for the surgery after Addy was prepped.

  Derren and Lix stepped forward, each whispering words of encouragement. Lix pulled away first. He sniffled, looked away.

  “She’ll be all right,” I assured, but it was more for myself than anyone else.

  “Yeah,” Lix said.

  Derren kissed Addy’s cheek. My turn to wish her well. I squeezed her hand. “You’re going to do great,” I said. My smile was watery. “This is so exciting. You’re going to meet your baby girl soon. Have you thought about the name Lily?”

  My attempt at humor was poor, but Addy smiled, and for a moment, her mind was off her upcoming surgery. “You sound like Lix, he’s been pitching names since the start of the tour; I’ve never heard so many variations of Felix.” Her eyes were red-rimmed and liquid when she looked up at me. “I need you to call Billy. He’s going to freak out. Maybe talk to Daisy first.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  The rails went up on her bed, locking into place. “Warren needs Ash.”

  “I’ll get him,” I promised. My chin wobbled, my eyes filled with tears.

  “I hate hospitals,” she said. “I hate the way they smell.”

  “I’ll see if I can find an air freshener or something for when you get back.” I’d scour the city if I had to.

  “I’ll be okay,” she said.

  “Of course you will. You’re too stubborn not to be.”

  “But if anything happens to me, I want you to help Warren with her,” Addy said.

  “Nothing is going to happen to you—”

  She squeezed my hand. “Promise me.”

  I opened my mouth and my throat closed up. “Of course.”

  Her grip relaxed. She breathed deep. “To Edward Cullen,” she said.

  “May he stay forever young and beautiful,” I finished.

  They wheeled Addy out on a stretcher. I sort of staggered back and slumped against the wall, Derren and Lix in similar positions. Warren paced for a moment, running his hands through his hair until a nurse came to get him. Through the open doorway, I could see a shadow. Kelly stood guard, a silent sentry. He blamed himself. He’d said so on the car ride over. “I should’ve made her go to the hospital sooner.” The room seemed big without the bed in it, like a body without its center. And that’s what Addy was to the band. The heart. If something happened to her, the whole band would collapse.

  There was groaning, loud and long, and pained. Kind of like a bear caught in a trap, or a drunk man waking with a vicious hangover.

  “Lil.” An arm hooked around my waist. Asher dragged me into his body. He buried his face in the back of my neck. “Fuck.”

  My fingers curled into the bed sheet. “Long night?” If my voice sounded hollow, Asher didn’t notice.

  “Head hurts.”

  “There’s some Advil on the nightstand along with some orange juice.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart,” he mumbled.

  “I didn’t do it for you.”

  His body stilled. “Huh?” Ah, so I had his attention. Excellent. I needed him alert for the bomb I was about to drop.

  “I’ve had a long night too.” I rubbed my cheek into the pillow. This was about to get awkward. I took a moment to enjoy Asher’s touch, because I wouldn’t be feeling it for a long time if everything went according to plan. “Addy woke me up a little after midnight. Her hands were the size of oven mitts and she had a bad headache, scared the shit out of me. We went to the hospital. They decided to do an emergency C-section.”

  Ever so slowly, he sat up. His stare burned into me. “Are you telling me Addy had the baby last night?”

  My smile was grim as I peered up at him. “Congratulations, you’re an uncle. Billie Victoria Rose born at one forty-five this morning, five pounds and two ounces.” Billie for Addy’s father (and gender neutral), Victoria for her mother, and Rose in honor of Daisy—flower names. “She’s being monitored in the NICU. But both Addy and the baby are fine.”

  “Christ. They named her after Billy? How’d Addy get Warren to agree to that?”

  My smile was at least genuine. “She brought it up during the C-section. Guess it’s hard to say no to a woman on an operating table.” Billy would be thrilled to hear the name. He was on his way, along with Daisy and their devil child. When I’d called, there was retching in the background. Little Dylan was lactose intolerant, Daisy explained. He’d gotten a hold of a box of ice cream bars and was currently paying the price, praying to the porcelain god. Maybe the exorcism has finally started, I thought.

  Ash pulled up his body, so that his back rested against the headboard. Ever-present necklaces hung down his chest, morning light brought out the blues in his tattoos. He sipped the juice from the nightstand and swallowed a couple of the pai
nkillers. He regarded me through half-lidded eyes. “How’s War?”

  “He’s okay, thrilled to be a father. Doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. Addy’s in a lot of pain. We have to stay here for a while for her to recover and Billie to be discharged from the NICU. They’re talking about postponing the tour. Or at least canceling the next few weeks.”

  He ran a hand down his face. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  I sat up too. “I tried to. The room could’ve been on fire and you would’ve slept through it. You drank almost a whole bottle of aquavit last night.” I didn’t mention the beer chasers.

  He shrugged. “Bad timing.”

  “That might be true. But more nights than not, you’re blitzed. You had a beer yesterday at nine o’clock in the morning.”

  Another shrug. I wanted to take his ambivalence and shove it up his ass. “We’ve always partied this way.” He stood, buttoned his fly, and searched the bedding for his tee. “I should probably get to the hospital, see how War is doing.” I watched him shuffle around the room, stuff a wallet in his back pocket, brush his teeth. When his hand grasped the door handle, I held my breath. “Door’s locked,” he said.

  I wrung my hands together. “I know. I had Kelly install a bolt on the outside. I thought for sure the drill would’ve woken you.”

  “What the fuck?” He white knuckled the handle. “Get Kelly to open the door, right fucking now, Lily. I need to get to Warren.”

  One very sad shake of my head. “Can’t. We all agreed, even Warren thinks this is best.”

  His fists took to the doors. The walls shook. A picture bounced and fell to the floor.

  “It’s useless,” I said over the banging. “Even if you could get through the four inches of mahogany, the rest of the suite doors are locked too. There’s no more liquor on this floor. The guys thought I was being overly cautious.” My laugh was dry. “But they don’t know you like I do. Don’t know how bad it is. When you want something, you don’t stop.” He’d pursued me that way, with the tenacity of a bloodhound. “Our only connection to the outside world is the phone. I’ll call Kelly when we’re ready. There’s a treatment program here in Norway. They’re waiting for you.”

  The banging ceased. He jerked his chin. “Fine, call Kelly. Tell him I’m ready.” His eyes sharpened with determination.

  “Can’t do that. You’re not ready yet.”

  “The fuck I am,” he roared.

  “Step one: acceptance. You’re nowhere near it.” My smile was overly bright, overly confident. “Now what do you want to do while you dry out? Watch a movie?”

  I clicked on the television. Turning up the volume, I ignored the furious man by the door.

  He didn’t know when to quit the bottle. I didn’t know when to quit him. Four years ago, we’d been young and dumb. We’d never been so reckless, so free. But for such freedom, a price has to be paid. Ash paid in a wicked addiction. I paid in a broken heart. The two of us were quite a pair—worn and battle scarred. But ready for love. The kind of love that lasted a lifetime, rather than a few months on tour. We could build a future together, if Ash could quit drinking. Our relationship depended on it.

  The going was about to get rough. I settled in for the long haul. I would endure this with Asher. I committed to staying. Because that’s what you do when you love someone. You stay. You see them through the dark.

  Ash drying out was downright nasty. The hotel room was destroyed. Anything glass or breakable was smashed. Yelling came next. A filthy rant that would turn Sid Vicious’ ears pink. I weathered the storm, hollering back and speaking softly when warranted. We’d just passed lucky hour eight.

  “He’s doing okay,” I told Kelly, watching as Asher paced back and forth, hands balled into fists.

  “You’re still in the early stages,” Kelly said, accent thick and rougher with lack of sleep. “He’ll start to get sick soon.”

  “He’s thrown up a couple of times.”

  “That’s to be expected.”

  “He’s really wired right now.” He reminded me of a caged circus tiger, a fierce predator that, although injured, wouldn’t stop fighting, wouldn’t stop lashing out.

  “Stop fucking talking about me like I’m not here,” Asher snapped, flashing me a dark look. The knuckles on his left hand were bloody. I eyed a smashed lamp in the corner of the room. Asher hadn’t liked how bright it was.

  I pressed the phone closer to my ear. “He doesn’t appreciate me speaking as if he’s not here,” I said drily.

  Kelly chuckled. “Sounds like your sense of humor is still intact. He’ll be getting more anxious, won’t be able to sleep, and nausea may set in. I left you some antinausea medication to use in an emergency. It’s in the nightstand drawer.”

  “Cool,” I said.

  “If he starts running a fever, becomes confused, or has an increased heartrate, you call me right away. Thermometer is in the nightstand, too.” A pause. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” Kelly said softly.

  I sighed. “I kind of figured. How’s Addy?” I’d spoken with her earlier briefly. She was tired but happy. We both agreed the best place for me right now was by Ash’s side. Addy needed Warren, and Warren needed Ash to be healthy. When you’re family, you do all sorts of things for one another.

  “She’s real good, lass. They’re talking about releasing her day after tomorrow. Billy arrived an hour ago. He’s been strutting around showing off pictures of his namesake. Says he thinks she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and she’s lucky she doesn’t look anything like her father.” I smiled, wishing I could be there. Though Addy and Warren thought Billy annoying on most days, I found him entertaining and endearing. The man loved his kids. No dispute.

  Asher slammed his ass down in an armchair. Legs splayed, he braced his elbows on his knees and palmed his head. A shudder wracked his body. I played with the bed sheet. “I should probably go.”

  “Aye,” said Kelly. “You give Asher our best. We’re all rooting for him.”

  “Will do,” I said.

  We hung up.

  “You feeling sick again?” I asked.

  He grunted.

  “Want to hear a musician joke?”

  “Fuck off.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. Another shudder wracked his body. “Asher.” I went to him.

  “I need something.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Just one drink,” he said.

  “Said all alcoholics ever.”

  “I can’t… One drink, then I’ll go to rehab.”

  “Wow,” I said, all false enthusiasm. “That totally convinced me.”

  “I never realized how fucking sarcastic you are.”

  “It’s one of my best qualities.”

  Another grunt. Such a poet this man was.

  “You’re bargaining right now. It’s one of the stages.”

  “That’s grief. Bargaining is one of the seven stages of grief,” he growled. His jaw tightened. “This is so fucking stupid. I’m firing everyone who helped you do this.”

  At least he didn’t threaten to break up with me. Small victories were all I had. “I don’t think that’s possible. Kelly helped me the most and technically the band pays his salary. Plus, the guys agreed to this course of action.”

  “I wish you didn’t sound like a fucking professor when you talk. You’re giving me a headache.”

  “I’m on your side, Ash.”

  “I hate your bullshit positive affirmations too.”

  For a moment, his harsh breathing was the only sound in the room. “I’m sorry,” he bit out.

  “It’s okay. I know you’re not really mad at me. Addy has assured me, I’m a goddamn delight to be around.”

  He leaned back. A fine sheen of sweat coated his forehead. He gripped the arms of the chair, veins in his forearms standing out in stark relief. The stars in his tattoos swirled in my vision. I’d seen so many faces of Asher. Funny Asher (though some would a
rgue such a side of him didn’t exist), strong Asher, arrogant Asher, but I’d never seen him like this—humbled, beaten by a bottle like so many greats before him. It occurred to me what a cliché this was, the rocker alcoholic, but I didn’t say it. Didn’t think Ash would appreciate my insight.

  My finger grazed his cheek, and he flinched. “Skin hurts,” he mumbled.

  “Be right back.” In the bathroom, I wetted a washcloth with cold water. Back by Asher’s side, I placed the cold cloth on his forehead.

  He closed his eyes, breathing through a tremor. “I don’t want you to see me like this,” he said, voice guttural.

  My heart broke for him. “I’m not giving up on you just yet. I got big plans for us.”

  He scowled. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I find the whole rock-star-unraveling thing super sexy.” A grim smile. “And after, you’ll be a grumpy, dry rock star. My favorite.”

  He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Don’t know how you could love me.”

  I tilted my head, studied him. Memories raced through my mind. Everything crystallized in one blinding moment. That what you need, Lily? Some smart prick to shoot the shit with? He’d asked that night when everything had fallen apart. I hadn’t been listening, hadn’t heard the insecurity just beneath the surface, didn’t consider Asher’s vulnerabilities because I’d been too caught up in mine. “Asher.” Ever so gently, I laid my hand on top of his. He gave me a long look, eyes sharp and hard. “You’re the most brilliant man I’ve ever met.”

  He said nothing, didn’t even blink.

  “You’re the artist.” His hands conjured greatness every time he played. I was so lucky to be holding them. “I’m just a helpless fan girl. You do what I could never do. I love art. I admire it. It sings to my soul. But you… you make it.” The catch in my throat, the swelling in my chest, was my spirit calling to Asher. “You can do this. I’ve never been so sure of anything. There’s us and there’s everyone else. I won’t lose you. We’ll get through this.”