Reckless (53 page)

I sighed as I sat on the edge of the bed. “I haven’t seen it yet, but I knew it was coming. That creeper ambushed us yesterday when we thought we were alone.” Cringing, I
asked, “So, how much do the Kell-Sex fanatics hate me?”

Denny let out a long sigh that said it all. “Well, let’s just say that some of them are very . . . passionate. And inventive. Just hope you don’t ever find yourself in any dark
alleys with them.” I laughed at that, and Denny sighed again. “I hate to sound like a broken record, mate, but you could always come back home if it gets too rough.” Laughing a
little, he added, “Abby even said she’d hide you in our closet if things got too bad.”

I let out an unladylike snort. “Yeah, fleeing back home and hiding out with my ex and his girlfriend—that wouldn’t be awkward at all.” Having heard my comment, Kellan
smirked at me.

After a long stretch of silence, Denny quietly told me, “Fiancée. I asked Abby to marry me, and she said yes.”

Even though I’d been expecting it, my stomach dropped. This must have been how he felt when Kellan and I “got married” right in front of him. Swallowing, I pushed down the
microscopic amount of hurt in my belly and fully embraced the epic amount of joy I felt for my best friend. “Denny, that’s . . . Congratulations. I’m so happy for you, for the
both of you. You deserve a wonderful life, and I know Abby will give it to you.”

He exhaled, relief in his voice. “Thank you. I was . . . nervous to tell you.”

“Don’t be nervous to tell me good news. You and I are past that point in our relationship. I hope we are, anyway.”

“We are,” he agreed.

The second I disconnected with Denny, my phone rang again. I had a feeling I would be fielding a lot of phone calls today. I was really sick and tired of fielding phone calls. I grimaced as I
glanced at the screen. Hitting the connect button, I brought the phone to my ear. “Hi, Daddy.”

I kept my voice as carefree as possible, but it didn’t work. My dad’s response was, “You need to come home now!”

Making myself comfortable on the bed, I spent the next twenty minutes convincing my father that I was fine, and Kellan was fine, and everything was peachy keen, so he had absolutely nothing to
worry about. I hoped I wasn’t lying.

Kellan let Jenny and Rachel into the room while I was frantically trying to get off of the phone with my father; he was three seconds away from coming to Philly to collect me. Once I
successfully disconnected, Jenny gave me a hug. “Hey, Rachel and I are heading to the airport now. I just wanted to say goodbye before we left.”

When Jenny and I pulled apart, I noticed that her normally bright face wasn’t as chipper as it usually was. Beside her, Rachel looked equally distressed. “I hate what the media is
doing to you. They’re making you out to be some two-bit hussy.”

Kellan’s phone rang again, and sighing, he turned away as he answered it; he was still in his boxers. Rachel was purposely keeping her eyes averted from Kellan’s sculpted body; Jenny
didn’t even seem to notice.

Sighing at Jenny’s comment, I peeked over at the bed. Kellan had brought me my laptop last night, as well as my overnight bag. While I’d been busy convincing my dad that there was
nothing to worry about, I’d hopped online to find the story about me. It hadn’t been hard. The news page that the web opened up on was showcasing the drama in their “Top
Story” section. There was something really weird about a couple of rock stars’ dating woes being splashed all over a reputable news site.

There were three shots of Kellan and me highlighted in the article. One of the photos was a close-up of our faces, snapped while we were kissing. Kellan was grieving in that picture, and the
distress on his face was as clear as my lips upon his. The second was a moment later, when we’d noticed that we were being filmed. We were both looking directly at the photographer, shock on
our faces; even surprised, Kellan looked pained. The shots were so zoomed in that the graveyard was nowhere to be seen. Thanks to the emotion on Kellan’s face, it really did look like he was
cheating on Sienna, and was torn up about it. I’d been comforting him at the time, but in the photo I came across as a stone cold adulteress, seducing him into being unfaithful to the woman
he loved.

The last photo, the money shot, was Kellan standing above the photographer after knocking him to the ground. Looking thoroughly pissed off, Kellan seemed like he wanted to continue pummeling the
man—a guilty adulterer furious about being caught red-handed. It was a gossip goldmine, and it was all very misleading and very incriminating.

Following my gaze, Jenny pointed at the computer. “I feel so bad for having to leave you in the middle of this circus.”

Watching Kellan run his hand through his hair while he talked with someone on his cell phone, I told her, “Being with him is always going to be a circus.” Smiling, I looked back at
her. “He’s worth it, though.”

Jenny gave me another hug. “We have to go, but call me whenever you need to. Okay?” We separated, and her hand rubbed my arm. “And have faith.”

Swallowing back sudden tears, I told her I did. Faith was one of the few things I had right now. Rachel and I exchanged a brief hug next, and then my two friends disappeared from my life again.
A brief surge of loneliness swelled in me; I’d really enjoyed my girl time. I quickly reminded myself that I’d get to see them again at my wedding, and in the meantime I had my sister
to keep me company. I wondered if she’d seen this yet.

Kellan looked around the room when he finally got off his phone. “The girls leave?”

“Yeah.”

Kellan nodded and lifted the phone in his fingers. Grim amusement on his lips, he told me, “My dad and Hailey called. They’re both concerned about you. Hailey is worried that
you’ll be lynched by the fans before this is all cleared up.” He frowned, like he kind of thought that too.

Running my arms around his neck, I told him,“We’ll sort this out, but right now, you have that private performance to get ready for.” I lifted my brow as I reminded him that he
still had a job to do in all of this madness.

Kellan dropped his head back. “God, I’d forgotten all about that.” Looking like he really wanted to call in sick, he said, “I was hoping to sit down with someone this
afternoon, make a formal statement about that picture, but I’m not going to have time.”

Placing my palm on the tattoo of my name over his heart, I leaned up and kissed him. As if to punctuate just what he’d said, both of our cell phones started ringing again and Tory pounded
on our door. “Ten minutes, Kyle!”

I was done hiding our relationship. So, when the dark SUV the label hired dropped us off at the venue, I held hands with Kellan as we walked inside. The swarm of paparazzi
waiting on the other side of the security fence was massive; I’d never seen so many cameras in all my life. They immediately reacted when they saw the two of us together. Flashbulbs blinked
on and off in rhythmic, random patterns. The crowd clamoring for the best shot of Kellan and I looked like a wide, chaotic Christmas tree, its lights struggling to outshine the sun on this crisp
fall afternoon. The tall man in the middle only needed an angel on his head to complete the effect. I was grateful for the warmth and strength emanating from Kellan’s hand as he squeezed mine
tight—I felt like my entire body was falling apart, I was shaking so much.

This was so far outside of my comfort zone that I was pretty sure I was bumping into someone else’s comfort zone. But instead of cowering and hiding, I lifted my head and straightened my
back. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, and I had nothing to be ashamed or afraid of. The fans in the crowd took my resolve as arrogance. Words drifted over the lot. Hurtful
words—
whore, slut, home wrecker, bitch,
and several others that I couldn’t even repeat in my own head. Kellan was squeezing my palm painfully hard by the time we were safely
behind closed doors. I shook my hand so he’d let some blood flow back into my fingers.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I had to hold on to you to stop myself from smacking a few heads.”

I smiled up at him. “Considering that most of the bodies attached to those heads are young, female fans of yours, I’d say it’s a very good thing that you didn’t punch any
of them.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Well, don’t think I didn’t want to.”

“Don’t think I didn’t want to either,” I joked. Well, half-joked.

Kellan and I found our way to the D-Bags’ dressing room. The rest of the D-Bags were already there when we entered. Anna was too. Standing next to a small table overflowing with snacks,
she was pouring a bag of M&Ms into a gigantic bowl of freshly popped popcorn. Plodding over to a chair, she eased herself down and balanced the bowl on her belly. As Kellan walked over to Matt
and Evan, I sat beside her.

“Hey,” I muttered, watching the bowl shift a little as Maximus moved beneath it.

Anna shoved a handful of popcorn and chocolate into her mouth. “Hey, heard you’re a bitch whore for stealing Sienna’s man.”

Leaning my head back on the chair, I smiled over at my sister. “Yep. I officially, globally suck.”

Anna chewed her food for a minute, then smiled. “Well, cunt or not, I still love you.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Han
cock,
I love you too.” Laughing, I reached over for some popcorn. Anna smacked my hand away.

“Loving you doesn’t mean I’m sharing my popcorn.” She pointed over to the table. “Grab your own goodies . . . bitch whore.”

Exaggerating a grieved groan, I prepared myself to stand up. I paused when I noticed Anna cringing and pressing a knuckle into her back. “You okay, sis?”

She nodded. “Yeah, just a backache. It comes and goes . . . I’m fine.”

She seemed pale to me, her face wan and weary. Maybe it was just because she wasn’t wearing her usual expertly applied eye shadow and mascara. I was used to seeing my sister all done up.
It used to drive my dad crazy that she rarely went anywhere without makeup. He’d often say, “Why do you need mascara if you’re just going to sit in a dark movie theater?”
Her answer was always the same, “Because I have to walk through the lobby to get there, Dad.” Just the fact that she hadn’t decorated her eyes today spoke volumes on how tired she
was.

“Anna, maybe you should go back to the bus and lie down.”

She shook her head; even her hair seemed a little lackluster today. “I want to listen to the show. Griff’s going to do a little solo for me.” Her smile, while still clearly
pained, was full of love for her husband. God, I still couldn’t get used to that word being connected with Griffin.

Tory came in a bit later to grab the guys for their meet-and-greet. Not wanting to disrupt Kellan’s job by unnecessarily riling up his fans, I decided to stay in the dressing room. Anna
looked too comfortable to follow Griffin, so she stayed behind with me. Or maybe she wasn’t comfortable at all. I couldn’t tell. She seemed fine on the surface, but every few minutes
she would get a weird, focused look on her face, and she’d start inhaling and exhaling in a slow, controlled way. Then she’d be fine and she’d resume munching her popcorn. It was
strange.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Anna?”

Squishing an M&M between her fingers, she frowned. “No, actually.” Tilting her head to examine her bowl of snacks, she complained, “All of the chocolate shifted to the
bottom of the bowl.”

Giving her a not-amused expression, I pointed to her back. “I meant physically. Everything all right?”

Anna waved away my concern. “It’s just a backache. It happens when you’re carrying around a hundred pound bowling ball. It will go away if I keep my feet up.” To
emphasize her point, she wriggled her toes, which were stretched out on a chair in front of her.

“I don’t know, Anna, maybe you should see a doctor. When was the last time you saw one?” Anna hadn’t exactly been keeping up on her checkups since leaving Seattle. I
wasn’t sure what they did at all of those doctor’s appointments, but they probably had advice on backaches.

Anna rolled her eyes at me. “For a backache? What are they going to do at a hospital? Have me sit down, that’s what. And I’m doing that, so . . . I’m following my
doctor’s orders before even receiving them.” She smiled at me. “Because I’m
that
good.”

I was about to answer her sarcastic comment when she whimpered and hissed in a sharp breath. The bowl of popcorn rolled off her stomach and crashed to the floor, scattering everywhere. Both of
her hands clamped onto her back, frantically massaging the muscles around her hips. Seeing the pain on her face, I turned her and moved behind her. Pressing my thumbs deep into her lower back, I
watched my sister lean forward and struggle to breathe calmly without groaning in pain. My heart began to race as I quickly started realizing that this was so much more than a backache. This was my
nephew knocking, and he wanted out.

“Anna, you have to go to a hospital. You’re in labor.”

She shook her head. Voice strained, she reiterated, “It’s just a backache, Kiera. I’m not due until next week.”

I wanted to smack my sister over the head like Kellan sometimes smacked Griffin, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop massaging her while she was in so much pain. “Hardly anybody
actually gives birth
on
their due date, Anna.”

Groaning, she muttered, “Then why the hell is it called a due date? It should be called an estimated date of delivery.”

Controlling my smile, I told her, “Well, no matter what it’s called, the baby decides when to arrive, and regardless of what you have to say on the matter, it looks like Maximus
wants to be born today.”

Anna simpered and pointed at the colorful sea of M&Ms resting at the edge of the toppled bowl. “But my chocolate . . .”

Massaging her with one hand, I grabbed my bag and rooted around for my phone. “Your snack will just have to wait, Anna.”

I found my phone once again hiding inside the book I was only halfway through. Yanking it free of the pages, I scrolled through my numbers and dialed Kellan. He didn’t pick up. I tried
Griffin next. He didn’t pick up either. Not expecting anything different, I tried Evan and Matt, then Kellan again. Nobody picked up. I wasn’t too surprised. Tory had a strict no-cell
policy when it was time to meet with fans. Deacon had answered his once during a greeting, and Tory had ripped him a new one once all the fans had left. She may place rock stars higher on the
priority list than the general public, but she understood just who it was who bought the CDs.