Reckless

Chapter 1

I’m so fucking over being Jude Smallwood.

A half assed laugh escapes my lips as I imagine my manager following my trail. He’ll be losing his shit because I’m not where I’m supposed to be. He’ll find the leather jacket I’d been wearing, which felt like it was smothering me. My phone and keys will come next.

He might think I’ve been abducted.

I should let them run with that. Disappear for a while. Even if I got what I wanted, what I needed, I still wound up at that party tonight. One last obligation.

No one fucking understands.

Running a hand through my hair, I tip my head back to look at the stars above me. For the first time in years, I know where I am, and that has a laugh bubbling out of me. For the last three years, my life has been tour buses, a stage, a music studio or meeting after meeting. Industry parties, photoshoots, nightclubs, crazed fans, alcohol.

Montana skies are fucking unbelievable. How much bullshit do you have to have put up with to forget what the stars look like?

Sitting down, I lean back so I can keep looking at the stars. The universe is so much more than Reckless Soul. The band is all I’ve lived for the last eight years since we skyrocketed from a small time band, struggling to make ends meet, to a world famous rock band.

Dropping on to my back, I cross my palms over my chest. I must look like I’ve settled into my grave. Fuck.

Maybe it’s a bad idea wandering away from the party. Especially without telling anyone. And leaving my phone behind. But if I didn’t get out, my head was going to implode. I’ve already vomited twice, and it’s nothing to do with alcohol or drugs.

My sanity is hanging by a string, or the very last threads, that are about to unravel. My brain hasn’t been able to function for weeks. Months, if I’m being honest. One thing I’ve neglected to be. Most of all, with myself.

Clarity hit me a few weeks ago, after waking up on the floor of the music room in my LA house, having no fucking clue how I got there. The last thing I remembered was being with my bandmate, Solene at her place. It scared the shit out of me because I wasn’t drunk.

I’d blacked out. Then the anxiety kicked in. There is no way to explain how I felt that morning, lying on the floor in a ball, clutching my chest, believing I was in the middle of taking my last breath.

After researching the symptoms, I finally figured out it was a panic attack. It still took me two months of more touring and partying, and staying turned on for everyone around me, before I stopped moving. Before I knew I needed to tell someone, if I didn’t have a break, I could end up dead.

No one wants to admit their head is so fucked up, they think they're dying. I've never had suicidal thoughts, I would never go down that road. This is more like my body is going to give up on me .

Something had to give.

Solene was the first to realize how bad it was. We’ve been close since before we started the band. She’s like the sister I never had. Over the years, people speculated there was more to our relationship, but we’ve never so much as kissed. Our bond is too strong to jeopardize. Solene can read me like a book, and it only took one frank conversation for her to realize I was on the verge of falling.

The physicians and therapist they sent me to all agreed on one thing. I’m so burned out, my brain and body aren’t able to function. They recommended a complete break from work.

The therapist was a hard ass with our label about not paring it down to some half assed month-long break. She fought for me. Said I needed at least three months away. From it all. The band, the fame, touring and anything to do with music.

Three months to find myself.

I’m still looking. And maybe I won't find it in the dark wilds of Montana. But it's a good place to start.

The sound of an engine breaks me from my stare off with the stars. I tilt over on to my side and watch as a mobile home approaches on the road. As the vehicle gets closer, I hear music blasting through the windows. It’s ‘ Happier’ by Yungblud. It’s so out of place in this quiet, mountainous area. I let out a low laugh.

I met him once. He’s an amazing guy, a fantastic artist and a voice even I’m jealous of.

The red lights of the mobile home disappear around a bend in the road, and I lay back down, this time putting my hands behind my head, thinking about how my life has changed over the last decade.

I’ve never been comfortable with the way people react to me. I’m not insecure, I’m a decent-looking guy. I was lanky and slight until about fifteen, then I filled out, grew beyond six feet and bulked up. I had my fair share of girls in high school, but it was nothing like what I’ve put up with since starting the band.

There is a whole Jude Smallwood fandom. And they’re fucking rabid . At first it amused me how people adore me. Then I began wondering what it is they hoped they’re going to get from me, because a lot of them feel they’re owed something.

In the last two years alone, I’ve had to take restraining orders out against a couple of fans. It’s not like I play up to it. I love music. I play and sing on stage and put my heart and soul into it. Somehow that has translated to me becoming some kind of sex symbol.

Some of the shit people say about me makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I have had it written into contracts when we’re interviewed, no one is to ask me about that 'sex god' shit. I wouldn't mind but I'm not currently even having sex. It's been months since I dated. Groupies have never been my thing, which turns out to be a good thing. That could have made things a shit ton worse.

My eyes close, and I relax into the ground. It’s soft, the grass smells fresh, and the air is warm. For a minute I worry about wild animals. Maybe I’m going to wake up being mauled by something. I’ve seen coyotes killing smaller animals enough times back in the LA canyons. There are bears out here, cougars, and probably other mountain lions.

Falling asleep here is a bad idea, even for me.

Getting up, I walk to the road and look left and right. Nothing is coming. Only that one RV that passed a while ago. I can either head back to the hotel or follow the RVs direction.

Walking away from my old life seems to be the best choice. So I head after the person listening to Yungblud. The chances of them being a murderer are pretty slim, right? Shit, they're long gone. I don't need to worry about them.

I push my hands into the pockets of my jeans and walk. By the time the sun is breaking on the horizon, my feet are killing me and I’m so hungry I could eat roadkill if I passed it. Maybe that's an exaggeration. I'm not that far gone.

There have been no cars on the road. A niggle of concern hit a couple of miles back. It feels like I’ve walked out of civilian life and wandered into this beautiful, empty place. I can’t keep wandering. I need to find a gas station or something and contact Cody.

I imagine he’s about lost his shit by now. Our band name, Reckless Soul is very apt right now. This is not just reckless, it's insanity. There has got to be a gas station near here.

After another fifteen minutes, I reach a clearing that leads away from the highway. The Yungblud RV is parked up on the grass verge, nestled by some trees. It’s all quiet now, no loud music. The sun is barely up and I don’t see any lights or movement coming from inside.

Glancing down at myself, I wonder what they’ll think if I knock on the door.

Yeah, I look like a lunatic who will scare anyone in that RV.

Further down, away from the road, I notice water. I have no idea if it’s drinkable, but I’m thirsty as shit. With one last look at the RV, I turn and head down the slope to the lake. My eyes hurt where the rising sun hits the surface of the water, reflecting into my face, and I lift a hand to shield them.

The sound of my heavy boots trampling down the grass as I approach, makes me feel like I’m intruding on this place. In my full black outfit, shit kicker boots, tattoos and miserable face. I don’t belong.

There is a small outcrop of rocks, so I head that way, looking at the water to see if it’s safe to drink. It’ll be okay to wash my face at least. I kneel and scoop up a few handfuls of water, tossing it on my face, then over my hair. It smells ok, so I risk a taste from the palm of my hand.

It tastes… mossy. I gag and spit it out. Yeah, not safe for drinking.

The RV is looking more appealing. Solene would laugh her ass off now if she could see me. After kicking my ass for scaring everyone with my disappearance.

It’s still early, so I decide to wait and see who comes out of the RV before I approach. Hopefully they don’t start up and drive away.

About thirty minutes later, the door to the RV opens and a woman steps out.

She doesn’t notice me at first and I wait to see if someone else will follow, but it’s only her. She stands barefoot in the grass and stretches her arms out to the side, tipping her head back with her eyes closed as she stretches and enjoys the morning sun.

Her long auburn hair curls down her spine and swings as she turns and opens a compartment on the side of the RV. I take the time to study her as she goes about setting up a small table. She has pale blue shorts on that show off her long tan legs. Her blouse is white and billowy and I can see the outline of a sports bra beneath it.

It’s hard to make out her face from this distance, but I can hear her singing and I smile because she has a pleasant voice. She disappears back inside the RV, and I get down off the rock I’m sitting on.

When she steps back out, with a mug in her hand, she looks right at me. She stops on the steps, her eyes meeting mine.

Fuck, she looks nervous. I hold up both hands, though how that reassures her is anyone’s guess. Instead of approaching, I wave. What the fuck?

After a moment, she holds up a hand, a frown on her face.

“Hi,” I call.

“Hi,” she says back, her head tilting as she takes the last couple of steps down, so her bare feet are in the grass.

“I’m lost,” I say.

“That’s what an axe murderer would say,” she points out.

I can’t help but snort a laugh at that. “That could be your murder van,” I reply.

Her lip tilts, and she glances back at the RV. “True.”

The wind kicks up and blows her hair across her face. She catches it and brushes it back. I take a few steps closer. She’s still a good distance away and although I can’t make out the color of her eyes, I imagine they’re as beautiful as she is. All of my focus goes onto her. There’s something ethereal about her, all that red hair and gorgeous body.

It’s like I’ve walked into a fucking fantasy. I snap myself out of it, but as I do, I notice her studying me. Shit , does she recognize me?

When we announced to the world Reckless Soul were taking a break, I cut my hair. It was past my shoulders before, now it’s much shorter. Not close cropped, but it’s a short, shaggy cut with enough length the curls I’ve tried to tame over the years, fall over my forehead and onto the nape of my neck.

Everyone tells me I look different. And who’s to say she even knows who Reckless Soul are.

“How did you get lost out here?” she calls.

She's not asking if I’m the Jude Smallwood.

“I was at a party at the hotel on the hill and wandered off to check out the area.”

“That’s a good seven miles back. You’ve walked this whole way?”

Seven miles. Jesus. No wonder my legs are hurting like hell. That must be why my feet are cemented to the floor. Nothing to do with the woman knocking me off my game.

She is staring back at me. It’s like everything around us disappears, and that unravelling string starts to come back together, reaching across the distance between us.

Shit, I’m getting all poetic. I’ve lost my mind being out all night in the wilderness.

“Do you mind if I have a glass of water?”

Her brows lift, and she glances at her mug. “Or coffee?”

“Yeah, that would be better, thanks.”

She regards me, sucking in her bottom lip, which does all kinds of things that I need to keep contained right now. She nods and then disappears into the RV. I hear the distinct sound of the door locking. It’s the right move. I could still be a bad guy. Her table is set up, so I doubt she is going to drive away, but I remain cautious in my approach.

The last thing I want to do is scare her.

Up close, the RV is impressive. It looks brand new. I’m used to traveling around on top-of-the-line tour buses. This is a scaled-down version, although I’m not sure what the inside is like. It definitely won’t have a bar and bunks.

The door opens as I reach the table. She has a mug with her and something else in her other hand. My focus narrows on it.

“Good call," I say keeping the nerves out of my voice. "But please, don’t use it unless you need to.”

“Don’t give me a reason to,” she arches one perfect brow.

“Deal.”

She nods with a cheeky grin. Fuck, what have I walked into? I don’t know whether to be scared or thrilled.

Either way, I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. Just this beautiful woman in an RV, with a giant can of mace pointed right at me.