Wild

Chapter 19

Mia walks into the hotel room and drops her backpack on the carpet, heading straight for the couch pushed against the wall. Noah comes in behind her, wheeling the singer's suitcase, and leaves it by the door before closing it and walking over to sit beside his friend.

They arrived in Philadelphia just a few minutes ago, and Mia hadn't come out of her bunk on the bus until Noah went in to get her.

After the flight attendant brought her a tray with food and the painkiller Erin had given her, she'd crawled back under the sheets, lain on her side, and been unable to sleep, going over and over what had happened.

"Do you want to talk now?" Noah asks carefully, tying the lace on his right sneaker.

"Erin kissed me." The singer's voice is barely a whisper, and her assistant sits up straight, spinning toward her.

He has a smile on his lips, but it disappears instantly when he sees Mia's faraway expression.

"Didn't it go well? Isn't that what you wanted?" he asks, completely lost.

The singer kicks off her sneakers with her heels and pulls her feet up onto the couch, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Yeah, it was perfect until you knocked on the door."

A small smile curves the singer's lips, and she rests her chin on her knees as she looks at him. He smiles too and scratches the back of his head with an innocent air.

"I figured I was interrupting something, even if I didn't know exactly what."

"It was more than a kiss—I'm not giving you details—but I've never felt anything like it, Noah. My body is still shaking." The singer looks down at her hands. "Being with her is…"

She doesn't know how to describe it, so she just smiles with a hint of sadness.

"I'm a little lost here, Mia. Shouldn't you be happy right now?"

"I would be, if she wanted what happened too. But the way she reacted afterward—I don't think she's too thrilled about it."

The singer smooths her hair back and leans against the cushions. Noah doesn't know what to say; matters of the heart aren't exactly his strong suit, and he doesn't know Erin well enough to have any theory about what might be going through her mind.

"I guess you'll find out when you two talk." He puts a hand on her knee and smiles, and Mia lets herself fall against him with a dramatic sigh.

"Why can't she be like everyone else?" she asks, lying back with her head in Noah's lap. "I mean, I don't want her to be like everyone else," she corrects herself. "I like her exactly the way she is. But she's so hard to reach, so complicated to understand…"

"Love is complicated, right?" her friend asks, amused.

She sighs again and sits up, aware that she can't keep still because she's nervous. She knows Erin will come by any minute to check on her, and Mia is dying to see her again—and also scared, because she has a feeling they won't be picking up where they left off on the bus.

"Seems like it. I'm going to shower and change. Want to have dinner together? We can eat here or go out."

Noah stands up.

"Nice way of kicking me out," he says with a grin. "Count me in for dinner. I'll look around the neighborhood and see if there's anything good—I'll set it up with security. I think getting out will do you some good."

Erin has already unpacked her suitcase and arranged her clothes in the closet.

She's showered, too, and now she's sitting on the edge of her bed, hands on her thighs, staring at the wall across from her—the one she shares with the singer's room.

She has to go check on her, and she doesn't even know how to look at her or what to say.

She can still feel the aftershocks between her legs; she was so turned on it almost hurt, and she can't get the thought of finishing what they started out of her head—but doing that would mean doubling down on the mistake she's already made.

She'd fallen into Mia Wilder's orbit. Everything she'd promised herself not to do had dissolved the moment the girl with lavender hair said her name in that low, needy tone that melted every rational thought Erin might have had.

She can't even remember exactly how it started; all she knows is that she was there, with her hands buried in Mia's hair, aware that every time she moved them and touched her, something called desire was building inside her like a snowball she had no way of stopping.

She hadn't been able to hold back. She'd spent a while exercising a level of restraint that had left her wound tight, and by the time she realized what was happening, her tongue was already in Mia's mouth.

If Erin had to rate what she felt in that kiss on a scale of one to ten, she probably couldn't—because ten wouldn't be enough.

It was some kind of deep connection, as if the singer's mouth and hers had been made to fit together in exactly that perfect way she'd felt.

What came after, she couldn't explain either: her body seemed to be running on its own, obeying nothing but pure need—the desperate urge to feel Mia pressed against her, to swallow her moans, to feel her warm breath against her neck.

She hadn't expected Mia's voice begging her not to stop to send such a jolt through her body, but the moment she heard it, Erin felt drugged, as if hearing Mia Wilder and having her on top of her was the only thing she needed to feel okay.

She'd been left on the edge before, with women who couldn't find what she needed, and she knew that maddening feeling of having an orgasm right there and not being able to get it to break free.

Today had been different. She hadn't come because Noah interrupted them, but the frustration had been so much worse than anything before—to the point where Erin had touched herself in the shower because she couldn't stand the tension coiled in her belly.

Shifting her gaze to the window, the doctor gets up and walks to the door, trying not to think about anything. She'll go in, do her job, and get out of the singer's room quickly.

She steps into the hallway at the same moment as Noah, and they both stare at each other for a few seconds.

The way Mia's assistant flushes and gives her one of his sincere, shy smiles tells Erin he already knows—and what surprises her most is that it doesn't bother her, because she's always trusted him despite barely knowing him.

"Hey, Erin," he says, stepping aside from the door.

"Hey, Noah."

"You going in? She's in the shower, but she shouldn't be long."

Erin had taken a step toward the door, but she stops when she hears Mia is in the bathroom—because the first thing her unruly mind does is picture her naked—and decides she'd rather come back later.

Noah catches her hesitation and pushes his tousled bangs off his forehead uselessly, since they always fall right back.

"Feel like grabbing a coffee? By the time we're done, she'll be ready."

Erin hesitates for a moment, but eventually says yes, and the two of them ride down in silence on the elevator and walk together to the hotel restaurant.

To the doctor's surprise, Noah orders herbal tea and she orders a double coffee with a packet of sugar.

"Do you know if her headache went away?" Erin asks, trying to break the ice, as Noah takes off his jacket and drapes it over the back of his chair.

"I didn't ask," he answers with a sheepish grimace.

She smiles. If she liked men, she's pretty sure she could fall for someone like Noah—considerate, reliable, kind, loyal, easy to be around, with that natural charm of someone who manages to look like a bad boy and a puppy at the same time.

"It's fine. I'll check in with her in a minute."

Noah takes a sip of his cup when it arrives and rests his arms on the table, and Erin catches sight of the Danny tattoo on his forearm again—and this time she can't resist.

"Can I ask you something personal? You don't have to answer if it's too personal or makes you uncomfortable. I'm just curious."

Mia's assistant looks both surprised and intrigued.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead."

"The tattoo." Erin nods toward it. "I noticed Mia has one too. Who's Danny?"

"He was our friend. We all met each other at pretty much the same time, at this place that had live music on Tuesday and Thursday nights.

Three teenagers who had no business being there—at least Mia and I didn't." He smiles.

"Danny was the guitarist for a solo act that played that night, and somehow, by the time the show was over, the three of us ended up sitting together at a table.

We clicked fast, because we all came from the kind of families that are better not to have. "

Erin's heart stops, and Noah smiles at the way she's looking at him.

"You can ask whatever you want. Mia and I talk about this a lot between ourselves, and we don't hide where we came from around anyone we trust."

"Am I someone you trust?" Erin asks, genuinely surprised.

"I can't speak for her, but you've been that for me since the night you treated Mia after she collapsed at the concert. We're not friends, exactly, but I feel at ease around you." Noah shrugs with his usual open expression.

"What kind of family is better not to have?" the doctor asks—she'd rather ask than guess.

"My parents were the kind who had a kid because that's what you did, but had zero interest in him, so I grew up completely alone in an occupied house—like they were two strangers sleeping in the room next door.

It was a really strange feeling. I'm supposed to be grateful that someone fed me, I guess, but I grew up with such a crushing sense of emptiness that I think I would've preferred a group home, where at least the staff would've looked at me long enough to make me feel like I existed. "

"I'm sorry, Noah."

"Thanks. Danny's story wasn't so different—except his parents ignored him because they were always high.

And Mia's story—which I figure is the one you're most interested in," he adds with a little smirk that makes the doctor smile, "is a little different, but it ends up in the same place.

She grew up alone with her mom, never knowing who her father was.

She had to teach herself to cook at six because her mom spent her days with whatever guy she was seeing at the time.

Sometimes she'd leave Mia alone for a couple of days, and when she came back she'd bring some guy who took up all her attention.

Mia grew up knowing her survival depended on herself—with a mother who ignored her and who she had to take care of when she got sick, instead of the other way around. "

Erin doesn't say anything. In fact, her mind goes quiet for a few seconds, because part of her recognizes herself in the singer's story.

Not the same story—she had her mother's love—but it felt like not having it, because her mom left for work before she woke up and came home after she was in bed, so she barely saw her, and her survival and her sister's survival also depended on her.

If Erin didn't make dinner, no one in that house did.

No one took care of her when she was sick or backed her up when she had a problem.

She realizes now, listening to Noah, that she grew up alone too—and still is.

"What happened after that night?" She steers the conversation back toward the original question, sensing that Noah has had enough sadness for one sitting talking about his childhood, and she has too, remembering her own.

"We got really close. Mia was already singing back then—not famous, obviously," he smiles, tilting his head upward as if his friend were right above them, "but she already had this raw, powerful voice with a lot of potential.

Danny suggested we start our own band with her as the lead singer, him on guitar, and me on drums."

"You play drums?" Erin says, surprised.

"I used to. I haven't played since Danny…

" He stops, and his expression goes dark.

"We played together in my parents' garage for almost a year and a half.

We'd get together almost every afternoon and stay up until the middle of the night, because none of us had anyone setting rules.

But Danny was hooked. He'd grown up with access to every kind of drug and was almost always high.

We tried to get him to stop, but we didn't have the resources, and he was in too deep to even try. "

"It's incredibly hard when there are no resources to help someone get out, and if they're not ready to try, it's literally impossible, Noah."

"I know. But back then Mia and I were just frustrated. One night, after we'd been playing all afternoon, he went home the way he always did—except the next day he didn't come to the garage. Or the day after that. Nobody bothered to tell us, because nobody in his house knew he had friends."

"What happened to him?"

"He had an accident. He was so high he went off the road on a curve and went down an embankment. He lay there for at least three hours before he died."

Noah's eyes have gone glassy, but he runs his fingers under his eyelids and lets out a shaky breath.

"I'm so sorry, Noah," Erin says.

He looks at her and gives her a sad smile.

"Mia and I used to get high with him sometimes.

Not at his level, but we were using almost every day too.

After what happened to him, we promised each other we'd never touch anything hard again—so now we each smoke a joint after every show.

It's a sacred rule we never break, not just because we don't want what happened to him to happen to us, but for his memory—and because he never got the chance to have someone to lean on when he needed it.

Mia and I got closer after that. She's my family now, and I'm hers. "

"And your parents? And her mom?"

Noah shrugs, unbothered.

"Once I got my first job, she and I moved in together in some dump crawling with cockroaches," he says, amused. "Nobody came looking for either of us. Mia got a job too, we saved up, moved to New York to try to get someone to hear her sing, and the rest is all this."

"Thank you for telling me, Noah." Erin reaches out and places her hand on his pale arm, right over Danny's name.

He smiles and picks up his cup to drink, making a face when he realizes it's gone cold.