Wylder and the Rising Rockstar (Reluctant Rockstars Book 3) Read online

  “Snackies?” A smile tugged at the corner of Logan’s mouth.

  “We have pretzels and cheese dip and tons of fresh-baked cookies.”

  “And I get to see your mom again?”

  “Yeah, she’ll be happy to see you.” Her stepmom always loved mothering the kids she thought needed it the most. And Logan was definitely one of those. Wylder glanced back at Killian. “You and Diego come on up when he gets back with coffee. I’m going to walk with Logan so no one bugs him.”

  “We’ll be right behind you.” Killian grinned. “And if anyone bothers him, you just run at them and windmill your arms. It’ll freak them out so much they’ll never come back.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “No, but you certainly are.” He chuckled and went to look for his boyfriend.

  “That was pretty hilarious.” Logan turned to walk with her, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. She missed the warmth of his hand in hers.

  “No one messes with my friends.”

  “Good to know. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of whatever that was.”

  “We’ll call it the Wylder Windmill.” She tugged on his arm. “You know … I know exactly what you need to distract yourself.”

  “And what do you have in mind?” He looked down at her with a smirk, leaning in close.

  “Not that.” She shoved his face away. Not that she would be opposed to a little kissing distraction herself. “Something way better. Come on, we have to get rid of my mom first.”

  2

  “What’s wrong with you?” Wylder stretched her leg out and nudged Logan with her toe. He sat on the other end of her bed, staring down at an empty page in his notebook like it held all the secrets to the universe.

  He only shrugged in answer.

  After doing a proper amount of fussing and mothering over Logan, her mom left. Something about going to do a favor for Becks. Wylder hadn’t even wanted to ask.

  And now…

  “This is not what I thought you meant when you said a distraction,” Logan grumbled.

  Wylder shot him a wink. “Oh, I know.” She rose up on her knees and scooted toward him, drawing in so close his breath was warm on her face. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  Logan swallowed heavily and nodded.

  Wylder let her lips graze the corner of his mouth, barely a touch but enough to make his breath hitch. She might not know what this was between them, but she knew it was something. “Logan,” she whispered.

  “Mmhmm?” Seemed he couldn’t get actual words out.

  Her lips curved up, and she tapped his notebook. “Write it out.”

  A breath rushed out of him as she sat back. “You’re cruel.”

  “And you, my beautiful kissing friend, are sad. When musicians are sad, they need somewhere to put all that pent up emotion that we’re all too chicken sh—scared to let other people see. Our lyrics say the things that we can’t. So, Logan Cook, tell the music what you’re feeling.”

  “Right now?” He leveled her with a glare. “Annoyed. I don’t feel like writing.”

  “Patience, my dear boy. It will come to you.” She leaned in again, placing the ghost of a kiss on his cheek. Her words whispered against his skin. “I want at least one verse before I kiss you again.”

  “Evil, evil woman.”

  “I aim to please.” She scooted from the bed and moved to lean against the opposite wall, crossing one ankle over the other. Logan held her gaze for a long moment before reaching for his pencil and writing the first word.

  Writing was a process. That was what all the great songwriters would say. It took time and couldn’t be rushed.

  But Wylder wasn’t asking for the next great American masterpiece. She didn’t need a Taylor Swift level “oh no, she didn’t” type of song.

  All she’d wanted was for Logan to have an outlet, for him to pour everything he felt about the media storm, the lies, his family into simple words, emptying himself of the doubt, the pain, and the shame.

  And yet, two days later and he still only had a single line.

  “Come on, Wylds.” Logan’s eyes pleaded with her.

  “When I’m not hovering over you, do you even try to deal with any of this?”

  He scratched the back of his neck and looked away. That would be a no. Classes started again yesterday, their last few weeks before winter break, and Logan walked like a zombie through the ones he actually attended. He’d skipped English, not wanting to deal with the stares. Their classmates in ConMus class were much cooler about it, treating Logan as if he were no different from them, so he did show up there.

  But he wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes out in public. It was only here in the privacy of their dorms that any hint of a smile flashed across his face. Signs of the boy she knew.

  “It’s not working.” He groaned, turning toward her with a smile. “Writing music isn’t nearly the distraction you are.”

  “That’s flattering and all, but I’m no one’s distraction, Logan.”

  He stepped closer and dropped his voice in the way he very well knew she couldn’t resist. “Then what have you been doing all this time if not distracting me?”

  And there it was.

  She stepped back, and it took a moment for his own words to register on his face. “Wylder…” He reached for her, but she pulled away.

  “It’s fine, Logan. But I’m not backing down on this. You need music right now more than you need me, so bring me lyrics and we’ll see where to go from there. They don’t even have to be good. Write sucky lyrics, the worst lyrics I’ve ever heard. I don’t care. Just make them real to you, let them help you.”

  Logan was silent for a long moment before one corner of his mouth curled up. “I don’t write sucky lyrics.”

  “Ah, there he is, the cocky boy I fought with for so long. Good to see him.”

  “Fine.” He sighed. “I’ll go write.”

  “You do that.”

  Logan left, and Wylder walked out into the common room, throwing herself onto the couch beside Devyn. Devyn didn’t react or tell Wylder to stop being dramatic. There was no huffing that she’d jostled her computer.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Wylder leaned over to try to see what her roommate was staring at so intently.

  Devyn snapped her computer shut. “Nothing.”

  “Yeah, okay, like I’m going to believe that. You’re totally sitting where I hadn’t yet cleaned up crumbs, and you didn’t even yell at me.”

  “I don’t always yell.” It was said without her normal reserved-hoity-toity tone.

  “Oh, it’s okay. I know you secretly enjoy it when I make you mad. It’s like a game. That’s why I’m so messy. All for you, babe.”

  Finally, a semi-smile broke out across her face. “You’re not messy for me.”

  “No, I’m not. But I could be even messier for you if you really wanted me to.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  Wylder laughed. “Now that I’ve done the impossible and made you smile, will you please tell me what’s wrong? I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is.”

  “You can’t fix everything, Wylds.”

  “Oh, but I can. Ask Killian and Diego. Or Logan. He’s my most recent victim—I mean client.”

  “You mean the Logan who currently is a media sideshow and doesn’t know where his brother is? That Logan?”

  “Okay, so I might not have fixed all of that. Yet.”

  Devyn sighed. “I got an email from my mum.”

  “Mum? She English or something?”

  Devyn barked out a harsh laugh. “No, but she wants to appear hip, so she insists I not use the American form even though we are—American, that is.”

  “Hip?” Wylder asked. “Is she like eighty?” She realized she knew little about Devyn’s home life. Only that she spent her younger years traveling the country with horse trainers and a nanny. Devyn wasn’t the most open of books. Yet, this might be Wylder’s chance to learn what ma
de the driven perfectionist.

  “No.” Devyn sighed again. “She’s fifty, but she’s in an industry dominated by younger players, so she is always looking for ways to stay relevant to them.”

  “How does calling her mum make her stay relevant?”

  “You know, I have no idea.” Devyn shook her head with a laugh.

  Wylder bumped her shoulder. “So, this email… I take it you didn’t like it?”

  Devyn opened her computer again and ran her finger over the touchpad to wake the screen. A flyer appeared.

  “The Defiance Academy Winter Review?” Wylder had heard talk of the show. It happened in three weeks, the first Saturday after winter break. The pretentious name made her never really listen when teachers spoke about it.

  “It’s like a talent show,” Devyn explained.

  “Yeah, I know. The theater kids all do it, right?”

  “And some of the music department.”

  But not a lot of them. From what Wylder knew, the review was a time for school clubs to come up with lame skits that only they thought were funny. That and weird dances. She’d never taken it seriously. “What does this have to do with your mom?”

  “She sent me the flyer. Apparently, the school sent it to all parents to let them know it was coming. My mum wanted to know if I was performing. She can’t seem to remember that I quit singing the day she walked out on me and Dad.”

  “Dad? He doesn’t make you call him something else to feel relevant?”

  “No.” She smiled. “My dad is pretty great. He raised me ever since Mum left us. We’re bonded by our dislike of her.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Ten.”

  “Ouch.” Wylder was glad her birth mom left when she was little. She’d always wondered about her, but she hadn’t really missed her when she was young. Wylder reconnected with her right before she died last year and she still had some mixed-up feelings about that, but the only true mother she’d ever known was the woman her dad married when she was a kid. Wylder’s eyes drifted to the curtains, realizing as much as her stepmom could smother her with motherly affection, she was also pretty wonderful.

  Devyn lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m over it, but she keeps trying to make me into someone like… well, like you. Her email only had one line with the picture. Are you performing? As if she didn’t know me at all, as if she can make me into one of the Barbie doll singers she produces in L.A.”

  “Hold up.” Wylder turned her entire body to face her friend. “Just who is your mom?”

  Devyn rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “You’re all into the Nashville labels and the country world. I doubt you know her. Angela Harrison. She’s—“

  “The top producer for Thirteen Records.” Her eyes widened. Thirteen was a legendary pop label. They took their name from Corinthians thirteen. Their origins were in Christian rock, but they’d really made a name for themselves in pop. “Yeah, I know. She’s like my idol.” What most people didn’t know about Wylder was if music was her future, she didn’t want Nashville or country, not like her brother, not like Logan. There was something different out there for her, something in L.A. or New York. Even if being an artist wasn’t the way, she just wanted to immerse herself in music, becoming a producer or manager. And all this time, she’d had Angela Harrison’s daughter living with her. “How did I not know she was your mom?”

  Devyn sighed. “I don’t exactly advertise it, and it’s not like I have her last name. I don’t want anyone trying to be friends with me to get to my mum, because it won’t work. Even getting an email from her makes me break out in hives. I rarely respond, I just…”

  “Can’t.” Wylder stopped fangirling and reached for Devyn’s hand. They weren’t exactly the heart to heart kind of friends, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be. “I’m sorry.”

  Devyn sat perfectly still for a moment before pulling her hand away and straightening her shoulders. “You should do it.”

  “What?”

  “The review. It says here they’re still letting people sign up until the end of the week. This is perfect for you and Logan, especially after the two of you sang together on the L.A. Daily Show.”

  “Oh no, performing with Logan was a one-time thing. Well, a two-time thing I guess, but the Daily Show wasn’t planned.”

  “That’s stupid.” Devyn stood, taking her computer with her.

  “No, we can’t… just no.”

  “I might not have the musical talent of my mum, Wylds, but I know you and Logan were good together.”

  “He doesn’t do stages.”

  “Hm.” She set her computer on the kitchen counter and tapped her chin. “Seems he did a stage with you. Twice.” She was right, he had. All he’d had to do was focus on her. Was Devyn right? Would he do this?

  Devyn wasn’t done. “Wylder, I work hard at what I do, but I’ve never been as naturally gifted as you are with your music. Logan too. You need to get back up there. If you don’t do it now, maybe you never will.”

  Hope rose in her. Logan didn’t want to put his emotions into a pointless song, but what if it wasn’t pointless? The Winter Review… yeah, they could do that.

  She just needed advice on convincing him, and there was one person who might be able to help, she just had to find him.

  Ever since their trip to Nashville weeks ago, Becks and Luke’s Twitter war had changed, become less vicious. And that made Wylder suspicious.

  So had the fact that no one in her family had answered her calls in two days. Her parents got busy, but Becks always dropped what he was doing to talk to her.

  First, she called Nicky. It rang and rang, but he didn’t answer.

  Next, she dialed Becks. When his voicemail picked up, she vented everything. “Becks, this is your sister. Remember me? You might know me from the five calls you haven’t returned. Well, here’s another one. I need to talk to Luke. I know you’ll tell me he’s nothing more than your enemy, but I also think you might know where he went or how I can reach him. So, stop being a jerk face, and call me back.”

  With a groan, she charged into her room and threw her phone on her bed. Devyn’s words ran through her mind. “If you don’t do it now, maybe you never will.” Wylder couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let the YouTube debacle or the TV interview where he bared his soul be all the music world ever knew of Logan Cook … or of her.

  “Screw this.” She didn’t need to wait for Luke’s advice. At this point, he might not know Logan any better than she did. Stuffing her feet into her fuzzy unicorn slippers, she stormed from the room, breezing past a startled Devyn and out the door.

  When she barged into Logan and Killian’s dorm, Logan sat on the floor with pages spread in front of him and his keyboard he’d brought from Sebastian’s resting on the ground at his knees.

  He didn’t look up as she neared, but he pulled a pencil from between his teeth and jotted down a note. “I don’t have them, Wylder, the words.” When he finally lifted his eyes, the pain in them nearly tore her in two. “I couldn’t put it into lyrics, but it’s coming out, Wylds. These emotions…”

  She looked from the keyboard to him. Not words. Notes. His feelings came out as notes. Everything that had happened crashed in around them. The missing brother, the ruined future… Everything Logan had known was ripped away, not for the first time. Everything he’d worked for was gone. Luke may have been the face, but it was Logan’s career too. The notes, it seemed, finally pulled him from the grim determination with which he went through his days. This, here, was real.

  And she couldn’t resist dropping to her knees at his side. She placed one hand on his cheek, turning his face to her, and pulled him into an all-consuming kiss. This time, she’d be his distraction. This time, she’d give him anything he needed.

  “Wylds,” he whispered against her lips. “What was that for? I haven’t given you any lyrics.”

  “I don’t care about the lyrics, Logan, I just wanted you to let yourself feel everyth
ing that’s happening.”

  “What if it’s too much? What if I can’t handle it?”

  Her eyes shifted between his, and she framed his face with her hands. “You can.”

  “But how do you know?”

  She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I just do.”

  His arms wound around her, and he pulled her closer. Wylder didn’t know anymore who was distracting who.

  When she pulled back, she caught a smile twitching on his lips. “What are you smiling about?”

  “You’re kissing me because I’ve started this song, but you were right before. It is possible for me to write sucky songs.”

  She laughed and sat back on her heels. “Well, get it out of your system because we have another song to write together.”

  His brow creased. “Explain.”

  Her smile widened because she knew he’d say no, absolutely not. But then he’d eventually relent because she wasn’t one to give up. “Me.” She pointed from herself to him. “You.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “And the Defiance Academy Winter Review.”

  3

  “Come on.” Wylder pulled her jacket tighter around her as she elbowed Logan. December had arrived with a vengeance, dusting the ground in the year’s first snow. And Wylder was not one of those people who’d say, “It’s okay if it’s cold as long as it snowed.” No, forget that. She needed her warmth, for the sun to light up the gray Ohio skies. To be fair, the skies today were a brilliant blue, but it was too freaking cold.

  And Logan wasn’t making it any better. “No.”

  “You’ll give in, eventually.”

  “Probably.”

  They shared a smile, and she was glad he was aware of the power she had. Yet, he was still holding out on the Winter Review. “Then why not say yes now? I already signed us up.”

  “Of course, you did.”

  A snowball smacked Wylder in the side of the face, and she stopped walking down the path to the dorms, turning on her heel to glare at enemy number one. Killian James. “You did not just do that.” How had he even made a snowball with so little snow?