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“Willow, look around you,” Roark says, rubbing my stomach absently as he kisses my forehead. “What do you see?”
She turns, and it’s as if she turns into another person, straightening to pay attention. “There’s a guard in your lawn, and I think I see a camera over there?”
I hum, not having known about the camera but not surprised. “The camera is new,” I mutter. “Things are a little weird around here, and I haven’t performed in months. Come inside, I’ll finish my coffee, and I should probably feed this baby.”
“What baby?” Willow asks softly, whirling around to stare at me.
“Inside,” Roark grunts, tugging me inside. “What are you craving, little Valkyrie?”
Willow follows us inside, and I wonder at her sharp intellect, yet her willingness to come inside of a house with people she doesn’t know. Maybe I’m just jaded and traumatized after everything that’s happened.
I’m about to be twenty-nine years old in a few months, and I feel eighty.
“Omelets and crusty bread?” I ask as Willow shuts the door behind her and locks it.
Hmmm, maybe she can see things are different than they seem.
“Anything for you, beautiful. I’ll warm up the bread for you. Irish butter?” he asks as we move towards the kitchen.
“Anything else is a travesty with your bread,” I agree.
Willow sits at the counter, eyes bouncing between us. “Can you read me in so I stop making a fool of myself?” she asks, a bite to her words.
Sitting, I cross my legs, causing my sweatshirt to ride up. “I can do the best I can, though a lot of it was in the news,” I tell her. Willow shakes her head at me as if she doesn’t know what I mean, and I realize she must not have seen, or been living under a rock.
“I was kidnapped last year, and now I’m trying to find the man who is behind everything,” I explain. “He’s started sending people to attempt to kill me, which doesn’t work for me, so I want to draw him out with this concert.”
I smile tightly as if this is totally normal, taking a sip of the coffee Roark made sure to bring with him.
“The issue is, I’m worried that I’ll freeze up when I perform. I’ve been having trouble creating new songs that are appropriate for the public, and not my own twisted thoughts and feelings as I process what happened to me,” I explain.
It should be odd talking to her, but she just nods, shutting down any feelings or thoughts she may have about this and concentrating on the problem at hand. She has a dark red scar at her hairline, and it makes me wonder if she’s ever had anything bad happen to her.
“Bear recommended I try singing in the cage, because—”
“You’re completely free up there. Nothing else matters except you and what you’re feeling,” Willow confirms. “Exposure to being up there may help for now. Sit up there, take a notebook, and hang out. It may be odd for some people, but—”
“I’m already as fucked up as they come,” I laugh. “Hanging out in a cage suspended from the air is probably low on the totem pole.”
“Is that today?” Orion teases, coming into the kitchen looking hot and sweaty.
“Hey O, yes it is today apparently, after food and the rest of my coffee,” I tell him, holding up my half filled cup.
“Gotta feed that baby, or you may stab someone,” he confirms with a smile.
“Okay, so you’re pregnant?! You definitely don’t look it,” Willow says incredulously.
“Aye, super pregnant, though it’s mostly hormones and occasional dizziness,” Roark says, putting food in front of me. I raise my eyebrows and he smirks. “I pay attention to everything about you, baby girl. Come to think of it, it explains your spells when we were on tour, remember?”
I nod, remembering how tired I felt. “I thought it was because we were so busy,” I mutter. “Thankfully, I haven’t had any nausea, but I have been hungry more.”
Orion snorts, taking a bite out of an apple. “Little one, I thought you were going to stab Derek when he stole one of your French fries the other day,” he says, chewing.
Derek is watching us, leaning at the entrance of the kitchen. “I learned my lesson, I need to keep all of my fingers so I can take photos of you, Len.”
“Are you coming back to work for me as my social media manager?” I tease.
“Jordan can’t find anyone competent,” he groans. “We don’t really want to bring anyone in that’s new, either. So you’ll get me. I’ll be updating all of the accounts, so I’ll be working at the club while you’re doing… whatever you need to do.”
