Free Rockstars F#*k Harder by Penny Wylder Page B

through everything, made sure it’s all in order, but Drew should already be on stage and he’s still not here.
    Unable to take just waiting anymore, I open the door, moving towards the stage. I need to do something, anything. The anxiety is killing me.
    The last thing I expect is to run into Drew, coming from the cross hall as I reach the corner. We nearly collide, and then he’s there before me for the first time in months, a bare few feet away, standing in ratty jeans and a band t-shirt, looking much like the day we first met. I can already hear the impatient murmuring of the crowd and I know I have seconds. The way he breathes my name before he scoops me into his arms sends a shiver down my spine. He breathes my name again into my ear as he holds me, and I melt.
    “Drew,” I breathe back, and his proximity is so overwhelming, thoughts scatter, words scatter as I bask in his embrace. But there are words that must be spoken, and there’s no time to speak them, not really, so I pull away to meet his eyes. “There’s something—there’s something I have to tell you.”
    He pulls me closer to stroke my hair. It feels nice. “That you’re pregnant? Yeah, I saw. Was all over the news on the ride here. Probably gonna be a zoo outside later. It’s mine, right?”
    “I—” He knows . That’s not how I wanted him to find out. He must hate me for keeping this from him. I silently curse Veronica Ashton-Evans as I murmur against his chest, “Yeah, it’s yours.”
    “That’s what they’re saying, and I figured it has to be, but I wanted to hear it from you.” Drew lets go, steps back. “I need to go, I’m late as fuck, but we can talk later, okay? Just— stay. ” Backing away, he puts up his hands placatingly, like he’s dealing with a skittish animal. “Stay,” he repeats, and then turns to walk onto the stage.
    I watch him for a moment, words lost again, but I have to say them. I’ve screwed it all up so badly. He found out on the news about his own child. Before I know it I’m sprinting after him, grabbing his wrist to pull him around. “No, wait, I’m sorry! I’m so so so sorry that I didn’t tell you, that I kept it from you, I was just so afraid. I didn’t know what you’d think, I know you don’t want this, and I just couldn’t—”
    The lights are bright, I hear the crowd; cheers but also boos and shouts of, “Fucking whore!” and “Leave Drew alone you gold-digger.” I realize I’ve followed him on stage and freeze. I hear another shout nearby, a scream of, “You’re not good enough for him, you bitch!” and then I’m drenched, the paper cup of beer hitting me in the cheek and getting everywhere.
    I hear the growl first, even over the crowd, and Drew pulls me to him, shielding me. His body is tense, practically vibrating. He’s tugged me around so his back is to them, and he looks down at me with sheer protectiveness . He’s angry, but it’s not at me, it’s for me. Maybe it’s for us , too, for the baby I carry inside of me. I’d like to think that it is.
    Drew breathes in deeply, once, twice, and I can tell he’s trying to find calm. “I need you to go offstage now. I wish you’d told me sooner, but I’m not mad, I just have to do the show now. But I want to talk after, okay? We need to talk. I want you and the baby, all of it. But right now, I need you to let me do my job.”
    His words sound so much like things I've said to him before. Swallowing thickly, I nod. He may not be angry, but that doesn’t mean it’s all okay, it doesn’t mean he’s not going to fire me. Drew walks me just off stage, careful to keep himself between me and the audience amidst continued slurs screamed my way. He surprises me by shrugging off his jacket to drape over my shoulders, leaning down for a brief kiss to my forehead before he’s striding back out and grabbing up the mic from the stand.
    “What the fuck?” he speaks out to the crowd, and the noise continues. “Seriously, what