Reckless

On the car ride over to the radio station the next day, my nerves were ablaze and anxiety sizzled every cell in my body. I was used to being in the background. I was comfortable there. Being shoved into the spotlight was going to burn a little. But I had to do this. It may not change the way some people thought of me, but I had to stand by my husband's side while he put himself out on a limb. If it broke, at least we'd both fall together.



The boys checked out the sights as we drove through the packed streets of the Big Apple. We'd briefly been here before during the promo tour, and one thing I'd never get used to about New York City was how many cars and taxis filled the busy streets. The city teemed with life. There was movement everywhere-the roads, sidewalks, buildings, even the windows. It was so active it gave me a little buzz. I felt like I had suddenly developed restless leg syndrome; I couldn't be still. Of course, that could just be my nerves flaring up.



Kellan watched me in the car, amusement in his eyes. I wanted to tell Mr. No Nerves to stow it, but I had a frog in my throat and couldn't speak at all . . . yet. Reaching into his pocket, Kellan grabbed something, then handed it to me. Curious, I looked down and saw a fuchsia rose petal in my hand. In Sharpie he'd written You are a and drawn a tiny star. I glanced up at him, confused. He pointed at the petal. "I finished your book. It's amazing, Kiera. You really should get it published."



Smiling, I looked back at the silky petal in my fingers. "Thank you. I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it after you read it all."



His arm wrapped around me. "I didn't think it was possible, but I'm pretty sure I love you even more. How you see me . . . I never thought anyone would ever . . ." His voice trailed off as his throat tightened with emotion.



Understanding, I looked back up at him. "That's because you don't see yourself as clearly as I see you."



Laughing, he pulled me tight. "God, we really are peas in a pod, aren't we?"



My nerves not quite so bad, I nestled into his side. While he played with my wedding ring, I again marveled at his ability to turn my emotions around. And at his ability to constantly surprise me. Looking back up at him, I asked, "Where the hell do you keep getting these petals?"



Eyes mischievous, he murmured, "I'm a man of many mysteries, Mrs. Kyle." Then he started laughing again.



When we arrived at the radio station, the crowd was massive. How people found us everywhere we went, I'd never understand; it was almost like there was a D-Bag warning alert that went off in every town we visited.



Some of the people in the crowd around the station had handmade signs proclaiming their love for their favorite D-Bag. There were a lot of signs for Kellan, but the other boys were being loved on too. It was surreal to see people I knew being idolized at this level. I mean, some of the girls were sobbing as they waited for a glimpse of the band-red-faced, snotty-nosed sobbing. I was pretty sure that if the girl holding the sign that read-Marry me, Griffin-actually knew Griffin, she probably wouldn't be shaking like a leaf. Or asking for his hand. Well, maybe with the new, calmer, gentler Griffin. He wasn't so bad. But pre-Gibson Griffin? No way.



The car let us out right in front of the crowd huddling around the front doors. Tory was with us, of course, and tried to immediately steer the boys into the station. They didn't go in right away, though. Evan warmly met fans by the front door, signing autographs and even hugging a couple of them. Matt stood a bit behind him, looking a little uncomfortable by the size of the crowd, but happy to shake a couple hands. Griffin took off down the street. When he got to the end of the fans, he turned around and headed back to the front. He lifted his arms as he ran, encouraging the crowd to do the same. Screaming, they mimicked him, and that's when I realized what he was doing-he was making the fans do the wave. Dork.



Kellan laughed at Griffin's antics as he waited for me by the car. When we were together, he held my hand and pulled me over to the fans. I was hesitant to go for several different reasons: one, this was his job, not mine, and it felt intrusive to be included in it; and two, I didn't want to get attacked before I'd even had the chance to say my peace.



The fans didn't know how to react to my presence. They were so excited to be near Kellan that they were hollering, crying, and shaking. But somehow they still managed to give me dirty looks. I hoped none of them were brave enough to say anything to me with Kellan a foot away from them. He would most definitely lose his temper if that happened.



Kellan let go of my hand to sign a few autographs. I held my ground and watched Kellan with a prideful smile on my face. He really was so great at it. He made a point of saying hello and making eye contact with every person who handed him something. He was warm and open. He joked with them, and even made remarks that were just on the edge of being suggestive. Surprisingly, that didn't bother me in the slightest. I understood why he crooked a grin and told a tiny strawberry blond girl that he "was thrilled to see her too." He wasn't saying it in the hopes of hooking up with her later, he was saying it for her. He was giving her a memory that she could hold on to, making her day. The mild flirting was actually sort of sweet.



Only one person had the guts to ask him about me. Proudly wearing her Kell-Sex shirt, the frowning fan jerked her thumb at me. "Why is she here with you?" Somehow she made the word "she" sound profane.



Kellan kept his expression as neutral as possible. I didn't think he was going to respond, but in a calm voice, he told her, "She's my wife. She goes where I go."



With that, he grabbed my hand and walked away. The sound of a handful of people gasping simultaneously was the last thing I heard before we darted inside the building. He'd never called me that in public before. Kellan smiled at me once we were in the lobby. "It felt really good to say that."



My heart plummeting now that we were even closer to disclosing our private life, I grumbled, "Just think how good it will feel to say it to millions of people in a few minutes."



Seeing my nerves, Kellan wrapped his arm around me. "It's not millions." He pursed his lips. "I'm pretty sure it's not millions."



Discretely breaking us apart, Tory checked us in with security, then led us to the elevators. When we were all squished into the car, the intimidating blonde focused on Kellan and me.



Glancing at where we were holding hands, she told us, "You're primarily here to perform a song or two for them, but I've allowed them five minutes at the beginning of your set to ask you questions. Remember to keep the interview focused on the tour and your album. I've informed them not to ask you about your personal life, or anything about Sienna or the photo of Kiera, but they will probably try to sneak in a comment or two." Her cool gaze slid my way. "You should probably stay in the hallway during the interview, so as to not provoke inappropriate questions."



Face calm and composed, Kellan simply smiled. Taking that as an affirmative response, Tory twisted to face the elevator doors. Behind her back, Kellan flashed me a devilish smile, one that clearly said, Hell if I'm doing any of that. My heart surged with anxious adrenaline. God, I hoped I didn't pass out.



When we got to the studio, I could see that the light was on-they were live. I felt nauseated but gave Kellan a confident smile. We could do this. I could do this. An intern for the radio station let us in. Looking confident and intimidating, Tory walked through first. Her hawklike eyes took in everything around her, but I was pretty sure she wasn't going to see this coming.



A tall, middle-aged man standing behind a confusing board of switches and buttons smiled into the microphone when he saw our group entering. "The D-Bags have just arrived at the studio. Good to see you again, guys."



Kellan reached over and shook the man's hand. We'd been here before, during our whirlwind promo tour, and I instantly remembered something about this studio that I had forgotten about. They had web cameras set up in every corner of the room. Not only was the world going to hear our confession, they were going to see it too.



Indicating a group of chairs set up for the band, the DJ told us, "Have a seat."



As Matt, Evan, and Griffin sat down, Kellan turned to a grizzly looking DJ behind a laptop. "Can we get an extra chair?" He indicated me with his head.



The man looked confused, then surprised, like he recognized me. Hopping up, he told Kellan, "Sure, no problem."



As a chair was set up for me beside Kellan's, I risked a glance at Tory. She was glowering; she hadn't wanted me in the room. She wasn't putting a stop to it yet, but she might when we started speaking.



An attractive brunette behind another laptop beamed at the boys. "It's so nice to have you back. How have you been?" Her eyes focused on Kellan first, locked on me, shifted to the rest of the boys, then locked back on me. I could feel the curiosity emanating from her.



As headphones were set up on the guys, a microphone was handed to Kellan. He wasted no time in starting the conversation that I was both dreading and looking forward to. "Not so great, actually."



All of the DJs' eyes lit up as they stared at Kellan. People generally did not speak the truth when asked that question. It truly was just a nicety to smooth the path before the real questions were introduced. The woman flicked her gaze between Kellan and me, like she knew everything that had been going on with Kellan-in the gossip-verse, at least. By the eager expression on her face, it was clear that seeing me in the studio at Kellan's side, but not being able to say anything about it, had been driving her crazy; she was hoping for some answers. And she wasn't going to be disappointed.



She cautiously indicated me. "I can imagine things have been . . . rough . . . lately?"



She flicked a glance at Tory, who was already giving the DJs a "cut" gesture. Kellan looked over at Tory, held a finger up to her, then glanced back at the DJ. "I need to clear the air about a few things. I know we were supposed to perform for you today, but I would like to do an interview instead. Do you mind?" Every radio person in the room shook their head. Kellan pointed at me. "Can she get some headphones?"



Several people jumped at once to get me some, but, seeing our resolve and knowing what we were doing, Evan handed me his. With trembling fingers, I took them, thanked him, and put them on. God, I was going to throw up.



Tory stepped forward and leaned into Kellan's side. Pulling back his headphones, she heatedly told him something. I couldn't tell what she was saying, but I had a feeling it was a warning to shut the hell up. Kellan shook his head and snapped, "No! I won't be quiet. I'm done with this." I thought he might shove her away, but instead, he just turned back to the DJs and ignored her. Tory was livid. Pulling out her phone, she darted from the room. I figured Nick would be calling us in about thirty seconds.



As Kellan grit his jaw, I was handed a microphone. The room filled with tension and anticipation as I tried to ignore the many cameras around us. Palms sweaty, I grabbed Kellan's hand. When he glanced at me and our eyes met, I instantly flashed back to the first time I'd really looked into his eyes. His intense gaze framed in that perfect face had been so intimidating back then, but now it was a source of peace. I drank him in as the world waited for us to speak.



Still looking at me, Kellan lifted the microphone to his mouth. "I'd like to formally introduce you to this beautiful girl at my side, Miss Kiera Michelle Allen." He turned back to the DJs. "My wife."



I didn't think it was possible to simultaneously floor so many people, but everyone looked stunned. Timidly bringing the microphone to my lips, I murmured, "Hi." Everyone's eyes flashed to our hands. I'd been wearing my wedding ring the entire time, but in an attempt to avoid speculation, I had asked Kellan not to wear his. He was proudly wearing it now, and the matching bands sparkled in the studio lights.



The female DJ recovered first. "Oh, well . . . congratulations. Is this . . . recent?"



Smiling ear to ear, like a huge weight had been lifted from him, Kellan told them, "No. We actually got married last June, before any of this craziness started."



Knowing he was leaving something out, I clarified. "Well, we aren't technically married yet. We had a small ceremony . . . sort of, but we haven't legally gone through the proceedings." My throat felt so tight I was sure I sounded like a frog.



Kellan shrugged. "I married you in that bar. That's all that matters to me."



The scruffy-looking DJ was all over that news. "You got married in a bar? Nice. That's my dream wedding location. Not that I'm ever getting married."



A nerve-releasing titter escaped me, and I felt my throat relaxing. Feeling more confident, I kissed the back of Kellan's hand. "We married in June, but we've been together . . . well, it will be two years now in March."



Brows knitted, the woman asked Kellan, "If you've been engaged this whole time, why has nobody heard about Kiera before now?" She gave me playful smile. "Where have you been hiding?"



Laughing a little, I told her, "I was hiding right by his side. We've been almost inseparable this entire time. I was even in the room during interviews when Kellan mentioned he was 'in a relationship.'"



The DJ looked back at him. "Why didn't you just point her out? Say, that's my girl, right there?"



I meekly raised my hand. "That would be because of me. I'm not . . . comfortable being the center of attention. Kellan was trying to keep me out of the spotlight." I indicated the room with my finger. "All of this makes me want to either vomit, pee my pants, or some horrible combination of the two." While the room laughed, I resisted the urge to slap my hand over my eyes. Did I really just say that out loud to thousands and thousands of people? Oh well.



Giving me a wide smile, the brunette grabbed her microphone and leaned in like she was telling me a secret. "It's okay. This makes me want to pee too."



Kellan laughed, then added, "Once all the hype over Sienna and me started, I couldn't keep quiet about it. I told whoever would listen that I was in a relationship, but everyone twisted it around to mean that I was talking about Sienna. I couldn't give them specifics about Kiera, because she didn't want that, and I wasn't about to throw my wife to the wolves against her wishes." He kissed the back of my hand, and I swear someone in the room sighed.



Eyes apologetic, Kellan locked gazes with me. "I was as vague as I could be about you. Maybe I was too vague. I should have at least said I was engaged."



I shook my head. "You did what you knew I was comfortable with, you don't have to feel bad about that." Laughing, I added, "And you know Sienna just would have started wearing an engagement ring anyway."



Kellan smirked as he shook her head. "Yeah, I can see her doing that."



The DJs picked up on what we were insinuating instantly. Leaning in, the female asked, "Are you saying that Sienna Sexton orchestrated the Kell-Sex phenomenon?"



Kellan slowly looked back at the DJ. This was hard for him. Regardless of how Sienna had manipulated us, she'd given the D-Bags their start. She'd put them on the map; they sort of owed her for that. And she wasn't all bad. I'd seen glimpses of her generosity, like her arranging a car to get my sister to the hospital, and her showering Anna with things for Gibson. There was a soul inside of Sienna . . . buried deep under her incessant need to be on top. I wondered how much of that drive had to do with her pressure-filled childhood.



Sighing, Kellan told her, "It's not entirely Sienna's fault, but yes, she definitely did her part to make sure the fans saw us together."



All of the DJs looked confused. "Why?" the unkempt one asked.



Kellan looked back at his band sitting slightly behind us. This was it, the point of no return. But we'd gone too far now. If people were going to really understand what had happened, then the entire truth needed to come out.



Evan reached over and put his hand on Kellan's shoulder. Squeezing, he nodded. Kellan returned his eyes to the DJ who had asked the question. "To boost sales. The record label decided early on that Sienna and I as a couple would create a buzz that would help us both. It was their idea to make the music video so . . . explosive." He frowned as he looked over at me. "And I'll never really forgive myself for doing it."



"I talked you into it," I reminded him.



Nodding, Kellan inhaled a deep breath. Looking back at the DJs hanging on our every word, he said, "I was encouraged by the label to let the rumors grow, to hold my tongue. I didn't want to let my band down. These boys are my family. I wanted the success for them, so . . . I went along with it in the beginning." He let out a weary sigh, then shrugged. "By the time I changed my mind and started speaking up, it was too late. Nobody believed me."



Seeing his forlorn expression, I told the DJs, "The label pulled the D-Bags from the tour with Avoiding Redemption. The label put them on Sienna's tour, trying to drive the hype up. Sienna made sure they were constantly photographed together. Kellan was being evasive to protect me." Shaking my head, I turned to Kellan. "It's no wonder that the fans didn't believe what you were telling them. No one's at fault there."



The female DJ scoffed. "No one but your label and Sienna. You were green to the business, probably overwhelmed, and they completely walked all over you. It's disgusting, and I for one am outraged for you."



Kellan and I both smiled at her. Finally, someone understood. Someone believed us. And having someone on our side felt better than I ever thought it would.



We spent the next several minutes answering any question they asked, including a lot of questions about the confusing sex tape. Kellan told them, "No, that wasn't Sienna. That was an old roommate of mine. We made it several years ago. She leaked it for money, and since she's never once spoken up about being the girl in the video, I'm assuming that she got paid a great deal of money." I thought he made a very good point. So did the DJs.



After the DJs' questions were satisfied, we took additional questions from callers. It went really well, although several of the callers sounded shocked, angered, and saddened that Sienna and Kellan weren't real. One was even crying. I hadn't meant to break the hearts of the Kell-Sex fans, but Kellan and I couldn't keep this under wraps anymore. In the end, I hoped they understood that.



The minute we stepped from the studio, I felt higher and happier than I had in a while; our relationship being out in the open was both terrifying and liberating. Even if we were going to get heat from the label and Sienna, at least things would be honest from here on out. For the first time in the last few weeks, I felt really hopeful. And proud. Hard as it was, Kellan and I were doing the right thing.



Tori was livid when she met up with us in the hallway. She wasn't the only one. We didn't even make it to the elevator before Kellan's phone started ringing. He cringed when he saw the screen, but he opened it. "Hi, Sienna."



She screeched so loud I could hear her. "What the bloody hell did you just do?"



Kellan was cool but collected when he answered her. "Something I should have done a long time ago. I said my peace."



"You just admitted that we manipulated the public for money! Are you trying to ruin both of our careers?"



Tory was red-faced, and I couldn't help but think that she absolutely agreed with Sienna; I was a little surprised she hadn't gone off on us yet. She was probably waiting to do it in the car. The rest of the band was quiet as Sienna's heated, tinny words rang in the air.



Kellan pulled the phone away from his ear. "Our albums will speak for themselves. And that's the way it should be. If our music isn't good enough to stand on its own, then we shouldn't be at the top. And if we fall . . . I'm fine with it."



"You are the biggest bloody fool I have ever met! Get your ass back here. Now!"



The line went dead, and Kellan tucked the phone back in his pocket. As the elevator dinged and the doors opened, Kellan leaned down to me and whispered, "You think she's mad?"



His lip curled up in an expression that was both sexy and adorable. I had no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck and thoroughly start kissing him as we stepped inside the elevator. Pausing for only a microsecond, I murmured, "I don't really care if she is."



Kellan's phone rang the entire time the car descended, but we both ignored it as we held each other. My good feelings diminished a bit when we stepped onto the chilly, gloomy New York sidewalk. The fans who had been outside before had grown in size during the interview. Their temperament was also different. The range of reactions was all over the place, from shock, to anger, to grief. But curiosity seemed to be the underlying factor. It was obvious that they'd all been listening to the interview. It was also obvious that they all still had questions.



There was also a fair amount of press in the crowd now. They hovered around, microphones ready, cameras blazing. The fact that news crews were already there reiterated to me how fast things happened in New York. I wasn't thrilled about being broadcasted on TV, but after the interview, this didn't faze me as much as it once would have.



Kellan and I had handed the media a story that was a little more in depth than just juicy are-they-or-aren't-they gossip. We'd openly admitted being used by our label. That sort of scandal got noticed. The reporters tossed out questions as the assemblage pressed in on us: "Kellan, Kiera, any comment on what the label did to you?" "Will you sue?" "Will you leave the tour?" "Did you violate your contract by speaking out?"



Those were good questions, but they weren't ones we had answers for yet.



The fans also had questions, but theirs were on a more personal level: "You're really not with Sienna?" "That was really fake?" "The video looked so real though, are you sure you don't have feelings for Sienna?"



Tory and the staff from the radio station were trying to keep the crowd under control so we could leave. I thought maybe we should have stayed and answered everyone's questions, but the way they were trying to close in around us made me feel really claustrophobic and uncomfortable. There were too many, they were too close. I didn't like it. We'd said enough for now. I just wanted to get into the car and get back to the privacy of our bus.



There was a brief space between the large clusters of fans and press hovering around the doors. Security was holding people back just enough that Matt, Evan, and Griffin were able to squeeze through, and I watched them hurry into the waiting SUV in relief. Kellan and I couldn't press through the fans side by side, but he clenched my hand tight as he pulled me through the sea of people.



I noticed several flashes of light as we waded along and realized that not just press were in this mix. Paparazzi had shown up too, and they were by far more aggressive than the fans and reporters. While security merely had to stand in front of those groups to keep them back, paparazzi pushed to get past them. A pair of tenacious photographers found their way through the swarm to step right in front of Kellan and me. Kellan forced me back a step, and I shielded my eyes against the ceaseless bright flashes.



The people snapping our picture didn't seem to care in the least that we were trying to get to the car. They tossed out question after question, never even pausing long enough for us to answer-not that we were going to. Miffed, Kellan tried squirming past one; the portly man wouldn't budge, though.



Careful to not be too aggressive, since we'd just narrowly escaped an assault charge the last time we'd encountered these guys, Kellan politely said, "We're trying to leave; please let us through."



It was like they didn't even hear us. They just kept snapping away. Looking up at the safety of the SUV, I saw Matt and Evan watching us in concern. They looked just about ready to start pummeling people aside to get to us. I didn't want that. Kellan didn't either. When I was beginning to believe there wouldn't be another choice if we ever wanted to get out of this mob, a narrow path to the street opened up. It was far to the left of where we wanted to go, and it cut right through a pocket of excited fans, but it was our only option at this point.



Kellan saw the ray of hope at the same time I did. He pulled us to the right, faking out the paparazzi, then swung us around to the left, and we ran for the closing hole. Kellan pulled me through the break in the crowd just as it began to close back up. We were stroked and fondled by fans on the way through, but the aggressive photographers couldn't follow us.



Now that we were through the conglomeration, we were a little stuck. The label's SUV was a ways up the street, blocked off from us by a mass of people. The buzzing crowd was behind us, and the street was in front of us. Since the rest of the band was safely tucked away, Kellan and I were now the only point of interest. Over my shoulder, I could see them all shifting our way. Kellan stuck his hand out for a taxi, trying to get us away, but trepidation shot up my spine as everyone zoned in on us.



The reporters kept up their questions, holding large microphones our way, hoping for a response. The paparazzi were pushing through the fans, trying to get a better angle. And the fans were in a dither having their idol so close to them. They didn't even seem to care about what we'd said about Sienna, especially the ones who Kellan had brushed past as he was trying to get us away. Those ones looked elated, and they looked like they wanted to touch him some more. I understood that feeling, but the zealous energy growing in the crowd made me nervous.



"Kellan, I don't like this, let's get out here."



Kellan nodded at me. "We'll get a cab in a second."



Just as he said it, the fans started to realize that he was getting away and surged forward. They swarmed around us, all hands and giggling laughter. Arms circled Kellan, hands ran up his chest, pens were shoved in his face, and cell phones recorded every moment. They squeezed between us, separating us. I tried to keep a hold on Kellan's hand, but like a stretched rubber band, we eventually broke apart.



"We love you, Kellan!" rose above the din of the reporters and photographers shouting questions. Much to my surprise, just as many fans were clamoring for my attention as Kellan's. I guess I was just as much an attraction as he was-the woman who had the Golden Boy's heart. Some wanted to know what he was really like, some wanted to know how I felt about the music video, some even asked if I was pregnant. Overwhelmed, I instinctively backed up.



The press were behind the fans now, and they moved forward as more curious onlookers swelled the crowd. The curious, eager fans in front of us were pushed from behind, and with nowhere to go, they bumped into Kellan and me. Kellan held his ground, but I was pushed back so hard, I lost my footing. My heel slipped over the edge of the sidewalk. I hadn't even realized I was that close to the street. I was even more aware of my proximity when I stumbled and fell into a lane of traffic. A fan reached for me, but she missed; I landed on my ass, hard. Dazed, confused, I stared at a pair of headlights baring down on me. The only thought that flashed through my head was that I hoped being hit by a truck wasn't as painful as it seemed.



I started to get to my feet but was disoriented, and I knew I wouldn't make it in time; the truck didn't even seem to be slowing down. Then, like my own personal white night, or maybe, more fittingly, like a clearly deranged madman, Kellan recklessly rushed into the street. I was one hundred percent positive that I was about to witness my husband's death. I was about to become a widow before I even had the chance to officially get married. I stopped breathing.



Kellan's fingers closed over the tattoo of his name on my wrist, and he yanked me to my feet; I felt like my shoulder was being disconnected as pain torn up my arm. I heard the vehicle's brakes squealing as it finally noticed us, but it was too late. When I crashed into Kellan's chest, he shoved me behind him and put his hand up to the truck, bracing himself for impact. It was all he had time to do.



Oddly, even though I knew we were a microsecond away from something terrible happening, I couldn't help but notice that it was a floral delivery truck about to hit us. My mind snapped to Kellan's petal messages. I'd really miss them.



The truck veered to the left, trying to avoid us, but it couldn't. It smashed into Kellan, hitting him at stomach level. The truck's forward momentum caused it to hit me too. I crashed into Kellan's back, then fell to the ground. It hurt just as much as I was afraid it was going to. The blow knocked the wind out of me, and I felt like rubber. My head hit the asphalt before my hands could break my fall. I felt my scalp burning, saw stars, and then all I saw was blackness.