Page 71 of Wylder and the Almost Rockstar
“I suppose it is getting late.” Logan leaned in, pressing a kiss against her lips.
“Wylder, go to bed!” Becks bellowed from upstairs.
“Nicky!” Wylder begged.
“Sorry, he got away from me.” Nicky groaned, and a moment later their bedroom door closed.
“I guess I should try to get some sleep.” Wylder stood, and Logan walked her to the bottom of the stairs.
“Night, Wylds.” Logan pulled her into his arms and kissed her. His lips warm and soft against hers.
Wylder’s hands slid up his shoulders to tangle in his hair.
He pulled away too soon but pressed his forehead to hers. “Thank you for coming with me to help my brother.”
“We’ll fix this.” She smiled shyly.
“I hope so.” He pressed a final kiss to her lips, and Wylder turned to stumble back upstairs. She was never going to sleep now.
19
“Wylder stop pacing, you’re making me crazy.” Becks strummed his guitar out on the patio where he liked to work.
“Do you think the label is going to help them through this?” She chewed on her thumbnail, trying not to imagine the worst.
“The label will do whatever Luke’s PR team recommends. That’s who they’re meeting with today.” Becks scribbled in his notebook, crossing out several lines of lyrics he’d been working on all morning.
“But what do you think they’ll say?” She flopped down on the seat opposite him.
Becks stopped playing his guitar and looked her in the eye. “I think they’re going to be majorly ticked off that one of their top recording artists has been lip-syncing to his identical twin brother’s voice this whole time.”
“What will they do to them?” Wylder felt the blood rush from her face. “They won’t drop him from the label for this, will they?”
“Honestly, Wylds, why would they keep him?”
“I know you don’t like Luke—“
“The guy’s a jerk-faced baboon.” Becks turned his attention back to his guitar. “And he can’t even sing.”
“You don’t know the whole story, Beckett.” Wylder’s voice turned sharp. “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
He glanced back at her. “I don’t know what that means, but you’re too involved with the Cook brothers. I don’t like it.”
“If you knew their story, you’d probably have a lot more respect for them.” Wylder stood, pulling her sweater tight around her. “I expected more from you, Becks.” Her shoulders fell. “I brought them here because you’ve been where they are. I thought you could put your petty Twitter war aside and help them out of a tough situation.” She turned to leave him to his songwriting.
“Sit back down, Wylds.” Becks’ voice sounded resigned.
Wylder perched on the edge of the wrought-iron bench.
“What don’t I know?” He set his guitar aside.
“It’s not my story to tell.”
“Then tell me what you can because none of what they’ve done makes any sense to me. Why should we help them? They’ve lied to their fans. Not about who they’re dating like I did—but about the singing. That’s unforgivable, so make me understand their situation, and I’ll do what I can to help them through this.”
Wylder tapped her fingers against her knee, wondering how much of Logan’s story she could tell her brother without violating his family’s privacy. In the end, she stood up and faced Becks. “Imagine what our lives would have been like if we were orphaned when you were barely out of high school, and I was just twelve years old, and we had to figure out a way to survive on our talent alone. What lengths would you have taken to make sure we survived if you were at your wit’s end trying to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table?” She didn’t wait for him to answer before she left him alone to ponder her question.
Logan and his brothers had left hours ago to meet with the label along with their lawyer uncle. It wasn’t looking good for the Cook brothers, and Wylder was left climbing the walls.
