Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(134)
Anna shoved a handful of popcorn and chocolate into her mouth. “Hey, heard you’re a bitch whore for stealing Sienna’s man.”
Leaning my head back on the chair, I smiled over at my sister. “Yep. I officially, globally suck.”
Anna chewed her food for a minute, then smiled. “Well, cunt or not, I still love you.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Hancock, I love you too.” Laughing, I reached over for some popcorn. Anna smacked my hand away.
“Loving you doesn’t mean I’m sharing my popcorn.” She pointed over to the table. “Grab your own goodies . . . bitch whore.”
Exaggerating a grieved groan, I prepared myself to stand up. I paused when I noticed Anna cringing and pressing a knuckle into her back. “You okay, sis?”
She nodded. “Yeah, just a backache. It comes and goes . . . I’m fine.”
She seemed pale to me, her face wan and weary. Maybe it was just because she wasn’t wearing her usual expertly applied eye shadow and mascara. I was used to seeing my sister all done up. It used to drive my dad crazy that she rarely went anywhere without makeup. He’d often say, “Why do you need mascara if you’re just going to sit in a dark movie theater?” Her answer was always the same, “Because I have to walk through the lobby to get there, Dad.” Just the fact that she hadn’t decorated her eyes today spoke volumes on how tired she was.
“Anna, maybe you should go back to the bus and lie down.”
She shook her head; even her hair seemed a little lackluster today. “I want to listen to the show. Griff’s going to do a little solo for me.” Her smile, while still clearly pained, was full of love for her husband. God, I still couldn’t get used to that word being connected with Griffin.
Tory came in a bit later to grab the guys for their meet-and-greet. Not wanting to disrupt Kellan’s job by unnecessarily riling up his fans, I decided to stay in the dressing room. Anna looked too comfortable to follow Griffin, so she stayed behind with me. Or maybe she wasn’t comfortable at all. I couldn’t tell. She seemed fine on the surface, but every few minutes she would get a weird, focused look on her face, and she’d start inhaling and exhaling in a slow, controlled way. Then she’d be fine and she’d resume munching her popcorn. It was strange.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Anna?”
Squishing an M&M between her fingers, she frowned. “No, actually.” Tilting her head to examine her bowl of snacks, she complained, “All of the chocolate shifted to the bottom of the bowl.”
Giving her a not-amused expression, I pointed to her back. “I meant physically. Everything all right?”
Anna waved away my concern. “It’s just a backache. It happens when you’re carrying around a hundred pound bowling ball. It will go away if I keep my feet up.” To emphasize her point, she wriggled her toes, which were stretched out on a chair in front of her.
“I don’t know, Anna, maybe you should see a doctor. When was the last time you saw one?” Anna hadn’t exactly been keeping up on her checkups since leaving Seattle. I wasn’t sure what they did at all of those doctor’s appointments, but they probably had advice on backaches.
Anna rolled her eyes at me. “For a backache? What are they going to do at a hospital? Have me sit down, that’s what. And I’m doing that, so . . . I’m following my doctor’s orders before even receiving them.” She smiled at me. “Because I’m that good.”
I was about to answer her sarcastic comment when she whimpered and hissed in a sharp breath. The bowl of popcorn rolled off her stomach and crashed to the floor, scattering everywhere. Both of her hands clamped onto her back, frantically massaging the muscles around her hips. Seeing the pain on her face, I turned her and moved behind her. Pressing my thumbs deep into her lower back, I watched my sister lean forward and struggle to breathe calmly without groaning in pain. My heart began to race as I quickly started realizing that this was so much more than a backache. This was my nephew knocking, and he wanted out.
“Anna, you have to go to a hospital. You’re in labor.”
She shook her head. Voice strained, she reiterated, “It’s just a backache, Kiera. I’m not due until next week.”
I wanted to smack my sister over the head like Kellan sometimes smacked Griffin, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop massaging her while she was in so much pain. “Hardly anybody actually gives birth on their due date, Anna.”
Groaning, she muttered, “Then why the hell is it called a due date? It should be called an estimated date of delivery.”
Controlling my smile, I told her, “Well, no matter what it’s called, the baby decides when to arrive, and regardless of what you have to say on the matter, it looks like Maximus wants to be born today.”
Anna simpered and pointed at the colorful sea of M&Ms resting at the edge of the toppled bowl. “But my chocolate . . .”
Massaging her with one hand, I grabbed my bag and rooted around for my phone. “Your snack will just have to wait, Anna.”
I found my phone once again hiding inside the book I was only halfway through. Yanking it free of the pages, I scrolled through my numbers and dialed Kellan. He didn’t pick up. I tried Griffin next. He didn’t pick up either. Not expecting anything different, I tried Evan and Matt, then Kellan again. Nobody picked up. I wasn’t too surprised. Tory had a strict no-cell policy when it was time to meet with fans. Deacon had answered his once during a greeting, and Tory had ripped him a new one once all the fans had left. She may place rock stars higher on the priority list than the general public, but she understood just who it was who bought the CDs.