Page 25 of Wild

The singer doesn't argue. She takes it, drinks three long swallows, hands it back, and jogs toward center stage. Erin returns to her spot and radios a request to have extra bottles placed around the stage, out of the way, so Mia can drink whenever she needs to.

"Erin Dooley?"

The doctor turns at the sound of her name and finds a woman who must be around sixty, with short, messy gray hair that looks like she couldn't care less.

"Nell?" she guesses, remembering the description the lawyer gave her.

"The one and only—glad to finally meet you," Nell says, giving her a firm handshake.

"Likewise."

"I'll be around back making sure everything goes the way it should, but if you need anything, just say the word."

"Perfect, thanks," Erin replies.

Nell turns to go but stops before she's taken a step.

"How's Mia?" she asks, watching the singer. "Other than stunning."

Erin smiles.

"She's good. No symptoms so far, and I've made sure she's staying hydrated and eating well throughout the day. Nothing should happen, but I'll be watching."

"Glad to hear it—what a scare that was, the thing at the Garden. Anyway, I'll see you later."

Erin watches her go and stands still for a moment. She likes her already. Nell seems tough and blunt when she's not talking, but she gives off the same quiet calm Erin gets from Barry, and that's something she feels with very few people. She turns back to the stage and feels a sudden pull in her stomach when she sees Mia peel off the hoodie she had on. The singer unzips it down the middle and lets it drop to the side of the stage, leaving her in a cropped top that covers just enough and the black leggings she put on for rehearsal. Erin clears her throat and takes a sip from her own water bottle to settle that strange feeling.

Rehearsal flies by, and at seven o'clock everything stops and the stage lights go dark as the doors open to the public. Mia comes down on her side and Erin hands her a water bottle, walking with her through the backstage hallway until they reach the medical room.

"Come in for a minute—let me take your blood pressure and then you're free to get ready."

Again, Mia doesn't argue. She follows her in and sits in the chair Erin points to, catching her breath. Erin puts the cuff on her arm and presses the button while Mia lets her eyes settle on the doctor's waist. She loves Erin's casual style—the short-sleeved shirt half-untucked from the black cargo pants that make her legs look even longer.

"This looks good. How do you feel? Any dizziness at any point?"

Mia stands up, and when she does she ends up too close to Erin, who looks at her for a beat as the singer tilts her head back, because the doctor has a few inches on her. Mia finds her so tempting that for a split second she thinks about rising onto her toes and kissing her, because Erin has a way of looking at her that throws her completely off balance. She doesn't blink, doesn't seem uncomfortable when their eyes meet, and sometimes Mia has the feeling they spend way too long just watching each other—but she catches herself immediately, reminding herself that this woman has no interest in her and that everything she's reading into it is just in her head. She's seeing what she wants to see, because she likes Erin Dooley.

"I'm fine, Dooley. I hope you enjoy the—" Mia stops and narrows her eyes. "Do you actually like my music?"

The doctor smiles in a way that makes Mia's stomach flip and press against her ribs.

"It's not really my style," she says, choosing honesty, "but I don't dislike it."

"Are you always this diplomatic?" Mia raises an eyebrow, and that crooked smile appears—the one that always makes Erin notice the fine little line at the corner of her lips.

"Only when it's called for."

"You don't need to sugarcoat anything for me—if you don't like my music, you can just say so." Mia looks amused, and Erin isn't sure this conversation—harmless on the surface—shouldkeep going, because it isn't what they're saying, it's the playful look on Mia Wilder's face when she talks to her.

"I would if that were the case, but like I said—it's not bad."

"That's a terrible answer, Doctor."

Erin laughs without opening her mouth, letting the air out through her nose as Mia backs toward the door, turns around, and walks out.

The concert starts ten minutes late because Jude decided that was the better call.

"Build the anticipation," he said—but the only thing Erin noticed it built was Mia's nerves, as she paced back and forth while Noah tried to keep her calm.