Page 29 of Wild

"Good. How are you feeling this morning, given you didn't rest well? Any dizziness when you got up? Anything off?"

"Sex always does me good, Dooley, so I'd say I'm great," Mia says — and then, a second after the comment she couldn't stop herself from making, she flushes and blinks a couple of times, embarrassed. "Sorry, I don't know why I said that."

Part of her wants the doctor to know everything she does, especially with women — just to see if it gets any kind of reaction out of her. But the other part doesn't. She's made up her mind to respect her, not to push her with stupid, out-of-line remarks or say things that might make the doctor uncomfortable. But she likes this woman so much that keeping those impulses in check has become one of the hardest things she has to do all day.

"Glad you had a good time," Erin says, not looking at her, with an expression of total indifference that ties a knot in Mia's stomach. She stands. "Eat whatever they bring you and try to sleep. Lock your phone and give it to me."

A flash of confusion crosses Mia's face, her eyes going wide.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you need to sleep, and if you keep it, you'll get distracted. Give it to me," Erin says, her hand open in front of her, waiting.

Mia stares at her fingers — straight and strong, perfect for— She clears her throat, makes sure the screen is locked, and sets the phone in her hand. Erin slips it into the side pocket of her right cargo leg and walks to the door.

"Get some rest. I'll check on you at noon."

She steps out and takes a seat in the row closest to Mia's room. She presses the button on the armrest — the one above the letters that read "Assistance" — and thirty seconds later a uniformed young man comes over to ask what she needs. She orders breakfast for Mia and another coffee for herself, and when he leaves, she pulls out her notebook, writes today's date at the top, and notes the singer's vitals along with the time she took them, logs that she's only had coffee, that she slept three to four hours, and that she had sex.

She stares at those last two words. She wrote it down because it's a real piece of data she needs — something that adds to her patient's exhaustion and that she has to factor into her care — but seeing it there on the page irritates her almost as much as it did last night watching that woman walk out of her room. She tells herself her annoyance is purely about the fact that Mia doesn't seem to be making much of an effort to rest and follow her instructions, and she pushes away any other thought that has nothing to do with that.

The bus pulls into Boston mid-afternoon. Mia had breakfast, slept nearly four hours between one meal and the next, and feels recharged. Erin, on the other hand, barely slept a wink the entire trip. First making sure Mia's breakfast was delivered, then checking that she'd actually eaten it, then peering through the door every hour to confirm she was asleep, and finally making sure she ate when she woke up, that she'd drunk enough water, and taking her vitals again.

During the stretches when she was just sitting in her seat, she couldn't close her eyes because her mind kept getting away from her, making her wonder what she was doing there — on a bus full of strangers, traveling through the country with no time for anything, alongside a girl who says things she shouldn't and then apologizes for them.

When the bus stops, Erin has to look twice through the window. If Toronto had fans of the singer, here there's a full-on crowd that the police are trying to hold back behind the barricades the hotel staff set up at the entrance.

"It happens sometimes," Mia's voice makes her turn, and she finds the singer standing in the aisle.

She's changed clothes; she's now wearing fitted black jeans, white sneakers, and a hoodie in her size. Her hair is damp and she's not wearing the cap, and the dark circles she had this morning are completely gone.

"What happens?" Erin is genuinely thrown right now, overwhelmed by what's outside the bus and by the presence of this blue-eyed girl watching her from half a meter away, hands tucked in her back pockets, radiating that magnetism she doesn't even seem to know she has.

"The people," Mia says, nodding toward the hotel entrance. "Usually it leaks through some fan club — there's always someone willing to dig hard enough. They know the arrival date and the city, and they'll work the hotel staff they think are likelycandidates until someone tells them what they want to know. Other times it's Jude who leaks it," Erin blinks, "he calls it free publicity."

"I see," the doctor murmurs.

"I don't," Mia shrugs. "Sometimes things get out of hand — people getting too worked up, ending up with an unnecessary shove. Jude shouldn't do this."

She turns and keeps moving, and Erin watches her go until she disappears down the stairs. She picks up her notebook, tucks it into her backpack, slings it over her shoulder, and heads out. Nell is in her seat, perfectly still, nothing packed up, one foot resting on the railing in front of her and an enormous book open in her hands.

"You're not getting off?" Erin asks.

The woman looks up and takes off her reading glasses, which fall to hang against her chest on their cord.

"Not yet. Better to wait until Mia's inside. She's the one they want to see — once she's in, they stick around another ten minutes and then most of them leave. If you go out now, they'll swarm you almost as much as her, ask you who you are, and try to get information out of you."

Erin frowns, slides her backpack off her shoulder, and sits in the seats behind Nell, looking out the window as Mia — flanked by a bodyguard on each side — waves at the fans, takes photos, smiles, and answers a few questions.

Chapter 11

"What are you doing standing there?" Noah asks, stopping in the hallway that leads to the rehearsal room they've rented for the week.

Mia is standing still; she just stepped out of her dressing room ready to run through the choreography with the dancers, but as she did, she spotted Erin a little farther down the hall, crouched with her back turned, tying the laces on her boots.

"Ah, I see." Noah's voice carries a sarcastic edge that makes Mia turn toward him as Erin straightens up and stands there, eyes on her phone, completely unaware that the singer is just a few feet behind her.

"What do you see?" Mia crosses her arms, expression questioning.