Page 81 of California Wild

She didn’t need to be told twice.

She slipped out of the party, the cool Sydney air hitting her like a slap as she hailed a cab, climbing inside and sinking against the seat.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, exhaling slowly.

Tomorrow.

It would come tomorrow.

It had to.

* * * * *

Melbourne was a blur of movement, cameras flashing, microphones shoved in her face, the constant hum of voices asking the same questions over and over again. The festival crowd at Flemington Racecourse had been electric, a wave of bodies pulsing, screaming the lyrics back at them. The energy should have left her high, floating, adrenaline coursing through her veins like a drug.

This was the dream. This was what she had worked for, fought for. And yet—

She felt like she was burning out.

Her smile stayed in place, her voice steady, answering every question during the Triple R FM interview with practiced ease. The band was riding the high of their success, every show bigger than the last, every headline louder, every door opening just a little wider.

Friday morning was no better. The sun was sharp over Melbourne, heating the pavement as they hit Hosier Lane for a photoshoot, the vibrant graffiti backdrop contrasting with how goddamn exhausted she felt.

Caiden was in his element, laughing, throwing an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into shot after shot, charming the camera with ease. Hayley played along, flicking her hair, giving them the smirk they wanted, the edge they craved.

“Hey, girl—you good to go?” Zoe said in between shots, eyes sharp.

“For sure.” Hayley nodded, too quick, adjusting the hem of her leather jacket. “Just running on fumes.”

It wasn’t a lie.

But it wasn’t the whole truth either.

The Side Show that night at the Corner Hotel was packed, sweaty, intimate in the best way. She let the music take over, let the stage lights blind her, let the weight in her chest push down deep where she couldn’t feel it.

And Caiden was there, always there, pulling her close, gripping her hand in the middle of a song, playing into the chemistry that had everyone guessing. He never missed an opportunity.

It was no longer just mildly annoying—it was starting to feel sick and twisted. Like, if he got enough of the fans on his side, she’d cave and fuck him.

By Saturday in Adelaide, she was running on autopilot, moving from the festival stage to the SAFM interview to the Side Show at Lion Arts Factory without pause, without breath.

She could feel herself slipping.

Slipping into exhaustion.

Slipping into something heavier.

Slipping into the realization that she was a full week late.

Sunday’s flight to Perth was long, the longest of the tour, and she spent the entire four hours staring at the seat in front of her, her stomach in knots.

She needed to take a test.

She had to know.

But even as the thought solidified in her mind, her phone buzzed in her lap. Another press appearance. Another interview. Another expectation.

No days off. No time to think. Just keep moving, keep showing up, keep giving them what they wanted.

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