Page 5 of Wild

The assistant drops into an armchair and pulls out his phone while he waits for Mia to say goodbye to her companion.

"So?" her friend asks the moment Mia closes the door. "A good night? Exhausting?"

Mia laughs and sits down in the chair next to his.

"No complaints. What about you? Any girls? A guy this time?"

"Both," Noah says with a grin.

Mia raises an eyebrow and grins back.

"Damn, you really know how to work it."

He nods and shrugs while she watches him a beat and shakes her head with mild disbelief, because Noah is a deeply shy guy who struggles to talk to people, and yet he goes home with two people at a time. She wonders if those are the only moments he lets himself stop caring what anyone thinks.

"I'm guessing you haven't eaten yet," Noah says, reaching over to pick up the phone and call the front desk.

She listens to him order breakfast for both of them and is reminded, once again, how lucky she was to have met him.

"Start getting your things together while they bring it up," Noah says, scrolling through his phone. "Sound check at Madison Square is at five today, and at seven you have a radio interview—"

"An interview?" she cuts in. "Come on, Noah, you want me to lose my voice before the show?"

He gives her a gentle smile.

"It's only fifteen minutes, and after that your schedule is clear until Monday so you can focus on the next concert. I promise."

She sighs and nods, then gets up to start packing her suitcase, because the moment they've eaten they need to make a run for the airport. This is the part she likes least about touring—she spends so little time in each city that sometimes she has to think for a few seconds to figure out where she is.

Chapter 3

"Let's hope this time we get one who didn't start the day with a beer for breakfast," Barry mutters as he parks the ambulance behind Madison Square Garden, in the area cordoned off with orange cones that the security team pointed out when they arrived.

Erin lets out a quiet laugh through her nose, eyes still fixed on the afternoon's protocols. She's wearing the dark green MediSupport polo with her last name embroidered on the chest pocket, black cargo pants, and she pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail on the way over.

"We're not going into thepit, Barry," she reminds him, and he turns to look at her, confused.

"How come?"

Erin rolls her eyes and exhales, still not used to her partner's constant inattentiveness — or rather, his lack of initiative when it comes to reading the emails and messages they're sent with all the relevant information.

"It was in the first email they sent us: we're the dedicated team for the artist, not the crowd. The pit coverage is handled by another company — three ambulances and a six-person crew who'll work alongside the venue's own internal team. Bottom line, you and I are staying glued to the backstage in case the singer or her team need anything."

Barry nods slowly and pops a mint into his mouth. He's fifty-two, with a developing gut, enormous arms, and dark blond hair thinning evenly across his entire head — not the kind of man who goes bald in one spot and combs everything else over tocover it. Erin likes him. She likes working with him because he's kind, easygoing, and funny, and on top of that, he has a rare ability to keep his cool in front of a body that most people would envy, which makes him the best partner Erin could ask for in this line of work.

"So completely boring, then," Barry groans. "They're going to have us standing around for four hours in case the diva breaks a nail."

"Something like that," she answers with a smile.

They climb out of the ambulance and Erin grabs the medical bag before following the technician who's come to escort them to their assigned post. The backstage of the Garden is a maze of corridors lined with black cable trays, and there's an enormous amount of people moving fast in every direction — it reminds Erin of the ER on a weekend night, except here everyone's wearing earpieces and nobody's bleeding.

The medical station they've set up is a small room right next to the dressing rooms, with a gurney, an automatic defibrillator, portable oxygen, a table with supplies, and two folding chairs. Erin goes through everything the way she always does: she checks the charge on the defibrillator, opens and closes the oxygen tank, runs through the kit inventory, and sorts the syringes by gauge, because if something real happens she doesn't want to waste time searching.

"Everything to madam's satisfaction?" Barry asks with a smirk.

She glances at him sideways and gives a single nod.

"Great, I'm going to find coffee."