Worlds Collide (Fan Service #6)

7. Wolf

SEVEN

WOLF

Never in my life did I think I’d have a raging hard on while straddling a hot but passed out guy’s legs with his dick still out and not be annoyed.

But there’s no way I can feel anything but smug satisfaction and a twinge of tenderness while looking at CJ’s peaceful face—and yes, his gorgeous dick.

So instead of going to get a glass of water to throw in his face so he can wake up and watch me walk out, I take off the rest of his clothes, except his tight briefs which I pull up, and then grab the blanket that was over the back of the couch and place it over him. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable while sleeping...

It’s only then, when I no longer have a view of his surprisingly cut abs that all the bad shit gets into my thoughts.

I’m supposed to stay celibate for one year after getting sober.

Buuut I didn’t come, so technically I’m still celibate.

He’s a baby bi and was obviously intoxicated .

Buuut he’s known he’s bi forever. He wanted to suck my dick and I didn’t let him, so I definitely didn’t take advantage of him.

The one good thing is he didn’t get even a glimpse of my puny self. I lost a lot of weight after rehab and even though I have gotten into the habit of exercising almost daily, I’m still not back to my old self.

Then again, isn’t the point to never go back to how I used to be?

I guess . . .

Everything that happened today with CJ is something the Wolf of one year ago would’ve done, though. Including the part where I rocked CJ’s world so hard that he shouted the house down then passed out.

Fuck , what if someone heard him?

My brother and all his friends saw him help me walk Carter over, everybody would know he was with me, and who knows how CJ’s gonna act tomorrow.

Adam’s gonna deck me for sure, and I really don’t want to have to go to another hospital. I fucking hate hospitals.

Why did I fuck up? Why am I like this?

I look at CJ’s slightly parted mouth and I have to say I fucked up as little as was possible in this situation. There’s not a single universe in which I would’ve walked away from him after he tried to kiss me. I don’t think I’m actually capable of resisting CJ. I’ve known it all along and that’s the main reason why I’ve moved heaven and earth to avoid him.

I spring away from the bed like it’s on fire.

We could’ve set it on fire .

This is not the time for juvenile—though funny—jokes.

I need to fix this, dammit.

How the hell am I going to fix this ?

In an act of pure brilliance I grab my helpfully already-packed duffle and run out of there as fast and as silently as I can.

I walk out to the street and remember Rich and Tate left a car here in case Hawk and I needed one before they went back to the city for their mini vacations. So I walk over to the Crawford house where it’s parked.

I need to call Rich, I realize. If I don’t tell him that I’m on my way to them he’s going to give me the same sad, disappointed eyes he did when I joked about having a beer a few months back. No need to interrupt their mini vacations, though. They’ve always been amazing bodyguards and deserve the short time off this wedding—that was crawling with security—afforded them.

I get in the car and think about just texting him—it’s four in the fucking morning and I really don’t like being an actual asshole, just a grumpy one—but I know Rich appreciates it when I don’t make his job even harder than it already is, so I make the call and put it on speakerphone because I know what he’s going to ask me to do.

“What’s wrong?” he asks instead of a greeting in his always-alert bark. I like it.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just know you’d want to know that I’m getting in the car to drive over to the hotel you guys are staying at.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m sharing a room with a dude that’s passed out drunk and I know that driving at this time is better for me than staying.”

“Can’t you wait for me to come pick you up?” To any other person he’d sound like he’s about two-point-five seconds away from quitting on me, but I know that what he really is, is worried. And I actually welcome the surly tone from him. Before last year he was always detached, barely acted like a human, and I’m glad it all changed when I had my accident and it was Rich who found me naked, bleeding, and passed out on top of all the broken glass from the stairs at our old house.

I still can’t remember what I did to actually break the damn stairs, but I’m pretty sure it’s better that I don’t.

“It’s faster this way,” I say, trying to sound like I’m fine and not running away from my fuck-ups. “I just shared my live location with you and sent you the link with my ETA so you can watch me from your phone.”

“I don’t like this,” he mumbles.

“I know, but I promise I’m fine. Not even slightly tired and you know I didn’t have one drop of alcohol.”

“Of course I know that,” he snaps at me. Again, my love language.

“It’ll take me less than an hour to get there at this time of night, Rich. You can meet me in the lobby.” Maybe that will calm his clearly frayed nerves.

“I’ll call down and have them open the garage for you and meet you at the door of the car,” he corrects me in that tone that tells me this isn’t a debate or a suggestion.

“Of course, sorry.”

“Okay, just be careful, for the love of God don’t speed, and keep your distance from other cars.”

“I will,” I assure him and hang up.

I shake my head and snicker once I’m on the road. I may be an orphan but clearly I have Rich to treat me like a little kid whenever I need that.

As promised, he greets me inches from the driver’s door and with a stern look that tells me I’m going to have to come up with a better explanation—or say it more convincingly—than blaming it on Carter. Rich has met Carter, and yeah he’s been drunk at every wedding this year, but he’s not always drunk. He does like to party and let loose though. That’s something I do miss and something I wish I had the capacity of doing.

But my genes, paired with trauma and a fucked up brain, means I can’t and won’t ever be able to again.

“He snores,” I tell him lamely as soon as I’m out of the car.

One raised eyebrow is all the reaction I get.

“And okay, maybe I did something stupid, but—” I hold up a hand and keep going when he opens his mouth to interrogate me. “It has nothing to do with alcohol or drugs or anything like that. Just plain old stupid.”

His eyes narrow with doubt and since I just told him the truth, I don’t have any problem looking him straight in the eye for an eternal second.

“Okay then. Here’s your key. They switched me to an adjoining room.”

“What? No ,” I whine and follow him to the elevator. “You’re supposed to be having time off, Rich.”

“Well, life sucks sometimes, Wolf. Let’s just go back to sleep please.”

“All right,” I grumble. There’s no arguing with this man.

My vibrating phone wakes me up, and I see it’s two in the afternoon before it dawns on me that Hawk’s the one calling me.

“Where are you?” he whisper-shouts.

“With Rich and Tate,” I say as breezily as I can possibly manage.

“What? Why? When did they pick you up?” He sounds worried and pissed and I really hate that I want to make those two things disappear for him .

“I couldn’t sleep, so I took the car and drove over here. And yes, I called Rich before I even turned on the car, and I made it safely here.”

“Are you okay?” Now there’s only worry in his tone.

Fuck, I hate that even more.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I tell him, and I think I pull it off.

“Okay, well I wish you would’ve stayed. We’re about to sit and eat together and I know Mike and Theo would’ve wanted to thank you again for playing with Ed.”

My left hand twitches instinctively. There were a couple of months there after the accident where I was sure I’d never be able to play the guitar again. I worked a lot with my physical therapist to get back almost all my mobility and yesterday was the first time I’d played in front of anyone since.

I’m glad it went well, but I still know that I could’ve played better. And I do wish I could’ve at least celebrated that accomplishment with a drink.

“It’s fine. I know they have other things on their minds today, like leaving for their honeymoon,” I deadpan. Hawk grumbles a little, and I think he should be thankful I didn’t say “fucking like bunnies for days on end.”

“We’re not flying home until tomorrow morning, though, what are you going to do?”

Everything inside me freezes. How the fuck did I not think about the fact that CJ is flying back with us? I can’t see him again. I need to get out of this.

“Uhh,” I stall, and an idea comes to me in the nick of time. “I’m going to hang out with Tassie this morning.” I mention a producer we love working with. “Then Rich and I are flying back home this afternoon.” It should be easy enough to get another jet chartered in New York. Though it won’t be cheap, I’m more than willing to pay the price.

“Oh,” Hawk says quietly, clearly surprised. “Are you hooking up with her again?”

“It was one time almost a decade ago, Birdie. You need to let that go. We’re friends and nothing else. I’m just gonna catch up with her, see what she’s working on.”

“Okay then.” He sounds dejected as hell, and I grit my teeth. I want to take it all back, tell him I’m driving back to the Hamptons and hanging out with him and his friends all day, just to make him happy.

But I don’t say any of that. Instead, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, then say what I actually want to say.

“You have fun with all your and Deedee’s friends, Birdie. I’ll be home when you get there, okay?”

“Yeah, tell me the details of your flight, please?”

“Sure, Tate will have them.”

It’s a cop-out, but it’s necessary to not feel fucking suffocated.

I hang up after saying goodbye and let out a long breath. Now I need to call Ollie and have him arrange the flight for me and Rich, then I need to call Tassie and pray she’s actually in the City, then I need to talk to Rich and Tate.

Lying is a goddamn full-time job.