Worlds Collide (Fan Service #6)

22. Wolf

TWENTY-TWO

WOLF

“You know how this works—six weeks to complete the program or eight weeks if you decide you need it.”

“Right,” I tell Adrian as I sit on the couch in his office. Two days in the freezer and I was right, it wasn’t as bad this time, but because I wasn’t going through the horrifying effects of detox, this time I experienced the isolation completely. My mind was my own worst enemy inside that room, and I’m not sure if I won or not. “Either I get out of here mid-November or early December,” I summarize.

“Precisely.” He nods with a happy smile—already immune to my brand of sarcasm, bad temper, and penchant for growling. I like Adrian, he gives it to me straight. Or as straight as any therapist does, I guess. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”

“We shall,” I whisper, knowing how this is going to go already.

“Last time I saw you, you were excited about building a home for yourself and about putting together an album with your brother. How has that been?” He surprises me. I expected us to go back to all that tragic shit about my mother killing my father, but I guess we’re not.

“The house got built, the album never happened,” I tell him simply.

He smiles, probably remembering how talking to me is like pulling teeth—fondly of course.

“What happened then?”

“Well my brother got married to Derek?—”

“Your best friend.” He nods, probably remembering our sessions with both of them.

“He’s not really my friend anymore.”

“Why not?”

I shrug. “There wasn’t a big fight with him or anything, he’s just now focused completely on Hawk and his career and I’m no longer spending time with them. I don’t even remember the last time I talked to Derek alone.”

“All right.” He pauses for a moment to write in his notebook. “So what have you been doing for the past year?”

“I went to about a million weddings, one of them Hawk and Derek’s, I moved into my house at the ranch, I played a lot of tennis, had a bunch of doctor’s appointments, I started seeing CJ, and then I relapsed.”

“That’s quite the summary,” he muses, then he puts the notebook away and takes off his reading glasses to look me straight in the eyes. “There’s only four things I need to know so we can really start your recovery, Wolf.”

“I’m listening,” I tell him and sigh. I really do want to get this over with so I can move on.

“When did you first drink? What happened right before you drank this last time? Why did you choose to come back here? And do you actually want to be here? ”

I swallow hard, knowing I’m about to confess something that I’ve been lying to myself about. I really thought I could control it.

“The first time I drank again was after my brother’s wedding in May,” I whisper, eyes downcast—I can’t bear to see the disappointment in another person’s face. “I realized I’d been a scumbag to CJ before I drank this time. I decided to come back here because I lost control when I drank again, and I knew I would do it again if I didn’t come here, and yes,” The last word is barely audible. “I want to stop hating myself so much.” I clench my teeth to keep the tears where they belong—inside my tear ducts.

“Thank you for telling me, Wolf,” Adrian tells me in his understanding, quiet voice. “What happened?”

I take a deep breath and spill it all out, starting with the first sip of that stupid glass of champagne. Then the first time I was with CJ, then the second one, then the pictures, the fight, then Hawk bringing him to the ranch. The fight with Hawk, how everything I’ve kept bottled up regarding his interview back in January just poured out of me, then finally I tell him about Italy.

How I’m pretty sure I was going to follow CJ to the ends of the earth, except I knew I would only hurt him more, then how I woke up with Rich shaking me, and the decision to come back here without talking to CJ.

I speak for so long that my throat is scratchy and dry by the time I’m done. Adrian brings me a bottle of water and I take it gratefully while he waits until he once more has my full attention.

“Did you thank Rich?” he asks, throwing me for a loop.

“What?”

“Well, it’s the second time he’s found you close to death and saved you. Have you thanked him?”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Well now, this is a new level on the piece-of-shit scale that I never thought I’d reach .

“No,” I answer finally.

“Thank God he’s here and you can start there,” he says happily.

“Yeah,” I say absentmindedly.

“Now, about your brother—” he starts.

“I really don’t want to see him, or Derek. They just make me feel like shit all the time. I’m never happy anymore when I’m around them.” I’m practically begging by the time I’m done.

“Wolf, you need to talk about things with your brother. And I mean talk , not have a screaming match with him or with Derek. Unless you’re planning on never seeing or talking to either of them again, you have to resolve it. I, of course, haven’t seen the way your relationship with them has transformed, but as far as I can tell, they love you. They want what’s best for you?—”

“What Hawk wants is to be thanked and adored for saving me when he didn’t do shit,” I growl at Adrian.

“Your brother is codependent, as is Derek. They both have diseases too and you know you are just as guilty of letting them baby you in the past. Just like it’s hard for you to adjust to them being a married couple, they’re going to have to adjust to you being sober. Which, from what you’ve told me, you haven’t and they haven’t either.”

I clamp my mouth shut then and stay quiet for a few minutes.

“Can I please just figure things out a bit more before you call them?”

“You have eight days,” he tells me mercilessly. “You have a lot of trauma, a lot of self-hatred, and you need to heal from your parents’ deaths before you can move on to how guilty you feel over everything that’s happened since. This is not going to be resolved in six weeks, or in eight weeks, Wolf.”

“I know that.”

“Do you really?” He pierces me with his all-seeing eyes .

“Maybe,” I mumble, dreading the next eight days.

“I’m going to call your family and tell them to come here in eight days, when I know Derek will be able to attend as well, and you will have a rational, emotional talk with them, and set down your limits. And they will do the same. So let’s get started on that before our session is over and you have to go thank Rich.”

“I have to do that today?” I demand in a voice that does not sound like a whine.

“Yes.”

Again, he’s merciless.

The rest of the session is hard, trying to make sense of what I want my relationship with my brother to be is impossible, since I have no idea what I want in any area of my life except the whole, you know, getting-sober thing.

I have a rough idea, though, of the limits I want to set with them, and of what I’m going to need to do once I’m out of here again.

Life would be a lot simpler if they’d just let me move in here... but I know from experience that the peace the structure brings will feel like shackles soon enough.

I go out to the garden, to the little patch that gets sun all day long which means the grass is always warm under me. I lie there and think, and think, and think.

If this is what it’s going to be like, then maybe I should’ve stayed in the fucking freezer because it’s going to drive me just as insane.

My eyes are closed but I can still tell when a shadow is suddenly on my face, so I open my eyes only for it to take a cool second to make out who the person is.

Rich.

Of course it’s Rich... He’s always been there for me, hasn’t he? Even before my accident, when there was more of a distance between us, and we didn’t really talk, he was always there.

Five years ago, he stayed by me like glue when the news of Harley’s death came out. He didn’t let me be by myself, except when I was sleeping, for around six months if I remember correctly—which I probably don’t since that’s when I really started drinking.

He was even there nine years ago, when Mom lost her battle for good, and he and Tate didn’t leave Hawk and me alone for a long time. We postponed the tour back then, and managed to carve out three months so we could spend it at her place in Carmel. But Rich was always there...

I remember CJ’s words about our friendship, and I know I need to deal with it somehow. I don’t know if he can even stay my bodyguard if he’s the only true friend I’ve had all these years. Is that even ethical?

Well, first I should ask what he thinks and not just stare at him like I’m an idiot lying on the grass.

“Are we friends?” I blurt out the question like a real genius. Rich doesn’t bat an eye, though. He just snorts, then sits next to me, leans back on his palms and tilts his face to the sun.

“Yes, we’re friends,” he says simply.

“But you used to say all that shit about emotional distance and that’s why we couldn’t talk, and?—”

“Yeah well, that was before. Now I know that no matter how much I care about your ass, no one is going to do a better job protecting it.” His words are short, matter of fact, and I realize he might be feeling as vulnerable as I am.

“I agree,” I tell him simply and close my eyes again, then take a deep breath. Don’t be a coward again, Wolf. Just look the man in the eyes and thank him for fuck’s sake. I psych myself up, then sit, cross my legs, and swivel around to look him straight on. “Thank you.” The rest of the words get lodged in my throat.

“For what?” he asks with a confused frown, looking down at me too.

“For saving my life. Both times.”

“It’s my job?—”

“The first time it was your job.” I agree with a nod. “I’ll give you that, but you could’ve tucked tail and run after seeing what a mess I could be, and that the biggest threat to my safety will always be me. But you didn’t. You stayed and you saved me again. So, thank you.”

His Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow and he nods stoically. “I’m glad I was there. More glad than you will probably ever know.”

“I’m starting to be happy that I’m alive,” I tell him, realizing it’s true as I say it. “So I think I do know, man.”

I clap him on the shoulder and he nods, then he turns to me with a thoughtful look.

“So, you’re not going to fire me?”

“The fuck?” I lean back. “What are you even talking about?”

“Because we’re friends and it’s not...” He trails off.

“Get that thought out of your head right now. The only way you’re leaving me is if you want to. Though...” I have to think about how to say it so it doesn’t sound too bad—something I almost never do. Most days I don’t care about how my words may affect others, and even though I don’t want to start tiptoeing around anyone again, it feels kinda nice. Caring.

“What?” he asks impatiently, when it takes me too long to speak, apparently.

“It’s weird that I pay my best—my friend.” I course-correct, though by the look of the shit-eating grin on his face he didn’t miss it. “That I pay my friend to be around me.”

“I’m your best friend,” he teases me.

“Shut up,” I growl at him.

“It’s okay, Wolf, you’re my best friend too.”

“Really?” I ask dubiously. “Not Tate?”

“Well, Tate’s my family. You know we served together. We have a bond that will never be broken. But nah, he’s not as fun to make fun of as you.”

“Ha ha,” I deadpan.

“And also, I don’t think it’s weird. You pay me to physically protect you, not to hear every one of your stupid thoughts. That I do for free and for the entertainment.”

“Well, thanks,” I say dryly and lie back down on the grass. Guess the matter’s settled now.

“You know you have to talk to him,” he says after a few minutes of silence. The first “he” that comes to mind who I think he could be referring to is CJ, but as far as Rich knows, I did speak with him before we left Italy. So I guess he’s talking about the other “he.” And damn, this whole thanking-him-and-telling-him-we’re-friends thing might’ve backfired on me if he’s going to be even more pushy now.

Still, I play stupid. “Who?” I ask mildly.

“Hawk... and Derek,” he adds at the end just as casually. I stay quiet for a long time. I don’t even know what I think about my relationship with Derek—that’s a beast for another day—but when it comes to Hawk, I’m just so damn tired.

“Adrian is going to tell them to come next Tuesday.”

“Good, you’ll have time to get your head straightened out.” Yeah, fat chance of that happening. He stands and offers me a hand. “ You have to go relearn your twelve steps now, and this time how about you pay attention, huh?”

I admit that being able to walk around and use my left hand this time is a good improvement. Maybe my stint in rehab won’t be as hard this time.

“And I got you this.” He gets a little notebook out of his pocket and hands it to me. It’s similar to the ones I’ve carried around with me from time to time.

“Thank you,” I whisper again.

“You’re always less annoying when you write down your thoughts instead of having to growl them at someone.” The little shit. I guess normally I would growl at him for that, but this time I just nod and smile.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe, regardless of what happens with Hawk and what we do when it comes to The Storm, I just need to write.

“You’ve got this,” Rich whispers when I meet him right outside the big room where we have our daily meetings.

“Thanks,” I tell him—again. I think I’ve thanked him about a million times this week, and sadly I don’t see that changing any time soon. It’s like a dam of gratitude broke when it comes to him, and there’s no rebuilding it. Not that I want to in any case. “Any news?” I ask quietly while we walk through the gardens on the way to the building where Adrian’s office is.

“Tate told me he’s still in New York, working on something with Adam apparently. He’s been spending his time mostly with Carter at the gallery. Rumor says he’s thinking about buying the building next to it?— ”

“Theo’s bakery?” I ask, confused.

“No. The one on the other side. He’s thinking of buying that one and making another gallery for all the art he’s got now.”

“How do you know all of this?” I wonder.

“A buddy of Tate’s and mine works for Theo’s family. He served with us.”

“Seriously?” I demand. What are the odds of that?

“Yes,” is all Rich says in his stoic way. “He would never tell anyone anything about the Crawfords, but he trusts us and he knows Tate was asking about CJ only.”

“Okay then.” I sigh out the words. I’m glad CJ isn’t alone. Though the thought that he did exactly what I suggested in that stupid note is a bit annoying, I can’t fault him for it. I hope he got all his anger out. I hope he’s moved—nope, can’t even think about it.

I know, realistically, that it’ll happen someday. Maybe sooner than I’m ready for—for sure sooner—but that doesn’t mean I have to think about it. Ever.

Right now what I have to do is stop asking about updates on what CJ is doing. Stop thinking about him all together, and focus on getting better. Focus on rebuilding my life.

I know it’s a long shot, but I truly believe that if I can get him out of my head, I’ll finally be able to find the answers to all of my problems.

“You got your list?” Rich takes me out of my head, and right on time too, since he’s opening the door to the building.

“I do,” I tell him and pat my jeans pocket since that’s where I have the little notebook he gave me. It’s where all my ideas have been going all week—including a list of limits that I wrote down and then rewrote with Adrian’s help .

“You’ve got this,” he tells me and holds both my shoulders as he stares into my eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” I mumble and look away. I take a deep breath and go into Adrian’s office.

My eyes lock right onto my brother’s—same gray as mine—as I walk in and nod at Adrian. It’s only when I’m sitting in the armchair I prefer, that I turn to see Derek—his deep eyes looking worriedly at me.

I try to smile. I really do give it my best shot for his benefit.

It’s not his fault I didn’t anticipate the change in our friendship when they became husbands. It’s not his fault I resent that change.

“Hey,” he whispers and I nod at him, then turn back to look at my little brother, and he’s already got tears brimming in his eyes.

Ever since Mom passed he’s been the only person who’s kept me here. That’s being as honest as I can be. I’m not exaggerating when I say I know I would be dead if it weren’t for him.

Last time I was here I felt more shame than I even knew was possible. I felt that once before—that night decades ago when I wouldn’t stop teasing him and made him scream the house down, and Dad just lost it on Hawk.

I’d failed him. I’d almost died and would’ve left him without family, something I promised myself I wouldn’t do.

So last time, I couldn’t look him in the eyes, not even after I left Cove. It was only after we sang our lullaby on national television that I finally did it again.

Everything is different this time.

Because I’m still pissed.

Because he had no right—no fucking right making choices for me.

It all started back then with his decision to give an interview, so that the world wouldn’t find out I was in rehab. It was only after his wedding that I realized how much that bothered me. And then I just kept seeing him happy in his marriage, happy with an amazing group of friends, happy in our ranch, happy watching Derek play, and happy being friends with CJ.

The fact that the idiot didn’t mention CJ had only been suspended was simply the metaphorical straw that broke the metaphorical camel’s back.

And now I’ll have to somehow say all of that to him. Without screaming and without shutting up the second he starts to cry.

“Why don’t we start?” Adrien asks and has me turning away from Hawk.