Page 13 of Worlds Collide

I’m over the whole addiction thing. Totally over it.

But I can’t snap at him for caring. I can’t ever be annoyed at him because he does everything out of the goodness of his precious fucking heart. So I just nod and assure him again.

“Really, Birdie, it’s all good.” I pat his shoulder and walk out to the covered porch where there are a bunch of people having breakfast and talking excitedly about the wedding.

I stare at Deedee for a moment, wishing, truly wishing I could smile as carefree as he is in that moment. I wish I could just be happy about being at a wedding, a celebration of life and love and family.

But life never turns out the way you want it to.

No matter how good a songwriter I am, everyone in the world will always say that it’s all because I’m Shell Storm’s son—so I haven’t written solo in about a decade.

No matter how much I try to ignore my past, the world will always know that when I was seven years old, my mother killed my father when he pushed Birdie against a table and split his skull open then broke my arm in an attempt to teach me a lesson.

And no matter how much I know I’m fine and that alcohol isn’t really a problem for me anymore, all my brother will ever remember is finding me in a hospital room with what felt like tenpounds of screws holding my leg and hand together, about a mile of bandages on my body, and the highest percentage of alcohol in my blood that’s humanly possible.

Birdie will never treat me the way he did before I went and fell down glass stairs, before I went to rehab. I’ll forever be his fragile, blow-and-he’ll-break brother.

So I might as well just get used to it.

FOUR

CJ

As someonewho’s spent the last six years studying to be a doctor, I’m pretty used to the level of exhaustion currently weighing my bones down. At least mentally I’m used to it, but it still makes me loopy.

I’d only flown back from New York to LA three days before I got on a plane again, but I worked two twenty-four-hour shifts in that time, so as much as I wanted to maybe strike up a real conversation with Wolf now that I finally had the chance again, I fell asleep the second my ass hit the leather seats of the chartered jet.

I can’t say that it doesn’t bother me, but there’s no way I can change it. I’ll just have to find a way to talk to him tomorrow before the wedding, or maybe during.

I did manage to organize almost everything before I flew back to LA, including step number two, but I didn’t have time to have that talk about step number three with Adam. Now I’ll have to tell him at the same time as I tell everyone else. I don’t know if there’ll be a chance to get all our friends together for some time toourselves with all the weekend’s activities, but the anticipation of telling them I changed my name is killing me, so here’s hoping.

Adam knows about it. Not that I’ve already done it, but that for years I’ve planned on changing my name—and why—the second I got the trust fund, so I know he won’t be surprised about that part. The other thing though... yeah, I shouldn’t think about that too much.

I think Sunday after the party and before Mike and Theo leave for their honeymoon will probably be the best time. I’ll have to find a way to keep my mouth shut until then.

Wolf and I had around two minutes alone in the car being driven by Rich, Wolf’s bodyguard, after we dropped off Derek, Hawk, Bennett, and Luke at another house someone lent the grooms, and I was too out of it to even ask him how he’s doing.

We arrived at the Alton family beach house only to be greeted by Theo himself, along with Iris who was smiling brightly. Happiness actually brimming out of her, she greets me with a hug after I shake Theo’s hands.

“How was your flight?” she asks me while I see Theo greet Wolf out of the corner of my eye.

“I slept the whole way,” I tell her with a slight smile, then follow her upstairs.

“This will be your room. Alton told us you should have your own room.” The way she says it, with a subtle question mark at the end lets me know she’s curious. It may be that I’m too tired to think it through, but I don’t see why I shouldn’t explain my relationship to the family who owns this house.

“Duke is my lawyer,” I explain after dumping my bag on a chair.

“Ah,” she says with a nod, like she understands everything now. “Baron would want to keep you happy then. That makes sense.”

I just smile at her. I feel like my body is about to collapse and I really don’t have the energy to keep a conversation going even though it might seem rude.

“Everyone else is sharing,” she says with an... interesting expression.

Does that mean . . .

Who is Wolf sharing a room with, I wonder indignantly, though I keep my mouth shut. No need to let Iris know about my intentions this weekend. Having a room to myself means I can invite Wolf over here if he agrees by some miracle to help me out with step number three.

“The rehearsal dinner is in about an hour,” Iris goes on, sounding bored. I would be too if I were carrying the conversation by myself so I don’t blame her. “You can wear whatever.” She waves a hand then spins around and closes the door behind her.

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