Page 4 of Worlds Collide

I walk over to them, but as I do, I see Derek hugging another one of his friends, Mike, and I decide I don’t want to interrupt.

I also maybe avoid them because I know Iwouldbe interrupting—I’d beintruding—but that’s neither here nor there. It’s been along time since I felt like I belonged anywhere, and realizing that I no longer belong with Deedee and Birdie stings a little too sharply, so I turn toward the hill and make my way up to my house.

A house where a lot of the guests are staying this weekend—my Aunt, her new husband and stepson, my Uncle, and my cousins—and where the only time I will get some damn peace is right now while the party’s still going strong.

I go straight to the kitchen to get a glass of still water—in an exciting turn of events, I mentally roll my eyes at how boring my life is.

But when I get there, everything inside me stops. Kinda like it does when I’m unprepared to see CJ, but this time for a whole different reason.

There’s a champagne flute on my marble island.

And it’s full.

Now, not everyone invited to the party knows I’m sober. In fact, most people don’t. The only ones who do are Bennett—who Derek confided in after I agreed it was fine by me— Hawk’s and my relatives, and those who work for us like Tristan, Bruce, Hugh, Ollie, and Cindy. As well as Rich and Tate, our bodyguards—they were right there when everything happened last Thanksgiving.

Everyone who’s staying here knows, and I bet Hawk warned them about not bringing any alcohol into my house.

I have to relax my fists when I realize I’ve clenched them again. It’s an involuntary response, one I’m trying to conquer, but I’ve failed all these months.

Remembering everything Hawk has done to make sure my stint in rehab didn’t make national headlines always has that effect on me. My brother clearly doesn’t want the world to find out he has an alcoholic brother.

Not fair, I remind myself. He only wants to protect me... but still, I know Hawk didn’t want Derek to tell Bennett even after I told him I’m fine with everyone knowing. I don’t know what they talked about after I left the room, but I suspect Hawk made damn sure no one else finds out. If anyone else knows, they’re damn good at not showing it, though.

Which brings me back to the present.

To the full glass of champagne sitting in my kitchen like it’s just waiting for me.

More than six months sober and aside from hating all the damn emotions and the way my brother treats me like I’m broken, I’mfine.

I’m good now.

I have complete control over my drinking and will never go back to how it was when I had the accident. I know I can never reach that point again, and the stiffness in my left hand is the perfect reminder—I’m barely able to play the guitar like a novice now, and I want to get back to where I was last November.

I don’t even know how many stitches were all over my hand when I woke up in the hospital, but the fear I felt when I saw my mangled hand, the fear that I would never again be able to play the guitar... I’ve only felt that once before in my life and it was when Mom told us she was sick.

The fear faded as she battled cancer for more than five years, and when she left us for good it was only a distant memory compared to the emptiness I felt the day of her funeral.

The emptiness I did my best to fill with booze.

But no more. I won’t let myself reach that low point ever again. Even if I did drink that glass of champagne, Iwouldbe able to stop after a sip.

And it’s my brother’s wedding day, for fuck’s sake.

I take three steps, slowly, scared that Hawk is going to jump out of nowhere and catch me, but he’s not here. He’s down the hill, celebrating with everyone he loves at the party central.

I pick up the flute and stare at it dumbly for a long-ass minute.

“Jesus, this is ridiculous,” I mutter to myself.

Nothing bad is going to happen and I’m going to prove it to myself.

I’m fine.

I take a sip and... It’s nice. A good bottle of champagne, I’m sure. I put the glass down exactly where I found it, then spin on my heels and go up to my room.

I’ve totally got this sober thing down.

Start of July—Las Vegas

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