Page 40 of Worlds Collide

“I do want to make that album with you.” His voice is soft, but I know he’s not lying.

“We’ve been very busy,” I admit.

“Yes, for the past decade and a half we’ve been busy, Wolfie.” He does look up then and with those big doe-like eyes that break me every time. “I just want a real break.”

“Then we’ll take one,” I say with a shrug and look back down at my food like the topic is closed and resolved, like I’m not instantly filled with dread at the thought of having nothing to do.

“Really?” I hear the hope in his voice and see him reach for Deedee’s hand out of the corner of my eye.

“Yeah. When we’re both ready we’ll make another album. We do still have to give two albums to the label, but there’s no deadline, and like Tristan told me, Cindy will get it sorted if they start making demands. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Wolfie.” Next thing I know, Birdie’s up and gripping my neck like a vice. “I love you,” he whispers.

“Love you too,” I mumble and keep quiet the rest of the night.

I’ve been a quiet type of person for a lot of years now, so it’s normal for them, and they clearly don’t think twice about it. They cuddle while we watch TV after dinner, and I just sit and do my best to control the itchiness.

I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do now if I’m not writing.

I can’t give my songs to other artists, that’s just not happening, and I can’t record solo. I will never subject myself to that, and that’s a conversation I never want to have with Birdie.

If I’m not writing for The Storm then I might as well not write at all.

And that’s the itchiness again.

Just the thought of not writing songs every day, even if it’s just a phrase, is unpleasant enough, but knowing I’m really not going to be working on any song at all is torturous.

“So,why aren’t you at the stadium with your brother?” Clive asks me as he sits down in his recliner and kicks back.

“I just didn’t feel like crowding him today. There’s always a lot of attention on us if we’re both there. If it’s just him then he’s closer to being only one of the players’ significant others.”

He nods like he understands and gets his tablet from the side pocket of his chair.

“It’s the same with me and the kids.” He taps the screen a few times and next thing I know all the six screens he has set up in his football den light up with a different game.

“I guess you really know how to watch football,” I tell him in wonder.

“Yeah.” He chuckles loudly, once. “We analysts can’t really opt out of seeing a boring-ass game if there is one. I have to watch every game, otherwise I’d probably be at the stadium with your brother.” He turns to look at me then. “No offense.”

I snort. “None taken. And I get that. Talking about football all week while there’s no actual football going on is hard, I bet.”

“It can be, but it’s still the fourth best job in the world!” He raises his Warriors-branded container that Adam got him so he would drink more water, and just picturing Adam buying something that’s branded with a team other than his brings me a sick satisfaction. I clink my water bottle to his and take a sip with a smile on my face. Clive Darnell is the coolest seventy-year-old in the world.

“What are the other three?” I wonder.

“Tied at first is being a dad and a grandpa.” He nods seriously.

“Of course,” I agree. As far as I know, Clive Darnell is the best one at those things, followed closely by my uncle, though he’s not a grandpa yet.

“Second is being a QB in the best football league in the world.” I cringe at that because I’m actually more of a soccer person, and the Champions League is way better than the NFL in my opinion, but I know I need to keep that to myself if I want to still have company on a Sunday. “And third is being the Thursday Night Football commentator.”

“That seems about right, you’re also really good at that one.”

“Some say I was born for it,” he says with his nose high in a fake haughty way.

The man cracks me up, and I’m more thankful to him for inviting me over than I will ever tell him or anyone.

The week at the ranch has been so damn quiet. I needed to get out, and even though I only walked over to the ranch next door, it’s already doing wonders for my mood.

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