Page 54 of Worlds Collide

Fucking Hawk.

I swear to God, if this is payback for the way he and Derek first got together I’m going to belt him.

I run out of my house the second I have shoes on and pound on my brother’s front door only a minute later.

“What?” he asks with an innocent fucking look on his face.

Bafflement, worry, annoyance.

Those are the only things on his face when he opens the door. I push it hard so it bangs against the wall and Hawk jumps from the loud sound.

“Wolfie—”

“No, don’t you fucking dare!” I scream at him. I’m over always protecting his fragile little feelings. “Fired! You said CJ had been firedbecause of me.”

“I didn’t, I—” He shakes his head furiously and his eyes are already filling up with tears. I don’t give a damn, not anymore.

“You said he lost his job because of the pictures, Hawk. That’s exactly what you said. And he didn’t. He was fucking suspended, and I’m done with you guilt tripping me into things. I’m done with your shame and your manipulations. You can take all that bullshit to your group full of saints.Oh, poor me. I love an alcoholic and I control every single thing they do because they’re useless without me,” I mock him. “Poor, sweet, innocent Hawk, you had to give a sad interview to stop the world from finding out I was in rehab. Because that was embarrassing, wasn’t it? Yeah, fucking right. You knew exactly what you had to say to get me to agree to let CJ come here, and you said it. You always make me feel guilty about everything bad that happens to every-fucking-body, and I’m fucking done, you understand?”

“Wolf, please?—”

“No, fucking shut up! I’m done with this bullshit and I’m done with you. Stay the fuck away from me.”

I steel myself against the vicious twist in my heart at the sight of tears steadily streaming down my brother’s cheeks and just spin around and slam the door behind me.

I’m leaving this fucking place that’s never been mine anyway. It doesn’t matter that I have a house I built here, this is Hawk’s dream, and I’m done living my life according to him.

CJ is pacing right in front of my bed when I get back and I don’t even get to appreciate the masterpiece that is his chest because I’m fuming. I grunt at him and walk right on into my closet and get the little stool I had to buy to be able to reach the cabinets at the top.

“What the hell, Wolf? Where did you go?” he demands as I throw open three doors and get my big suitcases. “And where are you going?” he asks with more trepidation.

“I’m moving the fuck out.”

“But this is your home,” he says like he’s talking to a pissed off lion. He is.

“This is just a house, which I only had built on this land because of how fucking fused Hawk and I are but I’m done with him. So I’m going to my mom’s house.”

“Where’s that?” he asks hesitantly.

“Carmel-by-the-Sea,” I tell him shortly once I get everything I need and close the cabinets. Then I climb down and start getting pants, shorts, shirts, underwear, and everything else I can think of and dump them in the suitcase.

I snarl when I come across all the new outfits my brother got me and I dump them next to the suitcases. I should set that shit on fire in his front yard in case my little speech wasn’t clear enough.

“Wolf, stop,” CJ says and takes hold of my shoulders to stop me from grabbing any more pairs of sneakers. “First of all, wherever you’re going, you’re not going to need so many different pairs of sneakers, and second, just take a deep breath and please tell me what happened.”

I do as he says, and when I can finally focus on something else besides the pair of generic white Nikes, I see him worrying his bottom lip. I see the fear in his eyes, and the way he’s leaning a little bit away from me even while he’s still holding on to my shoulders.

I move on instinct.

Just wrap my arms around him and bury my face in the crook of his neck. I manage to hold the tears in—tears of pent-up resentment, not of sadness just to be clear—and only hug him harder when his hands land tentatively on my back.

“My brother told me you’d gotten fired. That you’d lost your job because of those pictures.” I speak right against his salty skin. “That’s why I agreed to you staying here for a while, because I felt guilty.”

“You thought it was your fault,” he says as he realizes. Then he wraps his arms around me fully. “Oh, Wolf. I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault at all. It was my fault for being so careless?—”

“Not your fault,” is all I manage to say.

“It is. I should’ve made all those donations anonymously,” he says stubbornly. “And it’s also the fault of whoever took those pictures and sold them. But never your fault. And it’s only three months. Maybe a little less if people stop acting like assholes before that.”

---