Page 78 of Worlds Collide

“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.

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