Page 27 of Addicted

It didn’t matter if it wasn’t real happiness because Liam was feeling better than he had in ages. A little like his old self, and that familiarity made using feel less sinister.

Yet sinister lurked around the corner. Liam may be high but he wasn’t stupid. When he’d started, one pill used to last an entire day. They hadn’t been as strong after eight hours but there’d been a soft easy wave that he could ride until the grief started clawing at him again. With each pill, the wave and the span of strength became slightly shorter. It wasn’t noticeable at first, but Liam was now up to three or four pills a day and he couldn’t ignore his building tolerance. He always kept a few extra Vicodin on him for such reasons; he never wanted to get caught without like on his first day working with Owen.

There were also other drawbacks. Liam was starting to swim in his clothes; his uniform was loose and he had to make a new hole in the belt to keep his pants up. He didn’t realize he’d been skipping meals; he just wasn’t hungry and only ate at lunch, when Owen would bring him sandwiches from the kitchen. Truth be told, the pills made Liam feel like he was perpetually one drink in and he never ate when he was drunk. No one asked about his weight loss, probably linking it back to his ‘stomach issues’, and Liam believed that the side effects weren’t terrible considering the benefits.

But the fact remained that, no matter how he justified it, he was using drugs. And now that he understood why people used them, he also understood what a slippery slope it was to addiction. Giving up the cradle of his high was going to be difficult but once he was back in his full-time waiter position things would be easier. Owen was already making The Pointe run more smoothly than any other venue manager before him so Liam hoped he’d be able to finish up everything soon and go back to serving again. Then he’d be able to avoid Owen; he’d be on another floor and there was always something that needed to be done or someplace to run off to.

That didn’t make Liam feel any less guilty about it. Owen was wonderful. More wonderful than Liam could have ever imagined. His life had recently been ripped apart and he was still out there trying hard and caring about people, especially Liam. And Liam was leading him down the road of friendship only to push him away.

But Liam didn’t have a choice. Owen was dangerous. There were too many memories spinning around him. Liam could feel them, walled off like a dam, but dams sometimes broke and if that happened what little stability he had would be washed away in the flood. And then everyone would find out that Liam was a broken grieving mess.

If his parents could see him now, they would be so disappointed.

11

OWEN

Howdoesapenguinbuild its house?

Owen put his phone on the desk with a smirk, going back to his e-mail. After that first nerve-racking text, he thought Liam would ignore him or think less of him but he always responded to whatever Owen sent, even if it was with a sarcastic quip or emoji, and for some reason it always made Owen smile.

A few moments later, while he was writing back to the photographer he’d hired to take photos for The Pointe’s website, the chirp of an incoming message had him immediately reaching for his phone. He bit his lip, smothering his silly grin.

I’m trying to work here

It was true, Liam had a spectacular work ethic, to the point that he was rarely in the office except for lunch, and Owen wished to see more of him. This had started because Owen wanted to help but he was finding that he enjoyed Liam’s quiet presence. It softened some of the hard edges in his life, gave him something to look forward to. He still caught himself staring but he’d locked that down tightly. Liam was not in the running to be anyone to Owen but a friend, someone he owed a debt to, no matter how brightly his hair shone in the sun, or how his eyes shifted color when he looked at Owen, or how his cheekbones left his face sharp and angular, highlighting the cleft in his chin and his soft kissable lips.

No, that sullen beauty was not for him. Although sullen wasn’t the best word to describe Liam anymore. Maybe Owen had been wrong. Maybe Liam had been having a bad day when they had run into each other again, for the washed-out dimness in his energy had faded and he seemed more normal lately, responsive, eager to run out the door and take care of things, or join the group at Bar None once a week, where Owen managed to restrain himself whenever Liam left his sight.

But something still gnawed at him. Owen couldn’t explain why his mind screamed with the certainty that Liam could still use help or a friend. While his demeanor had improved he still looked tired and his clothes had become loose, the hollows in his cheeks deeper as if he was losing weight despite eating everything at lunch. Perhaps Finn was right, maybe it was guilt from coming up short when Liam needed him or projection from coming up short with his son. Either way, Owen was going to do his best by Liam and was glad that when he joked around, Liam reciprocated.

So, you admit defeat?Owen teased. He got a reply in under a minute.

Icy what you’re trying to do

Owen laughed so hard tears came to his eyes and he blinked them away as he typed.

Igloos it together!He added a hefty amount of penguin emojis for good measure.

There was a giggle in the hallway and a few seconds later Liam walked through the door with a stack of battered files and athat was really badsmirk on his face.

“I’m going to add that one to my stand-up routine,” Owen declared, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Liam stopped short, blinking for a moment, but there was still a curl to his lips as he flushed and turned away. Was it too hot in the office? Owen wondered if he should turn up the air conditioning.

“If th-that’s part of your act, then you better not charge,” Liam told him, placing his quarry next to the couch. Owen had decided to continue Dean’s original idea of digitizing The Pointe’s files but that required all the physical paperwork to be gathered, including the mail, and now Owen’s office was graced with many small piles that were lined up along the walls, surrounding the couch like an army ready for battle.

And a battle it was, but Owen was a good commander and while Liam had been hunting and sorting Owen had not only been researching software that would streamline their daily tasks, but he was also revising The Pointe’s website, so clients could communicate with staff and sign contracts online; plus, he was going through the financials and handling the everyday calls and weddings. However, the most impressive feat was that he was almost caught up with those six hundred emails.

“Ouch! That was a good joke!” Owen pointed at Liam’s back. “You laughed!”

“Onegood joke,“ Liam kept his back to Owen, straightening pile after pile. “Out of the last fifty you sent me.”

“I haven’t even sent you fifty.”

“I can show you.” Liam pulled out his phone and started to scroll with his thumb.

“Okay, okay, I fold.” Owen held up his hands, a good-natured grin on his face as the main line started to ring. “I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” He watched as Liam slowly tottered out and his gut twisted again.

After ten phone calls and a long chat with Marci, Owen grabbed his cell once more.

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