Page 35 of Addicted

“She deserved it,” Liam stated simply, reassuringly, but Owen could only stare down at the fingers on his arm, wanting to savor the touch.

“She did,” Owen replied softly, not wanting to scare Liam and have him pull away. “Making you run around like that. Who does she think she is, a Queen?” And whywashe so pissed off about what she did to Liam? He’d seen clients treat employees abysmally in the past and he’d never gotten angry enough to raise his voice. He could chalk it up to the bad news he’d gotten right before the call but he was great at compartmentalizing and his gut was telling him that he felt that waybecauseit was Liam.

“Marci calls her The Wicked Witch.”

“Maybe we should keep a few buckets of water in the foyer,” Owen retorted with a small smile, some of the despair lifting. His problems weren’t going away but right now he had people who cared about him and he couldn’t ignore Liam’s efforts. In a way, Liamwascheering him up.

“Imagine Marci dumping a ton of water on Mrs. Rushio’s head and watching her melt?” Liam’s fingers twitched on Owen’s arm.

Owen’s smile stretched a little wider. “She would enjoy that far too much.” Taking a risk, he placed his hand over Liam’s, knowing that he was pushing on some kind of boundary but wanting to show his gratitude. “I’m very glad you’re working here, Liam. You’ve been the one saving grace in everything that’s happened to me.”

Liam’s soft gasp sent an electric jolt to Owen’s heart, warmed his bones, and once again they stared at each other for a beat too long until Owen started, patting Liam’s hand and sliding his away.

“Also,” Owen cleared his throat, “I wanted to apologize for letting you see me like that.”

“Are you kidding?” Liam blurted again. The flush that graced his face began to drift down his neck as he took a long breath in and out, like he was collecting himself. “You’ve…” Liam looked at the walls, the couch, anywhere but at Owen. “You’ve been amazing through all of it, a-actually. I don’t know how you do it.”

Caught off guard, Owen blinked at him, feeling his own cheeks burn.

“Thank you, Liam, I…well…I have a good support system.” He looked at the plates next to him as if he were seeing them for the first time, taking in the juicy steak, generous helping of potatoes, and a colorful side salad. Picking up the utensils, he cut into the meat. “And thank you again for the food. I seem to be thanking you all the time.”

As he speared a piece of filet mignon with his fork, he recalled how shaky and sweaty Liam had been in the storage room and how gray he’d looked in the hallway. He seemed fine now but something didn’t feel right and Owen’s sixth sense nagged at him again.

“Liam, have you eaten?” he asked carefully, not wanting to push but also trying to figure out what he was missing.

“I had an eggplant parmigiana while I was waiting on your food,” Liam stated, walking over to the window, and the meal he’d brought was calling out to Owen, making his stomach growl.

Taking a bite, Owen tried not to hum. The meat was cooked perfectly, the sweetness of the marinade enhancing its natural flavor and sweeping him with nostalgia. He missed those summer days of smoking ribs on his deck until the meat fell off the bone.

“This makes me want to use my grill again,” Owen said around a mouthful of food.

“You haven’t yet?” Liam turned back to Owen as he shook his head.

“No, and Finn’s been badgering me about it. But on my next day off I’m going to set it up, and the smoker too!”

Liam gave him another one of those small secret smiles and it lifted Owen’s spirits even more. For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was the scrape of fork on plate as Owen finished his filet mignon and moved on to the potatoes and salad, efficiently demolishing the food. It was like the anger and fear had burned all his energy and he needed to refuel.

Putting his utensils down with a clink, Owen dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “Liam, this was very considerate. And delicious.”

“No problem,” Liam came back over to pick up the plate.

“I guess I should call my therapist,” Owen sighed, knowing he’d need to make an emergency appointment with Doctor Lawson, who always fit him in when he received bad news.

Liam stopped in the middle of gathering Owen’s fork and knife. “You see a therapist?”

“Of course.” It had been a day and Owen was nearing a food coma so he spoke before he could stop himself. “Do you see one?”

The connection and warmth in the room evaporated as Liam stilled, discomfort radiating off him. Owen cursed internally. He’d asked the wrong question, pushed too hard, and now Liam was walling off again.

“No.” Refusing to look Owen’s way, Liam walked to the door, his flat sullen energy matching his voice. “The serving staff gets the cheapest health insurance. It doesn’t have mental health coverage.”

Anger flooded Owen’s veins. He’d been paying out of pocket for Doctor Lawson until he’d gotten the venue manager position, where stellar benefits had been part of the negotiation. He’d been an idiot to assume that everyone else had the same package and he’d intended to look into it but other tasks had taken priority.

Liam opened the door but before he could step into the hall Owen tried to mend the rift, even a little.

“Now I see why everyone calls himJohn The Jerk.“ Owen was sure his storage room demeanor was back but he didn’t care, he was pissed off. The Pointe’s employees worked hard; they deserved better health care. And Liam deserved a good therapist.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine,” Liam said over his shoulder as he left. Owen knew it was a lie. It worried Owen to think that Liam hadn’t been seeing anyone all this time. Grief was difficult to manage even with a good therapist and Liam’s mental state had clearly suffered since the accident. That was probably the source of Owen’s gut feelings. Liam needed help, more help than Owen could give by being a friend, and Owen was going to make sure he got it.

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