Page 68 of Addicted

Liam frowned, not knowing how to answer.

“What about seeing a specialist? About your stomach?” Owen pressed. “You spend a lot of time in the restroom, especially when we’re out at Bar None. I can’t help but notice that you’re losing weight and I want to see you healthy. I want to see you thrive.” Owen lifted Liam’s hand and kissed the back of it.

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Liam melted into the couch at those tender words and the brush of Owen’s lips. Maybe he should come clean, tell Owen what his stomach issues actually were.

“I don’t know if I need to go to the doctor.” Liam decided that truth was the best. “It’s psychosomatic. When I feel really terrible I end up making myself sick. Dean heard me in the bathroom one day and assumed that I was ill. I didn’t tell him he was wrong because it lets me take time off when I need it.”

“Like mental health days?” Owen didn’t let go of Liam’s hand. That was a good sign.

“Yeah. Sometimes I can’t get out of bed.” Liam looked at the patterned area rug, studying where the edges met the hardwood underneath, not wanting to see Owen’s judgment. “But it doesn’t happen much anymore. Not since you started at The Pointe.”

And not since Liam had started using. But he wasn’t about to share that with Owen. Wait a minute.Was that what Owen was asking?He was glad his face was turned away because the shock that rippled across it would’ve been noticeable from space.

No. There was no way Owen thought he was an addict because if he did there would be an interrogation, not Owen gently prodding Liam about his state of mind. This was concern over the depth of Liam’s grief, the empty chasm inside that he couldn’t hide from the person he cared about, especially once he lost his Vicodin buffer.

Pulling on Liam’s hand, Owen drew him in for a hug. “I’m sorry, I knew it was bad for you but I never truly understood how bad.”

Liam went boneless against that broad chest, pushing his face into it. Forget drugs, Owen was going to be his new addiction.

“I’ve been doing a lot better with you,” he mumbled into Owen’s shirt.

“That’s great but you can’t putallyour happiness into me or our relationship. You have to learn to cultivate your own happiness from within. And that starts with therapy.“ Owen pulled back enough to look at him. “Have you ever thought about a grief support group?”

Liam shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to a bunch of other people. Just one is fine.”

“That’s fair.” Owen smoothed Liam’s hair back and he leaned into the touch like a cat. “So, we’re both on board with developing whatever it is between us and you’re on board with therapy. I would still like you to see a doctor though, for a physical. I want to make sure your health is good before I start plying you with food.”

“Sure. But you talk about me like you’re stuffing a Christmas turkey,” Liam huffed.

“Don’t change the subject, that’s fowl play,” Owen wagged a finger at him, the smile on his face wider, broader, and the most real it had been all day. If all Liam had to do was agree to get help, then he’d do it again and again.

“Oh my god,” Liam bit his lip, trying not to giggle. “What iswrongwith you?”

“So much. I could have joked about stuffing but I held back.” Owen stood, holding his hand out and helping Liam to his feet. “And I think we’ve talked enough for now. Why don’t we start our date?”

23

OWEN

“HowdoIlook?”Owen spread his hands and struck a pose, modeling theKing of the Grillapron that Liam had given him as a birthday gift. It stretched tightly across his chest but was still a joy to wear, for Owen felt like he was carrying a little piece of Logan with him.

Liam giggled, joy in his eyes. Eyes that had been so full of confusion when Owen had asked his questions that they confirmed Liam wasn’t using; he was just grieving and coping poorly. Marci was the winner here, not Finn, although there weren’t any winners, only people who cared. Owen had to acknowledge that Finn’s accusations had come from a place of love and protection. After tonight he’d call his best friend and work things out; tell him that he’d done some poking around and Liam needed therapy instead of rehab.

“Great!” Liam clapped his hands as Owen did a spin. “Like you’re ready to make the best food of my life!”

“I guess there’s no pressure then,” Owen smirked, grabbing a plate of raw steaks with one hand while holding out his other. Liam took it and the two of them headed out onto the deck. It was almost dark, the sky navy blue on the horizon, so Owen flipped a switch by the door, turning on the string lights he’d put all around the perimeter. It made the place feel like their own little world and Liam looked around in delight.

Although Owen had started the charcoal earlier, his digital thermometer told him the heat still needed adjusting.

“Can I help at all?” Liam asked, hovering nearby.

“Nope. The potatoes and vegetables are cooking inside on low, so make yourself comfortable.” He fiddled with the air damper on the lid, closing it a bit as he spoke. “A lot of people think that changing the temperature on a charcoal grill means working with the charcoal itself but you actually adjust it through these holes called air dampers.” He gestured at them. “I leave the bottom ones open and control the heat through the one on the lid. The more open they are, the hotter the grill. Plus, it’s important to use real charcoal. It burns better than the manufactured stuff. You don’t want chemicals cooking your meat. And the very first step is using a clean grill. I usually clean mineaftercooking…I’m not boring you, am I?“ Owen realized he’d been babbling and by that point, Sharon would’ve cut him off or ignored him. Because of her reactions, he’d learned to repress his excitement about things and was still feeling a little vulnerable about sharing.

“Not at all!” Liam had pulled up one of the chairs and was avidly watching from the side, his gaze shimmering. “You’re the opposite of boring right now. I’m learning a lot!”

Owen didn’t hold back his grin. “Good.” He checked the temperature again and, satisfied with the number, reached for the plate, placing the meat on one side of the grill. “There are many keys to a good grilled steak but the foundation is the marinade. For the last day I’ve had these soaking in soy and Worcestershire sauce along with some olive oil, garlic, basil, lemon juice, and black pepper. I crack the black pepper myself. It creates a more dynamic flavor.”

“That sounds amazing.”

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