Page 19 of Addicted

“Wh-What?” Liam, who had been dipping an edge of the sandwich into the soup, fumbled and tried not to drop the whole thing into the bowl.

“I don’t have it.” Owen casually stuffed the fillings on his plate back into his sandwich with a fork. “And since we work together it makes sense.”

Liam didn’t know what to say but he knew he couldn’t hesitate for too long or things would get awkward. Out of the meager contacts he had, five were co-workers, four were his favorite takeout places, and one was his aunt. So, it wouldn’t be unusual to add Owen. The man he was supposed to be avoiding.

“Sure.” He took in a long breath and put whatever was left of his grilled cheese back on the plate; it wasn’t much since he’d unknowingly inhaled most of the sandwich as well as half the soup. Pulling his ancient cell from his pocket, Liam gave Owen his number and Owen texted him back. “Just no dad jokes.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Owen grinned.

Despite the confliction, Liam couldn’t help but grin back. There was something so infectious about Owen, so likable. Which was another reason why he couldn’t understand the divorce. What did Sharon do? Or did Owen do something?

The world started to dim and the ease and comfort Liam had felt for the last fifteen hours drained out of him like air from a balloon. Realizing the Vicodin was wearing off, he tried not to visibly sag and glanced sidelong at the door. He needed some distance. There was a spot in the back of the storage room with his name on it and he wanted to go there and gather himself until the cocktail hour started.

“I have to head out.” He stood, keeping his face turned away from Owen’s. It was getting harder and harder to hold it together. He gestured at the paperwork he’d been going through in-between phone calls. “You can leave everything there and I’ll keep going through it tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, Liam,” Owen said to Liam’s back as he headed for the door. “Thank you foreverything. You’ve been an angel today.”

“No problem,” Liam muttered, making a quick exit. As he reached the end of the hall he broke into a fast walk, keeping his head down as he darted down two flights of stairs and a short corridor, gritting his teeth so hard they hurt.

He usually felt sad and shaky while at work but being up from the pill made being down unbearable. Tears were pooling in his eyes when he finally slid into the storage room and he closed the door behind him, leaving the light off as he took practiced steps to the back corner, climbing over a couch in the darkness. He’d only been there a few months when he’d figured out that no one used the storage room unless they needed to decorate The Pointe for holidays, so he’d claimed it as his personal day-to-day hideout. An old sofa had been pushed to the back of the room, surrounded by boxes that Liam had positioned to create a small cubbyhole, the perfect hiding place. He’d even put an old tablecloth on the concrete floor to ward off the chill, and he slowly sank onto it, curling on his side. Putting his hands in his hair, Liam pressed his forehead into the fabric beneath him and began to cry.

He needed so many things. To calm down. For Owen not to work at the Pointe. To see his parents happy and alive again.

And he also needed another pill.

7

OWEN

Owendroppedhispokerface as soon as the door closed behind Liam, sighing deeply and running a hand through his hair. Now he was worried about MichaelandLiam.

He could tell that something was wrong the second he’d seen Liam in the hallway. Technically it was the same Liam who’d lived next door but it was like the life had been ripped out of him, like he was running on empty. If he hadn’t known Liam before, he would’ve agreed with Dylan’s description and thought that he was quiet; however, Owen remembered a precocious teen with a quick wit who would never stop talking once you asked about his interests. Now, Liam only spoke when spoken to and he was pale, flat, with rings under his beautiful gold-green eyes.

Owen shook himself.Beautiful?Where didthatcome from? And this afternoon he’d found himself staring when he shouldn’t have - twice. Admittedly, the first time he’d been staring out of concern, studying Liam for red flags but he’d ended up studying Liam’s profile instead, how the tip of his nose had a quick upturn, how he’d lost some of his baby fat - making his cheekbones stand out high and proud on his face - how his long lashes rested against his skin when he blinked. His bangs were too long and even though Liam kept them tucked behind his ears, a few shimmering strands would constantly fall loose, the highlights in his hair creating a reddish halo. In the few years Liam had been gone he’d turned from an awkward teenager into a stunning man. A troubled man. And that made Owen’s guilt super strong. He should not think that way about Liam, who was obviously struggling, extremely off-limits, and a person Owen should’ve been there for. Another person who Owen had let down.

He needed to get his head together. He’d just accepted and embraced the fact that he was gay; he couldn’t go around staring at beautiful co-workers who were exactly his type, especially one who needed his help and his apology, an apology that he couldn’t yet give. He’d been planning on atoning himself to Liam if he ever saw him again and Owen had come so close in their first few moments alone together, but as he’d started to apologize something inside had told him that it would be a bad idea so he switched tactics. Acting unprofessional was the first thing he’d come up with so he’d ended up apologizing for the hug, which he was not sorry for.

Despite his weird inappropriate feelingsthat he would not have again, he wanted to keep Liam close and make up for things by helping him, which would be difficult since Liam was as skittish as a rabbit. But he was a little better today than yesterday and it gave Owen some hope that maybe with time he could get Liam to open up and guide him back to his old self.

Liam’s emotional state wasn’t the only reason Owen wanted to keep him nearby. Dylan’s recommendation was spot on; Liam was an excellent assistant. Without his help Owen would’ve been scrambling with simple things and sounding like an idiot on the phone. Sure, he’d done some sales in his other jobs but he’d been trained first, not immediately thrown into the deep end.

Owen huffed a laugh, giving a small shrug of his shoulders.

“Now I know why John was so eager to offer me this job.” His voice echoed in his empty office. Whatever chaos he’d seen in the last two days was probably the tip of the iceberg and it would take a little time before he had things running smoothly. That was good because he wanted to keep Liam as an assistant for as long as he possibly could.

The trill of a phone cut through his thoughts. Owen looked at the desk phone, confused because it was supposed to be on silent, and then realized that the noise was coming from his cell. Pushing his plate aside, Owen wiped his hands and pulled his phone from his pocket, his stomach twisting with anxiety when he saw who was calling. With a shiver, he slid his thumb across the screen, answering the call.

“Please tell me you have good news.” Owen hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. At every step in the proceedings he tried not to hope but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see Michael so badly his soul hurt and all the stonewalling, the straight-up rejections, and the clear unfairness were brutal. But Owen believed that there was someone somewhere who wouldn’t care about Sharon’s rich and well-connected boyfriend Nathan Reynolds and then he would have his chance. Hopefully, that chance was what his lawyer was calling about.

But the few seconds of silence on the other end told Owen more than he needed to know and his heart sank.

“I wish I did, my friend.” Frederick Caldwell - Freddy to his clients - let out a long breath. “It’s the same thing again. But this time I threatened to write to the Judicial Disciplinary Agency, the media, and even the Better Business Bureau! So, Judge Deveraux told me to come to her chambers. After some long-winded bullshit, it turns out that her hands are tied because of thisthingshe won’t mention. Probably blackmail. And she intimated that this would be a losing battle no matter what I try.”

Like Finn, Freddy pulled no punches which was why Owen liked him. He came highly recommended even though Owen hadn’t been given his name directly; one of his old colleagues at the financial firm hadn’t stopped crowing about how amazing his divorce lawyer was and Owen took note. It was true; Freddy was amazing. Amazing and expensive but he was worth the money.

“Is that a threat?” Owen asked him, rubbing his forehead. He missed his little boy so much that there weren’t words to describe it. He’d been gutted out, left hollow, and constantly felt like an empty shell that might crumble at any moment. He wanted to hear Michael’s laugh, know that he was okay, that he was safe. Was this Nathan jerk treating him right? Was his little potato getting to watch his favorite cartoons? Did they buy him the Fruit Roll-Ups he liked? Did he have a nightlight in his bedroom? Was he scared? Was he angry? Did he miss his father?

Did he hate his father?

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