Chapter Seven

RYAN

At those stunning words, Ryan's jaw dropped. "No, I'm sorry. Really. I shouldn't have said anything. I don't like talking about my personal life, so I don't think I should force you to."

"Don't worry. There's nothing Jordan likes more than talking about himself."

The sarcastic drawl from behind them had Jordan rolling his eyes, while everyone else laughed.

"Very funny, Ash. Don't give up the day job."

A tall man with night-black hair and dancing eyes, pale as moonlight, snickered. "I've been waiting a long time to be able to use that line. I have plenty more stockpiled."

Ryan watched as Ash made a beeline for Drew. "Hey, baby," he murmured and gave him a kiss on the mouth, then wrapped an arm around him. He surmised he was Drew's husband. They settled into each other like pieces of a puzzle.

"Ignore him," Jordan sniffed. "I'll keep it short and ugly. My partner died, and I went into a deep depression. I used pills and drugs to mask my pain. I was spiraling out of control, willing to do anything and everything to keep my friends from finding out how bad it was. As I said, I almost lost my license to practice and my friendship with Drew."

"You almost lost your life, Jordan." Visibly upset, Drew wiped his eyes. "That's what was most important."

"Yeah, well, when you're down in the depths of that snake pit of addiction, you don't think about that. It's like a fire that burns at your insides, and nothing can quench it but what you need and crave to soothe the beast." Jordan's earlier humor had fled. "You're only concerned with chasing the next high and doing what you can to stop the pain. Even if it hurts the people you love most."

God, how he understood every single word.

"How did you stop?" Ryan couldn't help but ask.

Jordan's face lit up. "I met Luke. He brought me out of the darkness."

"It wasn't as simple as Jordan makes it sound," Ash interjected. "We all went through hell and back. You and Luke had a ton of issues to work through."

"You being one of the main ones," Jordan stated grimly.

"I'm not denying that." Ash's eyes grew shiny. "None of us were whole at that point in time. All I'm saying is, you suffered for your recovery. Don't make it sound like a cakewalk or that love set you free."

"Thank you, Ash. I know I couldn't have done it without you all to help me."

Despite the teasing snipes between Ash and Jordan, Ryan could tell there was a deep bond between the two.

Drew stepped to Jordan's side. "Addiction is not an easy hole to climb out of. It takes incredible strength and a will to survive. Luke gave you hope, love, and a reason to walk in the sunlight, but it had to be your choice. In the end, it's a road you have to want to travel, and it can get lonely, even with a village behind you. It wasn't easy to survive after the fire that nearly killed you, but you did it, and we are all so proud of you."

The two men hugged. "And I am so grateful none of you deserted me," Jordan said with a doting smile as he pulled out his phone. "Because I wouldn't have my daughter, Ellie." He showed Ryan a picture of a little girl in a miniature white coat and a stethoscope.

"She's cute."

"Only three and she wants to be just like Daddy," he preened.

"She's a perfect angel except for that fact." Ash smirked. "She'd be better off taking after my brother."

Muttering, Drew raised his gaze to the ceiling. "How many years will I have to endure this?" He poked Ash's shoulder. "Will you knock it off?" He focused on Ryan. "I hope this gives you an idea of how we operate here. We don't hold anyone's past against them if they're trying to move forward." He hugged Jordan. "I could never be whole unless I had my best friend by my side again. Please, think about it, and I hope to see you tomorrow morning."

"Ready to go?" Ash asked Drew. "I promised Esther we'd be there for dinner, and I don't want to be late."

"Let's go. It's brisket night." Drew took his hand. "Night, everyone." They walked down the hallway.

The tension Ryan had been holding broke free, and the words couldn't stop tumbling from his mouth. "I started smoking a little pot at sixteen and then moved on to harder stuff. My parents kicked me out at eighteen when I came out. I-I've had a problem for years," he heard himself say, and Ash and Drew stopped and turned. Jordan remained in the doorway of his office, face grave, eyes intent.

Tears threatened, but Ryan clenched his hands into fists and continued because he believed he'd met people who would listen with understanding hearts and minds. "No one knew. Not my husband when we met in college, nor after we got married. It got worse when I was at my firm. Drugs were plentiful, and booze was always available. Happy hour was every afternoon, and new clients were celebrated with parties at all the best clubs. It was a never-stopping carousel—only it began to spin out of control."

"You're a lawyer?" Ash was clearly surprised.

"Was." His lip curled in a sardonic smile, but the joke was on him. "I was arrested and disbarred." Their faces displayed both shock and sympathy, and Ash was the only one to continue to question him.

"So it was a felony arrest? Have you tried for reinstatement?"

"Yeah. Possession, and I punched the cop. That's what sent me down the rabbit hole. They denied me. And when I saw the letter, I lost it and…"

"Ran right back to the drugs?" Jordan nodded. "I can understand the trigger, especially if you had little to no support."

Ryan didn't correct him. He'd already revealed more than intended, but Noah gazed at him with compassion and concern.

"And how are you now?" Noah questioned. "Have you come to terms with your new life?"

"No," he answered bluntly. "It took me so long and I worked so hard to get where I was, and to know I threw it all away…for nothing. I'm so goddamn stupid and angry all the time. I hate it. I…hate myself for it."

Before he could take another breath, Noah took him by the shoulders. "You know what I see when I look at you? Courage. You've pulled yourself off the edge of the abyss. The strength it takes to make this kind of admission and get clean is unparalleled. I'm in fucking awe of you, and I know everyone here feels the same."

Everyone nodded and murmured their agreement, but it was Jordan whose words meant the most to him. "I understand. Believe me. It wasn't so long ago I was in your position. It pains me to know you don't have the support of family to help you. You can do it—I know you can, but it's easier when you have people who care in your corner."

Noah's fingers tightened on him. "There's no one you can rely on? No one willing to help?" Their eyes met, and there was something there. A connection, but Ryan had no clue why, as they'd never met. "Are you sure?"

He thought of Logan and his willingness to give him everything and make life easy. But it hadn't worked, and Ryan knew he couldn't return.

"No. No one. Only Emerson. I don't know what I would've done without him."

Emerson said, "For the past few weeks, I've been helping Ryan get clean. We were upstate, but I needed to go back to work. He's done amazingly well, and I know he's ready. That's why I thought if he could work here—it would be a start on the road to recovery. You guys helped me."

"I went to meetings on and off," Ryan admitted, "but I still had slipups when the reality of how badly I screwed up my life got to me. The minute I got that letter from the disciplinary committee, I grabbed a bottle." He hung his head. "It was all for nothing."

"Not true." Noah was quick to correct him. "You know you can do it, but your problem runs deeper than a weekly meeting. I know you're very insistent that you're not into therapy, but it can truly help you."

"I agree," Jordan added. "And trust me, I was the first to think I could handle it on my own. Don't let your ego get in the way of your recovery." He glared at Ash, who raised his brows.

"What? I didn't say anything."

"I know, but I was waiting for a comment about my ego."

"Well"—Ash grinned—"since you brought it up…" Those gleaming, silvery eyes connected with Ryan's, and he almost flinched at their intensity. "I'll be blunt, Ryan. You fucked up and have no one but yourself to blame."

"Ash…" Drew yanked at his arm, but Ryan stopped him.

"It's fine. He's right, and this is exactly what I need to hear. Not people stroking me and telling me how great I am."

Approval shone from Ash's face. "Good. Because while I'm glad you're sober now, you need to get to the bottom of why you keep screwing up your life. I presume you had a job after your disbarment?"

"Yeah. Maintenance supervisor for a hotel. I lost it, so now I'm in the hole again. Plus, I need a place to live."

"Why?" Noah's brow wrinkled. "What happened to the apartment you were in?"

"Nothing. But I can't live there again." No way would he bring Logan into this. His life, his problem. Besides, those bridges he'd burned? Logan's was a hellfire. "Finding an apartment or even a room somewhere until I save up enough is my first priority. I've been sleeping on Emerson's sofa, but I can't keep living like that. It's not fair to him."

"I don't mind, Ry."

"But I do." Emerson was fast becoming another soft landing for him, and it would be too easy to fall back into that comfort. "I need independence, and if it's fucking hard, then that's what it has to be. So," he appealed to Drew, "if you still want to hire me after everything I've said tonight, I'd like to work here."

"I'm good with it." Drew nodded to Jordan. "How about you?"

"Works for me. And if you want tough love, I'm here to give it. First thing you should know is the drug cabinets are monitored with a security camera, so if you think you can break in and grab a quick fix, you can't. I know all the tricks."

Ryan winced but stood his ground. "I get it. And I appreciate your honesty."

"If you're going to work here, you'll get used to it. I'll be happy to call you out if I see you slip up." Jordan leveled a glacial stare at him. "And I'll know. Trust me."

"I won't fuck up."

"It's not the first time you've made that promise, is it?" Ash asked, his jaw as granitelike as Jordan's, in contrast to his husband Drew's gentle face. "Why should we believe you now?"

Ryan appreciated the hard-hitting, no-bullshit approach, a true contrast to Logan's soft-as-a-feather stroking.

"Because I have everything to lose."

"You can start tomorrow," Drew said. "Be here before nine so you can go through the setup."

"Thank you. I will."

Noah's face shone with approval. "I'm thrilled for you, Ryan. I think this is the start of something special."

Feeling guilty over his flat-out refusal to accept Noah's help, Ryan held out his hand. "I appreciate your offer, you know, to talk and everything, but I think this is the right way for me."

Noah continued to make his pitch. "It doesn't always have to be either or. Circumstances change. I want you to know that I'm here for you. And if you don't feel comfortable talking with me, Tash is a psychiatrist as well. He's the doctor who helped Jordan. We just want you to succeed and be healthy again. I have to go back to the help line, but I hope to see you soon."

Too overcome to speak, Ryan ducked his head to hide the tears that threatened. Healthy again implied there was a time when he hadn't abused his body, but that was a distant memory. Twenty years of using on and off had taken their toll. One of the reasons he usually kept away from mirrors. It frightened him to know how badly he'd treated the body he'd been given.

Along with the other men, he walked out past the reception area and trailed his hand along the desk where he'd be sitting. "I'll see you tomorrow. And thanks for the opportunity."

"See you in the morning," Drew called out. He and Ash got into a car waiting for them at the curb, leaving Jordan with him and Emerson.

"I appreciate you sharing your story, Jordan. I know it was hugely personal, but it helped me see that I really can do this."

Jordan faced him with a frown. "I think you can, but don't do it for anyone other than yourself. You have to be hungry to want a fresh start."

"I did, but I forgot what real hardship was like. I didn't think the ground would hit me so hard when I fell."

"Getting high is like sailing through puffy white clouds." Jordan barked out a laugh. "Becoming sober feels like you're being struck by lightning over and over, and even when you're okay, every once in a while you get that electric shock to remind you it only takes one misstep to send you spiraling into that rabbit hole of destruction." His eyes narrowed. "Family can coddle you and be the worst enablers. It took me nearly getting beaten to death to learn my lesson."

To see a man like Jordan, whose arrogant set to his shoulders and tilt of his brow hinted that he came from money and privilege, no one would ever guess he'd wallowed in the filth of addiction. But that was the thing—it could hit anyone, from anywhere.

"I don't have anyone other than myself to do this for. I have no contact with my family. I worked a couple of years before going to college on scholarship and work study, but meeting Garrett my first week helped. He had money from a legal settlement, and I thought I had it made once we were married. We've been divorced for a few years now and basically don't speak. Something else I screwed up badly."

He knew how it sounded—like he'd been a gold digger out only for what Garrett could do for him. It pained him to admit they'd be right. Garrett never worried about money, and he'd paid for everything—Ryan's law school, the apartment they lived in after they were married, and any trips they took. Garrett had lavished presents on him, including the sportscar he'd given him for his thirtieth birthday. The one he'd crashed and totaled in the Hamptons. Ryan had found the sweetest guy in the world and fucked it up by abusing his trust.

"I'll bet. But that's the past, and you can't change it. What you have now is a future solely in your control." A car pulled up to the curb. "That's my ride. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ryan stood on the sidewalk, watching the taillights of the black car fade into the distance. Instead of feeling defeated, with a burden too heavy to bear, Ryan's spirits were invigorated. Finally, he had something in his life with meaning. A purpose.

"You're coming home with me, right? I know you said you can't do it forever, but until you have an apartment of your own, you know you're welcome to my couch."

"Thanks. I feel bad for imposing on you."

"I told you I don't mind, Ry. That's what friends do." Emerson squeezed his arm.

"Thanks. I appreciate everything you've done for me. I just want to be able to stand on my own again."

"I'll call a car."

It only took twenty minutes to make it to Emerson's apartment in Gowanus, and Ryan was surprised to find himself hungry. "How about I make some dinner. Pasta?"

"Sounds good to me."

He puttered about the kitchen, enjoying creating a sauce and chopping vegetables. Emerson went through his mail and answered some emails.

"Pasta's ready."

Emerson joined him at the gleaming quartz kitchen island. When Emerson had offered Ryan a place to stay, he'd thought the quiet man who dressed in worn jeans and T-shirts rented a small, dingy apartment and he'd be sleeping on a lumpy couch. Instead, Emerson lived in a super-modern high-rise, the bright apartment outfitted with all the bells and whistles and the comfiest sofa bed. He'd since learned that Emerson was a software specialist and made in the mid-six figures. One thing Ryan could be sure of was that people surprised him every day.

They ate, and Emerson kept shooting him looks until he set his fork on the plate. "So you'll take the job?"

Ryan finished his last piece of pasta and wiped his face with a napkin. "Yes. And I-I'm sorry for being so difficult. Thanks for thinking of me. You were right. It seems like a great place to work."

"It's okay. You're my friend."

"And you're mine. I appreciate your putting your life on hold and helping me. Hopefully, I'll be out of your hair soon enough and you can get your life back to normal."

Without responding, Emerson took their plates to the dishwasher and started it running. "I enjoy having you here. In case you haven't guessed, I don't have many friends. I lost most of them when I started drinking, and I'm not exactly mister social."

"I'm sorry. People don't like to stay when it gets messy."

"Your friend Logan isn't like that."

"Logan never saw me when I was in a really bad way. And I doubt I can call him a friend. I blew that one, big-time."

Emerson's brows pulled together. "You never know. I always feel if people care enough, they'll stay for the hard times."

There was little doubt in his mind that Logan was happy to be a savior, but why would he want to see the ugly side of addiction? The screams and cries of withdrawal. The mental torture where Ryan swore his skin was on fire, eating him alive from the inside out. The paranoia, thinking every sound was someone coming to kill him.

Logan was a Prince Charming, living in a castle where nothing touched him that wasn't of his own choosing. Only perfection lived there. Ryan wasn't perfect, and his jagged, broken pieces wouldn't ever match seamlessly with Logan's smooth edges.

"How about we watch some TV?"

Ryan washed his hands and wiped up the surface of the kitchen island. "Yeah. Okay, for a little bit. Then I'd better get to sleep early. I don't want to be late."

Emerson made popcorn and chose a movie. They sat side by side, watching something Ryan couldn't pay attention to, as his mind was too busy thinking about the new job. He also wondered what Logan was doing. Most likely he'd moved on. A man like Logan Silver didn't wait for anyone, especially a messed-up thief like him. He shifted and sighed. The guilt of Logan's watch weighed on him heavily, knowing he'd taken something so sentimental. So meaningful. He'd hurt Logan, the one person who'd tried to help him.

As if reading his mind, Emerson said, "Just so you know, I meant what I said, upstate and here. You can stay as long as you want. It's nice to have someone to hang out with in the evenings."

Their conversations had been so focused on him and his problems, Ryan didn't know much about Emerson.

"I don't want to get in the way of your life either. Don't think you have to babysit me."

"I don't. But I work from home a lot, and it's nice to know there's someone else here." Emerson's eyes twinkled. "It was you or a puppy."

"At least I'm house-trained."

"I just want you on your feet again. I have a big space, and I really do consider you a friend."

Ryan wasn't sure he'd ever had a real friend or people who cared about him simply for who he was. Once his parents kicked him out, he'd moved from house to house, hoping someone would let him stay on their couch, but none of the parents said yes. Even the people in his firm had turned their backs on him when he got into trouble. They were all the same.

"I appreciate that. And I know I haven't made it easy for you. If you want to bring someone home, you know, like a date, I can always make myself scarce."

Face bright red, Emerson hung his head. "I-I don't date. I'm asexual, and when guys find out I'm not into having sex, they don't bother with me. I've never had a real relationship."

Surprised, Ryan sought to reassure Emerson. "Then they're missing out on a great person." Shiny-eyed, Emerson gave him a brief smile, and Ryan wondered why Emerson had started drinking. A conversation for another day, as Emerson refocused on the movie, but Ryan wanted him to know he wasn't about to disappear on him as well. "When I start making money again, I'll reimburse you for everything. Including letting me stay here. But no matter what, I'll never forget how you stepped up for me. How you took me in and were my friend."

"No, you don't have to. But…"

"But what?" he urged.

"If you want to make dinner for us at night, that would be great. That pasta was delicious."

Ryan laughed—a real laugh—for what felt like the first time in forever. "You got yourself a deal."