Chapter 9

NINE

Colin

M y phone rings, and surprisingly, it's Oliver.

"Ye–"

"In the office, second drawer on the left, code is five nine zero two seven."

"What?"

"That's where Owen's pills are. Go. Do not under any circumstances let him have the bottle. One pill only." Oliver's voice is strained in a way I've never heard it before.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You have to take care of him until I get there. How oblivious are you? Go. Now." The call ends, and I'm left staring at it for a moment. What the actual fuck is happening?

I force myself off the floor and down the hallway to the office, opening drawers in the desk until I find one with a lockbox and a keypad.

Quickly, I type in the numbers Oliver told me, and inside is a prescription with Owen's name on it, among other things I'll dig through later. I quickly scan the warnings on the side. No alcohol, don't drive, may make you tired.

With the bottle in hand and a glass of water, I head to the bedroom. He's not okay. I don't know how I missed the signs while living in his house, but he's so far from okay, it's terrifying.

"Owen?"

I can hear the ragged breathing in the dark and slowly make my way toward it, shoving the bottle in my pocket so I have a free hand to catch myself if I trip.

I find Owen crumbled on the floor in a ball, scratching and pulling at himself.

"Owen," I say a little louder, in case he didn't hear me. I don't want to touch him and startle him, but I can't walk away and leave him like this, either. No one deserves to suffer alone.

I brush my fingertips through his hair, a barely there touch, and to my surprise, he leans into it.

Crouching down, I don't break the connection, moving my hand down his head and around to cup his cheek.

"Hey." I smile softly in the dark, not sure he can even see it. My palm is wet with tears, and it breaks what small part of my heart is still able to give a shit. "I have your pills."

"Where?!" The demand in his voice is surprising given the current state of him. Setting the water down, I get the bottle from my pocket. He snatches it from me with shaking hands and tries to get it open, but I wrestle it back from him.

"Hey! Oliver had these under a literal lock. I'm not risking him murdering me for real by giving you the entire bottle."

Owen growls, and I hear his teeth grinding together. "Please."

He's starting to rock on the floor as I get the bottle open and give him a pill. Before I can hand him the glass, he's swallowed it. Well, okay then.

"Get out." Owen curls in on himself again, but there's no way that's happening.

"No." I get the bottle back in my pocket, afraid to set it down anywhere, then I cup his face in my hands. "I'm not leaving you alone like this."

Owen moves his cheeks against my palms, like a cat wanting pets. I don't think it was intentional. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"We might not be in love, but we can be friends, right? Allies, at the very least. Partners." There is nothing I want more than to come first for someone. Gods, I want this man to be in love with me. It would be so easy to fall for him. "That means I care."

He shudders and closes his eyes, rocking once again. "I don't fucking want anyone to see me like this."

"Too damn bad. I'm not fucking leaving."

We stare at each other for a tense moment before he presses his eyes closed, focusing on breathing.

"Come on, up on the bed." I reach for his hands, but he doesn't move. "Owen, get up on the bed."

"I can't."

What the fuck does that mean? There's only the two of us here.

Thinking about what is close, I pat around the bed for a pillow and blanket and sit on the floor next to him, the pillow behind my back.

"Come here," I demand, with just enough confidence in my voice that I hope he doesn't argue. When Owen doesn't move, I pull him into my arms. In a matter of seconds, he's in my lap, arms around me, and his fingers digging into my skin as he breathes into my neck. We get settled, and I wrap the blanket around him, and I run my fingers through his hair.

"Just breathe, you're okay." I force myself to take long, slow, deep inhales and slow exhales. "Match my breathing."

It doesn't take long for him to focus and follow along with me. His face nuzzles into my neck and shoulder, the roughness of his stubble scratching me. I've missed beard burn.

"You smell like me," Owen mutters after a long time.

"I've been using your body wash." My smile comes through my voice, and I hope he hears it.

"Why?"

"To get a rise out of you."

"Jokes on you. It's Oliver's, and I stole it."

I laugh, knowing Oliver will notice when he gets here.

I don't know how long we sit like this, with Owen clinging to me, but I like it more than I should. The tension starts to lessen, his heart rate calming, and I smile to myself. It's been a long time since I helped Cassie through a panic attack, but it looks like I still know how to do it.

Owen's arms slide down my body, loose with sleep or unconsciousness. I'm not sure which.

I should lay him down. This position is going to give him neck pain.

I have to fight with everything, but I manage to get the pillow from behind me onto the floor and his head on it, but his weight pulls me down with him. When I try to get up, he growls. When I stop playing with his hair, he grumbles and moves to lie on my chest.

In the darkness of this room, with him asleep, I can admit to myself how much I like this. The way he reaches for me when he needs comfort—at least today he is.

I brush a kiss on his forehead, my arm wrapped around his shoulders. I hope he feels better when he wakes up.

Owen is moving next to me, disturbing my peace, and my nap. I don't know when I fell asleep exactly, but I couldn't just leave him here alone.

"Stop moving," I groan and pull him closer with my eyes still closed. I'm on my side and my hip is killing me, but I'm too tired to care much.

A soft brush of lips over mine forces a moan from my chest. My eyebrows lift, but my eyes stay closed. The kiss deepens, just a hint of tongue, and I open immediately for him. Owen is almost hesitant, like he doesn't have a lot of experience.

Owen is kissing me.

Owen is kissing me!

Air catches in my lungs at the realization. Does he know he's doing it? Is he high from whatever Oliver told me to give him? Is this going to come back to bite me in the ass later? I need to google the name of that medication so I can be better prepared.

Opening my eyes, I pull back from the kiss. I so desperately want to look at him. It's still dark in here, but the door is open in the hallway, giving just enough light for me to see him. He doesn't look high, his pupils aren't blown, eyes aren't glassy, and his color looks good.

"Owen?"

"Thank you." He's looking at my mouth, and I lick my bottom lip.

"For what?"

He motions to us lying on the floor. "This."

"So…being nice is what earns me a kiss?"

"This time it did." He shrugs like it wasn't a big deal, but it fucking is. He wears a look I can't read. The air around us changes, but I'm not sure why. Gods, what I would do for him to touch me, really touch me, right now. I wonder if I could earn that too.

"What does that mean?" I ask, my voice laced with sleep.

"It means that you earn every kiss you get, and the same rules won't apply twice."

My heart is pounding in my chest. Is he playing sex games with me? Leaning forward, I leave just a hair's width of space between our mouths. Owen arches a brow but doesn't move. Would he stop me from kissing him again? Is he the only one to ever instigate one? We were kissing just a second ago. Is there a time limit?

"What else can I earn?" I start to get hard at the thought.

"You bought a car, don't push it."

I smirk at him. "You bought me a car as a wedding gift. It was very sweet of you. I swooned."

"Swooned? No one does that anymore."

"They can and do. I would be more than happy to swoon right into sucking your cock." My hand brushes down his ribs toward his hip. I itch to touch him, to watch his skin heat, to see him tremble under my fingers.

"Is this some weird sex power thing?"

It's my turn to lift a brow at him. "It definitely can be. You want to give orders or obey? I can go either way."

Owen rolls his eyes and gets up, leaving me hard and sore on the floor. But he looks more like himself, so I guess I'll accept it.

"What time is it?" I sit up and look for my phone, but I have no idea where I put it. It feels like I've been laying down here for days. Why does he lie on the floor so much? It's not comfortable.

The ding of the elevator sounds, and we freeze. What fresh hell is this? Is he steady enough for a surprise visitor? Fuck!

"Owen!" Oliver's voice rings through the house, and as if someone cut Owen's strings, his entire body droops.