Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(102)

“Maybe you should find Ryke first.”

“That’s not necessary.”

I swallow hard, and the elevator dings, the doors sliding open. Lo walks briskly towards the ballroom, and I struggle to keep up with his long legs. I skid to a stop by the door, struck by the bright, twinkling chandeliers and busy room with people milling about everywhere. A Christmas tree towers in the center, draped in gold tinsel with apple ornaments. Two screens on either side of the stage remind everyone the benefactors of the event. Hale Co. and Fizzle. I pass a server who carries a tray of pink champagne.

Lo plucks one off, downs it in one gulp, and sets it back. I can’t leave him. Not like this. I weave in between bodies and mutter “excuse me” hundreds of times, trying to tail Lo. He strides towards a certain spot with purpose and determination, ice crystalizing his amber eyes.

“Lo,” I say, grabbing out, but his hand drifts away from me.

I’m afraid to look for Rose or Ryke in the crowds because I may lose sight of Lo. Just by glancing over my shoulder, he gained considerable distance ahead of me. By the time I catch up, he stands in front of his father who wears a tux and a stern expression.

I stay an arm's length away, close enough to hear every word.

“Have you been avoiding me?” Jonathan asks. “You usually stop by on Mondays.”

“I’ve been going through some things.”

Jonathan scrutinizes his son. “You look fine.”

“I’m not fine,” Lo admits. He shakes his head repeatedly, and his eyes grow glassy. “I’m not fine, Dad.”

Jonathan’s eyes flicker to his surroundings, and he says, “This isn’t the place, Loren. We’ll talk later.”

“Something’s wrong with me,” Lo tells him. “Do you hear me? I’m telling you that I’m not okay.”

Jonathan downs the rest of his whiskey and places it on a nearby high-table. After he rubs his lips, he edges closer to his son. My breath hitches, and I stay frozen in place. “Are you trying to embarrass me?”

Lo’s hands shake and he balls them into fists. “You know that I drink, and you don’t give a shit.”

“That’s what this is about?” Jonathan’s face contorts. “Lo, you’re a fucking twenty-one-year-old man. Of course you drink.”

“I pass out,” Lo says. Why is it so hard for Jonathan to understand that Lo has a problem? And then it dawns on me. Maybe because Jonathan hasn’t come to terms with his own.

“So have many before you. It’s natural for kids your age to abuse alcohol.”

“I can’t go a day without a drink.”

Jonathan’s lip curls. “Stop trying to find an excuse for your mistakes, and own up to them like a goddamn man.” There’s a difference between abusing alcohol and being dependent on it, and if he understood that, he’d realize Lo fits the latter.

I step forward and reach for Lo’s hand, but he jerks away from me.

Jonathan has found another glass of whiskey from a server. He sips and nods to me. “Have you put these thoughts into my son’s head?”

I shrink back from his scathing glower.

“I’ve known this since I was a kid,” Lo tells him. “She didn’t have to say anything to me.”

“I highly doubt that.”

An arm wraps around my waist. I jump and meet Rose’s concerned gaze. I fall into her hug and try not to cry into her shoulder.

Ryke, breathless as though he ran here, slinks up to Lo’s side and puts a hand on his arm. He doesn’t even look at Jonathan. “Come on, Lo.”

Rose tries to tug me away, but I shake my head and stay firmly here. Something’s wrong. I see it in Jonathan’s face. He pales beyond his natural Irish hue and almost drops his whiskey. “What are you doing here?” he says to Ryke.

Lo frowns. “You know each other?”

Jonathan lets out a small huff. “You didn’t tell him?” he says to Ryke. His eyes flicker back to the ballroom where people begin to stare. He shakes his head in annoyance and finishes off his whiskey.

Lo shifts his weight. “Tell me what?”

“Nothing,” Jonathan says with a bitter smile. He sets down the glass and meets Loren’s gaze once more. “So is this what you wanted to say to me? You wanted to blame me for your problems and stomp around like a child?”

Ryke keeps his hand resolutely on Lo’s shoulder, supporting him in a way that I can’t.

“No,” Lo says softly. “Maybe if this was a story about my teenage years, I’d have done something like that. I just wanted to say that I’m going to get sober.” His eyes cloud, and a single tear slides down his cheek. “I’m going to rehab. And when I come back, I may not see you all that much.”

He’s going to rehab. He knows this can’t work—us, together, while he tries to avoid alcohol for good. I can barely breathe. He’s leaving. For how long?

Jonathan inhales sharply and glares at Ryke. “Did you put him up to this?”

“No,” he says. “It’s news to me.”

Jonathan looks back at Lo. “You don’t need to go to rehab.” He mutters, “This is fucking ridiculous.” He shakes his head. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”