Page 35 of Devoted

To my horror, I felt warmth prickle at the corners of my eyes. Bit rich considering I’d been the one saying the same thing mere minutes ago, but I couldn’t help myself. Couldn’t stop the thoughts.

‘See? This is what happens when you put yourself out there. Hang up before you do even more damage.’

I was able to ignore the compulsion. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“No, you don’t get it,” Zeke said almost desperately. “Trust me, Sam, if things were different, I’d be asking for your address right now.”

Ice crawled along my spine as I remembered the question he’d asked me earlier. “Oh my god, areyouin a relationship?”

“Fuck no,” Zeke sighed. “That’s not it, Sam. It’s…it’s complicated. That’s all I can say about it. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Even though he couldn’t see me, I forced a smile onto my face. It was another compulsion—if I smiled, it would make me feel happier. It rarely worked. “You don’t have to explain, Zeke. We don’t owe each other anything.”

“I know.” His voice grew heavier with each word. “It’s just…I wish things were different. Chatting to you these past couple of months has made me happier than in…well, ever.”

‘Not happy enough to want to meet you though.’

I had to respect Zeke’s wishes. He didn’t want to meet me, and I wasn’t going to push. Obviously, what we had now was enough for him.

I just needed to make it enough for me.

I didn’t understand why his rejection was cutting me so deep. At the start of this phone call, I’d been as opposed to meeting as he was. What had changed?

That was a stupid question; I knewexactlywhat had changed. It had been Zeke’s apparent acceptance of me—warts and all. I should’ve known it was all too good to be true. It waseasy to tell someone what they wanted to hear when you didn’t need to look them in the eye.

“Sam?”

I cleared my throat, realising I’d been quiet for far too long. “Yeah?”

“Do you…do you want to continue talking?”

Fuck, I must’ve been a masochist in another life, because the answer was all too easy to find. “Yeah, Zeke. I do.”

“Ijust think this will look better.”

I rolled my eyes, grateful that Kirsty had opted for an audio call over video. “I understand where you’re coming from, but from a design perspective, pink and red won’t work well together on the graphics.”

Kirsty huffed. She was a fantastic author, but a designer she was not. It was why she’d hired me…not that she ever accepted my ideas the first time around. “Can we try it my way?”

“Of course.” I sighed inwardly as I spun in my chair to face my computer. “I’ll have them over to you in an hour.”

After exchanging goodbyes, we hung up. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to will the headache nagging at the back of my skull to kindly fuck off. I liked Kirsty, I did. She was a great client and kept me very busy. And she always paid on time.

But if I had to design one more cutesy set of pink and red graphics for her dub-con dark romance, I was going to scream. Pink and red didn’t go together. Plus, it was misleading. Readers would pick it up expecting a cute rom-com.

Kirsty’s books werefarfrom that. It wasn’t like she was ashamed of what she wrote either—she was rightly very proud of her work. Why she wanted to have her teasers look like they were for a different genre entirely was beyond me.

Those graphics never saw the light of day, thank fuck. They honestly weren’t something I wanted my name attached to. No, I’d send her what she’d asked for. She’d hem and haw before suggesting the very idea I’d mentioned earlier, framing it as though it was her own.

I never complained, just agreed with her. I was happy she’d be sharing graphics I was proud of; I didn’t need others to know it hadn’t been her idea. She paid me to make her look good, not the other way around.

As soon as my phone hit the desk, it started vibrating again.Oh, what now?

All my irritation vanished as I glanced down and saw the name on the screen.

Zeke.

Since asking him if he wanted to meet a week ago, our daily conversations had continued. For the most part, we’d returned to our usual ease. There were more frequent silences though, moments where one of us wanted to say something we knew we shouldn’t. We never did though, moving on from the pause and scrambling for new topics of conversation.

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