Page 59 of Devoted

“You’re safe.”

“They can’t hurt me.”

“Everything is okay.”

Benji had been teaching me more about OCD over the past few days. One of the things that came up time and again was how difficult it could be for the person suffering to separate the rational from the emotional.

In a situation like this, where the perceived danger turned out to be real, I had to imagine it was even harder.

I had no idea what Sam’s brain was telling him, but I wasn’t going to let him face it alone. He had me now.

Even if he didn’t know that yet.

Eventually, his shaking subsided. He didn’t lift his head from where it was buried against my chest.

“Do you want me to stop touching you, Sam?”

He shook his head roughly. “No. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“You’re safe,” I repeated. “The fuckers who broke in here have been taken care of.”

Sam lifted his head at that, and the sight of his red-rimmed eyes socking me in the gut. “What do you mean, taken care of? What’s happened? Oh, god, I’m going to go to prison, aren’t I?”

In any other situation, this might’ve been considered an overreaction. I could even see myself laughing at it, maybe teasing whoever had said it.

But there was nothing funny about this.

“Sam.” I caught his chin in between my fingers, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise. You’re not going to prison. You’re safe.”

There was a light tapping at the door. I growled, letting my power seek out the visitor. When it returned to me, I begrudgingly called out, “Come in, Micah.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered as Sam stiffened. “He’s a friend.”

His blond head poked around the doorframe. “Sorry to interrupt. Figured you might want an update.”

At his appearance, Sam jumped from my lap, hurriedly swiping at his eyes with his sleeve. While he looked away, Micah raised his brows in question.Is he okay?

I shrugged helplessly. Physically, he was fine. Emotionally and mentally though?

Sam closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, it was like a different man stood in his place. I was left gaping at how his face had transformed, a pleasant smile now directed in Micah’s direction. “I’m terribly sorry that you’ve all been dragged into this. I’m Sam.”

“This is Micah,” I said, getting to my feet and side stepping between them before Micah could offer his hand to Sam. I didn’t want anything making him uncomfortable, especially not after this evening. “Is everything sorted downstairs?”

Micah flashed Sam what I liked to refer to as his politician smile. It was the one he used when great diplomacy or tact was called for. “All sorted. The gentlemen have been escorted from the premises and will not be returning. I believe they got this house confused with a local drug den. Their level of…inebriation may have played a part in this.”

Sam’s mask slipped slightly, the tremble returning to his hands. “Figures. It’s not the first time something like this has happened. I really need to find somewhere else to live.”

My blood boiled hot. “It’s not?”

Sam shook his head, his hand reaching towards me. I wasn’t sure he was even aware he was doing it. Taking it in mine, I used it to draw him to me, tucking him safely under my arm.

“I’ll, ah, leave you to it,” Micah said. “Text if you need us, Ez.”

I nodded curtly.

Micah shot one more friendly smile at Sam before leaving, closing the door behind him. Sam’s trembling eased, his head resting against my chest again. “Why did he call you Ez?”

I rubbed at his arm, unable to believe this was happening. That I’d met Sam. That I was holding him.

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