Page 67 of Devoted

Suggesting a cohabiting situation, albeit a temporary one, with someone he’d only met in the flesh that day did seem a bit fast. Not for me—I didn’t give a fuck about things like that. But I suspected Sam would.

I wasn’t the only one thinking along those lines, given the messages that popped up from Benji.

Benji

I’ll set up the spare room in your suite in case Sam wants to come back here.

is there anything I can get for him that might make him more comfortable?

I thought hard before sending my response.

Ezekiel

Blackout blinds. He has them in his room here. He also uses a duvet with a blanket on top, so grab the one from my bed. The blue one, it’s the softest.

and install a deadbolt on the inside of his door. It’ll make him feel safer.

It wouldn’t stop anyone breaking in, but no one in the Seraphim would dream of invading his space that way. It wasn’t like anyone outside of the unit would break in either. It was the most secure location outside of both Heaven and Hell.

I was about to put my phone away but something else occurred to me.

Ezekiel

Get some Jelly Babies too. A share bag.

I waited until Benji sent a thumbs up before shoving my phone back in my pocket. With him sorting things, I could focus on Sam.

And hope that, somehow, I could persuade him to come and stay with me.

“Kitchen is clear,” I called through after doing a final check for glass. “Do you have a specific mug you like?”

Sam appeared in the doorway, warily eyeing the floor beneath my feet. “The green one. Thank you.”

“Is there one you’d prefer me to use?” I opened up the caddies, locating the teabags and sugar. Unlike me, Sam took his tea sweet. When he didn’t respond, I glanced over my shoulder. He was staring at me intently, that small furrow back between his brows. “Sam?”

“Um, any is fine.” He shook his head, then gave a sheepish chuckle. “Sorry, it just threw me that you asked.”

The kettle clicked off, giving me something to busy myself with so Sam didn’t feel under interrogation. “Is that not normal? For people to ask?”

“I don’t think so,” Sam mused. “Not that people have made tea in my house very often. But no, I don’t think it’d occur to them that I use a specific cup or might not want people using certain ones.”

I added the milk and shrugged. “Makes sense to me. Your brain likes things done a particular way. When I’ve learned what those ways are, I won’t need to ask. I’ll just be able to get on with things. Then you’ll be comfortable and I won’t be constantly asking questions.”

I turned with Sam’s mug in my hands to find him gaping at me. “What?”

“It’s just…” He seemed at a loss for words. “I’ve never had someone try to learn my triggers before. You don’t have to do that, you know. My illness isn’t something I expect other people to manage for me.”

I rolled my eyes, holding his mug out. “No offence, Sam, but that’s fucking ridiculous.”

“It’s not. It’s my problem, no one else’s.”

Oh dear. Sam was about to discover just how stubborn I could be. “So if you were cooking me dinner, you wouldn’t ask me if I had any food preferences?”

Now he was the one rolling his eyes. “Of course I would, but it’s not the same. That’s just being courteous.”

I crossed my arms. “Let’s say I was diabetic. What would you do then?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed as he spotted the trap I was neatly laying for him. “It’s not the same, Zeke.”

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