11. Sam
11
Sam
I shut the car door, immediately reaching for the hand sanitiser. Unfortunately, the glove compartment was empty, except for the hire agreement.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My car was in for repairs. There’d been an ominous rattling sound while I was driving for a week now, so I’d finally taken it to the garage a couple of days ago. When they’d told me it’d be at least two weeks for the part to arrive, I’d hired this Ford C Max.
It was fine, but I was so used to my Kia that I hated it on principle. Plus, I obviously hadn’t moved my emergency hand sanitiser over.
Fun times.
I took some deep breaths, repeating statements to calm myself.
You shook hands with Jude.
Jude is a safe person.
You’ve literally had sex with him before.
You were exposed to more germs walking down the street than when you shook hands.
He would’ve thought it was weird if you hadn’t offered to shake hands.
He would’ve hugged you instead, which you didn’t want to do.
No, I hadn’t wanted to hug him, because some fucked up part of my brain felt like that would be disloyal to Zeke. A man I’d never actually met.
My phone was burning a hole in my pocket, but I didn’t pull it out. It was bad enough that I was going to have to clean the various parts of the car that I’d touched with an antibac wipe, I didn’t want to have to do my phone too.
The message I knew I had from Zeke would have to wait. I’d been about to respond to him when I’d had a panicked phone call from Jude. He’d been mid-argument with someone at the post office about what to put on a customs form.
Given how many parcels I sent each week, Jude had begged me to help him. When trying to explain it over the phone had failed, I’d chucked on whatever clothes came to hand and raced down to assist him.
He’d made a couple of comments that had made me think he’d be very happy to go back to my place for some afternoon delight. Despite having considered that very thing yesterday, after the call with Zeke last night, there was no way that was happening. That was why I’d shaken his hand—I’d wanted to make it obvious that we wouldn’t be going there again.
Jude had taken it in his stride, as he did everything. That knowledge hadn’t stopped my OCD being triggered.
‘ He didn’t want you in the first place. ’
‘ He’s laughing at you now for thinking that. ’
‘ He’s heartbroken. He’s going to harm himself because you didn’t sleep with him. ’
I turned the engine on while cursing under my breath. See, my brain couldn’t even agree with itself. It’d pick at anything until it found the thread that’d make me bite.
Fighting the urge to pull out my phone and call Jude to make sure he was okay, I checked my rearview mirror and did a double take. Was that Zeke?
The man, who could’ve been Zeke’s double, was standing outside the art gallery, staring intently as though he was meeting my gaze in the mirror. I blinked, and he’d vanished.
‘ Great, you’ve levelled up to hallucinations. ’
‘ Maybe it’s a brain tumour. ’
I shook my head. Fuck, I wished I’d stayed in bed as I’d planned.
S everal hours later, my bed was exactly where I was. Knowing I had some tasks outstanding, my brain hadn’t allowed me to take the whole day off. None of my clients would’ve been upset about waiting until tomorrow, but I would have been.
When I climbed back into my pyjamas and into bed, I took my laptop with me. Working there, cocooned by my blankets with Friends playing on the TV, I finally started to feel the grip of my OCD loosen.
It hadn’t gone entirely—it never did—but this low-level hum of anxiety was much easier to deal with. With every hour that ticked past without hearing from Zeke, all the hard work I’d put into calming myself down was being eroded.
I checked my phone for the millionth time, rereading my messages.
Sam
sorry I didn’t respond earlier, ended up having to run an errand
how’s your day going?
is something wrong?
are you mad at me?
has something happened?
are you hurt?
I’m sorry. I’m letting my brain get the better of me. You don’t have to respond, I’m sure you’re just busy.
you don’t owe me anything, I know that
Those messages had been sent over the span of a few hours, but it didn’t make me look any less crazy. See, this was how it went with me. I got too clingy. I assumed the worst. I badgered people until I pushed them away.
I couldn’t blame them. I was all too aware of how my behaviour affected the well-being of those around me. Zeke deserved to protect his mental space as much as I did.
My phone buzzed with an incoming call, and I almost knocked my laptop to the floor in my haste to answer it.
It was Zeke. I answered, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “Oh, thank fuck you’re not dead.”
Zeke gave a weak chuckle. “Good to know someone would miss me if I were gone. I’m sorry that’s where your brain took you though. And I’m also sorry it’s taken this long to get back to you. I wasn’t ignoring you intentionally. Something…came up.”
“No, I’m sorry.” And mortified, I couldn’t believe I’d said that. “What happens in my mind is on me, no one else.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree there, I’m afraid. You don’t have to go through shit like this alone, Sam.”
I smiled. After working myself up all afternoon, the relief at hearing his voice was enormous. “Are you saying you want me to reach out to you every time I have an intrusive thought? I do love chatting to you, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to have me on the phone twenty-four seven.”
There was a pause. When Zeke spoke again, his voice was quieter than I’d ever heard before. “Not me, necessarily, but someone. I don’t want you feeling alone.”
Alarm began to prick at my skin. “But I’m not alone. I have you.”
Zeke was silent.
I sat up. This time, I didn’t catch my laptop as it crashed to the floor. I didn’t reach for it either, too caught up in everything he wasn’t saying. “Zeke?”
“I’m here,” he said heavily. “Look, Sam. I don’t want to do this, but there’s something I need to tell you?—”
Several things happened in quick succession.
First, my breath caught, my hand clutching at my chest like it knew heartbreak was imminent.
Second, a window smashed downstairs.
Third, there was a loud crash. Followed by another. Then another.
Finally, there were several male voices jeering. Drunk, from the sounds of it.
And they were in my house.
They were in my house.
“Sam? Sam, what is that?”
“Someone’s in my house,” I whispered, scarcely able to believe it. “They broke a window.”
“Fuck.” I could hear Zeke running. “Sam, where are you?”
“In my bedroom.” I hadn’t moved from my spot in the bed, terror keeping me there. “I can hear them. I think they’re in my kitchen.”
“Okay, baby. Do you have an en-suite?”
“No.” I was trembling now, the adrenaline starting to surge. Surprisingly, it was such a familiar sensation that it grounded me. My brain thought I was in a fight or flight situation several times a day. I guessed that meant I was better prepared to cope when it actually happened.
“A wardrobe? With doors?”
My eyes flicked over to the sturdy wooden wardrobe in the corner. “Yes.”
“Go and get in it, as quietly as you can,” Zeke ordered sharply. “Give me your address and I’ll be there before you know it.”
I stopped where I was, tiptoeing across the room. “I can’t do that.”
“You can,” Zeke said grimly. “And you will. Your address, Sam.”
Something smashed downstairs and I flinched at all the jeers. Just how many of them were down there?
And why the fuck had they broken in? It wasn’t like I had anything worth stealing.
‘ If you give him your address, he’ll be hurt. Maybe even killed. ’
“I can’t.”
“Sam”—Zeke sounded desperate—“I need to know where you are. I can’t help unless you tell me.”
‘ If he comes here, he’ll be hurt. It’ll all be your fault. ’
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even start to reason with myself in this situation.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, getting into the wardrobe and closing the doors as quietly as I could. “I have to go now to call the police. I’m sorry, Zeke.”
Just as I pressed the red button to hang up, I heard one bellowed word from Zeke. A name.
But not mine.
“ Nate! ”
Who was Nate? And why was Zeke screaming for him?
I shrank back as the voices drew closer. There was no time to think about that now. I had to call the police and pray that, whatever the intruders wanted, they’d leave me out of it.