Chapter Thirteen
Sam
Sam stared at his phone, his thumbs hovering over the screen.
I’m so sorry about Basil. I’ve never seen him act like this. Please let me know if you need anything for the scratches
He hit send to Urien, then copied the message to Rux, and finally to Mabon. Three near-identical apologies because he couldn’t think of anything better to say. What was the proper etiquette for when a cat systematically attacked three men who’d been nothing but kind?
Basil sat on the kitchen counter, grooming his paws with the satisfied air of a warrior who’d defended his territory.
Sam glared at him. “You bit Mabon’s head. His head, Basil.”
The cat paused mid-lick, one paw suspended in the air, and blinked slowly. He totally didn’t care.
“They brought me vegetables and pastries, and then they bought you an expensive cat toy. They’ve been nothing but sweet.”
Basil resumed grooming.
Sam’s phone buzzed. Urien’s response came first: Don’t worry. I understand. Animals can be protective
The message was really kind – too kind for what Basil had done.
Rux’s text arrived next: Ha! Your cat’s got spirit. I respect that. The pastries were probably too ambitious anyway. Who brings seventeen pastries to someone’s house? (Me. I do that. I have poor judgment)
Sam’s chest tightened. The forced cheer bled through every word. Rux had likely spent hours baking those pastries - Sam had seen the golden crusts on the croissants, the delicate glaze on the Danishes. And Basil had sent them scattering across the doorstep while shredding Rux’s chest.
Mabon’s response took longer: Please don’t apologize. These things happen. I hope Basil isn’t unwell. Perhaps the stress of strangers visiting has been difficult for him
Sam dropped his phone on the counter and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
Mabon had cried. Sam had seen the tears before Mabon tried to hide them, one hand pressed to his bleeding shoulder while Basil yowled from the bathroom.
The sight had made something crack in Sam’s chest - the sophisticated man in his expensive suit, reduced to tears by a cat with an attitude problem.
“What is wrong with you?” Sam demanded.
Basil stretched, his claws extending to grip the edge of the counter, and yawned.
Sam picked up his phone again, typing quickly before he could second-guess himself.
I think something might be wrong with Basil. He’s never acted aggressively like this. I’m going to call the vet tomorrow
He sent it to all three of them, then sat down at the kitchen table.
Basil hopped down from the counter and wound between Sam’s ankles, purring like he hadn’t just committed three separate assaults.
Unable to help himself, Sam reached down and scratched behind the cat’s ears.
Basil leaned into the touch, eyes half-closed with contentment.
“You’re going to the vet,” Sam told him. “They’re going to tell me you’re completely healthy, and then I’m going to feel like an idiot for making three grown men think my cat might be sick when really you’re just being a territorial nightmare.”
The purring intensified.
Sam’s phone buzzed again. All three men responded within seconds of each other.
From Urien: Let us know what the vet says. We’re happy to help with any costs
From Rux: Poor little guy. Maybe he smells something weird on us? We live near the woods. It could be fox scent or something
From Mabon: Please keep us updated. If there’s anything we can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask
Sam read the messages twice, guilt sitting like a lump of lead in his stomach. They were being so understanding and patient. Any reasonable person would have written off Sam entirely after being mauled by his pet.
He typed another message, fingers hesitating over the send button.
Would you three want to meet up sometime? Maybe at Pat’s Pub? Neutral territory where Basil can’t attack anyone
He stared at the words. It felt right - a proper apology, a chance to spend time with them without worrying about anyone getting attacked.
He could buy them drinks, explain that Basil really was normally a sweet cat, and maybe figure out why these three impossibly attractive men kept showing up with so many gifts.
Sam’s thumb moved toward send.
Basil’s head snapped up. The cat stared at the darkened window, ears flat against his skull. A low growl started in his chest.
“What now?” Sam followed the cat’s gaze but saw nothing except his own reflection in the glass.
Basil jumped onto the windowsill, tail lashing. The growl grew louder.
Sam stood and walked over to peer outside. The street looked empty. No movement in the shadows, no strange cars parked along the curb. Just the quiet residential road he’d lived on his entire life.
“There’s nothing there,” Sam said, but Basil didn’t relax.
The cat’s pupils had gone wide, swallowing the green of his eyes. Every hair on his body stood on end, making him look twice his normal size. He pressed against the glass, claws scraping on the windowsill.
Sam felt something cold slide down his spine. Basil wasn’t normally a dramatic cat. He didn’t react to shadows or strange noises. He’d slept through thunderstorms and ignored the neighbor’s yappy terrier...mostly ignored.
But for the past week, he’d been on edge, and that’s without the attacks on all three men.
Sam looked down at his phone, at the unsent message about meeting up at Pat’s Pub.
Basil hissed at the window.
Sam deleted the message.
“Maybe you’re right,” he murmured to the cat. “Maybe I should be more careful.”
But even as he said it, he couldn’t quite believe it. Rux, Mabon, and Urien had been nothing but kind. Awkward, yes. Overly generous, definitely. But they weren’t dangerous.
Unfortunately, Basil clearly disagreed.
/~/~/~/~/
“Your cat is possessed.”
Sam looked up from the espresso machine to find Maya leaning against the counter, arms crossed, bright purple hair pulled into a messy bun.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“I’m serious.” She grabbed a cloth and started wiping down the steam wand. “Three hot guys are all interested in you, Sam. All of them. And your cat hates them because cats are territorial jerks who don’t want you to be happy.”
“They’re not interested in me that way.” Sam measured out coffee grounds, keeping his focus on the portafilter. “They’re just being friendly. I told you, they’re likely new to town, and trying to make connections.”
Maya laughed. “Right. That’s why the tall one brought you flowers from his garden. Because friendship.”
“People give friends flowers.”
“Not men. Not unless they’re interested.” She moved to stand directly in his line of sight. “And the redhead? The one who drank six coffees and then ran away after giving you his number?”
“Rux was nervous about meeting new people.”
“Sam.”
“What?”
She gave him a look - the same one she’d given him when he’d insisted the elderly woman who came in every Thursday wasn’t flirting with him, right before the woman had slipped her phone number into his apron pocket.
“You’re an idiot,” Maya said, without heat.
“I’m being realistic.” Sam finished pulling the shot, the espresso streaming dark and precisely into the cup.
“You just have to look at them and then look at me. Why would three guys who look like they walked out of a cologne ad all be interested in someone who works at a coffee shop and has to stand on a step stool to reach the top shelf?”
“Because you’re sweet, funny, and genuinely kind?” Maya grabbed the milk pitcher. “Because you remember everyone’s orders and always give Mrs. Channing extra foam without charging her? Because you’re adorable when you get flustered?”
Heat crept up Sam’s neck. “They don’t know any of that.”
“The suit guy – Mabon - he’s been watching you work for twenty minutes every time he comes in. Not looking at his phone or the other customers. You.”
Sam poured the espresso into a larger cup. “He’s probably just zoning out.”
“And Urien brought you vegetables. At dawn on a Saturday.”
“He gardens. He wanted to share.”
“Sam.” Maya set down the milk pitcher with a thunk. “Normal people do not show up at someone’s house at sunrise with heirloom tomatoes unless they’re courting them.”
“Courting.” Sam couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “What is this, the eighteenth century?”
“You know what I mean.” She moved closer, voice dropping. “They’re all trying to win you over. Different approaches, same goal. And Basil knows it, so he’s gone full psycho to protect his territory.”
Sam thought about the scratches on Rux’s chest. The bite marks on Mabon’s shoulder. The way Basil had drawn blood from Urien’s ankle without hesitation.
“Cats don’t work like that.”
“Cats are monsters who can sense when their human might actually be happy and decide to ruin it.” Maya grabbed three chocolate croissants from the display case.
“Mrs. Patterson’s cat peed in her boyfriend’s shoes for three months straight.
My sister’s cat knocked her date’s wine into his lap. Twice.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Sam didn’t have an answer for that.
/~/~/~/~/
Sam stared at his bedroom ceiling, Basil a warm weight against his ribs. The cat purred, oblivious to the chaos he’d caused, while Sam’s brain replayed Maya’s words on an endless loop.
They’re all trying to win you over.
The gifts. Sam had written them off as friendship gestures from wealthy eccentrics who didn’t understand normal social boundaries. But what if Maya was right? What if none of that had been about friendship?
Rux had given him his phone number. Yes, he’d fled the café like Sam might bite him, but he’d written those digits on a receipt with shaking hands and told Sam to call.
Mabon watched him work. Sam had noticed and had assumed the man was simply zoning out or waiting for his drink, but now he pictured those sharp eyes tracking his movements, the way Mabon’s expression softened whenever Sam smiled at a customer.
And Urien. Gods, poor Urien. He had brought vegetables at dawn because he wanted Sam to have fresh produce from his garden.
Courting. The word felt archaic and ridiculous…and somehow exactly right.
Sam rolled onto his side, dislodging Basil, who meowed in protest before resettling against Sam’s stomach.
Were they interested? All three of them?
His pulse kicked up at the thought. Three men all wanting him? It didn’t make sense.
And yet, when Sam thought about all the things they did, he could see they weren’t the actions of men trying to make casual friends in a new town. It could be argued that the whole situation was made up of actions from men who were interested in him, but had absolutely no idea how to show it.
Sam’s chest felt too tight. What would that mean, exactly? They wanted to date him? All three of them? The logistics alone made his head spin. Did they take turns? Schedule days? Fight over who got to…
He sat up abruptly, disturbing Basil again. The cat shot him an offended look before jumping off the bed entirely.
Sam barely noticed. He’d grabbed his phone from the nightstand, fingers trembling as he pulled up the texts from earlier, noting how close the responses were to each other.
We all live together – Urien had said that in the coffee shop.
Not roommates. Not housemates. Together.
Oh gods. Were they already in a relationship with each other?
Sam’s mind conjured the image immediately - Rux’s red hair catching light as he leaned against Mabon’s shoulder, Urien’s large hands gentle on both their backs, the three of them moving through their shared space with the easy comfort of people who knew each other intimately.
Heat flooded Sam’s face. And they wanted him to what? Join in? The three of them and Sam, all together, like some kind of…
Like his novel. His ridiculous, unpublishable romance novel about three supernatural beings courting one ordinary human because fate demanded it.
Come on, Sam, get a grip. This was real life. Sam lived in Dinetell, where the most exciting thing that happened was when Harrison’s grocery store got a new cheese selection.
Three men didn’t just decide to court someone together. That wasn’t how the world worked.
Except…sometimes it was. Sam had read articles, had stumbled across forums late at night when he couldn’t sleep. Polyamory. Triads. People who loved more than one person and built lives that made space for everyone.
It happened. Real people did it. But surely not with him. Not with Sam Brown, who’d had exactly one forgettable coffee date in the last two years and whose own cat was his most consistent relationship.
His phone screen had gone dark. Sam stared at his reflection in the black glass – the same rounded face, messy hair, and the faint shadow of his freckles visible even in the dim light.
Why would they want him?
Because you’re sweet, funny, and genuinely kind, Maya had said.
Sam wanted to believe it. Gods, he wanted to believe that three incredible men had looked at him and seen something worth pursuing. That he was worth the expensive gifts, the awkward conversations, and the early morning vegetable and bakery deliveries.
He lay back down, phone still clutched in his hand.
If they were interested - if all three of them wanted him - what did that mean for Sam?
Would they expect him to know how a relationship like that worked?
Would they want him to choose one of them?
Would they be hurt if he admitted that the thought of all three made something warm and sensual unfurl in his chest?
Basil jumped back onto the bed, circling twice before settling against Sam’s hip.
“You hate them,” Sam whispered to the cat. “Why do you hate them?”
Basil couldn’t be bothered with such nonsense. He purred, his eyes already closing.
Maybe Maya was right, maybe Basil was just territorial, maybe the cat sensed that Sam’s quiet life was about to change and had decided violence was the appropriate response. Or maybe Basil sensed something else. Something Sam couldn’t see.
Sam’s thumb hovered over Rux’s contact information. One call. That’s all it would take. He could invite them to Pat’s pub, neutral territory, and just ask. Are you interested? All of you? In me?
The thought of doing something so out of character made him want to throw up.
What if he was wrong? What if Maya had read too much into friendly gestures and Sam called Rux only to get laughed at?
But then again, what if he was right?
Sam locked his phone and set it on the nightstand. He’d think about it tomorrow. After work, when his brain wasn’t spinning in circles, and his heart wasn’t trying to beat out of his chest.
He closed his eyes, but sleep felt impossible. Three men. Who might – possibly - want him. All of them. Together.
Sam’s last thought before sleep finally claimed him was that his novel’s plot suddenly didn’t seem quite so impossible after all. He just wished he knew how it ended.