A Life Debt Repaid -Zoe: [Honestly, these two are as stressful as me and Jay back in the
day.]
Cordy: [At least you’re self aware.]
Zoe: […We’re getting off-topic, sister.]
Cordy smiled. [Let Quinn indulge a little tonight. We can talk to her tomorrow.]
Zoe: [Fine.]
And with that, Quinn drank five beers on her own that night – it was basically her limit, and she lay
sprawled, her head muddled.
Both her stomach and her heart hurt, and she really felt frustrated.
She needed to vent, but she had been keeping a lid on it because she was the type who never cried no
matter how bad things got.
Whether it was her parents dying when she was a child and leaving her with no refuge, she could never
reveal her true self.
“That’s about enough,” Zoe told the others right then.
Cordy echoed, ‘It’s late, Johnny. We should get home soon too.”
Now basically a slave to the missus, John would spit out the alcohol he was just chugging if Cordy so
much as said it. As he hurried home with her, Zoe shot Bob
a look, who took his cue.
“I’m going now,” he said, following Cordy and the others even if he had not drunk enough tonight.
Zoe then turned toward Sam, who was still nursing his drink and frowned. “Bring Quinn home.”
“Let her stay over,” Sam replied.
“Nope. That’s not how it works around here,” Zoe said.
“Bob did before.”
“Bob’s not the same-he was almost my husband,” Zoe shrugged, her unfiltered words left Jay feeling like
he was shot in the heart.
How did she break the hearts of two men in a single night?
On the other hand, Sam was actually laughing, so Zoe added sternly, “Quinn is still your wife after
everything is said and done. As long as you’re not divorced,
you have an obligation for her safety!”
Sam had no comeback against that and put down his glass to scoop Quinn up in his arms.
Somehow, she felt small as he carried her.
Zoe watched as Sam carried her off, suddenly finding them perfect for each other but somehow only
drifting further apart.
Sam carried Quinn to a cab and gave the address of Saunders Mansion, when Quinn suddenly sat up
and snapped, “I don’t want to go back.”
Sam shattered. “Then where do you want to go?”
“My home.”
“Where is that?” Sam asked in amusement. “Isn’t Saunders Mansion your home?”
“N-No,” Quinn mumbled. “Sam’s home is my home.”
Sam’s chest suddenly hurt, and he stared nervously at Quinn, noting her flushed cheeks and distant
gaze.
Did the alcohol leave her muddled or actually loosen her lips?
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