Page 34 of Psychopath

Quinn’s eyes were blurry with tears. “He got it engraved and gave it to me. I’m wearing it right now.”

“I didn—”

“Did you ever come to the house?”

“No, we mostly hooked up at mine, a few times in his car, and once at Indigo.”

A picture of Sam and Damon locking lips had been sent to Quinn’s email address, exposing Damon as a cheat, but it was supposed to have been just that night at Indigo. Just that night when he went out with Alex and Eric and drank too much while reminiscing.

“Quinn, I…”

Another long stretch of silence.

Quinn took pity on him. “There’s nothing you can say to make this any better, but thank you.”

“What the hell are you thanking me for, I sl—”

“For replying to my message, calling my number like I asked and for telling me the truth. Because I know if I’d have asked Damon, he would’ve lied; he would’ve said it was just that night.”

“But you said he admitted—”

Quinn tore the phone from his ear and pressed his thumb down on end call. As soon as it disconnected, he dropped the phone to the sofa and ripped off his watch.

I love you more than the moon and stars.

If Quinn had been more with it, he would’ve called Damon, but he was tired, battling tears and the impulse to vomit, and a text seemed appropriate considering how the betrayal had begun.

A year ago, Quinn’s father had been dying in a hospice. That’s when Damon began to stray, when Quinn was at his most vulnerable.

He kept the message short and to the point.

We’re over.

The clock had Quinn’s firm attention.

Zane was late, and as each minute passed by, the likeliness he would be a no-show increased. Quinn sighed and began to gather his papers.

“Now that…that is a pretty sight.”

Quinn stilled, glancing over to the doorway. Zane leaned against the frame, a casual smile on his face, looking right at Quinn. Before Quinn could utter ‘inappropriate’, Zane’s gaze moved to the new watch on Quinn’s wrist.

“Oh…” He clutched it. “You were talking about that.”

Zane had grown his stubble longer. It wasn’t beard length as such, but there was more length to it, more scratch, and there were a few patches where the hair was thinner, but it didn’t take away from the rough-and-ready look of him.

“Don’t you like it?” Zane asked, touching his chin.

He took the seat opposite and stretched his neck to itch the hair on the underside of his jaw. Stubble ran all the way down to Zane’s throat.

“Like what?”

Zane stroked his jaw. “This.”

“It suits you.”

“Thank you, Doctor Quinn.”

“I um. I thought you might not come,” Quinn admitted.

---