Chapter 147 Protecting the Weak
"Zachary, put me down. What do you think you're doing?"
Quinley thrashed in his grip, panic flooding her system. But Zachary held firm, refusing to let go. Her palms slapped uselessly against his chest as his strides only quickened.
"Cindy, you've been working all day. Just rest for a bit. This mess is my fault—I'll clean it up."
He lowered her gently onto the bed and tucked the blanket around her like she was something precious. His eyes went soft and pleading.
"Take a nap. By the time you wake up, I promise everything will be spotless."
Before she could protest, Zachary hurried out and shut the door behind him. Almost immediately, sounds of industrious cleaning drifted through from the other room.
Quinley meant to get up. She really did. But exhaustion had turned her bones to lead, every muscle screaming in protest. Her eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. She'd just close them for a second...
A sharp crash jolted her awake.
Quinley scrambled out of bed and rushed to the living room. The water was gone, floor gleaming and dry. But Zachary crouched on the ground, surrounded by a constellation of shattered glass.
"Cindy! You're awake?"
He whipped around, eyes bright, hands hidden suspiciously behind his back.
"Go back to bed and rest a little more. I'm not done yet!"
He stood barefoot and tried to herd her back toward the bedroom—then stepped directly onto a glass shard. His face contorted in pain.
Quinley rushed over. "Can you please stop creating disasters?"
"I boiled water for you. Wanted to pour you a cup to cool down so it'd be ready when you woke up, but the glass slipped." His head drooped, defeat written across every feature.
Quinley studied him for a long moment. The reprimand forming on her tongue died there.
"Sit on the couch. I'll handle this."
She grabbed the broom and made quick work of the glass. The medicine kit was tucked in a cabinet. She found antiseptic and cotton swabs, then approached him with both.
"Give me your foot."
He obeyed. She knelt and dabbed iodine carefully across the cut on his sole.
"Ow. Cindy, that hurts."
Zachary's face scrunched up as he whined about the pain. But the entire time, his right hand stayed locked behind his back.
After treating his foot, Quinley fixed him with a look. "Now the hand."
He hesitated. Shook his head.
"No..."
"Hand. Now."
Her tone left no room for argument. Slowly, Zachary extended his arm. His hand was large, broad—but the back was angry red, blistered with tiny fluid-filled bubbles.
"How did you burn yourself this badly?"
Her brows knitted together in concern. Zachary reached up immediately, trying to smooth away the furrow between them.
"I'm fine, Cindy. Doesn't hurt at all. It'll be better tomorrow."
If he really were a child, he'd be the kind who never complained. The realization sent guilt crashing through Quinley's chest.
She loved Zachary. But she also resented him. That resentment had clouded everything, made her forget he only had an eight-year-old's comprehension right now. Of course he'd keep causing trouble. Yet she couldn't control her reactions, kept taking out all her frustration on him.
"I'm sorry."
The words came out barely above a whisper. Zachary's hand immediately found hers.
"Don't apologize to me, Cindy. This is my fault. I wasn't behaving, so I made a mess."
His stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. He released her hand sheepishly.
"I'm really hungry."
Quinley straightened, found a black baseball cap and matching face mask, and handed both to Zachary.
"Come on. We're getting you shoes, seeing a doctor, and getting steak."
"Really?"
Joy lit up his entire face. He sprang off the couch, completely forgetting about his injured foot.
"Yes! Cindy's taking me for something good to eat!"
He bounced and chattered all the way to the door. Quinley led while he followed close behind, this giant of a man trailing after her like an eager puppy.
In the elevator, Quinley kept her expression stony while Zachary kept sneaking glances her way.
"Cindy, you're so pretty."
His eyes practically sparkled.
The guilt she'd been nursing evaporated. "You think this scar looks pretty?" Her voice could've frozen steel.
Zachary dodged the question smoothly. "Everything about you is beautiful. Just being near you makes me happy."
He rambled on. Quinley didn't respond. She'd chalk it up to a child's innocent honesty.
The supermarket near their complex had slippers. Quinley grabbed a pair, and Zachary acted like she'd bought him the moon. Then they hit a clinic where the doctor applied burn ointment to his hand.
"Cindy, where are we getting steak?"
Zachary trotted behind her like an excited puppy.
"Up ahead."
She navigated them through two narrow alleys until they reached the food street—a chaotic stretch packed with vendors and hole-in-the-wall joints. She'd eaten at this particular steak place once before. The taste beat most fancy restaurants hands down, even if the atmosphere was basically nonexistent.
Cramped. Grimy. Nothing like the pristine establishments Zachary usually demanded. He'd always been particular about ambiance, refusing to touch street food under any circumstances. She'd never brought him here before.
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the tiny steak shop. Business was slow—only a handful of customers scattered around.
Quinley placed their order with the owner, chose two steaks, and guided Zachary to a corner table. The air smelled incredible. Zachary's mouth was practically watering.
"How much longer? I'm starving. I could eat an entire cow right now."
Pure childish exaggeration, but Quinley didn't crack a smile.
"Soon."
When the steaks finally arrived, Zachary fumbled with the knife and fork like they were alien artifacts. Quinley tried teaching him, but he seemed almost comically inept.
Finally, she just cut his steak herself. He shoveled pieces into his mouth as fast as she could slice.
"This is amazing! Best steak ever!"
He demolished it with enthusiasm, praise tumbling out between bites. By the time Quinley finished cutting, Zachary had finished eating.
"More. Cindy, I'm still hungry."
He rubbed his stomach plaintively. Quinley ordered another steak and started cutting up her own portion for him.
This time, though, he didn't immediately stuff his face. Instead, he speared a piece and held it up to Quinley's lips.
"Your turn."
Back when they'd been together, Zachary had never hand-fed her anything. His germaphobia wouldn't allow sharing utensils, no matter how intimate they were.
Quinley froze, then pulled back.
"You eat first. I'll have some later."
"No way. You must be hungry too. I can't let you keep taking care of me without taking care of you back."
He wouldn't budge. Not until Quinley finally opened her mouth and accepted the offering. Only then did satisfaction bloom across his face.
Behind them, a table of young guys had been watching the whole exchange. Zachary was obviously handsome, clearly well-built. Quinley was... ordinary. Plain. Yet here he was, acting like a lovesick fool with eyes only for her.
"That guy must be blind. Look at him, then look at her—and he's practically worshipping some fat old lady."
"Shh, keep it down. Maybe she's loaded and he's her boy toy."
They spoke quietly, but Quinley heard every word. Her appetite died on the spot.
"Are you full? Let's head back."
She started to rise. Zachary had heard them too. His expression went dark as a thundercloud. He caught Quinley's wrist and pressed her back into her seat, then stormed toward the offenders with fury radiating off him in waves.
"You don't get to insult Cindy. Apologize to her. Right now. Or else—"
He raised his fist in a clear threat.
The two guys scrambled up, bowing frantically toward Quinley. "We're sorry! We're so sorry! We didn't mean anything—"
"Let them go."
Quinley's voice cut through cold and sharp. Zachary stood there, fist still clenched, rage simmering just beneath the surface. If he wasn't actively restraining himself, he'd already be throwing punches.
"Get lost!"
His roar sent them scurrying out like frightened mice.
On the walk home, Quinley led and Zachary followed. Neither spoke. The streetlights stretched their shadows long across the pavement, sometimes merging into one.
Behind her, Zachary gradually closed the distance, following his shadow until it overlapped with hers.