I hated waking up without any knowledge of how I made it to bed. Not that it was a common occurrence, but still. I groaned as I rolled over, a spare blanket laid carefully over me, emerging from the covering to find myself still fully clothed from the night before. I rubbed at my bleary eyes, strung thin and more than a little wonky as I struggled for full wakefulness.

It had to have been Quaid. I didn't remember passing out, but I did know he was still in the house. I felt ...