Darcy looked at Micah, bewildered. The boy was smiling. Smiling! After everything, after being yelled at for burning his hand. What was so funny? Why was he happy?!
His brows drew together as he stared at Micah's bright eyes and goofy grin, but he didn't say anything.
He rubbed his forehead and let out a sigh, glancing at the gauze-wrapped hand resting on the table. It didn't matter. Yeah. If the idiot was happy, let him be.
Darcy dropped his head and resumed eating, chewing in silence, though he was clearly in a better mood.
After dinner, Darcy stood and began clearing the plates and washing the dishes.
"Do you want to take a shower?!" he called over his shoulder.
Micah looked down at his clothes, one that already belonged to Darcy. What difference would it make to borrow more? "Yeah," he said, tugging at the hen of the shirt. "Thanks."
A few minutes later, Micah walked out of the bathroom with damp hair plastered to his forehead and a towel hanging around his neck.
