Micah sat in the passenger seat, staring at his reflection in the car window.
Clyde's claim that he had memory lapses refused to leave his mind. He really had no clue something like that had been happening.
He turned his head slightly, watching Clyde's hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles pale against the leather. "When was the last time?" Micah asked finally. "I mean, besides this morning."
Clyde's gaze stayed fixed ahead. "When Darcy had a fever," he said after a pause. "You… wouldn't let the doctor near him. You held onto him so tightly he couldn't even breathe."
Micah frowned, trying to recall. His mind went blank. There was an image, Darcy sweating and shivering on the bed, but then…nothing. Just a gap, like a film reel that had been cut and spliced.
He exhaled sharply, leaning back against the seat. "Fine," he muttered. "I get the reason. But your lie was not about that."
Clyde stiffened, turning his head a fraction. "What do you mean?"
