Clyde wrapped his arms around Micah, closing his eyes. He had agreed, he had uttered the word trust….Not because he understood, but because he'd seen the look in Micah's eyes when he spoke. Pain, grief, exhaustion layered so deeply it felt dangerous to touch. Clyde knew that if he pushed too hard, something fragile would shatter.
If he wanted, he could pry. He was sure Micah would slip eventually.
But Clyde refused to resort to something so low.
He wanted Micah to choose to tell him. The same way Micah had chosen him, over and over again, across lives Clyde could barely comprehend. For now….Micah's explanations were perfunctory at best.
Most importantly, Micah hadn't blamed him. Had not held him accountable for failing to help him. For always arrive too late.
That alone was enough. Clyde held him tighter.
Time passed in silence.
Then Micah unlocked his phone and scrolled through his contacts absently, thumb slowing when he reached Darcy's name.
