Chapter 74: The Way He Worried
Micah didn’t know how he got into Darcy’s neighbourhood. Everything felt like a blur. In his panic, he kept urging the taxi driver to go faster, telling him to take every possible shortcut. When they finally arrived, Micah shoved a wad of cash into the driver’s hand, far more than the fare. He barely noticed the man’s startled thanks as he jumped out of the car.
Reaching the apartment complex, he pulled out his phone and hit call.
Darcy picked up on the second ring. "Micah?"
"I’m outside," Micah said shortly. "Which floor?"
"Third," Darcy replied.
Without another word, Micah slipped the phone into his pocket and headed in. His shoes clacked against the concrete steps as he climbed them two at a time. By the time he reached the third floor, sweat clung to his forehead, and his shirt stuck to his back.
The door was already ajar. Darcy stood in the doorway, arms loosely folded, a strange mix of guilt and something else flickering in his eyes. When he saw Micah, dishevelled, flushed, panting slightly, his breath caught.
He came. Without hesitation.
He knew the last time was not a fluke. Yeah...Micah deeply cared about him. A sense of warmth and satisfaction settled in his chest.
"What’s going on?!" Micah asked at once, his voice low but urgent, eyes darting past Darcy’s shoulder. "Is your Mum...?"
He stopped. Inside the apartment stood a woman, tall and elegant, dressed in designer clothes. Her brown hair was pinned back in a low bun, and her poise screamed classiness. She turned her head slightly, her brown eyes locked with Micah’s.