Chapter 84: From Couch Crusty to City Baddie
The next morning, Micah woke with a groan, his entire body aching as though he had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler truck. His neck was stiff, his back sore, and his limbs refused to move without protest. The blanket had slid halfway off the couch during the night and was now lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. His clothes had ridden up at the waist, exposing his back to the chilly air from the old AC unit, which was still wheezing in the corner. No wonder he felt like a piece of wood.
He dragged a hand over his face and slowly pushed himself upright, frowning.
He looked like a scarecrow, hair sticking up at odd angles, lips dry, eyes puffy with sleep.
When Darcy turned, this was what he saw.
"Oh, you’re up." Darcy’s voice echoed behind him.
Micah tilted his head stiffly, his eyes landed on Darcy, who was standing in the kitchen, dressed in a plain grey t-shirt and dark jeans, stirring something in a big pot.
"Morning," Micah mumbled, his voice hoarse.
Darcy put the lid on the pot. "I am going to the hospital. Are you coming with me?"
Micah froze. The question caught him off guard.
It was the perfect chance to see Flora, his biological mother. But then again, he feared how he might react. What if he couldn’t handle it? What if he saw her holding Darcy’s hand or fussing over him like a mother should? Would that make him feel jealous? Or worse, what if she treated Darcy coldly? Would he get angry?
What if she looked at him and... recognised him? Would she know? Would she feel something? And if she didn’t? Would he feel disappointed?