Chapter 197: Before He Shuts Me Out
Clyde drove with the pace of a turtle, hands steady on the steering wheel as the afternoon sun spread past the windshield. His eyes kept flicking to the passenger seat where Micah sat slumped against the door, still fast asleep. The coat wrapped around him was pressed against his chin, his hand clutching it tightly, and his face, usually full of sass and sharp remarks, looked calm and peaceful. Clyde didn’t dare turn on the radio or even touch the gas pedal. He didn’t want to risk waking the boy.
When they finally arrived at his building, Clyde pulled into the underground parking space and switched off the engine. He unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out. He rounded the car slowly and opened the passenger door with care. Clyde hesitated for a second, then crouched down. He unbuckled Micah’s seatbelt.
Micah didn’t stir, only let out a soft sigh and curled a little more into the coat.
"Still out cold," Clyde murmured under his breath.
He gently slipped an arm under Micah’s back and the other beneath his knees. With slow movements, he lifted him out of the seat, holding him close. Micah’s head rolled slightly against Clyde’s shoulder, a few curls tickling his neck. Clyde adjusted his hold, careful not to shake him too much. The boy was warm and far too light. The walk to the elevator was quiet, the only sound was the click of Clyde’s shoes against the tiled floor. Once upstairs, he unlocked his door with one hand, nudging it open with his foot.
It creaked softly. He stepped inside and walked straight to the guest bedroom. Clyde lowered Micah onto the bed gently, making sure the boy’s head landed squarely on the pillow. Micah’s brow twitched a little, but he didn’t wake up. Just rolled his head slightly to the side, lips parting.
Clyde crouched again and reached for Micah’s glasses. He folded them and set them neatly on the nightstand. Then he removed Micah’s shoes one at a time, placing them near the foot of the bed. Finally, with some hesitation, he slipped the boy’s blazer off his shoulders and laid it over the back of a chair. Micah shifted once but remained asleep.
Clyde stood there for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed, eyes never leaving Micah’s face.
His gaze travelled slowly across Micah’s face. Those long, curled lashes resting against pale cheeks, the small crease between his brows, his straight nose, and those lips that were usually pressed into a smirk or a frown. Clyde let his eyes linger, memorising each feature like he wouldn’t get another chance.