Chapter 260: Three At the Table
Darcy woke up with a jolt, a sharp pain shooting through his stomach like a knife slicing from the inside. He groaned, clutching his middle, his brows knitting tightly together. The pressure in his gut twisted violently.
He barely had time to react before stumbling out of bed, his legs tangling in the blanket as he staggered toward the bathroom.
The second he reached the toilet, he collapsed to his knees and retched, his fingers clutching the rim with white-knuckled tension. The sound of vomiting echoed off the tiled walls.
His entire body trembled, cold sweat running down the back of his neck. After a few moments, the spasms stopped. He stayed there, panting, arms limp, head lowered.
He sat on the bathroom floor, feeling dazed. The pain dulled as quickly as it had come, like it had never been there in the first place.
He wiped his mouth and tried to get up. His movements were sluggish. Darcy forced himself to stand, grabbing the edge of the sink for support. His reflection stared back at him in the mirror, messy black hair, damp with sweat, pale cheeks, eyes dark with the fog of something forgotten. He couldn’t recall the nightmare exactly, but the heaviness in his chest lingered.
He sighed and pushed his dark hair away from his forehead.
He turned on the tap and splashed cold water onto his face. He rinsed his mouth, wiped his face with a towel.
Back in the bedroom, he folded the blanket neatly, tidied the pillows, and stared at the pyjamas he was wearing.
He hesitated. No, he wouldn’t wear those in front of Clyde. He appeared childish.
He quickly put on the pantsuit with the black shirt. The only outfit he had.
When he stepped out of the room, the hallway was quiet. He walked toward the kitchen, thinking maybe he could make something light for Micah, a hangover soup, something warm and easy to digest.