A few hours ago:
Darcy's heart had been pounding since the plane had taken off, but by the time it touched down, the urgency that had driven him here had begun to waver. His chest felt hollow. The need to rush to Micah, to confront him or simply see him, began to diminish, slowly at first, then completely dissolved until all that remained was fear.
Stepping out of the airport, the humid breeze rushed at him, slapping his face like an open hand, filling his lungs with warmth that only made his skin clammy. His body, chilled from the over-air-conditioned plane, tingled as the heat wrapped around him. He blinked against the dim light of the setting sun reflecting off the pavement, the sound of rolling luggage and distant car horns buzzing around him.
