Micah stared down at the screen of his phone as if it were counting down to a bomb about to explode in his hands. His face turned pale, his jaw stiff, and the corner of his eye twitched. His thumb hovered over the answer button, frozen, like even the slightest pressure would blow his entire night apart.
Darcy noticed the sudden stiffness in Micah's posture but didn't question it. Instead, he stood and quietly began clearing the leftovers, giving Micah space.
Micah dragged in a breath, then pushed himself up from the chair with shoulders sagging so low it looked like someone had draped a pile of cement sacks over him. His feet shuffled against the floor, slow and heavy, each step toward his room feeling like he was walking through mud. From outside it seemed he was preparing himself to go straight into a blazing fire, proving his innocence. But in truth, he was just going into his room to answer his mother's phone call.
