In the middle of the hospital hallway, Micah forced his shoulders to straighten, trying to look less like someone Clyde had just dragged through the hospital. His voice came out almost steady. "I'm okay now."
Clyde stopped mid-stride. His hand was still on Micah's waist, warm and firm, as if he didn't trust him not to sway again. He studied Micah's face for a second, the way someone examines a fragile object they aren't sure how to hold. Only after confirming Micah wasn't about to collapse did he slowly withdraw his hands. "Why were you there?" Clyde asked quietly, a subtle accusation beneath the worry in his voice.
