Micah brushed both of his hands over the front of his shirt and down the sides of his pants as he stepped away from the hallway. The motion was unnecessary. There was no dust, no wrinkles, yet he still did it, as if smoothing invisible creases could erase the evidence of what had just happened.
A moment ago he had been kicking the shit out of Leo. Well… that might be a slightly dramatic description. But berating him relentlessly? Yes. Absolutely.
Micah cleared his throat and walked toward the living room, trying to look calm and composed, as though he had merely taken a short walk down the hall instead of disciplining someone else's son like an angry older brother.
The moment he stepped into the living room, every sound seemed to vanish. Then every head turned toward him. Micah froze for half a second. The sensation was like déjà vu; twenty minutes ago he had stood here under the same gazes.
