Darcy kept sneaking glances at Micah, who walked quietly beside him. Darcy shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. He was unsure what to say next. He hadn't really expected Micah to answer. Honestly, he thought Micah would ignore the call, or at the very least yell at him. But instead, Micah had picked up. Calmly. No sharp edge in his voice. No bitterness.
Darcy didn't know if that made things better or worse.
What had happened in between? Should he be happy that Micah had forgiven him so quickly? Or was it just an act?
Micah looked the same as always. Relaxed expression, even pace, no hint of anger on his face. It was like their argument earlier hadn't even happened. Like all the tension, the pain Darcy had seen in his eyes back then… had just been his imagination.
Still, the guilt in Darcy's chest wouldn't let go. He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
