Micah had slept through the afternoon and woke up starving. Something smelled really delicious. Warm, sweet, homey. His stomach growled loudly.
Still half asleep, Micah rolled out of bed, dragging his feet across the floor as he left his room. He scratched his messy hair and yawned so wide his jaw cracked.
As he walked into the kitchen, he almost bumped his shoulder into the wall.
Rubbing his eyes, he adjusted his glasses on his face. His eyes landed on the counter. A small round cake sat there. It was a little uneven on the sides, but adorable. A few strawberries had been placed nearly on the top, nestled in whipped cream. Not a masterpiece. But it looked homemade.
His brain lagged for a second before it clicked. Turning his head, he spotted Darcy, standing near the stove, quietly spooning rice into bowls.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked hoarsely, his voice rough from sleep.
