Micah woke up before Clyde. The faint afternoon light spilled across the heavy curtains, leaving a golden strip on the floor. For a moment, he just lay there, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of Clyde's bare chest. His hair had fallen messily over his forehead, making him look younger, softer. The blanket had slipped halfway down Clyde's body, probably his own restless doing. Micah hesitated, then reached over and carefully tugged the blanket up, draping it over Clyde's shoulder so the man wouldn't catch a cold.
He lingered a moment longer, studying the peaceful expression Clyde wore in sleep. It seemed the man had been too exhausted. Well, yesterday was an eventful day, with all the drama they had, Clyde probably could not sleep soundly.
