Chapter 282: The Hair Dryer Was Just the Beginning
Micah stepped out of the bathroom, finding Clyde standing in the centre of the room.
"Want me to dry your hair?" Clyde asked, raising the hair dryer in his hand.
Micah blinked, caught off guard. His anger and embarrassment from earlier melted away instantly. He nodded slowly.
Clyde pointed at a couch. "Sit here then."
Micah obeyed, trying to keep his movement natural. He sat down and let the man work his magic. The last time this happened, he had been at Clyde’s place, still uncertain, still guarded. But even then, he man’s gentle touch had been steady, gentle, like he was handling something fragile.
This time wasn’t any different. The warm air hummed softly. Clyde patiently moved the hair dryer through Micah’s damp strands, pausing now and then to run a hand through his hair, smoothing it down. His fingers were careful, not hesitant, as if memorising the texture of Micah’s silver hair.
Micah closed his eyes and enjoyed the touch. The fatigue finally caught up to him, and he drifted to sleep.
Clyde switched off the hair dryer and looked down. The boy was fast asleep, his head slightly tilted, mouth parted.
His expression softened. He stepped in front of Micah and gently lifted him into his arms. He carried him to a bed and pulled a blanket over him. He lingered there for a moment before leaving the room.
Less than an hour later, Micah woke up from hunger. He blinked, then looked around. The room was empty. No Clyde.
He rubbed his eyes, then paused, suddenly remembering something.
His glasses.
He groaned and slapped a palm to his forehead. "Shit... I left them in the range."
There was no helping it. With a resigned sigh, Micah got out of bed and made his way to the door. His legs ached with every step, but he moved forward anyway.
Micah descended the stairs slowly, wincing with every step. Each movement tugged at sore muscles in his thighs. His hand brushed along the railing for support, though he tried to appear casual, just in case someone saw him. Earlier, he had been too distracted by Clyde, too caught up in the strange, flattery heat in his chest to notice how much it hurt. But now?
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. "It hurts like hell."
His legs felt like jelly. Every time he bent his knees, a dull ache radiated through them, punishing him for the impulsive horse race and the waterfall leap afterwards. He pressed his lips together and grimaced.
The moment he reached the front door, a voice rang out from the kitchen.
"Where are you going? Lunch will be ready soon." Lin Heye’s tone was brisk but not unkind.
Micah flinched, shoulder tensing before twisting to glance at the kitchen. His heart was still in his throat, worried about how to face others after Clyde escorted him upstairs.
But it was just Lin Heye. No one else. Thankfully.
And the man behaved as usual, so Micah figured out he had not seen him with Clyde.
"Ah, I forgot my glasses at the range," Micah replied, forcing a casual smile.
Lin Heye wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and called out without looking. "Okay. Come back soon."
"Sure," Micah replied quickly, already turning to leave. Once outside, he found one of the carts parked nearby, slipped into the driver’s seat and drove to the range.
Back inside, Lin Heye watched the door swing shut and waited until the faint sound of the cart wheels disappeared.
"The coast is clear. You can come out now."
A quiet shuffle followed. Dylon straightened up from behind the counter as he lifted Mason by the elbow. Then he took his other hand away from Mason’s mouth.
"Seriously, why do we have to do this crap?" Mason grumbled.
"Didn’t you see how red Micah’s face was when they came in earlier? And the look Clyde gave us?" Lin Heye shot him a sharp look. "I don’t want to die. If you want Clyde to rip you apart and throw the pieces to the horses, go right ahead."
Dylon hopped up onto the counter, legs swinging like a bored kid, his smirk full of mischief. "So, you think they are officially a couple now?"
"Probably." Lin Heye said, stirring the soup again, his voice matter-of-fact. "But until they say it themselves, we pretend we don’t know a damn thing. Got it?"
Dylon nodded and turned to Mason with an exaggerated frown. "This one won’t do it."
"Hey! What this one? I am standing right here." Mason said, rolling his eyes.
"Keep talking like that, and we will be gathering what’s left of you soon," Dylon smirked.
"Fine. I’ll hold back for today." Mason grumbled.
At that moment, footsteps echoed on the stairs. Clyde appeared at the top landing and stared down, dressed in a fresh black shirt and charcoal slacks, hair still damp from the shower. He looked left and right, eyes sharp.
Mason lifted his hand lazily and said, "Your sweetheart went to the range."
Lin Heye immediately turned to glare at him, wooden spoon still in hand. Dylon joined in the silent glare-off.
Mason shrugged. "What? It’s not like he is here to hear it."
Clyde walked toward them. "Why did he go there again?"
"He said he left his glasses behind." Lin Heye said, dropping shrimp into the pan.
Clyde’s brows drew together. He had taken a quick shower, expecting Micah to still be sleeping. He hadn’t expected Micah to be up, let alone walking around, especially not with those sore legs.
He took a step toward the door, intending to follow, but stopped short when it opened. Georgina entered first, wearing a cream blouse tucked into high-waisted slacks, her silk wavy black hair bouncing with every step.
"Hey, guys!" she called out cheerfully.
Behind her came Jacklin, tall and elegant in her navy coat, and Soha, quietly trailing behind, wheeling a small suitcase.
Soha was petite, with pale skin and a delicate frame. Her straight black hair fell to her waist, held back with a soft green jade clip. She wore a cashmere dress with high boots. Her brown eyes were wide and unreadable, the quiet sort that observed more than they spoke.
Lin Heye wiped his hands and rushed forward, his eyes landing immediately on the suitcase.
"What took you so long?" he said and went straight to Soha. "Let me help you."
He reached out and gently pried the small suitcase from Soha’s hand.
She blinked at him but gave a slight nod and let go.
"We stopped to take some pictures," Georgina replied, giving a bright grin. "Why? What’s going on?"
Her gaze swept across the living room, not just casually, but with intent. Clyde noticed the flicker in her eyes, the subtle scan.
And immediately, his head started to throb.
Of course, these people were trouble. The worst kind, too, the ones who smiled sweetly while reading your diary aloud in front of an audience.
He wanted to throw all of them out now that he and Micah had come to a mutual understanding, quiet, fragile, yet real feelings. What if one of them ran their mouth?
Micah was sensitive. Easily flustered. The moment someone teased him too far, he could lose it. And Clyde didn’t want to risk it.
Not to mention, Jacklin and the other two were here too. Micah had to be extra careful not to slip in front of them that he was Asena.
Clyde felt he acted rashly. He shouldn’t have invited his niece and nephews here, hoping Micah would catch on to his intentions, which he knew. That he accepted. That he was offering trust.
But now? It felt reckless.
Clyde shut his eyes. He had messed up. Big time.
He had let fear guide him. Fear of Micah slipping away, of another missed opportunity, of being too late again.
And now he was paying for it. Their fragile bonding could shatter at any moment.
He clenched his fists at his sides.
He might lose Micah before even having him for a day!