Micah didn't know how he got into Darcy's neighbourhood. Everything felt like a blur. In his panic, he kept urging the taxi driver to go faster, telling him to take every possible shortcut. When they finally arrived, Micah shoved a wad of cash into the driver's hand, far more than the fare. He barely noticed the man's startled thanks as he jumped out of the car.
Reaching the apartment complex, he pulled out his phone and hit call.
Darcy picked up on the second ring. "Micah?"
"I'm outside," Micah said shortly. "Which floor?"
"Third," Darcy replied.
Without another word, Micah slipped the phone into his pocket and headed in. His shoes clacked against the concrete steps as he climbed them two at a time. By the time he reached the third floor, sweat clung to his forehead, and his shirt stuck to his back.
