Chapter 278: When the Forest Went Silent(part 1)
Clyde urged his horse forward, the hooves pounding against the dirt path as he followed the trail Micah had taken through the trees. Branches whipped past on either side, swaying with the wind, but Clyde’s gaze didn’t waver, locked into the fading silhouette ahead.
Clyde took several deep breaths, struggling to control the chaos in his chest. Beads of sweat dropped down, slipping into his eyes. He carelessly wiped it with his sleeve, never taking his eyes off that blurry silhouette.
He thought today he had totally lost it. First at the hospital, then again with a string of poor decisions and misjudgments toward Micah. What was wrong with him?
He was on the edge, wired with a frantic energy he couldn’t shake. He ran his thumb over the wooden prayer beads at his wrist, but even they couldn’t calm the storm inside him. He needed to talk to Micah. To tell him he didn’t care about anything else except Micah himself.
Then, there. Just up ahead, Micah’s figure came into full view, his shirt clinging damply to his back, hair still dripping. The boy had taken off fast, too fast, as if trying to outrun not just Clyde, but his own frustration, confusion, and disappointment.
"Micah!" Clyde shouted, anxious. "Slow down."
The boy jolted at the sudden call. He tightened his hold on the horse, making it startled too. The horse shifted sideways as they entered a thicker patch of low-hanging branches.
"Hey! Watch out!" Clyde yelled again, panic rising in his throat.
Micah ducked at the last second, but a branch still scraped his shoulder. He wobbled in the saddle, clutching the reins with white-knuckled hands as the horse stumbled over a root before finally coming to a shaky halt a few meters ahead.
Clyde’s heart thudded in his chest violently. He didn’t wait for the horses to stop. He swung his leg over and hit the ground running, his boots crashing into the dry leaves as he rushed toward him. "Micah!"
Micah sat frozen, one hand still gripping the reins, the other pressed to his shoulder. His eyes were wide, stunned, but he didn’t look hurt.
Clyde reached him and grabbed him by the waist, lifting him down from the saddle without a second thought. "Are you okay?" he blurted out, voice rushed and uneven, rarely, if ever, did he sound this breathless. "That was dangerous! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled like that, I didn’t think... damn it, are you hurt?"
Clyde rambled for the first time in his life. His hands moved instinctively, gently tugging the collar aside to examine Micah’s shoulder. There was an abrasion wound on the surface, with no bleeding.
Next, his trembling hands moved up, brushing Micah’s hair aside, tilting his chin up, scanning his face. "Were you frightened? Did the branch hit your face? Let me see."
Micah blinked, slightly breathless, not from the riding, but from the sheer rush of Clyde’s concern. He raised his hands slowly, warm palms settling over Clyde’s large ones, still pressed to his cheeks. "I’m okay," he said softly. "Nothing happened."
But Clyde wasn’t convinced. He cupped Micah’s face gently, turning it left, then right. He let out a slow breath when he confirmed for himself there was no injury on his face.
Thank god.
Their eyes met. And for a moment, the forest went silent. The wind paused. The birds quieted.
Clyde’s heart beat harder than it had on the ride over.
His lips parted. "Micah... about earlier. When you asked me that question..." He faltered. The words wouldn’t come easily. He swallowed and tried again, more slowly this time. "It’s not what you think. I don’t care if you are the Ramsy heir. Or not. It doesn’t matter to me," Clyde said, voice steady now. "And Emile, I have seen him a couple of times a year at best. We are not that close. So...don’t think I’ve done all of that because of him..."
He leaned down slightly, brushing a damp strand of hair from Micah’s temple. "I am not just putting up with you, Micah. I like being near you." His hand lingered. "Spending time with you... It’s changed something in me. You’re a bright, energetic boy, and yeah, reckless as hell. But you revived me from my dead world. Everything feels different now. Better."
Micah stood motionless, eyes glued to the man before him.
He wanted to lean forward. To melt into those warm hands and the safety they promised. Clyde’s presence had always felt like an anchor in the chaos of his life. He was strong, steady, unshakable. He longed for that anchor more than anything.
But Micah hesitated, paralysed by fear. Not of Clyde himself, but of what his words might actually mean.
What if Clyde didn’t feel the same?
What if Micah had misunderstood, as he had never experienced it, reading too much into a touch, a glance, a soft voice meant only as kindness? What if he had built up something in his mind that was never real? The idea made his chest tighten until he could barely breathe.
For a moment, he pictured a future without Clyde, tried to imagine days where this warmth, this presence, this safety no longer existed at his side.
The pain was immediate and deadly. His heart squeezed so hard that he wanted to die.
No, he couldn’t risk it. It was better not to push it.
What if he crossed that line, said something wrong, and Clyde looked at him with pity? Or worse, with confusion, discomfort?
What if Clyde said he didn’t see him that way?
He would lose him. Maybe not all at once, but slowly, drifting apart, wordless and irreversible.
And Micah couldn’t bear that. Clyde meant too much to him. Not because of his name or the Du Pont power behind it. Micah couldn’t care less about that now. Even before he had known who Clyde truly was, even before all that, Micah had already felt something new and fragile bloom in his heart. Clyde had made him feel safe in a way no status or title ever could. He was always there when he needed help. Quiet but warm.
And that was exactly why he couldn’t risk destroying it.