Chapter 42

“Micah…are you sure? I need to know you are confident about what you want.”

Nodding, Micah edged closer. Though their coats prevented the contact Jefferson craved, Micah still stood near enough for the gentle pressure of his body to suffuse Jefferson’s with heat contrary to the winter winds. He was even close enough for Jefferson to finally see the color in his eyes, though the pupils dwarfed the clear irises.

“There is much that still confuses me,” Micah confessed. “But there is one answer I have found the utmost satisfaction with—”

“Mr. Yardley!”

The stern voice of Simonsen cut through the dark path upon which they stood. Micah jumped away from Jefferson as if burned, promptly shoving his gloved hands into his pockets to hide them, as both men turned to face the professor standing near the entrance.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Micah said, his volume a trifle too loud. “I only needed to get some fresh air.”