Clyde looked down at her, his fingers softly combing through her hair or lightly rubbing at her back. His brows furrowed as he waited for Scotty to tell him what to do. Scotty was being obstinate; the boy had to grow up sometime, didn't he? Why the hell Scotty decided to pick now to let him do so...
"No, this isn't my fault." That was the truth. Or he hoped it was. "I'm not good at this. Hiding stuff I'm good at, but I don't want to hide this from you. I don't want secrets from you, Tildie."
He stepped away, letting her go. He looked around the living room, not sure what he was looking for. His hands needed something to do. He grabbed some puzzle. He'd figured it out a long time ago, but the locking mechanisms gave him something to work on, to occupy his hands.