Chapter Four #6
“How did two ghosts help you pull Graham up from his freefall?”
Okay, he had him there.
“Point made.”
Gryphen went there.
“My dude, we’re running out of time. Elizabeth is heading there for my wedding in a few months. She’s going to shit her britches on this one. We’re now trying to save Callen and Chris from divorce at this point. She’ll McLoseIt. Get caught up. ASAP.”
Oh, he didn’t doubt it.
Not.
At.
All.
“See you then, my friend. Oh, and thanks for having my back,” Michael said.
He was to the point.
“Maybe let Graham have your back too. Maybe give him a chance for redemption. We all deserve a second chance,” he stated. “Besides, he’s right there, Michael.”
He laughed at that because if he didn’t, he’d weep. His heart was already sympathizing, and his body and brain was remembering the best man he’d ever been with in his whole life.
It was the one he gave his heart to, and never got it back.
So, to avoid it, he hung up the phone.
Why?
He didn’t know if he could handle trusting the man, if there was even a slight chance that he was going to blow his world out of the water.
AGAIN.
Instead of thinking about that, he took the brown leather book, and he headed toward the kitchen to be where there was brIGHT light, and no one could sneak up on him.
What he needed was a cup of coffee.
As he made a pot, knowing it was going to be a long night, he jogged up the stairs, again, to the suite, and peeked inside to check on the man.
Still, Graham hadn’t moved.
He was out cold and that was probably for the best.
He didn’t need to play ‘find the ex around the haunted castle in the dark’ as the evening’s plans. There was enough on his plate.
When he reached the kitchen, the coffee was made, and he poured it into a cup and sat down at the island.
That’s when he saw it.
On the counter, sitting on a very plain box was his Purple Heart.
Oh, and that caught him off guard in ways he couldn’t explain.
What the hell?
He’d not put that there.
And he knew for a fact that Graham had dropped it. Michael had watched as it fell from his hand, tumbling into the abyss.
There was no way it could be back from that tumble down the cliff IN THE DARK.
That meant one thing.
This had to be another ghostly intervention.
While he was likely going to regret what he was about to do, he went there.
“Duncan and Ciarán, did you retrieve the pin?” he asked, and then held his breath to see what would happen.
That’s when it did.
The Purple Heart fell off of the box, and slid toward him. It happened so fast, Michael actually jumped—and went for a sidearm—that he didn’t have.
Oh, it was a bad time to feel this vulnerable.
All around him, there was a chill that went down his back, almost like someone was right there, staring over his shoulder.
And he didn’t turn around.
No.
Freaking.
Way.
Michael was almost six foot seven, and there was no freaking way someone bigger than him was breathing on his neck.
In his head, he began praying.
Just.
In.
Case.
Oh, he was brave, but he wasn’t fuck around with a dead set of ghosts, brave. That was a whole other set of crazy in his book.
Yeah, that was out of his wheelhouse.
As he picked up the pin, he was ignoring the box that it had been sitting on.
Well, trying to.
That was until it suddenly moved, too, making him focus on it. The box slid closer to him, and he actually jumped all over again.
It flew off the counter and he managed to catch it in his hands before it fell.
What?
The?
Fuck?
Did that box just slide across a counter and to him like something unseen was moving it?
Like the pin?
Oh, this was not his wheelhouse at all. At this point, he was going to be calling Finn to get his ass back here to keep him company, and not because of the man upstairs.
Because of the dead.
As he stood there, Michael’s heart was pounding in his chest, erratically.
And he wanted to make sure it wasn’t whatever was malevolent. He could probably learn to adjust to the two dead men, but some evil spirit?
Nuh-uh.
“Duncan?” he asked, not sure what made him say the man’s name.
Then, he waited.
Nothing.
“Ciarán?” he inquired, giving that ghost the same amount of time to answer.
When he looked around, the place was empty, and that didn’t help the situation out at all.
He still had the willies, and the last thing he wanted was to be freaking out.
But he was.
Taking a deep breath, it was crystal clear that the dead wanted him to open that box.
ASAP.
Well, when in Rome…
Why not fuck around and find out?
Yeah, he had to be all kinds of stupid to be here doing this. The whole situation told him he was going to be sorry about all of this.
Call it a hunch.
Lifting the lid to the box, he saw inside there were envelopes. They were neatly placed in there, and that made him curious.
Did Graham write something he needed seen in case he was no longer here?
Picking them up, he saw something written in the corner of each one.
It was the same date but one for every year.
‘January twenty-eighth.’
As soon as he saw that date, he knew what it was.
That was the date that he walked out on Graham all of those years ago.
Seven and a half years ago to be exact.
That was the date that he’d signed the paperwork to become an Archangel, but hadn’t given him any information on why he needed to leave Scotland.
He thought he’d understand, but he hadn’t.
It was to be his husband.
His partner.
His everything.
Now, he had envelopes with that date on them, sitting right in front of him, beneath his ‘LOST’ Purple Heart, and in a box that had moved by itself.
Well, shit.
What was this?
It was official.
Michael was freaking the fuck out.