“And how do you feel now?” he asked.
Graham shrugged.
“Scared. I’m afraid this is a dream, and I’m going to wake up and you were never here. When I heard you scream, and I knew you were in the lake, I was terrified.”
Oh, well, he knew that feeling.
He’d been scared too.
“When I ran down there, and saw the bubbles, and then none…”
Michael ran his hand up and down the man’s abs as he leaned against him.
“If you didn’t survive, I was dying with you,” he admitted. “I can’t do this without you. I’ve tried, and I’m at the point that I don’t want to be here. Letting you walk away was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
Michael was curious.
“In your letters, you said you looked for me.”
Because a picture, or in this case, an email, was worth ten thousand words…
He reached for his phone that was still on the nightstand, and opened his email. When he pulled one up, he handed it to D’Artangnan.
The man read it.
‘Mr. Lainey,
I wish I was contacting you with better news, but we haven’t been able to find D’Artangnan Graves. I know I told you that it should be easy with the complexity of his name, but we’ve not located him.
We tried to contact the military, and they’ve offered no assistance with any help in finding him.
It brings me sadness to say he might be dead. That is the ONLY possible reason we haven’t been able to find him. My colleagues are continuing with that avenue, but I want you to be prepared for the inevitable.
He might have passed.
Since he was a Marine, we’re reaching out to Arlington National Cemetery to see if he has a grave there. If you’d like, and we do find him there, we can take an engraving of his stone to send it to you. One of my associates will be walking the stones to see if we can find a name match that way. It’ll take a longer period of time, but it's our last option if Arlington won’t give us the information.
I wish there was more, but as far as we can tell, D’Artangnan Graves is no longer of this earth. I’m sorry, and if you need any more assistance, or you get more information, please let me know.
Yours,
David Wentworth
Private Investigator.’
He looked up, and Graham’s face said it all. In that moment, Michael knew. That was why he went over the edge so easily.
He’d been mourning his‘death’.
Oh, and Michael felt horrible that he’d not left breadcrumbs for the man to find him if he’d tried. A decent person would have, even if they’d moved on—considering how they’d ended it.
That anger had made him…cruel.
And that wasn’t the person he was, and he knew it. For that, he was sorry.
“That’s only one private investigator,” he said. “I paid a few. I had hope, until I didn’t. Then, I didn’t want to live anymore, but I was a coward. I couldn’t just do it to myself—until I saw you last night, and you walked out again. In that moment, I at least knew you were okay, and I could finally let go. I could finally have peace. I knew I’d never get you back, but I was okay with that. I lost us, and this was on me. I just wanted to know you were alive, safe, and happy.”
He held him.
