It was the same one that he’d always worn, and it reminded him of their three years together.
On the base.
Off the base.
And in the memories.
He remembered it from when they made love and for all of the times where he carried him to their bed from the couch when he’d fallen asleep as they watched a movie together.
It felt like just yesterday, but Michael knew that it wasn’t.
It felt like eons, instead.
The man was out cold, and he doubted it was from the hit to his neck that put him out, so he couldn’t hurt himself.
No.
That should have only lasted a short period.
Instead, someone, his once-lover, was lost in the booze.
Been there.
Done that.
If he had a dollar for all of the times that he’d drank himself stupid because of this man, he would likely have as much money in his bank account from that.
For someone who was suffering, that was never a good thing, and he, too, was familiar with it.
Yeah, he’d done himself dirty plenty of times wallowing in his self-pity over the man who had broken his heart.
Yeah, he was a pro.
At beating himself down.
While he didn’t want to hold this man, or feel anything but anger for him, he did.
And that rattled him.
It was hard to let the past go, and for Michael, he’d believed he had.
But clearly, that was a lie.
Because here he was, being pulled back in, and all because his fiancé broke him.
His heart was a mess.
How was he going to keep it safe when he couldn’t go home because of Riley, and he couldn’t stay here because of Graham?
What he wanted to do was run, but what he’d planned on doing was facing the demons.
He was out of places to hide.
Once in the kitchen, he held Graham as he waited for a location to take him. This was as far as he’d gotten when he’d walked in before, and he didn’t know the inside of Callen and Chris’s gift to their wife.
“Help a guy out. Which direction?” he asked.
Graham was getting damn heavy, and his arm was already battered and bruised from trying to stop him from dying.
