Page 127 of The Protective Gryphen

“He has PTSD. He’s been broken so others can sleep at night, and your son, who likely never served a day in his life has the audacity to make him feel like a killer? Oh, well, there’s going to be a murder, but I’m going to jail for it!”

The older man put his hand on his shoulder.

“I understand. I fought for my country. I understand how he feels. Let me make this right. We got his measurements. Let me take care of a kilt for him.”

Tears filled Ian’s eyes.

“He has more medals than should be legal. He has purple hearts and stars he wears on his chest,” he said, pulling out this phone to pull up the picture he took of Gryphen’s blues in a box at The Fort.

The older man looked.

“He was a brave soldier, and I respect his service, so I have a different pin and brooch for him,” he said.

The older man disappeared, and when he came back, he opened up a box.

“I received this after I served. I’d love it if you’d give them to him. From one soldier to another. I can’t leave it for my son since he is closeminded.”

Ian closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry I yelled at your son.”

“Oh, Laddie, he doesn’t understand. His skin needs to get thicker. You were kinder than I was. I would have boxed his ears.”

Ian took the pin and brooch.

“Thank you for these. Can you get his kilt done, and mine too as quickly as possible. I’m going to make sure he’s okay. He needs me to make sure he’s okay.”

The older man nodded.

“I can do that for you.”

Good.

Because Gryphen needed him.

He needed someone.

* * * The Ravensmire Chronicles * * *

Outside

By The Fountain

When he saw Gryphen charge out of the kilt shop, Graham was curious as to where Ian was, so he headed his way. He’d just loaded the sled and skates into the back of his car, and was going to head to the castle.

As soon as he mentioned they were for guests at the castle, everyone knew who.

Word traveled fast.

Apparently, the two Americans had gotten some attention.

Now, the man was alone, and he looked miserable. In fact, he looked like he was having a panic attack.

“Hey,” Graham said, sitting beside him on the bench. “Are you okay?” he asked.

He shook his head.

“Anxiety,” he whispered, trying to breathe.

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