Page 179 of The Protective Gryphen

“Too many take their life and it’s a mistake. Don’t make me come back for your funeral.”

“No one would be there.”

He put his hand on his shoulder.

“We’re brothers. You fought and I fought. I would be there. Don’t make Ian and me come here for that.”

He closed his hand around the Cross.

“We need to go downstairs.”

He stopped him.

“Promise me.”

He stared into his eyes.

“I promise I’ll be here for your wedding. That’s what I can give ya. Nothing more, and nothing less.”

He’d take it.

“Can we get you down there now? We have less than ten minutes, and then, I have to get back up here and talk Ian into formal wear.”

“We can.”

Out of the blue, he hugged the man.

When he did, at first he was tense, and then, he let the man hug him.

“You’ve got this. You’re strong.”

Graham didn’t believe he was, but that was neither here nor there.

“Thank you. I appreciate this,” he said, setting him free.

Graham composed himself.

“Just let me handle the rest. You be ready to play Lord of the manor, and I’ll get your man down there in dress attire.”

“Not his kilt.”

“Not his kilt,” he repeated.

Cleaning up, they tucked everything away and hustled down the stairs.

They had ten minutes.

“Do you want drinks?” he asked. “I got out some wine. I can get whiskey.”

He wanted just wine.

Since he was going to try alcohol tonight for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to go too hard.

Drunk was good.

Hungover was bad.

“Wine works.”

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