Page 66 of Holding On to a Hero
“Hey, yourself. It’s so good to see you.” We pulled away from the curb as Will clicked the seat belt into place. I snaked my hand over the console between the seats.
“Where’s Cole? Shit! Fuck!” Will shouted and startled when I started petting his arm.
“Oh, my god! Did I hurt you? I sat up to peer at Will from between the seats. He was leaning forward, grimacing in pain, his eyes squished shut.
“Cole! Get down! We’re not even out of the airport yet!”
“Not important! Will is hurting! What happened, Will? What did I do?” I rubbed his shoulder and chest. He clutched my hand. Even though I was horrifically worried about him, I still felt a thrill at his touch. A band around my heart eased a little.
“It’s okay, Cole. Shit. You didn’t do anything. I jumped when I felt your hand, and my back kind of seized up. It’ll be okay in a few minutes.”
I looked at him doubtfully. His face was still scrunched up, and he was taking very measured breaths. I met Jason’s eyes in the rearview mirror and said, “Crap, Jason. I broke Will.”
* * *
Excerpt from transcript of interview with Stephanie Robington, mother of Sarah Robington, who was killed in the dock accident that injured William Graham:
Agent Wainwright: Ma’am, there’s been an attempt on the life of William Graham, and you were overheard in the past making threats against Mr. Graham’s life.
Robington: Oh, my God. That poor man. Is he okay?
Agent Wainwright: He’s fine now, but he was gravely injured, ma’am. Can you please tell me where you were on Thursday, October seventh, as well as last Friday evening and if anyone can verify your whereabouts?
Robington: Oh! I hope he’s going to be all right. He probably hates the hospital after his other injuries. And I know I didn’t make it any easier on him. Um, right. Last Friday night I was home alone, but every Thursday morning I volunteer at the LGBT youth center on Holland Drive. I’m there Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays every week. You can check with the volunteer coordinator, Rafael Santana.
Agent Wainwright: Thank you, ma’am. Have you been volunteering there long?
Robington: About six or seven months. I feel so awful about what I said to Mr. Graham after the accident. I was just so angry, you know?. At everyone and everything. My daughter was gone and I wanted to blame someone. Mr. Graham was so brave, rescuing Desiree and Bianca. It didn’t help that they were ungrateful, trying to be the center of attention. I couldn’t understand why Sarah would be dead and those bitches – sorry – were alive. I blamed Mr. Graham for not rescuing my daughter instead. My son made me go to therapy and I have to say, it was eye-opening. I was finally able to see I was using my anger at Mr. Graham to avoid facing my grief. It took me a while, but I’ve moved through it. Anyway, that was probably more than you wanted to know. My Sarah was always one to volunteer, so I thought I would do that in her memory. I chose the youth center since I found out Mr. Graham was gay, and I wanted to, I don’t know, apologize somehow.
Agent Wainwright: That’s a nice thought, ma’am. I’m sure Mr. Graham would appreciate it.
Robington: Well, I wanted to apologize to him in person, but he moved out of town. I even tracked down his parents to see if they’d give me his address. Have you talked to those people? My God. Who throws away their child like that? What I wouldn’t give – sorry.
Agent Wainwright: Take your time.
Robington: Yes, sorry. Anyway, after speaking to Mr. Graham’s so-called parents I knew I wanted to help kids like Mr. Graham, whose parents were assholes and kicked them out. The stories of what those poor children go through just break my heart. Can you at least tell me what city Mr. Graham is living in now?
Agent Wainwright: I’m sorry, ma’am, but since his life is in danger I can’t give out any information like that.
Robington: I understand. If you do speak to him, could you please let him know that I’m so sorry for what I said to him, and that it was just the grief talking?
Agent Wainwright: If I have the chance to speak to him, I will certainly try to do so.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jason
About five miles down the highway Will finally was able to sit up. Even in the dim interior of the SUV I could tell he was still pale, and his mouth had a pinched look to it. I’d been planning to drive until midnight, but it looked like plans needed to change.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m feeling better now. I didn’t mean to ruin our reunion.”
“Fuck, Will, you didn’t ruin anything.” Cole was still leaning forward between the front seats. I’d given up trying to get him to get back down and cover up again, but at least he was wearing sunglasses. “Brian didn’t go into many details, but it sounded like you had a pretty bad night last night. Between that and getting shot in the shoulder, it’s no wonder your back is complaining.”
“I guess. But it’s totally worth it since I’m getting to see you two.” I reached over and rubbed Will’s thigh. When he rested his free hand on mine I clutched it like a lifeline.
“Damn, Will.” I couldn’t keep the huskiness out of my voice. “You have no idea how much we’ve missed you.” I glanced over at him and he gave me a watery smile.
“Yeah?” Will’s voice wasn’t too steady either. “I wasn’t sure…. I mean, it’s been so long.”
