Page 102 of Dead Serious: Case 3 Mr Bruce Reyes

“But I don’t understand,” I say quietly. “If you really didn’t know Bruce was buried at the sports grounds, why did you keep it all locked up and reject all those offers to buy it?”

“Because I couldn’t bear the thought of them razing the place to the ground. For me, it was filled with so much pain but also so much joy. It was where we first met, where we fell in love, where we stole our first few kisses until we started sneaking out and meeting in hotels. I kept it preserved exactly how it was because I never figured out how to let him go.”

“Jack,” I whisper sadly. “It wasn’t your fault.” I look up and see Dusty help Bruce to Jack’s bedside. “Bruce doesn’t blame you,” I tell Jack, keeping my eyes locked on Bruce.

I can hear Jack’s breathing worsen, and turning my attention back to him, I grasp the oxygen mask gently and lift it to his face, but his dry hand stops me.

“Will you stay with me… for a while?” he asks, his voice scarcely more than an exhausted whisper.

“Of course I will,” I promise him.

“Feels better,” he murmurs, his eyes closing, “that someone knows the truth.”

“Rest now, Jack.” I place the mask over his mouth and nose, carefully hooking the elastic behind his ears comfortably. “I’ll be right here with you.”

I hear Danny awkwardly pull up another chair to sit beside me without a word of complaint. He knows that I’m not going to leave the brittle man’s side.

Bruce leans forward and places his hand over Jack’s, and I hear Jack sigh, almost as if every coiled muscle in his body is finally relaxing. For the next ten minutes, we sit in silence, keeping a quiet vigil. After fifteen minutes, I notice the change in Jack’s breathing. It’s skipping every other breath.

I take Jack’s hand gently in mine and look up, casting a quick look at Dusty, who just looks sad, and I know how selfless she’s being. It’s a testament to how deeply she feels for Bruce that she can stand there and support him, putting his needs first even though it’s hurting her to see him with the man he had been so in love with. Sending her a look of understanding, I turn my attention to Bruce.

“It won’t be long now,” I tell him softly.

And it isn’t. Jack Miller takes his last breath with me holding his hand and Bruce by his side, supported by Dusty.

I reach up and feel for his pulse, then turn to Danny and shake my head.

“I’ll go and find someone.” He grips my shoulder and gives it a little squeeze before pushing himself to his feet and settling himself on his crutches. I watch as he leaves the room, the door clicking quietly closed behind him.

“Are you okay?” I ask Bruce. Tears stream down his pale cheeks and he reaches up to wipe them.

“You thought I couldn’t remember because of emotional trauma,” he says finally, and I nod. “But the truth is, I didn’t want to remember. It was too much, feeling his pain. I can see it so clearly now. I was standing over my body, watching him hold me. He was so broken. The sound that tore from him shattered everything inside me. I couldn’t bear the weight of his grief. It was easier to push it away, to not think about it, to make myself forget.”

“And in all this time you never went back to see him?” I ask.

He shakes his head slowly, and I see that the space underneath his eyes is heavily shadowed and lined with pain, not just from what was happening to him now but from the memory of the man he used to be.

“I should never have left him,” he whispered. “All these years, he’s carried this burden with him.”

“There was nothing you could have done, Bruce,” Dusty says, stroking his back. “Nothing about any of this is fair. It was a terrible set of circumstances. A horrible and tragic accident, and you’ve both kept yourselves locked in your cycle of grief. You by trying to push it all away and forget, Jack by drowning in his guilt and remorse. But it’s time to let it go now.”

“She’s right,” I say softly as my eyes fix on the man who has appeared at the side of the bed a few steps away from Bruce and Dusty. “It’s time for you both to face your pain.”

Jack looks down at the frail body he’s left behind on the bed. He’s once again the man in the photo—young and fit, with sweeping blonde hair and chiselled good looks. His blue eyes are bright and clear, free from pain and the terrible emotional weight he’s carried for all these years.

For a moment, he looks stunned. His gaze skims over my hand, which is still entwined with the hand of his dead body. I send him a knowing smile and as my eyes track over to Bruce, he follows my gaze, his eyes widening in shock.

“Bruce?” he whispers. “Oh my god! Is it really you?”

Bruce straightens up from where he’d been leaning against Dusty. Letting go of her, he takes a step forward and then another, and wraps his arms around Jack tightly, who hugs him back with a cry of relief. Both of them cry silently as they cling to each other.

Dusty and I share a look. I wish I could hug her right now because she’s trying to be brave but obviously hurting. I’m so proud even as my heart aches for her.

“I’m so sorry, Bruce,” Jack sobs into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean all those things I said. I’m so sorry I let you get hurt. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have even been out there on those steps during the storm.”

Bruce pulls back and cups Jack’s face in his hands.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Jack.” He thumbs away Jacks tears. “It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”