Destiny Calls Samantha Wayland (the first e reader .txt) 📖

Destiny went on to describe what she had seen, her face pale as she stated clearly that she was certain the man was attempting to kill Brandon when she"d acted to stop him. Patrick looked around the room at the heads nodding. No one was questioning her story. No one should. She"d maimed the man trying to kill a cop. In the state of Massachusetts, equal and opposite response was accepted under the law. She could have killed him and walked out of the precinct without any charges. As it was, Patrick wasn"t concerned she"d have any issue.

No, he was much more concerned about her state of mind than her legal situation.

The captain came to tell Patrick that she was cleared to go and that the forensics guys were almost finished at the house. He offered his office to Patrick and Destiny for a few minutes of quiet before they headed for home. Patrick clapped Brandon on his good shoulder in a fair imitation of their usual buddy-ness and pulled him into the office with them.

Huddled in the three guest chairs, Farley"s big head resting on his knee, Patrick was acutely aware of the number of eyes peering at them through the windows. Christ, his boss worked in a fishbowl. He wished he could shut the blinds, but could only imagine it might start a riot in the bullpen.

Instead, he sat rigid, holding himself apart except for Destiny"s hand clenched in his. The closer he got to them, the more it hurt not to touch them. To hold them.

“Are you okay, Des?” Brandon asked, gently rubbing the back of her other hand.

Patrick stopped feeling sorry for himself and focused on her.

“Sure, I"m fine, Bran. I"m more worried about you. Are you okay?”

“Are you sure you aren"t upset?” Brandon asked again.

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Destiny looked confused. “Of course I"m sure,” she said, clearly exasperated that they were talking about her and not Brandon. “He was going to kill you. I"d shoot him ten more times if that"s what it took. Why? Am I in trouble?” A hint of anxiety crept into her voice.

“No,” they reassured her quickly.

“Then I"m fine. I"m just glad it"s over,” she said, waving her hand to dismiss it.

Turning to Brandon, she gently stroked his bruised cheek, her eyes searching his face.

“I"m more concerned about you.”

Brandon didn"t blink. He was still showing the world his calm façade. It hadn"t slipped in hours. Patrick was becoming increasingly troubled by Brandon"s complete lockdown on his emotions since the attack.

Brandon pulled her hand away from his face, tucking it safely on her lap before sitting back. “I"m fine.”

She obviously didn"t buy it any more than Patrick did. She reached for Brandon again and he shied away from her, dodging her touch. She let her hand drop, her face stricken.

“Don"t,” he said softly, his voice sad. He tried to smile, no doubt for the benefit of their audience, but failed.

Patrick"s stomach clenched.

“I can"t touch you?” she asked, bewildered.

“No, you can"t,” Brandon replied, his voice harder. “You didn"t do anything wrong, Des, but everyone out there thinks you"re Patrick"s girlfriend and I"m your friend the gay guy.”

Patrick tried not to wince.

Brandon, of course, saw it all and nodded. “That"s how it"s going to be, Destiny.

You can"t touch me, I can"t hold you. We"ve already created enough curiosity. Any more and they"ll start asking questions. Then what would Patrick do?” He let the question hang in the air for a moment, then sighed. “Let"s not muddy the waters more than they already are.”

Patrick scowled, even as he leaned back in his chair, moving farther away. The hurt on Destiny"s face dug at him, his stomach churning, but his hands were tied, goddamn it.

“Bran,” he began, unsure what to say.

Brandon shot him a dark scowl. “Look around you, Patrick. Look out there and tell me I"m wrong.”

He glanced over his shoulder and found dozens of eyes on them.

Christ.

He could only imagine what they were all thinking. What they were saying. He thought Brandon might be wrong about some of it. Some of their friends just looked 109

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concerned. Then Carter came into the room. He caught sight of the three of them together and smirked, heading directly to the coffee station and his buddies loitering there. Every head in the room turned when loud laughter burst from the group, making the hairs on the back of Patrick"s neck stand on end.

Turning away, he ached at the hurt in his friends" eyes but did nothing to change it.

Destiny"s stare begged him to tell Brandon he was wrong. It made him feel about an inch tall, like the total coward Brandon had accused him of being.

But it was nothing compared to the pain at seeing the quiet resignation in Brandon"s gaze.

Brandon watched Patrick"s face and felt his heart break.

Nice work, asshole, you kept your promise not to let yourself be hurt for exactly four days.

He was furious with himself, furious with Patrick and furious with their colleagues and their small-minded views.

He watched the bullpen and wanted to cringe. He didn"t know what the fuck Carter was telling his cronies, a group of officers he"d never been all that fond of to begin with, but he"d bet the fact that he"d been asleep in Patrick"s bed in his underwear was ranking high on the list of hot topics.

Hell, who could blame them? They were detectives, for Christ"s sake. It was their job to notice that kind of shit.

No, there was only one person to blame in this giant fiasco and that would be him.

He"d been so fucking confident that his sexuality was a secret he could keep forever, he"d never spent more than a millisecond thinking about what Destiny"s crazy idea could mean for Patrick.

And now look at them. The three of them sat, no one touching anyone else, no one offering comfort when so much was needed, because they"d managed to screw themselves, quite literally, into