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

The swarm of cops was gone, the interrogation over, the report filed. Patrick and Destiny weren"t nearby. He stood in his house, where he"d lived on his own for more than eight years and he felt miserable and alone.

And scared.

Turned out getting your ass kicked twice in one week was really bad for morale.

Determined not to let fear rule him, he"d left his front door wide open. He needed to air out his stale house, anyway. It had been locked up since he"d left on his walk the night of the first attack and, rather unfortunately, there had been dishes in the sink and trash to be taken out.

Chucking the garbage, he started at a loud crash down the alley. He congratulated himself for not running back into the house like a little girl. Then he convinced himself it was perfectly natural, under the circumstances, to retrieve his gun from the safe and stick it in his utensil drawer.

That it didn"t make him feel any safer was probably bad news. That it didn"t make him feel any less alone was inevitable.

Hoping that keeping busy would take his mind off things, he began cleaning his kitchen, loading the dishwasher and scrubbing the counters. He worked furiously, though the images of Patrick and Destiny in his arms the night before, the memories of their kisses, their faces, were his constant companions no matter how hard he worked.

He was scouring the last pot when his screen door slammed into the siding on his porch with a reverberating crash.

One hand was on the drawer handle, the other reaching for his gun when he heard footsteps cross the hall and enter the kitchen.

“Goddamn it, Brandon,” Patrick roared, “your door is wide open, you fucking jerk.

Could you try to be a little careful, for fuck"s sweet sake?” And just like that, the fear was gone. The loneliness banished.

Sliding his utensil drawer closed, he stared out the little window over the sink and seriously considered smashing his head against his countertop. The last thing he should feel around Patrick at this point was safe. Getting beat up hurt only marginally more than having his heart handed to him on a platter.

But that too didn"t stop said heart from rolling over in his chest when he turned to see Destiny and Farley charge through his kitchen door, almost running into Patrick"s rigid back.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, knowing as soon as the question left his mouth that it was a damn stupid one.

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Destiny Calls

Destiny and Patrick stood staring at him. Only Farley came to say hello, trotting over to lick his hand. He looked down at the dog and envied the innocent pleasure in his big brown eyes.

Forcing himself not to be a chicken, he looked back at his friends. Patrick looked pissed, his eyes searching Brandon"s face, his body, lingering on his shoulder then zeroing in on the bruises blooming on his neck.

“Are you okay?” Patrick asked, though he looked like he had more he wanted to say.

Brandon forced a smile. “I"m fine.”

Patrick"s eyes narrowed. Before he could dispute that, Destiny stepped between them.

“Brandon, please talk to us.” She reached out to touch him but instinct made him move away. She left her fingers suspended in the air where they should have brushed his chest and stared at him. “Aren"t we friends anymore?” He watched the tears gather in her eyes and knew he was losing the fight before it had even begun.

He"d left them at the station for the right reasons, damn it. He"d done it for all of them. Most of all for Patrick. Christ, even now patrols were driving by to check on him while Patrick"s truck sat in his driveway.

That thought alone gave him the courage to take another step back.

“You have to go,” he said, forcing the words past the lump in his chest. He looked at Destiny, trying to ignore the tears spilling over her lashes to run down her cheeks.

“Des, you have to get him out of here.”

She nodded and he was both relieved and nauseated that she agreed with him.

“No,” she said, even as her head bobbed up and down.

“Des, I need you to be sensible,” he pleaded.

She smiled at him, her eyes sad. “I understand, Bran. I do.”

“But you"re not going to cooperate, are you?” he asked.

Her smile became more genuine. “No, I"m not.”

Destiny reached again and this time Brandon let her touch him, unable to resist the urge to turn his cheek into her warm palm and let the comfort she offered wash through him. He looked at Patrick. “It"s a bad idea for you to be here. You know that.”

“I don"t know that,” he said, clearly exasperated. “Brandon, you"re my best friend.

You were attacked tonight. Never mind that we"re lovers, where else would I be tonight after all that"s happened?”

Hearing Patrick call them lovers loosened something in his chest, eroding his resolve with the stirrings of joy.

Damn it. He"d tried to do the right thing. Tried to walk away from them. But he couldn"t. It was selfish and stupid and he knew it, but he could not resist them.

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Samantha Wayland

He"d steal whatever time he could. For however long. It might only be for the next hour. But that was better than never touching either of them again.

He put his hand over Destiny"s on his cheek. “I"m glad you"re here, even if it is a bad idea.”

Patrick came closer, hovering over them. “Are you okay?” He immediately began to offer his standard I’m fine but Patrick cut him off. “Don"t placate me, Bran. Are you really okay?”

He closed his mouth and took stock. His shoulder hurt. His neck was sore. But where before he"d felt the cold tingle of shock on his skin, now there was warmth.

Strength.

“I"m okay. I hurt, but I"m okay.”

Patrick wrapped his arms around Destiny and they sagged against one another. He felt a pang of guilt for having made them worry, which was promptly lost to the flood