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

took a sip of his beer without looking at either of them. “And him?” she asked, frowning at Patrick.

He sighed heavily again, miserable. “Yeah, he"s getting it, too. The few minutes I spent in his presence practically ground the entire Boston Police Department to a halt.

Look at Patrick! He’s friends with a man who fucks men! ” Patrick winced. He might as well have punched Brandon in the gut.

“Fuck that,” Destiny snapped. “What is wrong with these people? It"s not like it"s a big deal to discover there are gay people in fucking Massachusetts!” She stopped yelling and blew out a breath, obviously trying to rein in her temper. He doubted she was aware of how hard she clenched his shoulder or that she was dropping f-bombs like…well, like Patrick. Eventually she continued, only marginally more calm. “Are you sure they"re not just curious? And if they are a bunch of bigots, can"t you talk to your bosses? Get them to do something about all the gossip, at least? Patrick"s getting looks because he"s your friend? Christ, what"s going to happen when they find out he"s your lover?”

Patrick"s head shot up, but Brandon saved him the trouble. “No! They can never know, Des,” he said firmly.

She stared at Patrick as he remained mute. Brandon appreciated her protectiveness but it just wasn"t that simple. “It"s not about shame, Des. It"s okay. Really.” Christ, he sounded like he was trying to convince himself it was true. “I have other options,” he continued, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I can leave.” The silence following that pronouncement was deafening.

Patrick finally looked at him, although it was as if he"d grown a second head.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I can"t believe you"d consider leaving the force,” Patrick said, sounding hurt.

Shit. Again, if only it were that simple.

He tried to explain. “Look, at this point that would hardly matter. If I quit the PD

tomorrow, everyone is still going to be talking about you. Guilt by association.” He swallowed hard again then looked down at his hand on the table. “The right thing to do is for me to leave this house. To end this. I can"t keep coming here. It"s not fair to you.” Patrick was on his feet so fast, Destiny stumbled back a step.

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Brandon, though, didn"t flinch.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Patrick roared.

“Patrick,” he said calmly, trying hard not to rise to Patrick"s anger. “You can"t deny it"s awful at work. Or that you"d ever be okay working any other place on earth. You"re a Boston cop to the core, man. I won"t be responsible for fucking that up.” He felt sick just thinking about what that would mean for Patrick if he couldn"t do his job. What it would mean for them. Forget being lovers. Patrick might never forgive Brandon. He"d lose everything.

“My god, this martyr shit is starting to piss me off,” Patrick ground out, leaning over to get in his face. “I cannot believe you would leave because you think I can"t put up with some shit at work.”

Brandon grimaced. “It"s not like that and you know it. This could impact your career.”

“That"s right, it could. And guess what? That"s my fucking problem.” Patrick continued to loom over him across the table. “Do you want to be here, Brandon? With us?”

“I do.” No point lying.

“Then, what I want to know now,” Patrick demanded, his voice rough as his temper continued to soar, “is what the fuck people said to you today, what the fuck people did to you today to make you even consider walking away?” Patrick the Defender in full lather was a sight to behold. Too bad Patrick couldn"t protect him from the bad guys this time.

He sat back and regarded Patrick calmly. “Don"t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it, Bran.”

“I"m fine. It"s going to be okay.”

“It"s not okay, Brandon!” Patrick boomed. “It"s not fucking okay. It will never be fucking okay for fucking small-minded bigots to hurt someone I love.” Destiny"s mouth dropped open and she fell into her chair as Brandon shot out of his.

Patrick turned his back on them both and clenched his fists in his hair. “Shit!”What have I done?

Standing in his kitchen, Patrick tugged on his hair, hoping the pain would help him get his shit back together. Goddamn it. Brandon was making him mental.

Leaving the force? Leaving them? The past two days hadn"t been easy, but he was sure time would ease Brandon"s paranoia and the rest of the department"s prurient interest. But how long would that take—and could he hold on if Bran was willing to walk after only one day?

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He kept his back to his lovers, certain that if he turned around and saw again the hurt and exhaustion radiating from Brandon, he"d really lose his shit.

“I, ah…” he started, not sure what he wanted to say, “I…shouldn"t have said that.” Destiny"s gasp forced him around to face them. The look she shot him made him wince.

“No, I mean I was worked up and…” He trailed off when her look got meaner. He was fucking this up.

Brandon shook his head and took his seat once more. “Don"t worry about it, Patrick.”

Christ, Brandon was trying to let him off the hook. Fuck that.

Brandon had been his best friend for more years than he could count and even without their newfound intimacy, he"d loved Brandon for all of those years. Before he"d have said as a brother, but now it was much more than that.

He"d been fucking up a lot recently, been a coward, and this time he was determined to do better. To do right.

“Brandon, listen. That"s not what I meant when I said I shouldn"t have said that.

Hell, maybe I should have said it a lot sooner. I just meant I shouldn"t have yelled.”

“Don"t worry about it. Really.” Brandon shrugged, waving it away.

“I will worry about it,” Patrick insisted, trying to get Brandon to understand.

Brandon took a long pull of his beer, shrugging