Destiny Calls by Samantha Wayland (100 best novels of all time TXT) 📗

She mentally took back the last ten times she"d called Patrick thick-headed. She reached out and took his hand, wishing she knew the right answer.

“He"s better off without me as a lover,” he continued as he stared out his windshield at nothing. “We work together and I can"t be out. Hell, I don"t know what"s going to happen now that he’s out and neither does he. If we keep going, we"re destined to repeat what happened tonight. To hurt him. What kind of friend does it make me to want something that could lead to that?”

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She wasn"t sure what kind of friend it made her either, because she too didn"t want this thing between the three of them to end tonight. It didn"t feel right. It didn"t feel finished.

She"d never meant to create such a mess.

“So it ends now?” she asked, her voice low.

“Yes.”

Patrick couldn"t believe he"d finally figured out what he could have with Brandon and it was over already. Destiny nodded her agreement, her face sad as she stared down at her hands clenched in her lap. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead on the steering wheel. It had been another of those days that seemed to take him by the throat and shake him. He still hadn"t fully processed the fact that Brandon had been attacked, again, and this time in Patrick"s own home, for Christ"s sake. He wasn"t thinking clearly.

“No.”

“No, what?” Destiny asked, her voice rough.

He opened his eyes and threw the truck into drive. “No, it doesn"t end now.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I was altruistic for exactly five seconds and now I"m over it. Fuck that. And fuck us for thinking this is something we can sort out without Brandon. Who the hell knows why he left? He could be waiting for us at my house, naked, for all we know. Or,” he acknowledged grudgingly, “he could be holed up in his own house, determined to never see us again.”

Destiny held onto her arm rest as he careened back into traffic. Her look said she thought he was nuts.

And she might not be wrong.

“Either way,” he continued, “we need to have a conversation and he owes us an explanation. Then we"ll figure it out. Too much has happened in the last twenty-four hours and I"m not leaving it as it is.”

Destiny nodded, slowly. “Okay, you"re right.”

He shot her a glance. “I"m right?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling slightly.

He smiled, too. Going after Brandon was the right thing to do. They needed to know Brandon was safe. Patrick needed to apologize for shit he couldn"t control, damn it, and to know that Brandon wasn"t hurt.

That is, if he even let them in the door.

Patrick had a lot of confidence in his powers of persuasion, but he wasn"t kidding himself. They had an uphill climb no matter what they chose to do.

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All he knew was that Brandon was his best friend and he wanted him to the point of distraction. It was exactly how he felt about Destiny.

Destiny, who just a week ago he"d been gearing up to find a way to get her to stick around forever. Like white-dress, picket-fence, making-a-life-together forever. Was that what he wanted from Brandon?

The truck swerved hard to the left before he snapped his attention back to the road.

Oh shit. That was exactly what he wanted. Well, except the white dress part. Bran would look much better in a tuxedo.

He grinned, giddy with his own stupidity.

While his emotions rioted, he caught Destiny staring at him oddly and he schooled his features, clamping his mouth shut. One word of what he was thinking would send Destiny running in the opposite direction as fast as her wicked-sexy legs would carry her. He knew this with absolute certainty. Honestly, what he was thinking about would scare anyone away. Shit, it scared the pants off him.

Destiny patted his hand, offering her reassurance, no doubt in response to the distressed expression he hadn"t been able to hide. He threaded his fingers through hers.

“I know walking away would be the easiest thing to do, but goddamn it, Des, I can"t do it. I"m…” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “I"m not done with this thing yet.” She nodded. “Me either,” she admitted softly, her lip caught between her teeth, no doubt worrying over the truth of that.

It wasn"t a commitment, but from Destiny it was a step in the right direction, even if she didn"t know what direction he was taking them.

His new-found confidence lasted right up until they pulled into Brandon"s driveway and saw his front door wide open, lights blazing throughout the house and spilling out the screen door onto the porch.

Jesus H. Christ! Patrick was out of the truck the moment it stopped moving, his gun drawn.

“Get in the driver"s seat, Des. Be ready to call 9-1-1 and haul ass out of here.” He slammed the door before she had any chance to respond. He wasn"t going to negotiate one damn part of his demands.

Racing up the front walk, the image of Brandon in the hospital bed popped into Patrick"s mind and sent his blood pressure through the roof. His feet barely touched the steps and he flew up onto the porch. The screen door clattered against the wall as he barreled into the house, his gun sweeping the living room, the stairs, what he could see of the upstairs hallway.

Nothing appeared to be out of place, but he kept moving deeper into the house.

Where the hell was Brandon? He wasn"t sure if he was going to kiss or throttle the damn man once he found him, but he was damn certain he would shoot anyone who got in his way.

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As soon as Brandon had climbed out of the taxi and staggered up his front steps, he"d known he was at his limit. He"d been holding onto his composure by a thread—

one that was rapidly slipping through his fingers without an audience to remind him to hold