Hating the panic that tightened his chest, but unable to halt it, he leapt to his feet, stepping away from Brandon. “I said I"ve got it. You go sit down. Relax.” He turned to grab more paper towels and found himself face-to-face with Destiny.
Fists firmly planted on her hips, she shot him a look that clearly said what he was already thinking— what the hell was the matter with him?
He wished he knew.
Avoiding Destiny"s angry, knowing eyes, he looked at Brandon, still crouched in the middle of the room. He"d have to be blind and first-class stupid not to see the accusation and hurt all over Brandon"s face.
Fuck. He hated it. Hated himself for causing it. Goddamn, he was such an asshole.
Why couldn"t he just relax? He despised how Brandon"s startling green eyes didn"t look at him the same way anymore.
After twenty years, suddenly it had all changed.
Patrick unconsciously took a step toward Brandon and watched as Brandon"s eyes filled with mistrust.
It just plain sucked. And god help him, he fucking deserved it.
Brandon stared up at Patrick"s stricken face and felt a cold lump lodge in his chest.
Was this it? Was the end of all these long years of friendship one kiss? It sure looked like it. Patrick was so repulsed by him he couldn"t even stand to have him near.
Couldn"t prevent recoiling in horror when their fingers brushed. From leaping up and away when they got too close.
All those years of fantasizing, of not confessing his feelings, not admitting to anyone, not even Destiny, that he was in love with Patrick, were all for nothing. He"d lost Patrick"s friendship anyway. And why? Because his big-mouthed, hot shot, fucking idiot of a friend had to go grandstanding at a gay club. Shit. He could have handled the jerk who had been hitting on him. Hell, he"d give anything to go back and take a swing at the dumb fuck, starting a bar fight in a packed house, if it meant he wouldn"t have to know what it felt like to have his oldest friend turn his back on him.
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Samantha Wayland
Anger, hot and powerful, swept through him. He hadn"t done anything wrong, damn it! He hadn"t done anything at all. Patrick had kissed him. It was his fucking fault.
And what did Patrick care about it anyway? He"d called out to his Kitten when he"d come home. Brandon knew what that meant. Patrick only used that pet name for Destiny that when they were sleeping together.
Just thinking about it made his guts twist. He could picture them, sweaty and naked, wrapped around each other, Patrick"s hips pumping. He shoved the image away. Don’t go there. The images were too raw, too exciting.
Patrick and Destiny had always had something special between them and he"d always promised himself he wouldn"t be jealous of that. He should be happy for them.
The cold lump in his chest swelled into a yawning void filled with loneliness and envy so bleak, it ached. He tried to force the awful feeling back. He had to. He would not be jealous of Destiny. Not after all this time. She was beautiful, smart, funny, kind.
His dearest friend. And Brandon loved her. Honestly, he loved her almost as much as he loved Patrick, which was as fucked up as it sounded. Even better, he"d almost acted on it once, way back when, but then she"d hooked up with Patrick.
So, great. Two decades and countless moments of wonderful friendship with two people he loved, all flushed down the proverbial toilet because of something he"d had no control over. The unfairness of it, piled on top of an almost crippling sexual frustration, added to the look on Patrick"s face, still frozen in horror, led Brandon to do something he almost never allowed himself to do.
He totally lost his fucking temper.
Jumping to his feet, he got right up in Patrick"s face. “You asshole.” Patrick"s eyes widened. “I—”
“Save it! I"m not interested in hearing whatever it is you have to say. Instead you"re going to listen to me.” Destiny came forward and he knew she was going to insert herself between them. He stopped her with a long look, then returned his entire focus to Patrick. “You are some fucking piece of work, you know that? I cannot believe, after all the three of us have been through together, after all you and I have been through together, that you"re going to fuck this up.” Brandon had to fight back the lump forming in his throat. He tugged at his own hair, fighting for control, but losing the battle when Patrick watched his every movement warily.
Un-fucking-believable.
“What?” Brandon demanded. “Are you worried I"m not going to be able to control myself? Afraid that after just one taste, I won"t be able to resist jumping you? You kissed me, remember, you fuckwit? I"ve managed to control myself for the last twenty years, asshole, and after your ridiculous behavior tonight, I"m pretty sure the next twenty won"t be an issue.”
For a fleeting moment before the blood rushed into Patrick"s face, a sure sign that he was getting angry, he looked hurt—like he had any fucking right. Brandon had to 30
Destiny Calls
force himself not to reach out and shake the bastard. He didn"t know what he"d do if the jerk flinched when he touched him. The possibility alone set him off again.
He planted a finger, hard, into Patrick"s solar plexus. He knew it would piss him off and he wanted it to. “You"re an idiot. A complete fucking idiot. You need to think about what you"re doing. About whether you"re willing to throw away a good friendship because you can"t deal with what happened.”
Patrick"s face flushed scarlet and his hands clenched in tight fists when he ground out
