“Come on, honey.”
He clenched her fingers, carefully crawling up onto the bed with her. She held on tight, letting him use her as an anchor as he gingerly lowered himself onto his more-or-less injury-free side. His teeth chattered, the shakes rattling his entire body and sending pain singing along his bruises. As soon as his head hit the pillow, the first tears fell from his wide eyes. Destiny looked over his shoulder at Patrick, a wealth of worry in her eyes before turning away and snuggling back until her warm, soft curves nestled against Brandon"s chest and thighs.
The tears kept coming, but the shakes were dampened by Destiny"s presence. Her warmth.
He was grateful when Patrick shut off the light, hiding Brandon"s tears, and pulled the heavy covers up over them. He couldn"t remember the last time anyone had tucked him in. It was nice. With a little time and Destiny"s warmth, the shakes might ease enough for him to sleep.
Then the mattress dipped behind him and Patrick"s big, hard body came up against his back, gently, being careful not to do more than brush his injuries and the bandages covering them.
Crap. The tears were coming faster. Patrick inched ever closer until his warm skin was pressed along his entire length, a wall of comfort.
He was safe now.
62
Destiny Calls
Brandon wrapped an arm around Destiny, his hand resting on her soft belly where her t-shirt had scrunched up, and held her as tightly as his injuries would allow.
Patrick"s arm came around them both, sliding along Brandon"s arm until his hand came to rest on Destiny"s hip. Patrick"s thumb traced a soothing pattern over Brandon"s elbow.
It took a while, but the shaking eventually eased. The tears slowed.
And he slept.
63
Samantha Wayland
Chapter Seven
Destiny took Monday off to sit with Brandon, while Patrick spent the day hounding Carter and McGuire. Especially Carter. He told himself they were good officers, good men. Under normal circumstances, he would have trusted them, but this was different.
He"d seen the look on their faces when Brandon had told them he was bisexual. They"d done a damn poor job of hiding their shock.
Every time he pictured the expression on Carter"s face in particular, he was torn between his desire to punch the asshole and his growing fears about what this would mean for Brandon and his work with the Task Force.
He was disappointed, but not surprised one bit, to arrive at work that morning to discover everyone already knew. A bunch of gossipy old women with nothing to do couldn"t spread a story as fast or as effectively as the officers of the BPD. Holy shit, what a bunch of blabber-mouths. He fervently wished they"d just mind their own business.
The story of Brandon"s assault had run in that morning"s Globe, although the hate crime aspects had intentionally been omitted. It had only given Brandon"s name and cited both him and Patrick as Mario Benedetto"s arresting officers, which readers could learn more about in another article.
Jesus, what a day it had been.
Patrick tried to slog through his email, but his focus was shot. He caught the eye of yet another detective staring at him. The other man immediately looked away.
He forced his gaze back to his monitor and told himself to breathe.
It really didn"t help his confidence in his fellow officers or his fucking bad mood that he was on the receiving end of so many speculative looks. So fucking what if he was Brandon"s best friend? That didn"t mean he was making out with him at every opportunity.
Except… shit.
That was exactly what he had been doing.
It was moments like these he really wished he could get that good old denial train back on its tracks. He was even enough of a jerk to wish Brandon could be shoved back into the proverbial closet. What kind of friend did that make him?
It wasn"t about shame. It was about fear. It was about a lot of stupid old-fashioned thinking that remained the norm on the police force. He has no idea what Brandon"s outing would mean in the long run, but he wasn"t optimistic about Brandon"s future with the Boston Police Department.
64
Destiny Calls
Patrick thought back to the night before, with Brandon shivering in the tight cocoon Patrick and Destiny had made around him. Patrick had laid there, wide awake, forcing himself to be calm until Brandon"s breathing had evened out and he"d fallen asleep.
Only then had he slipped out of the bed, kissed Destiny and made her promise to stay put while he walked Farley and locked up for the night.
He"d sat in the quiet dark of the staircase for a long time, his stomach churning when he"d thought about how close they"d come to losing Brandon. Damn fucking close to losing him forever.
Then he"d thought about Destiny"s crazy idea. Christ.
He couldn"t be bisexual and a Boston cop. And he couldn"t not be a cop. What the fuck else would he do? It was all he"d ever wanted, all he"d ever worked toward. It was in his blood, though it was about the only thing he gladly admitted to having inherited from his father.
Shit, he had to stop thinking about it. This wasn"t about him. It was about Brandon.
And someone had to look out for him and his interests. If it turned out, as he suspected, that the department was jam-packed full of ignorance, then that person would have to be him.
He threw himself into doing some investigating of his own—interviewing the witnesses, questioning the detectives" every decision and generally making a
