Be Loved (At Last, The Beloved Series Book 3)

by Stella Starling

  “He’s not here,” Brandon said, hanging up on the misrouted call and pulling up Melody’s number in his contacts. He hit the call button, as he rattled off the new information to Luis. “I need to go check on Shane, you got this?”

  Luis nodded, and Brandon jammed his phone into the hands-free holder and pulled away from the curb.

  “Bartoli’s Pizzeria.”

  “Fuck,” he shouted, stabbing at the end-call button.

  He took a breath, letting it out slowly as he navigated the route to Melody’s. Losing it wasn’t going to help anything, and the fact that Peter could hack their phones didn’t automatically imply that he was going after Shane. Shane would be safe.

  He had to be.

  Brandon’s phone went off, but he ignored it. Peter clearly wasn’t going to let any calls from Shane get through to him, and until Brandon had visual confirmation that Shane was okay, nothing else mattered.

  After approximately forever, he pulled into Melody’s driveway.

  Her car was gone, but if he remembered correctly, that should be a sign of normalcy—she worked some kind of nine-to-five job. Shane’s car was in the driveway though. Brandon’s phone was still chirping incessantly next to him, and he grabbed it out of its holder as he headed for the front door.

  He pulled up a series of taunting texts from Peter, his eyes skimming over them as he willed his heart rate to slow down. Melody didn’t have a doorbell, so he knocked.

  Loudly.

  A new text:

  Left ring finger. Electrical burn. Email leak… oops. You can remind him that this wouldn’t have happened if he’d been with me.

  So much for keeping Brandon’s heart rate down. What the hell was Peter playing at? Brandon pounded on the door more loudly, trying the handle. Locked. He was on the verge of doing something reckless—like breaking it down—when he remembered that Shane had his workshop set up in Melody’s basement.

  Shane was there.

  Brandon almost felt sick with relief. Shane looked fine. He wanted to kill Peter, but first—he tried the side door to the basement, unlocked—he needed Shane.

  “Hey,” Shane said, jumping a little when Brandon’s arms went around him from behind. He’d had earbuds in, but yanked them out, turning to face Brandon with a gorgeous smile that lit his face up like the sun.

  Brandon took a deep breath, his hatred for Peter shooting off the charts as the feel of Shane in his arms reminded him all too clearly of everything the other man was trying to take away from the two of them. His lungs filled with juniper and rosemary, and his racing heart overflowed with Shane.

  “You okay, honey?” he asked, finding his voice after a minute.

  “No,” Shane said, grinning. “I miss you terribly. Is it over? I didn’t even know you were coming over, but I’m hoping it means you’ve got Peter in custody?”

  “Not yet,” Brandon said, swallowing hard. “Has he tried to contact you?”

  “No,” Shane said. “I just got that one text the day I came here to Mel’s—” I knew you still loved me, it had said, “—but nothing since. Which should be good, right? But, honestly, Brandon, it’s kind of creeping me out even more, if that makes any sense.”

  Peter was a master of psychological manipulation, and for all the current trouble he was causing, Brandon was overwhelmed for a moment with gratitude that Shane had left him when he had. The thought of what Shane’s life would have been like if he’d actually married the man—not to mention, selfishly, how empty Brandon’s heart would have stayed—was too horrible to contemplate.

  He reached for Shane’s hands, but Shane winced.

  “Sorry,” Shane said, pulling his left one out of Brandon’s grasp and shaking it. “I had a stupid accident this morning and hurt my finger.”

  Brandon’s stomach clenched. “What happened?”

  Shane shrugged, using his right hand to point toward some tools on his workbench. “Somehow I left that awl mixed in with my leather scraps. I’m usually good about putting things away, but Peter always said I was scatterbrained—”

  “No, you’re not,” Brandon cut him off, frowning. “Shane, you’re one of the most organized people I know. Especially with this.” He gestured at Shane’s jewelry-making supplies. “The tool, it cut you?”

  “Yeah, on my ring finger. No big deal.”

  Brandon reached for Shane’s left hand, noting the fresh bandage around the finger he hoped, someday, to put a ring on. There was also an angry red mark on Shane’s palm.

  “Electrical burn,” Shane said, laughing self-consciously when Brandon gently smoothed a finger over it. “Just not my day, I guess. Although, then again, maybe it is, since you showed up.”

  He leaned toward Brandon, smiling, but Brandon backed away. Carefully, he put his phone away in his pocket and closed the screen of Shane’s laptop, making sure neither device could pick them up on their cameras. Then he pulled Shane back into his arms.

  “Tell me about the burn, honey,” he said softly.

  Shane had gone still as he’d watched Brandon’s actions, and before he answered, he pulled Brandon away from his workbench. A washer and dryer were set up at the far end of the basement, and Shane turned the washing machine on without bothering to fill it, waiting until the water had filled and started loudly agitating before he answered.

  “I turned on my new laptop this morning, and as soon as I logged in, it sparked or something. Like, I thought it might actually start a fire or something,” he said, holding his hand up again with the graphic evidence. “But it still seems to work. And then—” he rolled his eyes, but there was an undercurrent of tension in his voice that told Brandon just how tight a rein Shane was keeping on his own nerves, “—when I logged in to my Etsy store, there had been some kind of glitch. All of my past customers got blasted with this pornographic email. A few reported me, but I sent out a follow-up telling them it was some kind of virus or something. I think Allen Designs can recover from it, but… God. Something like that could put a small business like mine under, you know.”

  Brandon had no doubt that the email “glitch” had been Peter. The other two incidents… he didn’t want to think that Peter had caused them, too. He preferred—and how sick was that—to think that Peter had simply seen the two accidents, rather than created them.

  Because if Peter had started to shift from “loving” Shane to hurting him, even in small ways?

  Peter’s state of mind made that into a terrifying thought.

  Brandon pulled Shane into his arms, but instead of kissing him the way he wanted to, he pressed his lips up to his ear. “We’ve got what we need to bring him in, honey, but he ghosted. He’s got eyes on his house, eyes on you here, and he’s been messing with our phones again.”

  Shane stiffened, and—right on cue—Brandon’s phone vibrated in his back pocket.

  I told you, I’m watching. Leave… now. Before things get worse.

  Brandon clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, then he turned the screen to show Shane.

  Shane’s eyes widened, fear flashing through them. Brandon hated that. And—law or no law, right or wrong—he was going to find a way to make Peter pay for it. But, for now, the best way to keep Shane safe would be to leave.

  “I love you,” he mouthed silently.

  Shane ran a hand down his chest, his fingers pausing over the bulge from the amber-and-steel necklace he’d given Brandon. Right over his heart.

  “Waiting is worth it,” Shane said softly. “Because then we get forever, right?”

  Brandon nodded, loving him with everything he had.

  He wasn’t going to just wait, though. Peter had used up the last of his patience, and Brandon wasn’t going to rest until he’d tracked him down and put an end to his sick, twisted games, once and for all.

  And then—as Brandon’s phone started vibrating again—he left, even though it just about killed him. Because if there was one thing today had shown him, it was that it was only a matter of time until Peter’s crazin
ess turned against Shane.

  In fact, it had already started.

  Chapter 21

  Shane

  Shane scanned the cute little bistro as he walked in, looking for Mel… and making a determined effort not to look over his shoulder for signs that Peter was somehow cyberstalking him. Nuh-uh. Not today.

  Today was too good to let the ever-present shadow of his ex intrude.

  “Shane!” Mel waved him over, grinning up at him with excitement as he slid into the seat across from her. “I’ve only got forty minutes left on my lunch break. Don’t you dare keep me hanging.”

  Shane laughed, carefully setting the leather case he’d been carrying down next to him, and tried to calm his racing heart. For a split-second, he considered messing with her, but he was too excited to even begin to come up with anything but the truth. Besides, she’d probably see right through him. Everyone always said he sucked at lying.

  “It’s a yes,” he said, willing to bet that his eyes were sparkling just as brightly as hers.

  Melody squealed, and they both broke into a fit of giggles as two silver-haired ladies near the window immediately turned and sent death-glares their way.

  A blue-haired waitress sauntered over, snapping some gum and looking like she wanted in on the joke. “Happy people leave good tips,” she said, winking. “What can I get you two?”

  “Cheeseburger, no mustard,” Shane said without looking at the menu. He didn’t care, and he passed it to the Smurfette with a pointed look at Melody as she did her usual-but-still-always-aggravating routine of scanning each and every item on the menu as if there was actually some possibility that she’d end up ordering anything other than her standard fare.

  “He forgot to say that he wants a strawberry milkshake,” Mel said, not bothering to look up.

  The waitress looked at him, cocking an eyebrow in question.

  Shane nodded, adding, “And Mel’s gonna order a chocolate one—” gross, “—and a Cobb salad with extra bacon on the side.”

  “I might not.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “Maybe.”

  Shane grinned.

  The waitress laughed.

  “Fine,” Mel said, slapping her menu closed and handing it over. “Chocolate milkshake and a Cobb salad. But no extra bacon.”

  “Mm-hmm. You know you’ll just make her go back to the kitchen and get some once you’re halfway through the salad. You really want to give—” he paused, glancing at the waitress’s name tag, “—Susie extra work to do?”

  She snorted, looking away. “Fine, extra bacon. But I may not eat it.”

  “YOLO. Never pass up bacon, sister,” Susie advised solemnly, collecting their menus. “Be back in a jiff.”

  “Good philosophy for life,” Shane said approvingly.

  “I’m not entirely convinced on the whole YOLO vibe,” she said, pushing her glasses up higher on her nose. “You know, based on the first law of thermodynamics. It just doesn’t seem plausible.”

  Shane blinked at her. “Uh… are you trying to science your way out of the chance to eat more bacon? Because I love you, Mel, but that is wrong on too many levels to count.”

  “You’re missing the point,” she said, taking a deep breath as if she was about to start tossing fifteen syllable words around at any moment.

  He grabbed his leather case and slid it onto the table between them to distract her, popping it open and pulling out the contract he’d just signed.

  The distraction worked.

  “Oh my God,” she squealed, earning more waves of disapproval from the senior section. “I can’t even believe this is happening. Tell me everything.”

  Shane grinned. With every good thing in his life on hold until the Peter situation was resolved, the out-of-the-blue call from the buyer at Chicago Ashby’s—one of the flagship locations in the upscale department store chain—had been a godsend. A bit of socializing with his friends and the steady growth of his Etsy store were keeping him busy, but they weren’t enough to distract him from the constant ache of not seeing Brandon.

  It had been two weeks since the day he’d stopped by Mel’s—the last time Shane had seen him face-to-face—and, as if that wasn’t bad enough, when Shane let himself go there, the fact that Peter had gone totally off the grid during that time scared the shit out of him.

  It was beyond nice to have something else to focus on.

  “Ashby’s wants to launch a line of my jewelry here in the Chicago store first,” he said. “They want to market it as Allen for Ashby’s Exclusive. They want to start with at least a dozen original designs, and, if it takes off, they’re going to roll it out in some of the other flagship stores around the country.”

  “Oh my God,” Melody said, beaming as her eyes darted between his and the contract between them. “This is amazing, Shane.” Then her eyes widened, and she tapped the paper. “Are they seriously going to have you mark up your prices this much?”

  He nodded. “I know, right? I’d never dare ask that much on Etsy, but the buyer insisted it would work with Ashby’s clientele.”

  “Holy shit, Shane. If this takes off…”

  “I know,” he said, feeling like his face was going to split in half with his grin. He was finally making a halfway decent living from his online sales, but if things did work out with Ashby’s, he would legitimately be able to support himself strictly from his jewelry business.

  It was a dream come true.

  Susie-the-waitress came back, setting their milkshakes down in front of them as she juggled a tray with someone else’s order in her other hand. She did a double-take when she saw the open case, though, pausing at the table.

  “Where did you get those?” she asked, pointing at the pieces Shane had brought to show the Ashby’s buyer. “Actually,” she said, not giving him time to answer, “What I really want to know is where can I get them? They’re freaking gorgeous.”

  “Shane made them,” Melody said, grinning at him like a proud mama-hen. She shoved her glasses higher on her nose, launching into a sales pitch that basically made Shane’s jewelry sound like the second coming of Christ.

  Shane felt himself blushing, and the vibration of his phone was a welcome distraction. “Gotta take this,” he mumbled, slipping out of the booth.

  It was a burner phone that Brandon’s police partner had dropped off for him at Mel’s a few days before. Brandon insisted that he switch them out every few days, and so far it seemed to be effective. Peter had resumed his habit of texting Shane incessantly about their love, but those messages still came through on his old cell phone. So far, Peter had never contacted him on any of the burner phones.

  And that meant the call was from Brandon.

  “Miss you,” Shane said as soon as he hit answer.

  “Miss you, too, honey,” Brandon said, his voice washing over Shane like warm sunshine. He wanted to bask in it. “How did it go with Ashby’s?”

  “Fantastic,” Shane said, winking at the two old biddies by the window as he passed them. Nothing was going to spoil his day, thank you very much. “They gave me a contract, and they want to roll out the first promotion for it in a few months.”

  “That’s amazing, Shane,” Brandon said.

  Shane could easily picture the wide smile he heard in Brandon’s voice, and it both lifted his heart and made him ache for the time that they could be together again. Contact between Brandon and Shane set Peter off, and since Brandon still wasn’t entirely sure what methods Peter was using to keep track of Shane, he refused to take any chances.

  Shane hated it, but he couldn’t say he disagreed. Peter really had gone off the deep end.

  “That Ashby’s buyer obviously knows talent when she sees it,” Brandon was saying, sounding even more excited—if slightly less squeal-prone—than Mel had. “I’m so proud of you, Shane.”

  “Thanks,” Shane said, his heart overflowing.

  Even though he’d known Brandon for years, sometimes the depth and sincerity of his
unconditional support still startled him. Brandon’s constant cheerleading and his genuine happiness about each and every one of Shane’s achievements never wavered. It was such a stark contrast to the relationships Shane had had before that sometimes he had to wonder if it was too good to be true.

  “I can’t wait until I can take you out to celebrate.”

  “Me too,” Shane said, forcing a smile as he reminded himself for the umpteenth time to put the last few weeks in perspective. Even though “less than twenty-four hours” had turned into days, and the days had drug out into weeks, objectively, he knew that the whole, ugly business would just feel like a drop in the bucket someday down the road when they looked back at it.

  Shane heard voices in the background of Brandon’s call, and when Brandon came back on the line, he sounded slightly rushed.

  “I’ve got to go, honey. Luis is going to be by to switch out this phone tomorrow, though, okay?”

  “Sure thing. Just make sure he has the right password,” Shane joked.

  Brandon laughed. “Should we go with ‘the mongoose flies at midnight’?”

  Shane grinned. “You know we should have let David be our middle man, right? He would have gotten such a kick out of it.”

  Brandon laughed, and despite the sweetness of the brief conversation, Shane’s throat closed up a little as they ended the call with the depth of how much he missed him.

  “Everything okay?” Melody asked when he got back to the table, looking concerned.

  “Yep,” he lied. No—he glanced at the Ashby’s contract—not lied. Everything was okay. Certain parts were just the type of “okay” that involved longer hold times than others.

  He smiled, and he must have pulled it off, because she grinned back, leaning across the table excitedly.

  “Our new BFF Susie is going to be checking out your Etsy site tonight. She’s got a brother and a boyfriend to get gifts for this month, and she’s totally going to share your buy links on Facebook, too.”

  Shane laughed. “You tired of the whole outer space gig yet? Because I’ll totally hire you as my marketing director.”