Coming Home: The Davis Brothers

5. Brandon And Lonnie (Brandon Finds Himself Drawn To Lonnie)

Saturday afternoon, Brandon got in his truck and headed over to the flip. Even though a delay in the permits was pushing the demo back another week, the damned kid and his ugly mutt were still supposed to be cleared out by today. Brandon hoped that he wouldn't have to use force on the kid. He didn't need that shit. He had enough to worry about.

He should have made Walker deal with this. But Brandon never told Walker about the kid. Lonnie wasn't any of Walker's business. Walker better keep his eyes and his hands away from Lonnie if he knew what was good for him.

Shit. Where the hell did that come from?

It was bad enough that the past few days he couldn't stop thinking about him. He couldn't even jack off without the kid's ass and mouth appearing in his head and ruining things. 'So what if it made him come harder than he had in years?' he had thought while wiping a stray blob of spunk from the headboard last night. Damn, when was the last time he had distance like that? Or volume, he thought as he looked at the big wad of tissues in his hand.

As soon as he opened the back door, little ugly came running. He was yipping and barking his fool head off.

"God damn it," Brandon muttered. "I knew it."

Brandon shut the door hard in frustration and Ricky barked at him.

"Be quiet. You're giving me a god damned headache."

Ricky ran through the house towards the bedroom, barked, then came back to Brandon. He ran a circle around Brandon, then ran towards the bedroom again, barking the entire time. He was clearly agitated and wanted Brandon to follow him.

Brandon sighed. "I'm coming, little ugly. Hold your damn horses. Lonnie? Where are you? I know you're here. Don't bother hiding."

Brandon turned into the bedroom and all breath left his body. Lonnie was laying on the mattress, clutching his stomach with one hand. The other was holding a bloody towel to the side of his head.

"Lonnie?" Brandon launched himself towards the mattress and dropped down to his knees. "Are you okay? What happened?" He turned Lonnie's head gently, checking him for damage, while making him look up.

Lonnie's eyes were glazed over and he seemed to have trouble focusing. "Brandon?"

"Yeah, it's me. You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I'll be out of here today. I swear."

"I'm not worried about that right now. What happened to you?"

Lonnie squeezed his eyes shut. A tear caught in those long lashes before it dripped down his face, followed by another. "I got jumped behind the bank. I was going to put a deposit down on a place. They took everything I had on me."

Brandon didn't care about the kid's money. As he reached for the towel to look at the cut, Brandon noticed his hair was cut short; his bangs were still a little long in the front, but in back it was trimmed off at the nape of his neck. He kinda looked like one of those kids that wear skinny jeans and dress in all black. Emo, or something.

Lonnie tried to move away, but Brandon wasn't having it. "Hold still. Lemme see. You might need to go to the hospital."

"What do you care?" Lonnie cried out, pushing Brandon's hand away. "Just leave me alone! I told you I'd be gone today."

Lonnie turned away and Brandon let out a grunt and pushed up to his feet. He didn't need this bullshit. He had enough stress in his life. "Fine. You're an adult. Do what you want."