Daniel
By RJ Scott
4.5/5
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About this ebook
Daniel worked hard at college, using coping strategies to shut himself off from any situation that might hurt. But, persistent nightmares and fears for his future drive him to revisit the past. Now Legacy might be the only place to give him a chance at peace.
After the tragic loss of his parents, Corey is head of the family now, and the welfare of his three younger sisters are what matters the most. Corey is desperate to find Daniel, tell him the truth and somehow convince him to keep secrets. Even if this leads to heartbreak.
When the world crumbles around Corey, and Daniel is running scared, Legacy ranch is their only hope.
A new story set in the world of Jack and Riley Campbell-Hayes and the Double D Ranch, Texas.
RJ Scott
RJ Scott is the author of the best selling Male/Male romances The Christmas Throwaway, The Heart Of Texas and the Sanctuary Series of books.She writes romances between two strong men and always gives them the happy ever after they deserve.
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3 ratings1 review
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Very emotional, great MCs, low steam but angsty. I recommend it.
Book preview
Daniel - RJ Scott
Chapter One
Eight years ago
I want to go home.
Daniel Chandler trudged miserably down the long black ribbon of road, tears burning his eyes, and hopelessness tightening his chest. The heat of an August Texas day had subsided to a slightly cooler evening, and the sky was a brilliant mass of stars, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up at them anymore.
How had everything gone this badly wrong? Brett had promised that he would take Daniel somewhere far away from his foster family, but one weird question from an inquisitive cashier at a gas station and Brett had panicked. He’d refused to go any further, and said he was going home.
Daniel didn’t want to go back to San Antonio. He wanted freedom, and the ability to decide for himself where his life was going. He’d overheard his foster parents talking about how he was a liability; that he costed them more than they made, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they got rid of him anyway.
So he refused to leave with Brett and got out of the car.
Brett didn’t care, and he drove away, leaving Daniel stranded.
Daniel kicked a stone, stumbling a little when he misjudged the curve of the road. He’d eaten the cereal bars that Brett had tossed him and used up all the water. Which left him in the heat, without food or drink, and carrying a backpack with limited clothes. He also had books—his favorites, and a wallet which contained nothing more than a couple of hundred dollars he’d saved from his gardening job. The only official thing he had in the bag was his ID.
He’d left his most recent home at six-thirty a.m., with no real idea of where he was going or what he was doing, only knowing he wasn’t going to spend another minute in a house where he wasn’t wanted.
Hunching his shoulders against the weight of his backpack, he carried on. Sometimes he hummed to a song in his head. Other times he counted the steps he took, but most of the time he stared ahead, not counting or humming at all.
A car pulled up alongside him. No, a truck, and at first his heart leaped. Brett was back. He’d changed his mind and returned to help Daniel.
A female voice called out. Can we give you a lift somewhere?
she asked through the open window.
Daniel saw she wasn’t much older than he was, long blonde hair swept up into a ponytail, her smile wide, her expression kind. A man sat in the driver’s seat, but he was in the shadows, and at first, Daniel couldn’t make out his face until he leaned forward. The first thing Daniel noticed was the dog collar, then the same kindly smile as the girl. They were clearly related, both fair, with light eyes and an angular balance to their features.
Hello, young man. My daughter and I are heading to Laredo. Would you like us to take you?
He smiled at Daniel, this man in black with the white collar. This was an average family. They probably thought he was a hitchhiker and were offering genuine help. If Daniel couldn’t trust a man of the cloth traveling with his daughter, then who could he trust? He scanned the road behind him, waiting for Brett to suddenly appear and pick him up, but he was tired, hungry, and verging on desperate.
Thank you.
Daniel opened the back door. He’d never hitchhiked before, didn’t know what the etiquette was, but he felt like he should offer to pay. I can cover gas,
he said.
No need for that,
the dad said and extended a hand awkwardly over the seat, which Daniel shook. Father Frank Martins and this is my daughter Andrea.
Andrea glanced back at him and grinned again. Hey.
Daniel,
Daniel replied, as mute as usual around a girl as he was with boys. She turned back to the front, and Frank put the truck in drive.
Buckle up,
he said.
Daniel did as he was told. Then settled back for the ride.
Where are you from?
Frank asked after a few moments of silence, filled only with the soft sound of tires on blacktop.
San Antonio,
Daniel answered.
Really? What brings you this far south?
Andrea shushed her dad, Stop asking him questions, Daddy.
Her dad huffed a gentle laugh. Sorry.
He used the mirror to see Daniel. You like music?
Daniel nodded, thankful to Andrea for running interference.
Frank fiddled with the stereo. Country music filled the cab, and Frank hummed along. Andrea was on her phone, as evidenced by the glow of light as screens changed, and Daniel regretted leaving his phone at home. In his mad, stupid, anger, he’d wanted no way for his foster parents to keep tabs on him, but right now, he kind of wished he could phone them. He should pluck up the courage and ask Andrea to borrow hers. Maybe give his foster-parents a quick call, apologize, get them to pick him up, or at least arrange a bus.
They would help him. He didn’t doubt that. Even if he’d been an idiot and they wanted to hand him off to the next family, they would never leave a fourteen year old kid stranded miles from home.
You thirsty?
Frank asked, and before Daniel could answer, Frank had unlocked the glove box and pulled out a bottle of water, passing it back to Daniel.
He took it with grateful thanks and downed a third of it in thirsty gulps. They reached the outskirts of a small town, and the car slowed to a stop outside a cookie-cutter house, a pretty place with manicured lawns.
Andrea turned around to look at Daniel.
This is where I get out,
she announced. Nice to meet you, Daniel.
I thought they were both going on to Laredo?
Frank turned around as well. I can take you all the way into the city. It’s only another ten minutes or so to the bus station or somewhere like that? A hostel?
I’m not sure—
Frank interrupted, Or you could stay the night here or a motel. We have one a few blocks down from here.
Andrea shut the door and jogged up to the house, vanishing inside.
Could I just borrow your phone?
Daniel asked.
Frank smiled, nodded, and pulled out his phone, tutting as he did so. Oh my, the phone’s dead. You want to use my house phone? Or shall I just get you to the city? The bus station, right? They have public phones there.
So many decisions. So many difficult choices, he thought and yawned.
Yeah.
Daniel just wanted to get home.
Yeah, what?
Frank prompted.
Daniel blinked at him. He was tired, and everything felt kind of hazy. Yeah, home.
Back to his pretend parents and his pretend family, but back to a warm bed.
Come on. Get in the front here.
Daniel did as he was told, his limbs feeling heavy, and his coordination shit. Finally, he was belted in the front, and he closed his eyes briefly, exhaustion washing over him.
That’s a good boy,
Frank murmured. You sleep now.
The country music got quieter, Frank’s humming was louder, and the journey to the city took a long time, the car swaying, and Daniel’s head thicker, full of softness and a weird kind of peace. He saw fields and signs, but none of them made any sense. Finally, he couldn’t fight the overwhelming lethargy, so he slept.
And woke up in hell.
Chapter Two
Now
Corey Dryden leaned into his sister, taking a moment of comfort from Amy for himself. Everyone expected him to be the strong one today, but she’d seen through his forced bravery. She probably knew that what he really wanted to do was find a corner, curl into a ball, and cry.
The funeral was done, and the well-wishers, some he didn’t know, had left. The big house was empty, caterers told to go, everything as spotless as when their mom had been in charge.
It was just them. Him, and his three sisters.
Abruptly, he was the head of this family at the age of twenty-five, and he’d faked it today, right up until an hour ago.
This is all yours now,
Austin said as if that was a good thing. The family lawyer was trying to help, but when Corey didn’t reply, he at least had the grace to be ashamed and apologized, but of course, Corey had excused the words.
People were grieving, and he had to be the strong one and allow everyone else to have their time to mourn. Your father and uncle knew they were leaving Dryden-Marsdale in good hands.
Austin reminded him.
In good hands? Corey wasn’t long out of college, interning temporarily at a tech company, looking for what to do with his life. In his heart he wanted to write, was desperate to create stories that maybe he could one day sell. He didn’t see Dryden-Marsdale, a firm specializing in asset management, as the rest of his life.
Not that he had any choice now.
Are you going to be okay?
Amy asked, her soft voice enough to pull him out of his thoughts. He realized he was staring at the office door, their dad’s sanctum, where deals were made and paperwork sat in piles on his desk. He’d never been the tidiest of men, but then he’d also never shut the door on his wife and kids. Many a day, Corey and the girls would sit in the office with him, reading books, or on their laptops doing homework. So much so that their dad had set aside a part of the room just for them, with desks and chairs.
When Corey was little, he and his dad had built a blanket fort in there, and they’d even allowed girls in, much to his mom’s amusement. Of course, Chloe, the youngest sister at that time , filled her diaper, threw up her milk, and the blanket fort was done for the day. Still, the memory was a good one, his dad in there with him talking about cars and sports and life in general.
I’ll be fine,
Corey lied.
I can help,
Amy murmured.
Corey wanted to do this alone, not in a selfish way. The four Dryden siblings, him, Amy, Chloe, and Sophie, all deserved to be in the office together. He was just doing what was expected of him, protecting his sisters from things they shouldn’t have to deal with.
I’ve got this,
he murmured and pulled her into a hug.
You don’t need to do this alone, Corey.
The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor had them both turning. Sophie only six, and the baby of the family, was in oversize slippers, her pajamas, Oscar-Teddy in her hand, and her face pale. I can’t sleep,
she said, and tears collected in her eyes, rolling down her face.
Corey and Amy exchanged glances, and Amy nodded imperceptibly, I got this. She scooped up their sister and walked down the hall, promising a story and chocolate. When their voices had faded, Corey turned the handle, and eyes shut, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
When he opened them again, he didn't know what he'd thought he'd see. Nothing had changed. There was no sign of anything to indicate his parents and uncle were dead. No significant shift in the air, or whispers of ghosts.
It was only an office.
Floor-to-ceiling bookcases on one side, full of bright novels, selected kids’ books, and black folders for his dad’s work, a filing system Edward Dryden had never quite gotten a handle on, much to his wife’s consternation. Emily Dryden was the organized one in the house. She had to be, with a husband who was away a lot, four children, and her numerous charitable associations. She never worked for Dryden-Marsdale, even though she’d been a Marsdale before marrying Edward. Their joined initials could be seen everywhere in this room; the double E’s looped around each other and intertwined. The design mirrored how they’d been in life.
To the left of the office was the area Dad had put aside for the kids. He’d thrived on the chaos of having people in the room with him; conference calls with Sophie hanging off his neck had been a frequent occurrence. He wasn’t sure Uncle Drake had been as impressed with how his brother worked, but he’d never married or had kids, as far as anyone knew. Tightly restrained, Uncle Drake was the one who found organization in the chaos and had become Edward’s, right-hand man.
The windows looked out to the manicured lawns beyond and the summer house by the large pond at the bottom of the garden. Emily Dryden had loved her oasis of peace. Tiny fairy lights following a path from the house to the pond had been strung individually by her. They weren’t on now, leaving the yard in darkness and the office gloomy apart from the soft light from a full moon. He couldn’t see her roses from there, tucked away behind a neatly trimmed hedge in the sunniest part of the garden. The area wasn’t meant to be viewed from the house; it was the place she went to read, and what had become her own private space.
Someone needs to check on the roses.
He flicked on the desk light and slid into his dad’s chair.
My chair. It’s my chair.
He didn’t know where to start with the desk, or the company, or life. He only knew he had to start somewhere.
Anywhere.
Pulling a piece of paper toward him, he waited, pen poised, for inspiration. He should make a list of company issues. The fact that Dryden-Marsdale had a whole raft of ongoing contracts was a priority. The company was strong, but how did it come back from losing its founders and principal shareholders? The man who had guided the company to what it was now, his wife, and the operating manager.
Grief hollowed Corey, and the pen in his hand wobbled. Where did he start? With the company? The house? The rose garden? The trusts for his two youngest sisters? Did he get someone in here to help him wade through the mess of it all? Or did he leave his job and make this his complete focus? How could he do that when he had to hold Sophie as she cried, or entice his sisters to eat when he didn't even want to feed himself?
Then he realized there was something more important than the company. A part of him that had to be the priority. He wrote his first heading.
Family.
Somehow, the four of them made it through week one. Corey had arranged counseling for his sisters and knew that at some point he would need to talk to someone as well. One day when he didn't have the weight of the company on his shoulders.
He hadn't been into the central offices of Dryden-Marsdale, on the twenty-ninth floor of a glass-and-steel tower in the center of Dallas. His dad’s PA, Heather, was watching over things and coordinating the team leaders of the fifty or so staff members who were shaken but pulling together. Heather said he didn’t need to worry just yet. That he needed to give himself time.
She prepared reports for him, told him what