Destiny Calls Samantha Wayland (the first e reader .txt) 📖

away, he stumbled to the bathroom, vaguely aware that something didn"t feel right. He refused, though, to turn on the light and blind himself. Instead, he did his business and practically fell back to sleep while standing there.

With a sigh, he staggered back into the bedroom and opened his eyes enough to see Patrick sprawled on the bed. He stopped, hardly able believe what had happened as the memories of the night before came flooding back. Shit, he could hardly believe he was allowed to climb back into bed with Patrick and Destiny at all, let alone able to recall life-altering sex with them.

Wait. His brain went from mostly asleep to barely booting up. Where was Destiny?

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Standing in the middle of Patrick"s bedroom, buck naked and confused, it took longer than it should have for Brandon to get a really bad feeling.

With a final snap of realization, he came fully awake.

Fuck.

He yanked on a pair of jeans, alarmed to find Farley curled up in the corner. Damn it. She wasn"t out walking the dog. And if she was awake and in the house, he was almost certain Farley would be with her.

Shit, shit, shit.

Padding down to the kitchen, he looked out the door and saw her car was gone.

Fuck.

He hauled ass back upstairs, waking Patrick by jumping on top of him.

“What"s up, Bran?” Patrick mumbled, his voice gruff with sleep.

“Destiny"s gone.”

Patrick bolted upright, forcing Brandon back to kneel straddling Patrick"s legs.

“What?”

“She"s gone,” he said, only then realizing what was different in the bathroom. The countertop was empty of all the weird jars and pots that smelled of Destiny. “She took her stuff. Her car.”

Rather than leap out of bed as he"d expected, Patrick slumped back against the pillows and groaned, scrubbing both hands over his face. “Fuck. I am such an idiot.” It took a lot to resist agreeing with Patrick, since he"d obviously done something to warrant it. Or thought he had. Brandon tried to give his friend the benefit of the doubt.

“What happened? Do you think our yelling in the kitchen freaked her out?”

“No, Bran, I"m really an idiot.”

“What?” he asked, cringing in anticipation of god-only-knew what.

“I told her you two were it for me. That I wanted… Christ! I said happily ever after.”

Patrick looked up at him, obviously desperate for his help. And Brandon might have been able to give him some if his jaw weren"t hanging down to his lap.

Happily ever after? Jesus H. Christ.

It took him a good three minutes to formulate a response that didn"t include punching Patrick in the nose or getting up and running from the house.

“I can"t decide if you"re fucking insane for even thinking that, or just completely out of your ever-loving mind for saying it out loud to Destiny.” Patrick stared at him. Mute.

Shit. There was a first time for everything.

Heart thundering, he swore he didn"t want to ask, but how could he not? “Did you mean it?”

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Patrick had the decency to look him right in the eyes. “Yes.” His own eyes just about bugged out of his head at that admission, even as his shoulders slumped. “I don"t know what I think about that, Patrick.” Brandon admitted as he slid off Patrick"s legs and sat facing him on the bed. “You"ve kind of surprised the crap out of me. It"s not like things are going smoothly. Christ, we"re in the middle of a shit storm here. What do you want me to say?”

He felt like he"d kicked a puppy when Patrick"s face fell, his expression confused and hurt. Patrick shrugged, hesitating before taking Brandon"s hand. “Nothing. Just please, don"t leave,” Patrick murmured quietly.

That was exactly what he should be doing and he knew it. Only, he couldn"t. He"d tried it once and it had sucked for the whole pathetic half-hour he"d stuck to his guns.

Now he was all the more invested. In what, exactly? He had no idea, but he needed to ride it a little longer to see where they all ended up.

Sighing, he declared himself a freaking idiot. “I"m not going anywhere,” he admitted.

The relief on Patrick"s face was both a comfort and a nightmare. How long did he think this could go on? Happily ever after? Christ. Was there such a thing in the deep dark of the closet? He should be running away with Destiny.

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Chapter Thirteen

Her cell phone started ringing at 6:30 that morning. Brandon.

When she didn"t answer, it rang again. Brandon.

Then again. Patrick.

Silencing the damn thing, she stood in line at Starbucks and ordered her grande two-pump mocha solo-shot non-fat with whip no foam on autopilot. She couldn"t even spare the energy to be embarrassed by her order like she usually was. It didn"t matter.

She was dead inside.

Surprised her legs did her the courtesy of holding her up, she dragged herself to work. Barely. She"d sat awake all night in her apartment, her only company the ten seconds it had taken her roommate to look at her face and realize he should retreat to his bedroom with all haste.

It seemed her coworkers could sense it too. It was a relief to be left in peace, except that once again the only company left to her was her thoughts.

The morning was endless. She jumped every time her purse buzzed with another incoming call or voicemail. She shut the ringer off on her desk phone too when they started to call that number. Maybe she should have felt guilty for not telling them she was okay, but she couldn"t bring herself to pick up the phone.

And fuck it, she wasn’t okay, so why lie?

When lunchtime finally arrived, which today was at eleven o"clock, she shot out of her chair. She was pretty sure she"d missed ninety-eight percent of what had been said in her last meeting and hoped a walk around downtown in the crisp fall air would clear her head. Or at least the smell of rotting fish from under the