Bound Together (Torn and Bound Duet 2)

He scrubs his palms over his scruff that’s grown in the last few days since he hasn’t shaven. “I want to be so mad at Brayden for what he did with Ashton, but…”

“But you love him, and he’s your best friend,” I choke out, missing the hell out of mine.

“Yeah, but more than that, I want to be with him.” Drew’s glassy eyes meet mine. “I spent eight years without him, and I don’t think I can do that again. I came here to coach, but the truth is, I also came here to get my best friend back.”

My heart both swells and clenches at the same time because the man he wants is the same man I was falling for. God, this is so messed up.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, and when I open them, I say the words I think he’s needing to hear. “Then you should go after him.”

Drew’s eyes lock with mine.

“He loves you, Drew, and after spending this time with you, I can see why. Go to him, work it out. At least one of us can have that elusive happily ever after.”

Drew nods. “I’m not ready yet. I need to forgive him first, so when I do go to him, I’m not still angry and hurt by what he did.”

“You of all people know that what happened wasn’t Brayden’s fault.” I huff out a laugh. “I love Ashton to death, but we both know he was the instigator there. It wasn’t too long ago you were with Ashton as well. I’m not saying Brayden didn’t do anything, because we both saw him kissing Ashton back, but…”

Drew groans. “But Ashton is hard as fuck to resist.”

I laugh harder. “I miss him so much.” Fresh sobs rack my body, and Drew pulls me into his arms so I’m straddling his thighs. I wrap my arms around his neck and he holds me tight while I cry into his neck. “Why can’t I be enough?”

“Fuck, Mia, you are,” Drew murmurs. “You are enough.”

“Not for Brayden… and not for Ashton…” And not even for Drew. I’ve fallen for three men. Three sweet, funny, thoughtful, sexy men, and I’m not enough for any of them.

Memories from when I was younger hit me hard.

“You aren’t skinny enough.”

“You aren’t motivated enough.”

“You aren’t pretty enough.”

“You aren’t coordinated enough.”

“You aren’t popular enough.”

My entire life, I’ve never been enough. My mom made sure I knew it, and as much as I hate to admit it, she wasn’t wrong.

I pull away from Drew and climb off his lap. “If it’s okay with you, I think I really just want to be alone.” I swipe the tears that won’t stop falling.

“Are you sure?” he asks, worry in his tone.

“Yeah,” I choke out. “I’m sorry. I just… I need some time to think.”

“Okay, yeah.” He stands. “But if you need anything…”

“I know, thank you.”

“You sure?” he asks again as he opens the front door.

“Yeah.”

Once he’s out the door, I lock it and then slide down the door until I’m sitting on the floor, and then I let go and cry.

I want to be enough for someone.

My parents. Ashton. Drew and Brayden.

Seems like I’m almost good enough, but not quite.

I guess Mom was always right.There’s a knock on the door, and I drag myself out of bed. The first couple days of me being at home and wallowing, Ashton and Brayden would stop by and try to get me to open the door, but after Drew told them I needed time, they stopped. Not ready to leave and deal with the real world, I emailed my professors and feigned sick. They were nice about it, letting me know the work I need to do to stay caught up, and it bought me a few days.

Now, it’s Friday and Drew and Brayden are leaving for an away game, so I could probably get away with leaving my apartment, but there’s still Ashton. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since I caught him and Brayden lip-locked, and I don’t think I’m ready yet. I haven’t even turned my phone on. It’s been quiet and peaceful… and lonely.

The knock sounds again, and my heart picks up speed at the thought of Ashton being on the other side of my door. I bring my eye to the peephole, mentally preparing myself for seeing the man who’s stolen my heart and shattered it, but instead, I see Drew.

“Hey,” I say, opening the door so he can come in. “I thought you had a game.”

“We do.” He closes the door behind him. “But when I stopped by before, I noticed you didn’t have any food in your fridge.” He raises his arms, holding a coffee in one hand and a bag in the other.

“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the items from him and setting them on the counter. “But you don’t have to take care of me.”