Bound Together (Torn and Bound Duet 2)

Mia.

Dad.

So many others.

I hurt people because I like to hurt myself. They become casualties of my destruction. I need to learn to stop wrecking my own heart, and as a result, saving those around me.

Baby steps.

It only solidifies my desire to pursue my degree in psychology. If people like me could figure out how to handle ourselves, imagine how many others like us we could also help. For the first time since I started therapy all those years ago, I had respect for the person trying to help me.

I’m not delusional enough to think I’m going to magically be a better person, but this is the first time I wanted to be better. I had someone I needed desperately to be better for.

Mia.

She deserves to have a best friend who will keep trying to do right by her, even when he fucks up. And if it leads to something more, then so be it. If it doesn’t, I’ll be perfectly content seeing her smile directed at me and to have my gamer buddy back.

Mia is like the sun.

Bright and hot and penetrating.

She gets inside you and lights up all the shadowed corners of the darkest parts of you.

For some strange-ass reason, she decided to walk into my life and shine her sparkly light on me. When you’re used to being a cold-hearted dick, it’s a little alarming to grow so warm just by being exposed to another person.

Mia is my world.

A huge piece that completes the puzzle that is me, pulling all the fragmented, jagged parts together and making them somehow fit and make sense.

I’m not whole without her.

In no time, I’m pulling my Audi up to the curb in front of a long-ass line. I fling open the door, cringing against the biting cold, and then pull out my wallet to meet the approaching valet guy.

“Keep it running or drive it around the block a couple of times. I’ll be out in a few,” I tell him as I flip open my wallet. “Here. Keep it warm.”

He smiles at the handful of hundreds I thrust at him. “Sure, man. It can stay for a few.”

I hand him my keys and then trot to the front of the line. A man dressed in a suit arches a brow at me, daring me to try and enter.

“Wendy Worthington-Carter. She’s my mom,” I bark at him. “I’m just going in to fetch my girl and I’ll be out of here.”

The guy’s face curls into a devious smirk. “Tell your mom Bo says hi.” He winks in a way that makes my skin crawl.

Fucking gross.

“Yeah, dude. I’ll tell her.”

He waves me inside. I scan my gaze across the room, looking for the hottest brunette in this place. Eventually, I settle my stare on the saddest girl to ever drink expensive-ass gin straight from a bottle.

My girl.

I stalk through the crowd, a man on a mission. I’m almost to her when a snobby bitch steps right in front of me.

“What are you doing here?” Sasha sneers, curling her lip up at me.

I hate this bitch.

“I’m taking my girl home.” I grit my teeth. “Move, princess.”

“You’re gay,” Sasha spits at me as though I’m supposed to fucking recoil or some shit.

“And you’re a bitch, but here we are. Move or I’ll do it for you.” I crack my neck, leveling her with a hard glare. I didn’t come all this way to be sidelined by a stuck-up sorority brat.

“How did you even get in here?” Sasha demands. “You’re… you.”

Gripping her dainty shoulders, I move her aside, ignoring her snarling. I prowl the rest of the way up to Mia, crowding her from behind. She stiffens her body when I wrap my arms around her.

“Missed you, MiMi,” I murmur, nuzzling my nose in her hair near her ear, inhaling her sweet scent I’ve craved so badly.

“Ashton.” Her choked out word slices my already butchered heart.

“I’m here,” I say, hugging her tight.

“You shouldn’t be.”

She’s drunk. There’s a slur in her words and her dumb friend isn’t exactly the nurturing type. It’s a good thing I arrived because based on the way she falls against me, her head lolling to the side, it was only a matter of time before some douchebag took advantage of her.

“I know,” I croon, “but I’m here anyway. Let’s get you home.”

The bartender shoots me a worried look. “Want me to call her an Uber?”

“I’m her best friend,” I snap at him. “She’s going home with me where I can keep her safe. Next time, look at the fucking ID before you sell a college freshman the whole damn bottle.”

His face pales. Fuck him.

I slide Mia’s arm over my shoulders and wrap an arm around her waist, holding her up. Sasha steps in front of me again, her face bright red with anger.

“Move,” I growl.