Bound Together (Torn and Bound Duet 2)

“Can I talk to you guys for a minute?” There’s a chance Brayden’s going to be mad at me for what I’m about to do, but I have to do it—for him.

Molly and Tim both nod.

“Of course,” Molly says. “Is it Drew?”

“No. It’s about Ben.”I can’t take this.

Again.

The guilt. The self-hatred. The agony.

Ben. Now Drew. Maybe it’ll be Ashton or Mia next.

Why is it my actions always hurt those around me?

Ashton reaches over, threading his fingers with mine, momentarily silencing my awful thoughts that are on repeat inside my head. “You think loud. It hurts my ears.”

I let out a small laugh, devoid of humor. “You should hear it from the inside.”

“You could tell me,” he offers, his hazel eyes searching mine.

Gritting my teeth, I break my stare from him to look at Drew. Strong, fierce, powerful Drew who’s lifeless and hooked to machines. Because of me. “Some shit is better left unsaid.”

He squeezes my hand but doesn’t say anything else. I glance at the clock, wondering what’s taking Mia so long. She’s so brave. I can tell she wants to burst into tears every three seconds, but she holds it together like she’s doing it for us. I love that girl.

Speaking of that girl…

She slips into the room, a guilty expression on her face. My parents follow in after. As soon as I see my parents’ faces, my gut hollows out.

Mia wouldn’t.

I tense up, clinging to Ashton like he’s my lifeline and I’m about to get sucked into a black void I’ll never escape from. Panic claws up my throat and my eyes burn.

No.

Please, no.

I can’t lose them too.

Mia’s eyes water as she nears. “Please don’t be mad at me. I couldn’t let you hurt yourself any longer, Bray.”

I gape at her, my throat aching with emotion. Anger flashes hot inside me, but it’s doused in despair. Fear of the unknown threatens to consume me.

Ashton starts to pull away as my parents approach, both of them horror-stricken, but I tighten my grip on his hand. I can’t do this. Not alone. I can’t do this.

Mom sits beside me, taking my other hand as Dad kneels in front of me. Tears of dread pool in my eyes, leaking without my permission.

“Oh, honey,” Mom says, her voice shaking. “Oh, my sweet, sweet boy.”

“I’m s-sorry,” I choke out. “I d-didn’t mean t-to.”

Dad ruffles my hair, pressing his forehead to mine. “Brayden, Ben’s death was not your fault.”

A sob tears its way out of me. I can hear it echoed in both my mother and Mia. I can’t look at them. I’m ensnared in my father’s fierce glare.

“It was my fault,” I whisper, admitting to him what I’ve wanted to say for years. “It was all my fault.”

“No,” Mom hisses. “It was not your fault. I will not have you drowning in this guilt, thinking you’re responsible.”

“But I was!” I cry out, my heart aching. “You told us to stay inside while you went Christmas shopping. It was too cold to play outside, but I took him anyway.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “He got pneumonia because I took him in that cold weather. It was me. I did this to him. Your son is dead because of me.”

“Nonsense,” Dad barks out. “What happened to Ben was an accident. An unfortunate one. He’d been suffering from chronic colds for years.”

“But I took him outside,” I argue. “He wouldn’t have gotten sick if it weren’t for me!”

“I refuse to believe that,” Dad states. “He’d already had two bouts of bronchitis at Halloween and then Thanksgiving. His lungs were failing him. The pneumonia was a sad inevitability. It’s not your fault his little body was too weak. Not your fault.”

“But—” I start, but Mom shushes me and squeezes my hand.

“Not your fault,” she says. “Your brother adored you. Worshipped you, Brayden. Why do you think he never played sports himself? He wasn’t cut out for it because he was too sickly. Maybe you don’t remember this about Ben, but it’s the truth. He loved that his brother was strong and athletic and played hockey like a champ. The fact you gave him one last chance to play and be a kid was the best gift he’s ever gotten. We love you, Brayden, but we won’t allow you to take the blame anymore. Ben died loving you and thinking the world of you, as he should. It’s time to live up to those big brother expectations.”

Mom pulls me to her and I release Ashton’s hand to cling to her. I think back to all the times in our childhood. How I never got sick, but Ben caught everything. The flu, fevers, respiratory infections. He missed school a lot, whereas I always had perfect attendance. Maybe he really was sick and I never realized just how much.

“It hurts,” I whimper. “It’s hurt for so long.”