Bound Together (Torn and Bound Duet 2)

“Good girl,” she says with a wink.

As I take a bite of my brownie, I notice Ashton and Brayden both smiling at each other. And I know Brayden definitely told Ashton about my mom.

After dessert is over, Molly insists we all go out back and have an after-dinner drink by her chiminea. It’s cold outside, but the warmth from it makes it nice. Ashton and I cuddle up into one of her lounge chairs together, while everyone pairs off in the other two.

“This is nice,” Molly muses. “We should make this a weekly tradition. Remember when you used to come over every Sunday for dinner?” she asks Drew, who nods in agreement.

“Yeah, I’ve missed this,” he says, wrapping his arm around Brayden. “Being on the road got old quick.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket again, and I plan to ignore it, but Ashton pulls it out. “Sasha has formally invited you to the DELTA DELTA DELTA Halloween party,” he says with a snort. “Hell no. No one wants to see her dressed as Slutty Sorority Barbie. Oh wait. She’s Slutty Sorority Barbie every day.”

“Be nice,” I say, smacking his thigh. “It could be fun. Maybe Drew and Brayden could come.”

Before Ashton opens his mouth and says something super inappropriate about that, Brayden chimes in. “I got a text earlier from Finn. The whole team is going. I think I’ll go. I’ve been trying to be more present with them. Being team captain means you actually have to talk to the team.” He laughs. “You can be my date, Mia.” He winks.

“If he’s going,” Ashton grumbles, “then Drew and I have to go to make sure you don’t get roofied by Brayden’s dude bro friends.”

Molly laughs. “You’re such a silly boy.”

Ashton beams like it’s a compliment.

“I can’t,” Drew says, though he has a wistful expression on his face. “I wish I could.”

“It’s a Halloween party,” Ashton says to Drew. “Wear a damn mask. No one will ever know.”

“I think it will be wonderful for you four to dress up and have fun,” Molly encourages.

“As long as you’re careful,” Tim adds, his attention on Drew.

“Halloween used to be your favorite holiday,” Molly says to Brayden. “Remember when you and Ben went through your phase of dressing up together?” She smiles. “Brayden wanted to be Papa Smurf and convinced Ben to be Smurfette. Poor thing had to walk around the neighborhood in a dress and blond wig, but he didn’t seem to mind.”

Everyone laughs, but when I look over at Brayden, he isn’t. He’s not even smiling.

“Oh!” Molly continues, completely oblivious to the change in Brayden’s demeanor. “And what about the time you three boys all dressed up as your favorite hockey players? I think I have a picture somewhere.”

At that, Brayden jumps out of the chair and mutters, “I’ll be right back.”

Molly stops talking, a frown marring her features. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, dear,” Tim says. “It’s okay to talk about Ben. All we have left are the memories.”

My thoughts go back to the time Brayden and I spent together in my childhood room at my parents’ place when he surprised me by showing up for the weekend. The devastated look in his eyes when he told me about his brother’s death. The guilt dripping with each word as he confessed to me that he was to blame. Had he not agreed to take his brother outside in the cold that day while his parents were out, he believes his brother never would’ve caught pneumonia and died. I can’t even imagine living with a weight like that on my shoulders.

“I’m going to go talk to him,” I say, my eyes meeting Drew’s to make sure I’m not overstepping. He nods once and I take off into the house to find Brayden.

I search the kitchen and living room and then head down the small hallway that’s filled with family photos. The second door on the right is slightly ajar, so I poke my head in. “Hey, can I come in?”

Brayden nods.

I sit next to him on the twin-sized bed and glance around. There are hockey trophies and pictures filled with happy faces. Hockey posters are hanging on the walls and there’s a corkboard with a collage of more photos. I admire how homey the room is. You can tell a teenager lived here. I think back to my room at home and how it looks more like it’s staged than lived-in.

Brayden is clutching a small picture frame to his chest. “Can I see?”

He hands it over and I admire the photo. There are three boys in the picture. Two older and one younger. I can tell right away that the two older ones are Drew and Brayden. Drew’s signature dimple is on display as he smiles over at Brayden, who looks to be laughing at something someone said. The youngest of the three is glancing over at the other two boys with a look of awe.