Bound Together (Torn and Bound Duet 2)

“This is your brother,” I guess.

“Yeah. It’s the last photo I have with him.”

I notice then they’re all wearing hockey uniforms. It must’ve been Halloween.

“Bray, you have to tell your parents… You can’t keep living with this guilt.”

Brayden shakes his head. “I can’t. I promised Ben.”

“Though I didn’t get to know Ben, I think he would be okay with you telling them. The little boy in this picture loved you. He wouldn’t want you to suffer in silence.”

“What if they hate me?” he whispers, staring down at the picture. “What if I tell them and they blame me?”

“The way you’re already blaming yourself?” I set the picture down and turn to face him. “You announced over dinner you’re not only gay but dating your best friend and they barely batted an eyelash. I don’t see them blaming you or hating you. I think you need to trust them. I’ve only just met them, but I can see it in their eyes, they love you so much.”

I choke up as I say the words, wishing my parents loved me the way Brayden’s love him.

“I’m not ready yet,” Brayden chokes out. “I know that makes me a wuss, but…”

“No, it doesn’t,” I argue. “It makes you human.” I pull him into a hug. “But one day, when you’re ready, I believe that when you tell them, they’ll be there for you and a huge weight will be lifted off your shoulders.”

By the time we make it back outside, Ashton and Drew are standing, getting ready to leave.

“Well, we gotta bail,” Ashton says, snagging my hand. “Have to get started on making some grandbabies, Mom.”

Tim shakes his head, chuckling. “I don’t think he’s kidding.”

“He’s not,” Bray, Drew, and I all say at once, making Ashton grin evilly.

“Please come see us again soon,” Molly says, hugging each of us. “This was a wonderful evening.”

Once we’ve bid our goodbyes, we all walk out and I can’t help but think this is the best family dinner I’ve ever been to.“I can’t believe I got talked into this,” Drew complains, fussing with his mask. “It’s just asking for trouble.”

Mia hooks her arm with his once we get out of Brayden’s SUV at the party. “No one will know it’s you,” Mia assures Drew. “Plus, you have enough blood on your shirt and mask, I don’t think anyone is going to mess with you. You look scary.”

Scary hot.

I try to unthink that thought, but it already happened. When we went to the Halloween shop yesterday, we were left with the most generic shit to choose from. Drew got a Jason Voorhees hockey mask and opted for regular clothes splattered with fake blood. I’d tried to encourage him to be Chippendale Jason and wear a bowtie with no shirt—even offered to oil him up—but he just rolled his eyes and ignored me.

“I look scary,” I throw in. “Right, Kurt?”

Brayden looks my way and busts out laughing. Again. My costume is wicked cool. Fuck him. Drew starts to laugh and then Mia cackles too.

“Fuck the three of you,” I grumble.

“It’s just… I can’t…” Brayden wheezes, trying to speak through his chuckles. “I can’t fucking take you serious with those eyebrows.”

I waggle them at him, making him howl even more. “I’m the devil. These are my evil eyebrows.” I’d taken a lot of time to white out my face with makeup and then draw on these cartoony evil brows with black eyeliner. They’re overexaggerated and pretty awesome if I do say so myself.

“I can’t look at you, man,” Brayden says, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“At least my costume is fucking cool,” I snap. “Unlike whatever that is.” I wave at that. Him. All his ’90s grunge glory. He’s such a poser, though. Who wears a Nirvana T-shirt to dress like Kurt Cobain? Kurt Cobain never wore his own band T-shirts. His blond wig was supposed to be for a female flapper, but it had been opened and was a little fucked up, so he thought it made him look like Kurt. No, it makes him look stupid.

“Don’t pout,” Brayden says, grinning. “If you don’t look at your face, you’re all right.”

My face is cool, but he’s right. The rest of me is even better. I found a devil horns headband and a tail that I attached to my black, metal studded belt, but the rest is just cool shit I had. A red tank, tight, holey black jeans, and my high-top red, Doc Marten combat boots with black laces. MiMi painted my nails black. I look hot. Like the devil’s supposed to be.

“Mia looks the best,” Drew says, glancing over his shoulder as Brayden and I follow. “An angel is fitting.”

Barely fits is more like it.

And I’m so fucking into it, too.

I admire her cute ass as it bounces with each step she takes. Her tight white dress barely covers the ass I love to bite. She has on white and silver striped thigh-high socks and white platform shoes. The dress is sleeveless and dips low in the front. It’s super slutty and I can’t wait to fuck her in it. Her dark hair is in cute pigtails that make for great handlebars when she gives me head. Instead of her glasses, she put in contacts and white false eyelashes. She found a headband with a sparkly halo and her lips are painted silver with glitter all over them.