Page 40 of Shattered

I discovered additional information after speaking with the kind lady, and it could potentially be a promising beginning for Brayden. She clarified they hold them weekly, but it is not necessary for you to attend every week. You can go as many times as you want. To attend, you must make sure you register in advance as there’s a limited capacity. I’m feeling hopeful and can’t wait until tomorrow to tell Brayden. However, when I check Instagram, I’m disappointed to see that he hasn’t posted anything. I enjoy watching his day-to-day life and what he gets up to. It calms me. I tap the message button.

@thestilestman:Hey

With impatience, I scowl at the screen until the word ‘seen’ appears below my name a few minutes later.

@quakeontheice:Hey

@thestilestman:I have found somewhere we can go for your brother. It’s a support group for family members of addicts, but it’s got good reviews and I think it will be a good start.

As soon as I send the message, I can see it’s been seen straight away and eagerly await his response. What feels like an hour but is less than a minute. I get a reply.

@quakeontheice:this is amazing. Thank you so much, sir. I really appreciate this.

A sense of fulfillment rushes through me, realizing that I’ve made him happy based on that message.

@quakeontheice:But what do you mean by we? You don’t need to come, you know that, right?

I frown at the message.

@thestilestman:You’re not going on your own. I want to be there for you. I will go with you. End of discussion. We go this Saturday at 11. I’ll pick you up outside Pythons at 10:15. Don’t be late.

I shut down my app, convincing myself I don’t have to see his response, but then my phone dings. Frustrated, I study at the ceiling and clench my jaw, but I realize it’s pointless. I grab my phone and glance at the screen.

@quakeontheice:Yes, sir.

Heat rushes through me. My body has a strange reaction when Brayden does as I ask and replies withYes, sir.My pants tighten as vivid images race through my thoughts. That shouldn’t be. Brayden’s captivating smile as he kneels before me is burned into my mind. The smile I crave to see on him. Fuck. Rubbing the palm of my hand over my dick doesn’t provide any relief. It’s painfully fucking hard now.

This isn’t good.

I type eagerly on the screen, consumed by my twisted infatuation for him.

@thestilestman:Tell me one thing. Are you smiling now?

@quakeontheice:I am, sir, and it’s all thanks to you.

I let out a loud groan and forcefully cover my eyes with my hands, desperately wishing these images of Brayden smiling at me while undoing my pants would go away.

I’m so fucking gone.

My hand snakes down to my pants, unzipping and pulling my heavy leaking dick out and I pump myself until ropes of cum squirt out of me. And the sick thing is, the whole time I imagine it’s Brayden’s hand and not mine.

Chapter twenty-three

Brayden

It’s been a long time since I woke up feeling this happy. I went to bed with a smile on my face and had the best night’s sleep in a while after receiving Mr. Stiles’ message.

I’m aware that this group won’t be the perfect solution, but it’s a start and there will be people who can relate. They will understand the situation I’m in. They will be able to give me advice and connections. I hope.

What brings me the most happiness is having Mr. Stiles there for me, meaning I don’t have to go through this alone.

I have an extra pep in my step as I prepare for classes today, grateful that I don’t have one this morning. I’m excited to see Bexley and share the news about this group. I want to be transparent with him. I want him to know that I’m finding a way out for him. I’m getting him help. It’s about time I returned the favor and took care of my twin, exactly as he did for me when we were younger.

Last night, I couldn’t stop grinning after rereading Mr. Stiles’ messages.

Before putting on my sweatshirt, I think twice about it and bring my phone up to face the mirror in my bathroom. I don’t usually take a ton of selfies and post them, but I enjoy capturing moments when I’m feeling good. Just like now.

I flex my muscles, which are a lot more defined since I’ve been going to the gym more. With only my sweatpants on, I grin wide, letting my gray sweatpants hang low and snap a picture of my body and the top of my sweatpants. My smile is all you can see on my face, my nose and eyes, hidden under a low-hanging baseball cap. I posted it on my story with a caption that read:

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