Broken Pieces
Page 112

“I’ll think about it,” Josiah replied.
“Good.” Tristan opened the door, letting Josiah and Mateo out before he followed behind them, toward the realtor who waited outside.
Things were busy for them after that. Summer had started coming to a close. Tristan was busy on a case. Mateo picked up extra hours at the restaurant, wanting to make more money to help out. He had to check in with his PO often, and with Josiah’s busy work schedule, they hardly saw each other over the next week.
Mateo came in later than the rest of them most nights, and it seemed the only place the three of them met up was in bed.
Tonight Josiah was in the room alone, Mateo still at work and Tristan in his office, working. Tomorrow was the day they were all supposed to have dinner with Tristan’s mom.
When he heard the door downstairs, he waited, wondering how Mateo would tell him that he wasn’t going, wondering if Tristan already knew it. It took a few minutes before there were footsteps on the stairs and in the hall, but he never came in.
Josiah waited a few seconds before jumping out of bed. He’d kill Teo if he tried to go back to his old room, and he’d kill him if he tried not to go tomorrow. Maybe he didn’t realize how big a deal this was for Tristan to invite them, how much Josiah wanted them both there, and he refused to take no for an answer.
It wasn’t until he stepped into the hall that he realized Teo hadn’t gone to the spare room, but to Tristan’s office instead. The door was cracked, their soft, mumbled voices inside.
He reached for the handle, almost grabbing it, before pulling back. No matter how much he wanted tomorrow to be right for all of them, he realized now that it wasn’t his place to make it that way. He could love them both, want them both, but Teo had to want to be there. Tristan had to show him he wanted him there. They both knew how Josiah felt about everything. The rest was up to them.
He closed his eyes, let out a deep breath, and then turned back for their bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him.
Chapter Nineteen
Mateo
“You didn’t come in here to talk to me about work, Mateo. You’re too brave to pretend you did. What is it?”
Mateo watched as Tristan closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t look smug, or annoyed, just curious and honest. Tristan was also right. Well, about the not coming in his office to talk to him about work, at least. “I’m not fuckin’ brave. How do you get that?”
Tristan’s eyebrows pulled together, as though he couldn’t tell if Mateo was serious or not. He must have realized he was because he said, “A long list of reasons that will only go in one ear and out the other unless you want to believe them.”
Mateo let those words percolate for a minute. “In the beginning, I didn’t think we could be, but we’re not so different, you and me. The difference is you made something of your life, regardless. You’re a goddamned attorney. What the fuck am I?”
Tristan didn’t reply, and Mateo somehow knew he wouldn’t, that he would just wait for Mateo to continue. “With Jay, I didn’t have to worry about shit like this. I just had to be good enough for him. We both knew I never would be, but we still made it work. I’m not the guy who meets someone’s family. I’m an ex-con. An ex-drug dealer. I...” He shook his head before he and Tristan met eyes. Now the anger, the frustration, set in Tristan’s features, because he didn’t get it. He never would.
“Did Josiah tell you everything about the day he almost got hurt? That I was an asshole to him, and then went to sell drugs to crack heads, hookers, and fucking moms? That I was so fucking busy I was late to pick him up, and that’s when they attacked him?”
Tristan’s eyes were closed when Mateo looked at him again. He held his fingers to his wrist, something Teo hadn’t seen him do in a while. Finally. Finally he saw who Mateo was...and it fucking hurt. But it was important, too.
Mateo didn’t try and block out the visions in his eyes, the picture of that motherfucker on top of Josiah, because he figured he deserved to live with it. “I didn’t even try and use my fists. I didn’t even try to pull him off. I took out my knife, and as he lay on him, I slit his fucking throat. That is who I am, and I will never regret doing it.”
Dios, if he didn’t suddenly feel the urge to count his pulse, too, to remind himself that he was really there. Who knew how much longer he would be.
“So, you saved him. You killed a man who would have raped Josiah. You should have!” Tristan’s fist came down on the desk. “Hell, you probably saved more than just Josiah by doing it!”