Mateo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands on his head. “There’s shit I’ve done that could come back to haunt me. I mean, I don’t think so. If they haven’t by now they shouldn’t, but they could. There’s no promise my past won’t come back and rip me out of his life, even if he didn’t have you.”
Self-hatred ate away at him, his insides filled with holes like wood infested with termites. Dios, he was such a piece of shit. Even so, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret this.
“What did you do?” Tristan’s voice was ice cold, detached.
“None of your fucking business.”
He sighed before sitting in his chair at his desk. “Do I have to worry about someone looking for you who might hurt Josiah to get back at you?”
“Fuck you if you think I would put him at risk like that. Things were shitty between Javier and me, but it was even worse before I got locked up. I got outta prison early and just left. He doesn’t give a shit where I am. He’s probably thankful I’m gone.” He sat up against the back of the chair, frustrated at himself for being an asshole to Tristan. All he did was try to protect Josiah. “No. It’s the other side of the law who would come looking. You don’t want to know any more than that.”
Tristan nodded and Mateo pushed to his feet, feeling like he might lose his shit and puke all over Tristan’s office. “I need to get outta here.”
By the time he made it to the door, Tristan was right there, his hand on Mateo’s arm again. “Don’t disappear. We still have things to figure out.”
He couldn’t believe he did it, but Mateo nodded his head. A part of him knew Tristan was right. They did have shit to figure out, he just couldn’t believe Tristan would want to. And didn’t know what in the hell they could possibly do.
When Tristan let him go, Mateo jogged down the stairs. He had his shirt and shoes on in no time flat. He stopped by the couch and fingered Josiah’s hair before grabbing his bag of clothes and heading out the door.
From the street, he stopped and looked up at the house, at the figure that stood in the window of the room he just left. A room that was now dark.
Reaching in his bag, Mateo pulled out the camera he’d bought at a pawnshop and took a picture before losing himself in the night.
Chapter Eleven
Tristan
He had no idea what the hell he was doing.
He’d never had a problem not getting involved before. His whole life he automatically kept himself at arm’s length when it came to other people. Emotional attachments led to all kind of situations he’d never wanted to deal with...never wanted to risk. As long as he could take care of himself and his mom, that’s all that ever mattered to him.
Now he’d fallen for Josiah. It was something that grew over the years, and even though voicing it aloud was still somehow trapped inside him, he’d accepted it. He could deal with it, because it almost felt like he wasn’t putting himself out there, wasn’t risking giving control to another person, if he didn’t actually voice his emotions. He wanted to have Josiah in his life, no matter what, and that’s all that he focused on.
Yet, now...hell, now he didn’t know what to think of Mateo barging back into Josiah’s life.
Tristan leaned back in the chair of his dark office. He knew what he should want. He should want the man out of their world. Not just because he didn’t have room inside him to care about anyone else, or even because he’d hurt Josiah in the past, or because he could very well take the only man Tristan had ever really loved away from him.
Mateo threatened the one thing in his life that had always meant more to him than everything, except his mom. It meant more than his pride and dignity. He’d bent to another man’s will, gotten to his knees for someone he didn’t want, and let a man fuck him for money to secure his stability. Yet even being around Mateo threatened what he fought for. His career.
Mateo never played on the right side of the law. He knew that much from stories Josiah told him, but now he knew there were things that could come back for Mateo even now. Knowing about those things meant risking the control over his world that Tristan clung to so tightly. It was the only thing that made him feel whole...except for Josiah.
He closed his eyes, letting those thoughts absorb into him—thoughts of Josiah and Mateo both.
Josiah made him feel again.
He’d told Mateo not to run, even though that would have been the smartest thing for him to do.
Jesus, but he wanted Mateo around. That’s the part that didn’t compute.
