Broken Pieces

Page 20

“Oh no. What is it?” She turned to look at him. Mateo tilted his head down.
“My stomach. I think my lunch is messin’ with me or somethin’.”
“I’m sorry. What about you, Josiah? Did you eat the same thing?”
Without answering, he shook his head from the passenger seat. He never should have gone outside with Josiah like that. Never should have touched his hair when they were in the mall, or tried to kiss him in the alley. He definitely should have been watching what the hell was going on so those guys wouldn’t have gotten the drop on them. He owed Josiah more than that.
It felt like forever until they were home. In the bathroom, Teo cleaned his head again, stuffing the dirty rag into one pocket and grabbing a clean one to keep between his wound and the beanie in case it started bleeding again. After brushing his teeth, he told them he was taking a nap before disappearing into his room. “Oh, fuck.” Mateo winced, grabbing his side as he tried to lift his shirt up. There were black and blue bruises all over his torso.
What if those guys would have done that to Josiah? Rage gnawed through him, eating him alive.
Mateo kicked out of his shoes, managed to pull his pants off, and then fell into the bed. Stabbing pain pierced him as he pulled the blanket up and over him. He wished he had been able to climb into Josiah’s bed instead of his. Mateo trusted Josiah to keep Molly out, but he had to be sure.
When his eyes fluttered open again, the room was dark, all except for a sliver of light from the door closing. “Jay?” His voice cracked. Hell, he couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep.
“Yeah...yeah, it’s me. I kept checking on you, but you were sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb you, but then I kept freaking out because of your head. Didn’t mean to wake you up again.”
Mateo got this strange flutter in his chest, the pain briefly subsiding because it felt so damn good that Josiah cared about him. “Again?” he asked.
“I was scared you had a concussion or something. I woke you up. You don’t remember?”
He shook his head, but then remembered Josiah couldn’t see him in the dark. “Come here. Come lay with me.”
The sound of Josiah’s moving across the room made him smile.
“Pull the blanket back. I don’t wanna move.”
“I got you some painkillers.”
His eyes stung when the bedside light came on. He took three of the pills Josiah gave him, swallowed them down with the glass of water he had, too, before falling back into the pillows. Josiah wore a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt, obviously ready for bed. “Molly and William?” Teo asked.
“Going to sleep right now.”
Mateo’s fingers itched to touch his hair. To feel Josiah next to him, so he knew he was okay. “Come here... I...”
But before he could finish, Josiah was climbing under the blanket with him. “I don’t want to hurt you. How should I lay?”
“Close.” It was a pussy reply, showing how much he needed Josiah like that, but he didn’t care.
Josiah curled up next to him, his hair where Teo could touch it.
“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry that happened,” he told Josiah again.
“It’s not your fault. I don’t want it to be like that, though. I don’t want you taking everyone on for me.”
He paused for a minute before replying. “Takin’ care of you is all I have. The only good thing I have.”
Josiah wiped his eye before touching Mateo’s hair like Mateo so often did to him. They were both on their sides, facing each other. It was the only place Teo had ever felt like home.
“Teo? I mean, Mateo.”
“You can call me that. Call me whatever you want.”
He nodded. “Why do you throw up? You did it when you almost got in the fight at school, and then again tonight.”
You’re too weak! You have to be strong, Mateo. You’re a leader. Weak men are dead men.
Teo tried to block out his dad’s words. Tried to focus on Josiah, because he was all that really mattered, anyway. “Because I’m weak... Hurting people makes me sick.”
Josiah leaned up on his elbow, looking down at him. “That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you incredible.”
He wanted that to be true. Wanted it so fucking much. “I’ve hurt people, Jay. Hurt ‘em bad. I beat a guy who was tied up with a fucking chain. Then I watched as my dad shot him in the head.” He closed his eyes as though that would somehow block the memory of the bruises and cuts he’d put on the man’s body. Of the blood and brains that his father blew out of the guy’s head. “That doesn’t make me incredible. It makes me nothin’.”