Broken Pieces

Page 51

Josiah stumbled as he pushed out of the bed. He ignored his weak legs and headed straight for the door and into Tristan’s long hallway. Doors were closed on each side. He went past each one, somehow knowing Tristan wasn’t behind any of them.
The hallway led to stairs, which he took down and into a large room with tiled floors and sparse furniture. A couch, a chair, a large flat screen on the wall. An elliptical by one of the oversized windows along one of the walls.
He kept going through the room, past a small, square kitchen table behind the couch. To the left and through a dining room with a longer, rectangular table with modern, silver lights hanging above it.
And finally to the kitchen, with more silver lights, steel appliances, and Tristan. Tristan sitting at yet another table, this one round. His bare back faced Josiah. His eyes traveled down to see Tristan wore a pair of sweats and nothing else. His back glistened slightly, maybe water droplets from a shower? But then, his hair would be wet, and it wasn’t.
Josiah’s breath caught as he took in the sight.
“Coffee’s in the pot. Cream in the fridge. I called your work to see if you were supposed to go in today, but I guess you’re off.” Without turning around, he lifted a glass of orange juice to his lips and took a drink.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Josiah walked over to the coffee pot. He almost asked Tristan where the cups were but decided just to open the cabinet above to check. They were there, so he pulled out a black coffee cup, filled it, and put two scoops of sugar in before going to the fridge for cream.
When he finished, he sat across the table from Tristan, ignoring the rapid beat of his heart. “Thanks for bringing me here last night.”
“You didn’t give me much choice.”
Josiah’s eyes flashed to Tristan’s face as he raised one of his dark brows. He hadn’t really thought about it like that. He guessed a part of him had hoped Tristan brought him here because he wanted to. But that’s not what came out when he opened his mouth. Somehow, “There’s always a choice,” tumbled free.
Surprise sparked in him when Tristan smiled. “I guess that’s true. Just like you had the choice whether to sit in the rain or not. To lie to your friend about staying with me.”
Shit. He took a drink of his coffee before replying. He’d hoped Tristan didn’t know about that. “I didn’t want him to feel like he had to let me stay with him. That he had to take care of me.”
“So you decided to put yourself in the position to need to be taken care of?”
Josiah fought to meet his eyes. “Regardless of what I did, I’m not a child. So please, don’t talk to me like I am one.”
Tristan stared at him, with what Josiah could have sworn looked like respect. Josiah let his eyes travel down, to the cut pectorals of Tristan’s chest. The light dusting of dark hair in the middle. Holy shit, he had a nice body. Josiah’s dick started to stir.
“You can’t look at me like that. When you do, it’s damn near impossible to keep my control.” Tristan pushed to his feet, went to the sink and dumped out the rest of his juice before setting the glass down and leaning against the counter.
For once, Josiah wanted to just speak. To talk and let whatever he wanted come out of his mouth. He hadn’t done that since... “Why do you have to? Keep your control, I mean. Maybe I don’t want you to.”
Tristan groaned...or growled? Was there a difference, really? He wasn’t sure.
“Why don’t we start with you. Are you living on the streets?” There was a sharp edge to his voice when he said streets.
“No. I’m staying at a hotel.”
“And it didn’t cross your mind to go there last night?” he snapped.
How could he explain to Tristan how he felt? That he was empty. He’d always had emptiness inside him, but then someone had come and filled him, only to leave Josiah more alone than when he’d found him. That he couldn’t be inside that small room, which reminded him of the small apartment they’d shared? That it hadn’t just been the past haunting him but their kiss, and Tristan walking away? Being forever alone?
He couldn’t. “It was a mistake. Or...mistake isn’t the right word. A lapse in judgment, something I’m tired of doing. Something I won’t do anymore. Just like you won’t tell me why you count your pulse or who you visit by my work, I can’t talk about this. But, I’m ready to get past it.” To let go...
Tristan crossed his arms. Josiah hurried to continue before he could reply. “I’m ready to move on.” He looked down at his coffee, feeling his words but still struggling to be that guy. To be like Tristan or Teo or even Elliot, who were all confident enough in who they were to always look someone in the eye. To have faith in the decisions they made.