Broken Pieces

Page 95

Because he knew that whatever Mateo had done, he’d had a reason. It wasn’t the right way to look at things. He fought to put people behind bars. To follow the law and to try and save people from dealing with the things his mother had. And yet, he would excuse Mateo’s transgressions. At least until he knew what they were.
For Josiah.
On reflex Tristan clicked the small lamp on his desk, picked up the phone in his office and dialed. Ben answered on the third ring. “What’s wrong?”
The hollow feeling in his gut deepened that his friend knew something had to be wrong for Tristan to be calling him. It couldn’t even be chalked up to the fact that it was the middle of the night. Ben would wonder regardless.
Still, Tristan found himself replying with, “Nothing.”
“I’ve known you for over fifteen years, Tris, and can count the number of times you’ve actually called me, most of those being in college or law school when you needed a fuck. Don’t lie to me. What’s wrong?”
Damn, this was stupid. What had he been thinking calling Ben? It wasn’t as though he could ask him to look into Mateo. The last thing he wanted was to let Ben or anyone else know that Mateo was in their lives at all. And it wasn’t as though he didn’t have the resources to look into Mateo himself.
“Are things okay with you and your boy?” Ben asked.
Tristan repositioned himself in the seat, as though that would make him feel less under the microscope. “He’s not a boy, Ben.”
“I see you still don’t deny that he’s yours, though.”
He was Tristan’s. Not just because Tristan wanted him to be, but because Josiah loved him. But he was also Mateo’s. Probably always would be. He dropped his head back and let out a deep breath. “Things are so fucked up. I don’t even know where to start.”
Minutes of silence stretched between them, prompting Tristan to ask, “Are you still there?”
“Yes. I’m here. I just didn’t expect you to actually admit you’re not okay. You know my door’s always open, Tristan. If you need to get away, you can always come here.”
Those words softened some of the walls around his heart. Ben really was the only true friend he’d ever had. “I won’t set foot into New York ever again. You know that. Plus, I don’t need to go anywhere.”
“Do you need me to come there? I’ll get on a plane tonight.”
There went another piece of the wall, this one caving in. Instead of replying to that, Tristan said, “Thank you. I know... Shit, I know I haven’t been an easy person to be friends with—”
“An easy person to love,” Ben interrupted.
He kept his fingers on his wrist but didn’t count, just needing to know his heart was still going. “That, too. Thank you, and I’m sorry.”
There was noise on the other end of the phone as though Ben was getting dressed. “You’re scaring the hell out of me. You need to tell me something right now or you’ll be telling me face-to-face in the morning.”
There wasn’t a second that Tristan doubted that. Still, what could he say? The man who risked his life for Josiah, the man Josiah had always loved, was back? That Tristan had actually talked to the man, and for some reason didn’t want him out of their lives just yet? Even worse, that he’d let Josiah go to him, and then invited him into bed with them? It sounded like even more of a clusterfuck when he spelled it out like that.
But he also couldn’t risk Ben coming here. “I shouldn’t have called.”
“But you did, and if you didn’t want to, you wouldn’t have.”
Ben was right about that, as much as Tristan hated to admit it. So he gave Ben the only part of this whole situation that he could. “I just need to talk. Josiah’s old lover is back. I didn’t expect it, and I don’t know how to deal with it.”
“He still loves him?” Ben asked, his voice a little tighter than it had been before.
“He will always love him.” There was a part of him that hated those words. That wanted them out of his vocabulary. That wanted them to be a lie. And another part...another crazy, fucked up, confusing part of him that felt okay with them. Josiah wouldn’t be who he was without Mateo, and damned if Tristan could forget about him, either.
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. The lucky bastard worships the ground you walk on, Tristan. I can’t believe I even have to say this to you, but you have nothing to worry about.”
Tristan looked around the room, feeling eyes on him even though he knew there were none. Nothing to look at him, or inside him, the way he felt like they were. “I need to go.”