“Nothing,” fell from Tristan’s mouth before he could stop it. He’d done nothing, which wasn’t anything new for him. “He hung up on me and that was the end of it.”

“Hmm. Are you okay with that?”

Tristan thought of the couple times his fingers moved across the screen of his phone to call Ben the past few weeks. Thought of all the times Ben called him in the past, forcing him to talk, even when he didn’t want to. Or maybe he did? Maybe he had wanted to talk to his friend. There was pressure in his chest, and he realized he missed him. He missed his friend; the man he’d never really admitted was his friend until Josiah and Mateo.

“No...no, I’m not okay with it. But...” How did he fix things without laying himself bare with Ben? Without telling him things that made Tristan’s throat feel tight and his hand move for his wrist? But he needed to. Ben deserved it, and Tristan had hurt enough people in his life. He didn’t want to continue to add the few people he cared about to that list.

“I need to go. I’ll...I’ll see you next time.” He turned and headed back for his car. Elliot didn’t say a word, didn’t call out to him or go with him, and for that, Tristan was thankful.

As soon as he locked himself in his car, he slid his phone from the inside pocket of his suit and dialed.

“You called,” Ben answered.

“You deserve more than I give you. You deserve more than you give yourself, as well. I don’t know why I love them and couldn’t love you. Maybe it was a timing thing, I don’t know. I’m sorry for that, but...you still mean something to me. You are my only friend, and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you,” he repeated.

His hand tightened on his cell. Jesus, had all those words really just come from his mouth? But they were true; they’d just been trapped in and hidden inside him. Mateo had said the things he’d done were eating him alive inside, and Tristan wondered if this lack of words, and lack of expressed emotions, were doing the same to him.

He breathed, then heard nothing, except the throb of his heart. But Ben was still there. He knew it.

“Holy Christ, Tristan. Did you really just say that to me?” Ben had shock and confusion in his voice. Tristan felt the same.

“I think so.”

Ben laughed, but it was a sad sort of laugh. “Goddamn it, Tris, I can’t even be angry at you. Not when you say things like that. You never would have admitted what you just did if it hadn’t been for him—them. They...they’re giving you something I never could, no matter how hard I tried. I thought so with the boy, but now I see it even more.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Tristan said for the third time. It was as though those were the only words he had left right now.

“And you know you never will. Don’t pretend you don’t know that. Jesus, you’re the only man who’s fucked me, the only man I didn’t pick up in those shitty clubs I have no business being in. We both know I play the part well, but I’m not much better than you with all the fucked up shit in my head. The only difference is, you were my Josiah and Mateo, and I didn’t get you.” He let out a deep breath. “I’m not going anywhere. I never was. Let’s just...let’s put this behind us. I have news for you.”

The air trapped in Tristan’s lungs escaped. Words were still in his head, but he wanted to respect Ben. Ben wanted to move on, and Tristan understood that.

“I don’t want you doing this for me anymore. It’s not important.” Lie. It was very important.

“Wow, you’re serious about showing me you care about my friendship. Maybe I should use this to my advantage.”

Tristan laughed.

“It’s strange, though, Tristan. I’m not sure what it means but from what I’ve heard, there’s some discord going on in Los Demonios.  I’m not really sure where it’s coming from. Gangs self-combust all the time, but it’s...something feels off. There’ve been two bodies discovered recently. Both Demons. One a long-timer, and the other pretty high up the food chain as well. We can chalk it up to typical street violence but that’s not what my gut is saying. Hell, even my client doesn’t really want to talk about it anymore. The killings were definitely executions. That much I can tell you.”

Tristan’s phone cracked, making him almost drop it to loosen his grip. Not that he gave a shit about the gang, but he did care about a man who, in some ways, would be forever tied to them. Did this mean anything for Mateo? He didn’t know. But he damn sure didn’t want to risk it.