“I love that about you, your love for him. Do you know how unique that is? You don’t care what happens to you, as long as he’s okay. His welfare is always more important than anything else to you, especially your own. In a world full of ugliness, it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Tristan’s words were solid truth. He meant them. They were as natural as his heart beating or the blood pumping through his body. They just were, and no one could deny them.

Mateo walked over to him, turned Tristan’s chair so he faced Mateo. Tristan looked up at him as Mateo said, “I love you the same way. Mi precioso and mi pieza perdida, siempre. Nothing matters like the two of you.”

In many ways, Tristan knew that wasn’t healthy. On the one hand, he loved when he never thought he would, but the way they loved each other, the depth of it, putting another person over yourself, needing, wasn’t the way it should be. He didn’t care, though. He loved Josiah and Mateo that way, and knew they loved him with the same intensity.

“Me, too. I love you both.” The words were coming easier, he realized.

Mateo gave him a flirty wink, the kind of wink Tristan had never seen from him before.

“Go,” Tristan told him, and Mateo did as he said. When he was closed in his office alone, Tristan grabbed his disposable phone and called New York. His heart beat faster the longer it rang. When no one answered he called again, and again, only to get the same thing.

What would he do if he brought this down on them? If by trying to protect them, he hurt the men he loved? He couldn’t live with that.

Without thinking, Tristan grabbed his personal phone and dialed. It took four rings, but as always, Ben picked up.

“Miss me?” Ben asked playfully, despite the hour it had to be there.

“Josiah’s coffeehouse burned down.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes.” Physically.

“You’ll get him another one, Tristan. You’ll take care of him.”

But what if it was Tristan’s fault it happened in the first place?

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked, probably because of Tristan’s silence. “Is it just the coffeehouse, or are you worried about something else, too?”

Yes. But he couldn’t tell Ben that. He didn’t want Ben more involved than he already was. “No, yes... I need your help, but I also wanted to talk to my friend. Is there something wrong with that?” He felt pride at those words, because even though he did worry about many things, what he said was true. Small steps, but they were steps nonetheless.

“No...no, there’s not.” Ben quieted for a moment before he continued. “How are they? Your men? How are you?”

“We’re as well as can be expected.” He leaned back, remembering what he and Mateo had been discussing when they got the call from Josiah, thinking about how he’d again felt hope that had been missing recently, and how quickly it could change. Life could change in an instant. Maybe that’s all life was made up of, instances where anything could change, good or bad. Or good and bad, because it seemed they couldn’t only have the good.

So Tristan spelled it out for him. He told Ben everything he knew when it came to the coffeehouse and Josiah.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help. You know that,” Ben told him, and Tristan did know it.

They spoke for another minute before Tristan told him goodbye. After trying two more times to call the only number in his disposable phone, he got up and went to be with his men, hoping like hell he wasn’t the catalyst that would destroy them all. He was smarter than what he’d done, but his emotions had gotten in the way—emotions he wasn’t familiar with, and was still learning how to work with.

In the dark of their room, Tristan stripped out of his clothes. It was almost morning, but the blackout curtains helped. It wasn’t until he stood beside the bed that he saw that Mateo leaned on his elbow, looking down at Josiah. His hand ran through Josiah’s hair. Josiah’s eyes were open...empty as he lay on his side, staring into the darkness.

The sight made his chest ache like nothing in his life ever had. Out of all of them, Josiah required the least. All he wanted was to be happy, for the three of them to be okay. Tristan and Mateo had hurt him, the two men he needed most. They were the ones who should always care for him. And then not only losing his dream, but knowing it had been done on purpose. Knowing they questioned him. It wasn’t right. Not for him. Not when he was the best of them all.

Tristan climbed into bed and wrapped an arm around Josiah, who lay in the middle of them. He didn’t move, didn’t return Tristan’s hold. “I’m here. We’re here. I will fix it,” he whispered in Josiah’s ear.