And he would.

“Thank you.” Tristan hung up the phone and went to their room. He undressed and then climbed into bed with Josiah and Mateo. His eyes fell closed, and for the first time, he quickly fell into a restful sleep, knowing that he would fight his past, that he had a different battle than Mateo. He would only get better by waging his own war instead of trying to fight someone else’s.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Mateo

Mateo couldn’t sleep. Beside him, Josiah slept soundly, an arm over Mateo’s waist and a leg over Tristan, like he so often did. It was like he had to be touching both of them, even while sleeping. And like always, he also bridged Teo and Tristan.

It wasn’t often that Mateo lay awake when Tristan was out, too, but tonight, the other man breathed deeply, his body still...at rest. It was so rare for Tristan to sleep so soundly, that even though nausea burned Mateo’s stomach all evening, even though the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end for whatever reason, he let their lover sleep.

He deserved it.

Mateo touched the tip of Josiah’s finger with his own and trailed it up his hand, wrist, arm, feeling the skin, muscle, hair, and heat. Connection. Would he ever know what that really felt like it if weren’t for Josiah? He taught Mateo that feeling was okay. The thought that Javier tried to take that away from him, knowing what he did, was actually worse than just tricking Teo into telling him goodbye. That he’d tried to have Josiah killed made more than just that familiar burn climb up his throat again.

The blood pounded loudly through his ears. His fingers curled in so much that he almost squeezed Josiah’s arm.

Closing his eyes in the dark, he tried Tristan’s trick, but only made it to three before slowly lifting Josiah’s arm off his body and getting up.

He made it to the living room when he heard the soft vibrating sound. The sound somehow echoed through him, landing in the pit of his stomach and making his nausea kick up a notch. One of them kept Josiah’s phone on them all the time now, yet they’d all forgotten it tonight—and he’d been on edge all fucking night as well.

The sound went off again, and Teo followed it to the side table where Josiah’s phone sat, and he knew, he fucking knew who was on the other end of the phone. Mateo didn’t hesitate, ripping the thing from the table, hitting talk, and putting it to his ear. “Yeah.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, the response coming in Spanish. “’Bout time you answered.”

Rage tore his insides to shreds. He wanted to reach through the phone and strangle the man with his bare hands. He wanted to watch him die. For months—fuck that, for more than that—he wanted that part of him to die. He wanted to be the man they deserved. He didn’t want to be a killer, but standing here, listening to Javier’s voice on the line and knowing that the man had hurt Josiah—that he’d likely had the coffeehouse burned down, that he’d hurt them all—Teo wanted blood. Revenge. And he wasn’t sure he wished that part of himself gone.

“If you wanted to talk to me, you shouldn’t have been a weak-ass motherfucker playin’ games by callin’ my man. Lose your fuckin’ edge?”

“Fucking disgrace. You know what we do to maricones on the street? A real man doesn’t take it up the ass.”

Teo fought to get control of his breathing. Hate pumped through his body, mixing with his blood. That had been the first time he’d admitted Josiah was his to someone back home.  Mateo’s dad’s words chased Javier’s in circles around his brain. Weak, weak, weak. Years ago he would have denied it, would have done exactly what he did when he ran from Josiah. They killed people for being gay in his world, but damned if he would do that anymore. Josiah was his, they were his, and he wouldn’t deny that for shit.

He would protect it with his life.

“There are two of them. Two men. And they’re both mine. You fuck with them, you fuck with me. And you did, ese. You fucked with them, and now I’m gonna take it out on you.”

Javier replied, “Me? If something happens to your men, it’s on you, just like it was your dad’s fault your mom got taken out. Fuckin’ pieces of shit. Your dad didn’t take care of his responsibilities. He let her become a casualty. He couldn’t protect her, the same way you couldn’t protect your boy. I let you go, and you betray me by taking out the people who had your back your whole fuckin’ life. And you thought you would get me, too? Yeah, just like your fucking dad, thinking you’re something bigger than you are. You sent someone to kill me? Like that weak-ass boy could take me out?”