“Where’d you learn to cook?” Tristan found himself asking Josiah.

He shrugged. “Don’t really know. I used to cook a little with Molly, my last foster mom, but not a whole lot. Then... well, cooking was something I could do for us. One of the only things, so I did it.”

Who is us? He wanted to ask, but really, he knew. The man who’d given him the queen, whoever he was. Tristan swallowed down the sudden burn in his throat.

When Josiah stepped away, he finished the vegetables. They cooked, Josiah doing the most work, and laughed. Dinner came next, but they didn’t eat in the kitchen like they normally did. They took their plates and a bottle of wine to the living room. Josiah put a movie on that they didn’t really watch.

“Where do you go when you disappear?” Josiah asked, surprising him. It reminded him of the questions they’d ask when they used to walk. The word veto played on his tongue but Tristan bit it back. Maybe it was the alcohol. Tristan wasn’t sure. All he knew was he couldn’t give him everything, but he owed Josiah a little something.

“To see my mom.”

Josiah’s eyebrows squeezed together as if to ask how, after living with Tristan for a year and a half, he could have a mom Josiah had never heard of.

“Why doesn’t she ever come here?”

Because she can’t. She doesn’t leave her apartment, and she loses herself in her head. “Veto.” Tristan pushed his plate away from him. “How did you know that this is my favorite meal?”

It was a long time before Josiah replied. They both took a drink of their wine. Tristan ran his finger around the rim of the glass. Josiah bit his lip. “I pay attention, I guess. It’s the only way to learn anything about you.”

Tristan kept up the movement, finger to glass, trying to figure out what to say. Trying to ignore the blood pumping through his veins, and how it all seemed to head for his cock.

“Why did you make it?”

He blinked a couple times, looking unsure. “Because I wanted you to be happy. It’s something small, but you’re never happy. You knew I didn’t want to be alone today, and you stayed for me. I wanted to do something nice for you.” He took a drink. Eyed Tristan.

Fuck, he was so incredibly screwed right now. Especially when Josiah kept talking in that somber, soothing voice of his.

“I still don’t want to, you know... Be alone. I can, though. That’s the difference between now and before. I know I can, but tonight, I don’t want to.”

“Josiah—”

“I’m not asking for a relationship with you. I’m twenty-five years old, and I know what I can handle. This has been a bad day, and I want to forget. I want to lose myself in another person. Is that too much to ask?”

Did he know how incredibly brave he was? Somehow, Tristan doubted it. “Maybe.”

“Why? It might just be physical, but I know you want me, too. And you know that’s hard for me to say. Tell me why. Why is it too much? It’s just sex.” He looked down after he said it, that delicious red spreading over his face.

Sex. Josiah was right. It wasn’t that he didn’t use sex not to feel alone. It wasn’t even like he hadn’t had it since Josiah moved in. But then, he knew it would be more than that with Josiah, when he’d never had more than just sex with anyone.

“Look at me, Josiah.” Tristan didn’t move. Josiah did. He looked up at Tristan.

“Tell me why it’s too much.”

Tristan shook his head. He wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t. No one knew that he’d sold himself to Wilson. Sold himself the way his mom used to so she could support them. The way he’d sometimes hear as he sat in the closet, counting his pulse as though that would make it go away.

He didn’t want Josiah to ever see him through those eyes. To know how weak Tristan had been. Josiah was far too good for that. He would never sink that low.

“No.”

Josiah shook his head and turned away.

“I asked you to look at me, Josiah.”

Josiah looked back at him. “And I’m asking you not to leave me alone tonight. I’m asking you to help me forget. To let me try and do the same for you.”

Tristan’s cock pressed against the zipper on his jeans. Hard. Painful. He pushed to his feet. Took four steps and stopped in front of Josiah. He touched Josiah’s hair, and like he had earlier with the guy at the door, he pulled away. It bothered him—seeing someone else touch Josiah. The floodgates shattered, Tristan unable to hold back his lust any longer.