Ben’s hands fisted. He fought the annoyance that tried to take him over. “I’m not you. He’s not them. This isn’t love. I know next to nothing about him.”

“Maybe you do and maybe you don’t. There’s no real definition of knowing someone. Do you feel a pull to him? It was there with Josiah from the beginning—like he knew me before I told him a thing about myself. He knew me, Ben. I don’t know how, but he did. Mateo was the same way with Josiah when they first met, and then he was the same way with me. Sometimes your head may not know things, but the rest of you does.”

Really? Ben wanted to ask but instead he said, “You should write that in a book. Self-help. Who would have thought?”

“You’re being an asshole and you know it.”

Ben nodded because Tristan’s words were true. But he was tired. So fucking tired of fighting and lying and being in pain. He felt like Bonnie, the girl curled in the bed lost to everything except her pain.

“Tell him. Tell someone.”

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It wasn’t that easy. Not for Ben. He rested his elbows on the table. Bent his head forward and latched his hands behind his head, looking down. “I think I’m losing my mind. I don’t always feel like I’m in reality. It’s like I’m outside of myself sometimes.” I hear his voice—Javier. I see my sister. I failed her and I relive that.

“I’m losing my mind, Tristan. Dante has to fuck me to bring me back. I almost choked a man in a club. I let gangbangers beat me.” He drank too much. Didn’t sleep right. Didn’t eat well. Didn’t know who he was. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

He heard Tristan move. Didn’t know where he was going until the man stood next to him. “You’re broken. Maybe that’s not what I should say but I speak from experience. You’re broken the way I was. The way Josiah and Mateo were. That doesn’t mean you can’t be fixed. They made me want that—to be fixed. To be whole, to be full. You have to want it too, Ben. Find what makes you want it, and then don’t let go.”

He was broken, he’d always known that. Did he want something else for himself?

Yes...Ben thought maybe he did.

He turned to look at Tristan and when he did, the man bent and kissed Ben on the forehead. “I’m here if you need me but it’s not me you want. Not anymore, and that’s good. You are my best friend, Ben. Always. Call me if you need me.”

Ben watched as Tristan walked to the door, and out of his apartment.

––––––––

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

As soon as Tristan left, Ben ate breakfast. From there he took a shower and got dressed. He felt partially like a human having cleaned up and eaten. It’s what he needed to do if he wanted to call Dante.

And he did. Ben didn’t let himself think about the why. He didn’t really let himself think about what Tristan said either. He just acted.

Most of their phone calls were at night. It took Dante longer to answer than it usually did but finally Ben heard, “Hey,” in Dante’s deep, gravely voice.

“Hey,” Ben replied, and then, “He came, the man I told you I loved.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to tell Dante that. As though he owed Dante that, but he did.

It took Dante a while to reply and Ben waited out the silence. It was how Dante worked, he realized. He thought things through in a way Ben never really did. Maybe in a way Ben should.

“Did you fuck him?” the man finally asked.

“He doesn’t let me fuck him, remember?”

“Did he fuck you?”

“No.”

“Did you want to?”

It was that question that surprised Ben. He could see why Dante would care if he’d had sex with Tristan, since they were fucking one another. But caring if Ben wanted to, that was a different story. He didn’t let himself think of the why of that either. Instead he focused on himself.

He hadn’t wanted to sleep with Tristan. For the first time, being with Tristan wasn’t what Ben thought about when he saw his ex. He cocked his head, thought about it. When had that happened? Why? “No.”

“That man...you’ve never spoken to me about anyone the way you’ve spoken about him.”

Because of Dante? It didn’t make sense. But then, nothing between them had made sense from the first moment Ben met him. Yet it was almost as though something inside him recognized something inside Dante from the first night. And he knew Dante felt the same.

He didn’t want to fuck Tristan anymore.




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