Mateo’s chest ached as his heart beat against it. The nausea he felt too often started to dissipate as Rhonda reached over and grabbed his hand.

“I want them to have the shit they deserve. I don’t want to mess anything up for them. I don’t want them to have to uproot their fuckin’ lives because of me. I...want to be who they need.”

She squeezed his hand and he squeezed hers back, but then she did something else. Rhonda pulled him into a hug, the hug of a mother. He hadn’t had that in so fuckin’ long, and this one from someone who may not know all his sins, but she knew he had them, and she knew who he loved, and she accepted him.

“I can sit here and tell you all day that you deserve them, Mateo, but it won’t do any good until you start believing it. If you think you need to do something to deserve them, make it happen. Do whatever you have to do. But I have one more question for you... It’s because of me that Tristan is the way he is.”

Teo pulled back. “Fuck that. You—”

“—Are responsible. I know that. I was his mother. I hate it, but I’ve accepted what I’ve done. My question is, do you think I don’t deserve happiness because of my failures?”

He didn’t need her to tell him where she went with this.

“Then you don’t. Do whatever you have to do to make yourself realize that. All three of you have been given a second chance to be what you want and to have what you deserve. You just have to grab it.”

The quiet of the room ended with the beep of Teo’s phone. He pulled it from his pocket to see that Jay and Tristan were here.

“Gracias. Usted mi honra. You honor me,” Mateo repeated himself in English.

Rhonda wiped a stray tear from her face. “Just be happy. And make them happy. That’s all I want.” She glanced at the door. “Now you better go. They’re waiting.”

Mateo got all the way to the door when her voice stopped him again. “If you ever want to talk again. Maybe we can help each other...”

“Yeah...yeah, that’d be good,” he told her, without pause. Mateo said goodbye. He went up another floor, to the first of the two apartments that would be theirs. The door was cracked open. Teo pushed it farther to see both Tristan and Josiah standing together in front of a large window, looking out. Their shoulders touched, no space between them—Tristan in those suits he always wore and Jay in faded jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Tall buildings showed in the distance, and the water that Josiah loved so fucking much.

Fumbling through the backpack he carried, Teo pulled his camera out, watching them through the lense. He snapped one picture and then another before both men turned to look at him. He snapped one more, making Jay smile and Tristan shake his head.

One way or another, he’d deserve them. There wasn’t another option.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Josiah

Teo walked toward them, his steps more timid than Josiah had ever seen from him. No matter what Mateo felt inside, he always played it off well on the outside. Josiah could sometimes see it, but it was always behind a veil of mock confidence. In this moment, he didn’t even try to hide the insecurity inside him.

Josiah shivered as though someone ran a cold ice cube up his spine. Tristan must have seen the look, too, because he took a step forward and said, “What is it?”

“Nothin’.” Teo shook his head.

“Are we really going to play that game after everything we’ve been through?” Tristan replied, but Josiah knew what Teo meant because he saw it in him. Yes, he was unsure and vulnerable, but like the sun breaking through slats in blinds, he saw something else shine through. Determination.

Teo kept moving, only stopping when he stood in front of them. Josiah felt the sun on his back from the window, saw it reflect in Teo’s dark eyes.

“What is it?” Josiah asked him and got a shrug in return. But then, Teo opened his mouth and spoke.

“I wanna be better.”

Josiah bit his tongue to keep from telling Teo it wasn’t about being better. Both of the men standing next to him were flawed, imperfect and broken, but they were also beautiful and honorable. All he wanted was for them to see those positive things in themselves, to let go of the past and be happy, not change who they were. That was his hope and his goal for them all. For himself, he lived for loving them. In some small way, for being what they needed.

“Better than what?” Tristan shook his head. “If this is about the apartment again—”

“You might not want to see it but it’s true, mi pieza perdida. It’s shitty that we have to move because of my sins. It’s shitty that I have to ride a fuckin’ elevator in the building you work, but I’m not going to see you. I’m going to see my PO. I’m just sayin’...fuck, I just want to be better than that. I wanna be who you guys deserve.”