Full circle, p.1
Full Circle, page 1
part #2 of Broken Pieces Series
FULL CIRCLE
A Broken Pieces Novel
By Riley Hart
Copyright © 2014 by Riley Hart
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.
Published by
Riley Hart
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover photo by jackson photografix
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication:
CHAPTER ONE | Josiah
CHAPTER TWO | Tristan
CHAPTER THREE | Mateo
CHAPTER FOUR | Josiah
CHAPTER FIVE | Tristan
CHAPTER SIX | Mateo
CHAPTER SEVEN | Josiah
CHAPTER EIGHT | Tristan
CHAPTER NINE | Mateo
CHAPTER TEN | Josiah
CHAPTER ELEVEN | Tristan
CHAPTER TWELVE | Mateo
CHAPTER THIRTEEN | Josiah
CHAPTER FOURTEEN | Tristan
CHAPTER FIFTEEN | Mateo
CHAPTER SIXTEEN | Josiah
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | Tristan
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | Mateo
CHAPTER NINETEEN | Josiah
CHAPTER TWENTY | Tristan
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE | Mateo
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO | Josiah
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE | Tristan
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR | Mateo
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE | Josiah
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX | Tristan
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN | Mateo
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT | Josiah
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE | Tristan
CHAPTER THIRTY | Mateo
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE | Josiah
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO | Tristan
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE | Mateo
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR | Josiah
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE | Tristan
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX | Mateo
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN | Josiah
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT | Tristan
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE | Mateo
CHAPTER FORTY | Josiah
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE | Tristan
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO | Mateo
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE | Josiah
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR | Tristan
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE | Mateo
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX | Josiah
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN | Tristan
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT | Mateo
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE | Josiah
CHAPTER FIFTY | Tristan
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE | Mateo
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO | Josiah
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE | Tristan
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR | Mateo
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE | Josiah
EPILOGUE | Tristan | Three Months Later
Acknowledgment:
Coming Soon:
Available Now:
About the Author:
Dedication:
To Louis Stevens.
Thank you for your friendship and support. I don’t know
what I would do without all our conversations. Thanks for
sharing my love of these three men (and Ben).
CHAPTER ONE
Josiah
Josiah stood in the middle of the building that would soon be his coffeehouse. In the two weeks since they’d gotten Rhonda back, and Tristan had come home to Josiah and Teo, things hadn’t stopped moving. They hadn’t had much time for anything between Tristan being busy at work, getting Rhonda settled back into her apartment, and now this. This being his dream—the one thing Tristan and Teo had both insisted they made time to get done, sooner rather than later.
In so many ways, Josiah owed Teo his life. Teo had physically saved him more than once, and now he owed Tristan his dream—the only thing besides the two men standing next to him that he felt could complete him, in a way. Because they did complete Josiah.
Josiah turned to Tristan, in his perfect suit, and studied the sharp cut of his jaw. Leaning over, Josiah kissed him there. “I can’t believe you did this for me.” Though he really could believe it. Tristan was like Teo in that he didn’t realize how big his heart was—at least when it came to Josiah.
“It’s nothing.” Tristan shook his head, uncomfortable with praise, as always. That was something they needed to work on. Both his guys did.
“Think of it as a business investment. I don’t waste money on things that I don’t feel are important—on things where I don’t see a profit.”
Josiah rolled his eyes. Tristan could play this off however he wanted. Josiah knew the truth. As did Mateo, and Tristan himself. He’d done this because he loved Josiah. Josiah didn’t doubt that, even if Tristan hadn’t said it again since the one time the words left his lips two weeks before.
There had never been a second he believed everything would get magically fixed in that one night, but they were on the right path. They’d get there, and things were better.
“We shoulda’ brought beer. Aren’t you supposed to drink somethin’ to celebrate shit like this?” Mateo stepped around them, fingering one of the earrings in his ear.
Josiah watched him, wondering how this happened. How he not only fell in love with an ex-gang member and a state prosecutor, but how they were all three lucky enough to fall in love with each other.
“Wine. You drink wine on occasions like this. Or champagne, actually. I promise, I’ll convert you one day.” Tristan stopped beside Teo, a half-smile on his lips.
“Nope. Never gonna happen. That shit’s too stuffy for me. It’s for rich, white guys.”
Tristan stepped closer to Mateo and Josiah just watched. He loved watching his men interact with each other—thrived on the light moments they had where they could laugh and tease, because they were too few and far between.
Tristan held Teo’s chin between his thumb and first finger. “And yet I’m sure you never saw yourself enjoying a rich, white man. That changed, as will the rest.”
Teo jerked out of Tristan’s grasp, but there was a small grin on his lips. “White boys are my downfall. Come ‘ere, Jay.”
Little jolts of electricity fired beneath Josiah’s skin at the deep, husky sound of Teo’s voice. Both of these men could do that to him, turn him on, turn him inside out, with just a word. With just a look.
Josiah moved forward, stopping in front of Teo, who leaned against the counter. Tristan stood next to them both, facing them. This time, it was Teo who grabbed Josiah’s chin, except he only tilted it up as he leaned forward. His mouth covered Josiah’s gently...always so tender when he touched Josiah. It was different than the way he handled Tristan, than the way Tristan handled either of them, with wild hunger.
How could he love something that was basically the opposite in both of them? Loved the way Teo was always so careful with him, treasuring Josiah as though he had to protect him, even in something like a kiss; while at the same time, loving that Tristan knew he didn’t have to be. Or maybe he didn’t know how to be. He felt the passion in them both—one gentle and the other fierce, but each equally strong. Funny that it was the man who’d seen death, who had delivered death, that had the need for the softness.
Teo’s tongue dipped into Josiah’s mouth, owning it the same way Tristan did when he kissed Josiah. Teo was the first man he’d had his mouth on, and he knew it as well as he knew his own. Knew the feel of Teo’s tender press of lips, knew the difference between his facial hair rubbing against Josiah’s compared to the texture of Tristan’s.
Josiah stepped between his legs, their bodies touching.
Too soon, Teo pulled back, before turning his head in Tristan’s direction. His other lover gave a short, almost curt-looking nod. When he did, Teo leaned Tristan’s way this time.
Josiah still stood between Mateo’s legs as he took in the sight of his lovers kissing. Josiah eased Tristan’s fingers away from his pulse as Tristan let Mateo lead the kiss. It was Mateo running the show, and that always made Tristan nervous, but then his hand tightened around Josiah. It was as though Josiah gave him something in this moment, too.
Maybe others wouldn’t understand it. Josiah had no doubt they wouldn’t, but he knew he gave Tristan as much as Mateo did as they kissed. Knew the three men all gave each other something they needed.
When Mateo pulled away from Tristan, Tristan spoke. “I seem to remember the two of you planning to get dirty for me in here.”
“We will,” Mateo promised him.
“You have to get dirty with us, though.” Josiah still held Tristan’s hand. He placed his other on Teo’s abdomen.
Another nod from Tristan. “I will.” And then he let go of Josiah’s hand and cupped his face. “You deserve this place. It...” He closed his eyes, let out a breath, and then opened them again. “It’s important for me to be able to do this for you. I need to do this for you.”
Josiah’s heart started going wild the way only these two men could do to him. He knew Tristan felt like he let people down in his life, that he tried to make up for it the only way he could. Helping Josiah get his coffeehouse was another way for him to do that, and Josiah loved him for it. Turning slightly, he kissed Tristan’s hand. “No, you don’t. Having you is enough, but thank you. This means the
Tristan stepped back and glanced at the door as though someone walked in, as though someone could see them through the closed blinds. “Mateo is right. We should celebrate.”
The three of them had never had much to celebrate in their lives. Josiah was raised in foster care, Mateo in a gang, and Tristan, though he had a loving mom, had spent time on the streets. His mom had been forced into prostitution and had briefly had a drug problem. Now she was agoraphobic.
Teo had saved Josiah in foster care, where they’d fallen in love. The streets stole Teo from him, which lead Josiah to finding Tristan, and when Teo had come back, they all three discovered each other. Three broken men, three broken pieces, which only worked when they were together.
“Yeah, Jay and I will be bustin’ our asses on this place soon. We should celebrate while we can,” Teo said.
“We can grab some dinner on the way home—”
“No.” Josiah interrupted Tristan’s reply. “I’ll cook.” He loved making meals for his men.
“How did I know you’d say that?” Tristan smirked.
“Because you’re a smart guy. Be smarter and don’t argue with him. I like his cookin’.” Teo winked. “Can we do somethin’ first, though?”
Both Josiah and Tristan paid close attention. It wasn’t often that Teo asked for anything.
“I’ve been puttin’ back a little money. There’s a new camera I want. It’s not digital, and I know I don’t know how to develop, but I’m hopin’ to learn. I—”
“Let’s go get it,” Josiah told him. This was important to Teo. He didn’t do things for himself.
Tristan smiled. “Let’s go.” The three men walked out of what would soon be Josiah’s coffeehouse to get Teo’s camera, and then headed home. Together.
CHAPTER TWO
Tristan
Tristan watched as Josiah stood in front of the stove, checking the rice. Mateo finished rinsing his hands in the nearby sink before he glanced Josiah’s way, shook his head, and then pushed Josiah’s dark-blond hair back. He did that often, and it always made Josiah smile.
“Tell me about it,” he found himself saying, as he sat at the table, a glass of wine in front of him. He wanted to know everything about them, when he’d never cared enough to need to know much of anything about anyone before. As horrible as it made him feel, even Ben. His friend had always been there for Tristan, though he had never returned the favor the way he should.
“About what?” Josiah asked over his shoulder, before turning back to peek into the oven.
Mateo walked with the same stiff yet practiced movements to him that he always had. It was as though he was always prepared to defend himself, yet smooth and quiet, like he knew how to keep to the shadows at the same time. Due to his life in the gang, no doubt. Tristan held his glass out to Mateo when he joined Tristan at the table. Mateo shook his head, denying the drink the way Tristan knew he would. He’d get him to come around one day.
“Tris?” Josiah asked again, and he remembered he’d asked them a question.
“About the thing with your hair.” When Tristan and Josiah first started sleeping together, he would flinch if Tristan touched his hair. He didn’t anymore, but it wasn’t as though Tristan did it much anyway. It was their thing, and they deserved that. They all had bits and pieces that belonged to different combinations of two of them, and then those pieces that were a part of their whole—the three of them.
“It drove me fuckin’ nuts when we first met. Always in his face.” Mateo turned toward Josiah, history and memories being shared between them.
One would think jealousy would take root in him, but it didn’t. Their bond...their connection is what started all of this. It’s what made Tristan feel, even if he couldn’t always show it the way he should, because as much as he loved them, as much as he knew they loved him, the thought of needing someone the way he did them still made his finger seek the pulse in his wrist. As weak as it made him feel, needing still scared him to death. One night couldn’t change that.
“It was a way for me to hide, I think.” Josiah pulled a dish from the oven. “I’m not sure I planned it that way, but it was. Here,” Josiah set the pan on the middle of their set table, then grabbed the rice and moved it over as well before joining Mateo and Tristan.
“One of the first times we really spoke, it started because of my hair. Mateo hadn’t been with us long.” Josiah dished food onto a plate and handed it to Tristan. “We were sitting in our room, twin beds separated by a desk. I was doing my homework and hoping he would talk to me, scared he would at the same time. What would a guy like him have to say to someone like me? Teo was like, strength in human form to me. I was in awe of him.”
Tristan watched Josiah hand Mateo his plate next.
“I wasn’t shit,” Mateo said, and Josiah rolled his eyes.
“And then?” Tristan prompted, needing to hear more of their story. Needing to know more of where they came from.
Josiah chuckled. “And then he looked at me like there was absolutely no hope for me and said, ‘Doesn’t that bother you? The way your hair’s always gettin’ in your eyes?’ And all I could think was that he’d noticed me... This guy who people were afraid of, yet who had protected me, noticed me...I was shocked he would even pay attention to something like that.”
Tristan’s eyes found Mateo. He was bent toward the table, as though leaning over to take a bite of his chicken but then got caught in Josiah instead. His stare was dark—dark eyes, and a dark, hungry look.
“I always noticed you. Even when I didn’t want to. I couldn’t believe someone like you’d give a shit.”
Jesus, they were beautiful. They inspired Tristan to want more for himself. To want them.
“What did you tell him?” Tristan asked Josiah.
There was another chuckle. “Shit...I think I asked him about girls.”
Tristan found himself laughing, not having expected that one. Josiah had told him before that he’d never so much as kissed a girl. He’d always known he was gay, and the only person he’d been interested in was Mateo.
“Then he fuckin’ tells me he’s not into girls. I’m a seventeen-year-old gangbanger, and he just spits that shit out like it wasn’t a big deal. Dios, I coulda' killed him. In my world, shit like that coulda' gotten him hurt.”
That reaction right there was the one that made him love Mateo. With Josiah, it was obvious why either of them would love him. He was the best of them all. Good, honest, in a way that was rare in the world. With Mateo, it was his need to protect, the loyalty and sense of honor that made him defend someone he loved, regardless of what that defense entailed. It wasn’t something Tristan ever saw himself respecting in a lot of ways, but it was based from goodness. He was completely selfless where Josiah was concerned, even at that young of an age. Mateo would be where Tristan was concerned as well, though he didn’t deserve it the way Josiah did.
“I—”
“He wouldn’t have said it to anyone other than you.” Tristan cut Josiah off. “He’d never said it to anyone before, right, Josiah?”
His lover nodded his head.
“He knew he could trust you. You might not have known it, but you’d already proven yourself to him when you protected him at school.” Josiah had told Tristan about the guys who bullied him the first day of school, and how Mateo had been there. Mateo had always done everything to be there for Josiah, even going as far as letting him go to keep him safe from his world.
“The suit thinks he knows everything, huh?” Mateo smiled at him, thankfulness in his eyes. It was incredible the way Tristan could read him. Josiah, too, but Tristan and Josiah had been years in the making. They hadn’t had Mateo in their lives long, but Tristan understood the man on a level he’d never had with anyone else.
“I do know everything.” Tristan nodded at him and then took a sip of his wine. Sometimes, when they sat around the table like this, he still wondered how they got here. How he’d let them here when he’d never been able to let anyone inside before. But then...how could he not? He had this ache inside him, this throb that never went away. He’d never been able to soothe it until he had them. Josiah, and then Mateo. It wasn’t that the ache was gone, but they calmed it, they eased the pain he’d never let himself acknowledge was there before them. And if he let them, Tristan knew they would cure him, too.
