Tristan didn’t call him on it though and Mateo found himself continuing. “He was so fuckin’ shy. I see it in him now but it’s not the same. He’s not the same.” And that both hurt and made him smile, too. No matter what went down between them, Jay did good for himself.
“You protected him, he told me. Took care of him.”
Mateo shook his head. “He always saw it like that. That’s how Jay is. He’s so damn good that he only sees things from one side. That’s not how it was. Not in the ways that counted.”
There was movement from the corner of his eye. Mateo looked over to see Tristan holding his wrist, his body tense in a way that surprised him.
His voice was low, hoarse, when he said, “You were there when he needed you. You saved him when it mattered. That counts.”
Automatically, his body moved closer to Tristan’s. “Even if it means you’re walking with a murderer?” It was stupid to say that. Tristan was a prosecutor, but really what the fuck could he do? It wasn’t like he hadn’t been to prison. If he was going to get locked up again for something, at least it should be for something he didn’t regret. Saving Josiah that night was one of the few things he was really proud of.
“It means I’m walking with someone who protected the person they loved. That’s what I see. And maybe I shouldn’t. It’s my job to put people behind bars, and I believe in what I do. If the system hadn’t let us down, then maybe my family wouldn’t have gone through what we did. You took care of him for years. I failed those I loved. That’s what I see.”
Some of the heaviness, the self-hatred, in his chest lightened at that. Yes, he believed in what he did for Josiah. Always had, but that was way fucking different than hearing it from a man like Tristan. A man he shouldn’t give a shit about what he thought, and he hadn’t realized he did until this second.
Mateo’s feet stopped moving. He didn’t try to keep his hand from reaching out for Tristan’s arm. For turning to face him, and still holding on while Tristan did the same. Dios, this was crazy shit. He didn’t understand it, but as he looked into Tristan’s dark eyes, he saw more pieces of himself. Pieces he never expected to see in the man. Pieces he hadn’t see in anyone else.
He spent time around so many fucking bastards. Murderers and drug dealers. People who had done some of the same things as him. But they thrived on it. It was a part of them, while Mateo tried to vomit it up every time he had to hurt someone, like he could really fucking purge it out of his system. He suddenly wondered if Tristan did the same. If he tried to expel his regrets.
He wasn’t sure exactly what Tristan had gone through. He didn’t know if Tristan meant going to the extent that Mateo had, not that he knew all the details. Still, he knew enough, and everything Mateo did from the drugs on up wasn’t easy. “It’s hard livin’ with taking action sometimes, too. You don’t escape the pain either way.”
He took a small step closer to Mateo, his body relaxing a little. “Then we both suffer, only in different ways. You saved Josiah and I allowed things to happen to my mother.”
Ice crystalized his insides. Fuck, he hadn’t expected to hear that. Didn’t quite understand why Tristan told him. Though he guessed that wasn’t true, either. Like Tristan said, they both suffered with it. It was something they shared that most people could never imagine.
Words hung on the tip of Mateo’s tongue, begging to be let free. Did Tristan still see his mistakes when he closed his eyes, the way Mateo did? Did he wake up a night, wet with sweat, heart hammering?
He wouldn’t insult Tristan by telling him it wasn’t his fault. Not that Mateo thought it was, but he also knew Tristan wouldn’t want to hear it. That it would only piss him off, because Teo felt that way, too. He might have made it in time but Jay had been out there because of him. He had a hand in every bad thing that had happened to Josiah since he’d been sixteen years old.
So instead of saying any of that, he tried to give Tristan a piece of what he’d offered to Mateo. “Do you take care of her now?”
“Yes.”
“That counts. That’s what I see.” He let go of Tristan’s arm, but let his hand slide down instead of immediately breaking contact. Then their fingers touched, one of Tristan’s hooked with his, and they both held it there. His skin was warm, smooth, and strangely Mateo liked the feel of it against his own. One, two, three, four, five seconds went by before they both pulled away.
“He’s too good for both of us,” Tristan said as they started walking again.