Chapter 4

Josiah recounted his experience with Brody to Denali, animatedly describing the path the beads had taken into his body, his voice rising in excitement. "It was so perfect," he said dreamily. "It was like Brody had this magnetic field around him, pulling me into his orbit. I wanted to do everything he told me. If he'd ordered me to take another bead, I would have."

Denali leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his face alight with affection. "Milan likes to play with them too. He says it's obscene, the way my ass takes the bigger ones."

"I'm sure that was the same for me, but Brody loved it. He told me how proud he was of me."

Denali squeezed his hand. "That does something to you, doesn't it, that praise? When Milan and Asher tell me I'm their good baby boy, I feel like I can fly."

"It was magical."

Josiah rested against the back of the couch, a deep current of hope pulsing through him. This connection felt different from anything he'd ever experienced. Maybe Brody would be the one to see beyond the playful flirts and into the core of who Josiah truly was and accept him.

Josiah's phone buzzed on the coffee table. Excitement surged within him as he grabbed the device and read the message on the screen.

"Speak of the devil," he murmured, his heart rate picking up. It was Brody.

I'd love to see you again. Wanna grab coffee today?

"Ooh, what'd he say?" Denali craned his neck to peek at the screen.

"Brody wants to meet for coffee," Josiah replied, thumbs flying over the keyboard with his response.

Yes! When and where?

"Wow, already? That's great!" Denali clapped him on the shoulder.

"Right? I can't wait to see him again." Josiah's voice held a tremor of eagerness as he waited for Brody's reply.

Lucy's Coffee Shoppe? In an hour?

An hour? That didn't leave him much time to prepare. Not that he was considering saying no.

Sounds great. I'll see you there.

He looked up at Denali. "He wants to meet me in an hour."

"That soon? You need to start getting ready."

"I know. I can't believe he's so eager to see me again." A sigh of contentment escaped him. It was rare for him to feel this kind of giddy anticipation. Something about Brody made every moment thrum with potential.

"I told you you'd find your Dom at the club, didn't I? Now get your butt in gear so you look your best."

A little later, Josiah stood before the mirror, smoothing the tight, glittery top that hugged his torso in all the right places. He turned this way and that, checking for any unwanted wrinkles or awkward creases, but the shirt accentuated the lean lines of his body. A pair of dark skinny jeans completed the look: casual yet undeniably put-together.

"You look amazing," he whispered to his reflection, trying to quell the butterflies dancing a frantic samba in his stomach. Taking a deep breath, Josiah meticulously applied a touch of foundation to even out his skin tone. His fingers were steady as they traced his jawline with a light bronzer, giving him that subtle, sun-kissed look he knew complemented his hair and eyes perfectly.

His grooming was methodical, each brush stroke making him more confident. After adjusting his hair into a carefree style that belied the time spent on it, he spritzed a hint of cologne into the air and walked through the mist, letting it settle on his skin.

He checked his phone again for the address of the coffee shop and grabbed his handmade leather satchel, a piece that never failed to draw compliments.

"Perfection," Denali said as Josiah twirled before him. "Absolutely irresistible."

"Let's hope so."

After a hug from his best friend, he stepped out onto the bustling streets of Brooklyn and walked to the coffee shop where Brody had suggested they meet.

The quaint little coffee shop sat between a bookshop and an art studio. As Josiah pushed open the door, the scent of freshly ground coffee beans greeted him, a soothing balm to his jittery nerves. Soft jazz music mingled with the murmur of hushed conversations and the clinking of cups on saucers.

He chose a spot near the back, a secluded nook with two plush armchairs around a small table. The intimate space felt like a cocoon, shielding him from the hustle of the city outside. Minutes ticked by, during which the anticipation tightened its grip around Josiah, the thrill of waiting for Brody mixing with an undercurrent of vulnerability.

The server flashed him a kind smile, adding a dash of normalcy to the whirlwind of emotions within Josiah. "Can I get you something while you wait?" she asked.

"Ah, just water for now, thanks."

He kept glancing at the door, his heart skipping beats at the thought of Brody walking through it at any moment. He twisted the silver ring on his thumb, a nervous tick he couldn't shake. The door opened and closed with customers, but none were Brody. A laugh bubbled in his throat. How could he be so wired over a man he'd just met? Yet Brody wasn't just any man. He was the one who made Josiah's skin tingle from memory alone.

He checked his phone. Still five minutes to go. Time seemed to crawl, each second stretching out like a thread unwinding from a spool. Was this what hope felt like? Excitement mixed with a heady dose of fear—the fear of wanting something too much, of being too needy.

The bell above the door jingled, and Josiah looked up again. This time, Brody stepped into the shop. His stride held the assurance of a man who knew his place in the world, who moved through it with purpose. The softness around his middle spoke of a life lived well and enjoyed, a contrast to the steel in his posture.

Brody's gaze swept the room and found Josiah. His eyes—that gorgeous green that had haunted Josiah's dreams—lit up, crinkling at the corners with a smile that sent a shiver down Josiah's spine. All the nervous energy that had been coiled tight within Josiah was released, replaced by an effervescent joy.

"Hey," Brody said, his warm baritone reverberating inside Josiah, stirring something primal and eager.

"Hi."

Brody brushed Josiah's cheek with a familiarity that belied the short time they had known each other. "Can I get a kiss?"

Josiah lifted his lips. Brody's kiss was brief but soft.

They sat in the plush chairs, the small table a cozy island amid the coffee shop's morning hum. "Did you order yet?" Brody asked.

"Just water. I wasn't sure what you wanted."

"What would you like?"

"A latte, please."

"Anything sweet with that? Their cookies are delicious."

"Sure. Pick something for me."

A few minutes later, Brody returned with a tray holding their coffee and a small plate with cookies. "I got chocolate chip, lemon, and snickerdoodle."

They settled back in, and Josiah nibbled on a lemon cookie.

"How are you feeling? Any soreness?" Brody asked.

Josiah chuckled. "Yeah, I'm feeling it. But I like it."

"You do?"

"It's grounding… and a tangible reminder of what we shared."

"I liked it."

Joy filled Josiah. He wasn't the only one who'd felt that special connection. "It was incredible."

"I haven't had that kind of connection with anyone in a long time."

Josiah's heart danced to an excited beat. "Neither have I. It was like we were synced, moving together perfectly on the dance floor… and off it too."

Brody's laughter rumbled up. "That's one way to put it. You move well, Josiah, in every sense."

A blush crept over Josiah's cheeks, but he didn't shy away from the praise or the probing intensity of Brody's gaze. The air seemed to thicken around them, charged with unspoken promises and the pull of mutual desire.

"Thing is…" Josiah bit his lip as vulnerability edged into his voice. "I only have a few more days here in New York, and then I have to return home to Chicago."

"Ah." Brody leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Well, the good news is that I'm my own boss and set my own schedule, so I can take some time off whenever I want. I can also work remotely as long as I have a desk and Wi-Fi. We can make the most of your stay, see where things go."

Relief washed over Josiah like a warm summer rain. "I'm my own boss, too, though it's hard for me to work elsewhere since I need my sewing machine and everything."

Brody reached across the table and covered Josiah's hand with his own. "Let's focus on now, on us. We'll figure out the rest later."

And as simple as that, Josiah's fears unraveled, soothed by the comforting weight of Brody's hand atop his. His heart surged with gratitude, not just for the reassurance but also for the recognition in Brody's eyes—that he, Josiah, was worth rearranging plans for, worth taking chances on.

"So, who was the friend you were with at the club? I've seen him before, but since he's taken, I've never played with him."

"His name is Denali, and we've been friends since we were little kids. We grew up in Alaska together as the only two gay kids in a conservative town."

Brody winced. "That must've been rough."

"It wasn't easy. Our parents weren't happy with our lifestyle choices—their words—and we got bullied a lot. But we always had each other."

"A friendship like that is special."

"It is. And even though he's now with Milan and Asher, we're still close. We talk weekly and text all the time."

"They're a threesome, correct?"

Josiah nodded. "Milan is a Dom, and Asher is a switch. Denali is a sub, so he submits to both his men, but Asher also submits to Milan."

Brody whistled softly. "That's a complicated dynamic. Beautiful, but not easy to navigate."

"They make it look easy. And it gives me hope."

"Hope for what?" Brody leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table.

"That there's someone who can handle all this." Josiah gestured to himself with a playful swirl of his hand, his bracelets jangling softly. "Someone who won't find me too much. Too high maintenance."

"Josiah," Brody said, sincerity shining in his eyes, "anyone would be lucky to have you."

The compliment settled over Josiah like a soft, comforting blanket. His cheeks heated, probably taking on the hue of the rosy glow that filtered through the coffee shop windows. This was the depth of connection he craved, the raw honesty that made everything seem possible. "Thank you."

"But I'm glad you've found your chosen family."

"I'm lucky to have them." Josiah made a face. "Even though they're still very much in love and kiss and fuck all the time."

Brody laughed. "Ah, yes, that must be uncomfortable to witness. So how did you end up in Chicago and Denali here?"

"He worked as a waiter in the White House for a few years. That's where he met his boyfriends."

Something flickered over Brody's face, but it was gone so quickly that Josiah blinked. Had he just imagined that? He must have.

"The White House?" Brody leaned back in his chair. "That's not something you hear every day."

"His uncle worked there too, so he had a recommendation, and he loved it."

"And you said he met his boyfriends there? Denali mentioned one of them being an NYPD officer and the other a federal agent."

"Yeah, Milan is a homicide detective, but he lived in the White House at the time. He was the president's brother-in-law. President Shafer was married to Milan's sister, First Lady Sarah Shafer… until she was killed, of course. And Asher was a Secret Service agent. He helped with the investigation into the Pride Bombing and everything. He now works for the FBI." Josiah laughed, the sound light and airy. "They all have some stories to tell. Well, in as far as they can share details anyway. Dinners with them are never dull, I'll tell you that."

"Wow, that's quite the crowd you run with." Brody wasn't meeting Josiah's eyes, and his smile faded.

Unease trickled down Josiah's spine. Had he said something wrong? "How about you? Do you have family and friends in New York? You're not from here originally, right?"

"No, I'm from…" Brody cleared his throat and picked up his phone from the table. "Give me a moment."

Had a message come in? He must've had his notifications on silent because Josiah hadn't heard anything. No vibration either, since he would've felt that through the table.

Brody's face had grown tight, a nerve ticking in his jaw. The air shifted imperceptibly between them and became heavy with a tension that hadn't been there moments before. Josiah's heart thrummed against his ribcage, his instincts prickling at the sudden frost in Brody's demeanor.

"Is everything okay?" Josiah asked.

Brody put his phone away. "Uh, yeah. Actually, no. I need to leave."

Brody's gaze drifted back to Josiah, but as though he was peering through a veil, disconnected and distant. Brody's hands, those strong, reassuring hands that had promised safety, balled into fists on the tabletop.

"Leave? But we've just?—"

Brody stood abruptly, his chair scraping back with an urgency that echoed in the space widening between them. "I'm sorry. It's important."

Josiah could only nod and sagged in his chair. "Will you text or call me?" he managed through the tightness in his throat.

The look Brody gave him—a tortured blend of longing and resignation—didn't carry the reassurance he craved.

"Sure," Brody muttered, though his eyes told a different story—one of a secret pain Josiah couldn't decipher. What was going on? With a final, strained smile that didn't reach his eyes, Brody turned and walked away.

Josiah sat motionless as the coffee shop door closed behind Brody with a finality that echoed like a gavel in his head. The clink of ceramic and hushed conversations of other patrons became a distant buzz as he tried to piece together the puzzle of Brody's sudden shift. He couldn't shake the feeling he'd somehow been the catalyst for the chill.

His mind raced through their conversation, sifting through each word for a clue, an explanation. Had he said something wrong? Was it the mention of Denali and his boyfriends? Their easy conversation had derailed after that part, and now Josiah was grappling with a gnawing emptiness.

"Dammit," Josiah whispered, tracing his fingers over the spot where Brody's mug had sat. Confusion stoked the fire of his self-doubt. Was he too much? Too open, too eager, too… Josiah? Had Brody, like the others, discovered that Josiah wasn't what he wanted? But why? What had he done wrong?

A tear trickled down his cheek, and he hunched over his coffee, now cold and bitter.

Deep inside, the threads of connection he thought he'd woven with Brody unraveled, one silent, painful strand at a time.