Chapter 5

Brody sat alone, a statue amid the chaos of scattered financial papers and open ledgers in the living room of the otherwise cozy Brooklyn brownstone he shared with Elya. Technically, he didn't need a roommate to pay his mortgage, but he liked the company, and the kid was sweet enough. Plus, Brody worked hard to avoid attention, and a single man living in a big house by himself definitely stood out.

His fingers traced the rim of the glass resting on the armrest of his leather chair, its outside slippery with condensation. His mind was ensnared in a loop, replaying the moment he'd walked away from Josiah, that gut-wrenching decision to pick solitude over the risk of entwining their lives. It had been three weeks, and every day, every hour had been sheer hell.

The air felt heavy, charged with regret and the sharp tang of what-ifs. Images of Josiah, blond and beautiful, haunted him—those wide blue eyes that held galaxies of emotions, his laughter that seemed to dance, vibrant and valorous. Brody raked a hand through his hair, his heart squeezing at the memory of Josiah's surrender.

But what choice did he have? Being with Josiah would've risked everything. Not just Brody's identity and safety but Josiah's too. If Brody's past caught up with him, he didn't want Josiah near him. People had died because of him, and no way was he putting that beautiful boy in danger.

The front door opened, and Elya stood in the doorway, his figure silhouetted against the early morning light. His dark curls were tousled from the brisk New York wind, and his police uniform clung to his lean frame like a second skin—a stark reminder of the danger that permeated Brody's life. Not that he'd told Elya about his past. He'd never talked about it with anyone.

"Why are you up so early?" Elya asked.

"Thinking," Brody replied, his tone a mix of confession and defiance. The word felt inadequate, too small to encapsulate the tempest within him. He set the glass on the table, the clink on the wooden surface loud in the tense atmosphere.

"Thinking?" Elya's arched eyebrow clearly displayed his disbelief.

Brody shrugged. "I was in a mood."

"Hmm. What else is new? Let me grab a seltzer."

Elya had his own mini kitchen in the basement, but he often hung out in Brody's kitchen, and Brody appreciated the company. Elya loved those flavored seltzers and always had at least three different kinds in the fridge. Brody couldn't see the appeal because they all tasted like dishwater to him but to each their own. He preferred ice-cold water and, from time to time, a Coke.

Elya plopped down across from him, popped open a can, and took a few big gulps. "Can I turn on the light, or will that ruin your brooding mood?"

Despite himself, Brody chuckled. "You're getting bratty, boy."

As if to prove the point, Elya stuck out his tongue. "I'm not your boy."

A fresh pang of pain stabbed Brody's heart, and his smile faded. "No, you're not."

"Josiah is." Elya raised his chin, challenging him.

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Then explain it to me. You pushed Josiah away like he was nothing. Why? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're just scared."

Elya's words cut through him like a laceration because they rang with an uncomfortable shade of truth. Brody sighed and pushed himself up from the couch, his muscles stiff and his bones aching. "Scared isn't the half of it, Elya. Being with me… it's dangerous for Josiah."

"Dangerous, how?"

"Josiah's innocent, creative, beautiful…" Brody's throat tightened, and his heart constricted with the image of those bright-blue eyes sparkling with unspoken dreams. "He doesn't need my world crashing down on his. You don't know what I've done. My past—it's never gone, Elya. It's only dormant, and if it wakes up…"

"Who says it will?" Elya's tone had softened slightly, but his eyes were still boring into Brody's with an intensity that demanded complete transparency. Brody was proud of his roommate. For someone as naturally submissive as Elya, standing up to Brody wasn't easy.

"I can't—I won't—be responsible for risking Josiah's safety. You don't know what could happen, but I do." Brody turned away, bracing his hands against the mantel, the cold marble beneath his palms a stark contrast to the heat of his emotions.

"Shouldn't Josiah be allowed to make that choice himself?" Elya's anger dissipated, replaced by a look that suggested he was reading between the lines of Brody's sparse words, glimpsing the depth of conflict.

"No, because even telling him would bring my mess into his life. He's light, Elya, and I won't be the shadow that dims him." Brody closed his eyes briefly, allowing himself a moment to picture Josiah's smile, which had the power to unravel him completely.

"Dammit, Brody. Is pushing him away going to keep him safe, or is it going to keep you lonely?"

Brody remained silent, a sentinel amid the chaos of his own making, knowing full well the answer was a twisted vine of both truths.

Elya's gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, something like understanding passed over his face—an acknowledgment of the burden Brody carried with him, one that had grown heavier since meeting Josiah.

"Josiah deserves better," Brody said after a long silence. It was both an explanation and a penance, an admission of his deepest fear—that his tainted history could one day bleed into Josiah's life and endanger him. But he dared not reveal more, couldn't afford to let the full extent of his turmoil show. Not when he had so much to lose if anyone ever discovered the truth of who he was.

"Man, I didn't realize it was eating you up this bad," Elya said, the fight draining out of him like water swirling down a sink. He leaned against the back of the sofa, arms folded across his chest, a pensive look on his face.

"Josiah is… He's everything I've been trying to avoid and everything I've been craving, all wrapped up in one impossible package." The words tumbled out with the weight of stones.

"I understand it's complicated, but you can't keep living in the shadows, Brody. Not when he's brought such a bright light into your life."

"You don't know what I'm up against."

"I may know more than you realize."

Brody stiffened at the knowing glint in Elya's. Subtle yet unmistakable—a hint that Elya had perhaps seen more than Brody intended to reveal.

He narrowed his eyes in quiet scrutiny. "What exactly are you saying?"

"I know that you're hiding a past that holds secrets you can't talk about, secrets that have made it necessary to start a new life."

Brody swallowed. Elya knew then. Or, at least, he suspected. "How did you find out?"

"Let's just say, as a cop, you learn to read between the lines. And I've learned from the best."

Another cryptic remark, but Brody connected the dots. He groaned. "Milan is Detective Bradbury, your mentor."

"Yes."

"That's how you know about Josiah."

"Yes. Milan has made it clear he wants to wring your neck."

He'd have to get in line. "Does he…?"

Elya shook his head. "I haven't talked to him about my suspicions regarding your past. I know how to keep a secret."

"Thank you." Something else clicked. "Wait, you worked in Baltimore on the police force before you came here. One of the suspects of the Pride Bombing was a Baltimore cop."

"I can't talk about it."

Brody held up his hands. "I understand. Better than you know."

"Milan said Josiah is heartbroken."

"He did?" Brody rubbed his chest. "I'm sure he'll get over it. We only met twice."

Elya shook his head. "You're delusional. You two had a connection that was as real for him as it was for you. He's doing worse than three weeks ago."

"Milan said that?"

"Denali is beside himself and about ready to head to Chicago to make sure Josiah is okay."

God, it hurt, knowing that his boy was suffering. "I can't allow him to get caught up in my mess…"

The image of Josiah's bright-blue eyes and sun-kissed blond hair filled his mind, stirring a warmth in his chest that conflicted with the cold knot of fear in his stomach.

"I understand there's a risk, and I'm not trying to downplay that," Elya said. "But that would mean you'd be alone for the rest of your life. Lonely for the rest of your life. You're both suffering, Brody. Wouldn't it be worth the risk to be with him? To take that chance?"

Brody groaned. The thought of Josiah being alone and in pain—it was almost more than he could bear. What had he done? "Is it fair to get him all entangled in my mess?"

"Nobody's life is free of tangles. But it's those knots that make us who we are." Elya rested his elbows on his knees, face earnest with concern. "Besides, some knots are meant to be tied, not untied. Maybe it's time you find out which kind you have with him. My money is on this thing between you being a kind of forever-entanglement."

If anyone deserved to find his forever Dom, it was Elya. How Brody wished he could've been that person, but the chemistry between Elya and him was nonexistent. He saw Elya as a younger brother, and that feeling was mutual. "Jesus, kid, when did you get so wise?"

Elya shrugged, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Call me na?ve, but I still believe in true love. And I may be wrong, but what you two had seemed like the real thing to me. Even watching you two dance, I felt it."

The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Brody's rebuttal, but none came. Instead, he nodded, an acknowledgment of the truth that rested in the balance between fear and longing. "Maybe it's time I stop running from what I want," Brody murmured, more to himself than to Elya. His confession held a raw edge, a vulnerability he rarely allowed anyone to see.

"Maybe it is. And can I add one more thing?"

Brody chuckled. "You're on a roll, so have at it."

"Why did you let me become your roommate and, moreover, your friend?"

Brody frowned. "Huh? I'm not following."

"If close connections with others are risky, why didn't you keep me at a distance? You don't think you endangered me to be close to you? If they ever found you, they wouldn't use me to get to you?"

Oh fuck. Brody had never even looked at it like that, but Elya was right. "But you're a cop," he said weakly.

"As if that would stop anyone. As if that means I'm untouchable or invincible."

"You're right. I guess you just slipped under my defenses with your sweetness. No offense, since I know you're a bad-ass cop and all."

Elya snorted. "Bad-ass. Right. The jury is still out on that."

"All I'm saying is I didn't mean for us to become this close. I needed a roommate to keep up certain pretenses, and it was my intention to keep you at a distance. Clearly, that didn't work out as planned."

"I'll say. Look, I'm not trying to make you feel guilty about befriending me. On the contrary. You're allowed to live, Brody, to love. No one will hold that against you. Not me, and my guess is not Josiah if you tell him." Elya stood. "Just remember that you're not alone in this. You've got people who have your back." He strode to the door. "Think about it, Brody, please. Don't let fear dictate your life."

Left alone, Brody sat motionless, staring at the space where Elya had been. The echo of his roommate's conviction resonated, seeping into Brody's pores until it settled in his bones. A newfound determination stirred, mingling with the embers of desire that refused to be extinguished. He had been a man confined by the walls of his past, but now those barriers were crumbling under the weight of his yearning for Josiah.

Brody needed him… and Josiah needed him too.

An hour later, Brody zipped open his trusty duffel, the one that had accompanied him on countless journeys, though none quite as pivotal as this one. He moved around the bedroom with urgency. His hands were steady, decisive as they grabbed underwear, socks, shirts, and pants. In went the essential toiletries, a pair of extra shoes, the book he was reading. Oh, he'd better not forget his reading glasses.

With a firm nod, he zipped the duffel closed. He glanced around the room, ensuring he hadn't forgotten anything—no physical item, at least. The emotional baggage he'd have to carry with him and unpack piece by piece when he faced Josiah.

"I'm going," he told Elya, who was wolfing down a bowl of cereal in the kitchen. "I'm on the two p.m. flight to Chicago."

Elya's eyes lit up. "Thank fuck."

On impulse, Brody stepped up to his roommate and firmly kissed him on the mouth. "Thank you for telling me what I needed to hear. I owe you."

"Find me a Dom, and we'll call it even," Elya said, his cheeks an adorable red.

Brody headed outside and hailed a cab. "LaGuardia."

As the taxi pulled away from the curb, he allowed himself to imagine the feel of Josiah's arms, the press of his lips, the tentative weaving of their lives back together. Hope and determination filled his chest, and with every mile, the chains of his past fears loosened. The flight to Chicago might as well have been a flight to freedom, and he wasn't about to miss it.