A Mended Man (The Men of Halfway House Book 4) (14 page)

He wanted to comfort Jessie in some way but didn't have a clue how. He pulled his hand away and clasped his hands together, squeezing tightly as if it were Michael's neck. He hated this. Sometimes, he wished he could connect better with people. "He was trying to strip your identity. It's what kidnappers do. They typically don't want to know your name to avoid personalizing things. When we find the bastard, I'll ask him why he came back. Don't think about that right now. What did you do after you left the house?"

Jessie fidgeted with the bedsheet again. Aidan finally reached out and held Jessie's hand, knowing he seemed to talk more openly with the connection, or maybe it was for his own comfort to settle the tornado of emotions swirling inside. He didn't want to overthink it and welcomed the contact.

"I was on my own for a while. For almost two years after that—"

"Did you make any friends, talk to anyone—"

"There's nothing more about Michael." He looked exhausted as if the haunting memories had somehow weakened his body further.

Aidan looked away, knowing he was pushing the point and going into personal territory. He wanted to know everything about Jessie but didn't want to push him to the brink of discomfort, especially after everything he had just shared. But he wouldn't deny his craving to know every minute detail about Jessie and how he came to be the man he was today.

"But if you want to know more, I'll tell you."

Aidan nodded once in acknowledgment, ignoring the now rapid heartbeat in his chest. He cherished any little nugget of personal information Jessie shared. It all helped to put the pieces together to solve the Jessie mystery in his mind.

"I didn't go back to that same place. I was worried he'd go by there again and see me. I hitched a few rides and worked my way a little farther south. There was a group of people who lived in this fenced-in place. It was safer there for the most part. I talked to someone a few times. A girl I met. Her name was Lucky." He huffed out an almost-quick laugh. "She called herself that because she thought that if she had enough people call her by that nickname, then maybe she'd start to believe it and things would turn around. She was nice. She found me a pair of shoes I could wear and an old pair of pants. They were a size or two too big, but I didn't care. Anything but those stupid jogging pants and shirt. She tried to teach me how to pick pockets, but honestly, I sucked at it. I usually ended up asking people for food instead. I figured that would be easier than asking for money. And most people thought I was too skinny so I did have people who'd sometimes buy me a burger or something." Jessie looked off to the side, lost in some thought. "One day, when I went back to look for her at the spot she normally slept, they told me she had left with someone. I never saw her again and don't know what happened to her."

Aidan stilled his bouncing leg, steeling himself to offer support he imagined Jessie needed. "What happened after that?"

Jessie's focus darted back to him. He shook his head as if dispelling a memory. "Sorry?"

Aidan leaned in, holding Jessie's hand in both of his own, mimicking the same thing Jessie had done moments before. "What happened after that?"

Jessie looked down at their hands and a small smile tugged on his lips. "I was sitting against a wall in an alley. I remember being buried under a layer of flattened cardboard boxes I had set up like a tent, trying to fight off that rare chill in the air we get in late December on a few random days. I could hear the Christmas music playing from the speakers of the shops. And I remember…"

"Remember what?"

"It's stupid," he whispered. "I remember wishing for a Christmas miracle. How cheesy is that?"

Aidan squeezed Jessie's hand. "It's not."

"For those two years, I'd see people running in and out of the stores, fighting over the presents to buy their kids. I didn't need the fancy bikes or toys." He quieted and continued to stare down at their hands. "But I was jealous."

Aidan ran his thumb along Jessie's skin, thankful for the contact, but not trusting himself to voice a single word.

"I felt so alone. When Lucky wasn't around anymore, I just… I almost gave up." He stopped and took a deep breath. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he withdrew his hand from between Aidan's, reaching for the cup of water to take a sip. He returned the cup to the table and shifted it until it was perfectly positioned again before continuing. "Then this man comes walking down the sidewalk. He came over to me and said I shouldn't be sitting there all alone." He ducked his head, tugging the bedsheet, flattening it again. "I know what you're thinking."

"What is it you think I'm thinking?"

Jessie glanced up at him. "You're wondering why I would ever put myself at risk of a repeat situation after what happened."

Aidan couldn't lie. The thought had crossed his mind. So he chose to remain quiet.

"That man was my Christmas miracle," Jessie finished with a sad smile. "He took me in." The tears slowly began to fill his blue eyes like a dam releasing the clear water into a stream. "He extended his hand to me and swore he wasn't some twisted old man who picked up kids on the street."

"Was he?" Aidan managed to ask past the emotions choking him.

Jessie shook his head. "He was a good man. An amazing man with kind eyes. You learn quickly how to look into someone's eyes and see inside of them. It's true what they say, about the eyes being the window to one's soul. Once you've seen evil and cruelty, you can tell when it's not there if you pay attention."

Aidan squeezed his own clasped hands so tight his knuckles began to whiten.

"His eyes were honest…and sad. He asked me one question. 'Are you planning on spending Christmas in that box?' I nodded and he extended his hand to me."

He quieted and Aidan wondered if Jessie had gone back in time to relive that moment.

"Steven. That was his name," he said with profound respect. "He didn't want to spend another Christmas alone. He gave me some clothes he had from his son who had passed away a few years before. His son was younger than me, but his clothes still fit me fine. He said he never wanted to see me helpless and dirty again. He's the one who taught me how to cook. He said I needed to learn how to stand on my own. He's the one who taught me to not let all that other stuff get to me. He told me that, every day, you wake up and need to make a decision to be happy." He smiled fondly. "He had me take some tests to get credit in school and try to skip some classes. He then enrolled me in night school to finish my requirements and helped me with my homework. By that time, I was almost seventeen years old and working on finishing up my senior year in night school. It's as if I hadn't missed the time out of school." He looked over to Aidan and smiled. "He said I was smart and that's why I was able to do that even though I had missed those years in school."

He looked down and reached for Aidan's hand. "He didn't want me working while I was in school until I was sure I could do both without sacrificing my progress. So he paid me to do things around the house. Cut the grass, fix leaks. Stuff like that. He thought I didn't realize he was teaching me to be independent, to do all these things on my own." Jessie suddenly laughed. "Then he'd take half of what he paid me and told me it was to pay for rent and expenses." He looked up with a lingering smile on his face. "He said having money required discipline. He had me open a bank account and taught me how to manage my expenses. He said I had to put some away so I'd never have to worry about a roof over my head again."

Jessie's love, respect, and admiration for this father-figure screamed from every pore of his body. Aidan stroked his thumb along Jessie's hand as he slowly exhaled, thankful there had been someone there during those tough, defining years that had helped lessen the tarnish of his family and the domino effect of events that'd followed. "What happened to him?"

Jessie looked away and sighed. "He died a little over a year after he rescued me." He took a deep breath and bit his lower lip. "Fourteen months and sixteen days to be exact. I didn't know he was dying the day he found me."

"I'm sorry you went through that."

"I'm not," Jessie said, shaking his head, fighting the tears that reflected the light in his eyes. "He's the reason I do a lot of things the way I do them. He was more of a father to me in that short time than my father was in all the years before. So I don't regret anything that happened that led me to that alley that day where he found me. Because of him, I know what it was like to have a real father. He told me he had been so sad since his son had passed away, and that I had been the only blessing in his life to ease some of that pain. When Steven died, I felt more alone than I had since my father kicked me out. But this time, I had money in an account and clothes to wear for at least a full two weeks without a wash and enough common sense and confidence to not be terrified about being on my own. And that was
all
because of him," he said fiercely.

Jessie took a few deep breaths and absently stroked his thumb along Aidan's hand. "He had two mortgages he took out years before to pay for his son's medical bills. So as soon as he passed away, the bank came to take the house…but I wasn't scared. I packed my things and went to the bank to withdraw money from the account he made me set up. That's when the bank manager called me over." He quieted, the energy escaping his body. "Steven had set up a second account with all the rent money I had paid him all those months." He inhaled a shaky breath. "I didn't know. He was even taking care of me after he had passed away." He blew out a deep breath, trying to fight the tears. "That's why I love Cole and Hunter and Matt so much. I see bits of Steven in them. And Sam." Jessie shook his head and smiled. "Have you met Sam? The reintegration officer who works with Matt to bring the guys to Halfway House?"

Aidan nodded.

"He reminds me so much of Steven. The always big smile and the undercover lessons he teaches. I don't know if he realizes how wonderful he is and how he changes the lives of those men." Jessie sighed and leaned back against the pillows. "Can I ask you something?"

Aidan nodded again.

"Do you…" Jessie looked away. He fidgeted with the bedsheet again and hesitantly looked at Aidan. "Now knowing what you know about…what happened. Does that change anything…between us?"

"No."
Just makes me realize how strong you really are
.

Jessie smiled weakly. "Thank you." He looked exhausted, as if he had relived all the experiences he'd recalled and now couldn't even seem to keep his eyes open. "I'm too tired. Can we do a little walking tomorrow?"

Aidan nodded and stood, thankful Jessie wasn't going to attempt to push himself any more for one day. He pulled up the sheet once Jessie settled into a comfortable spot. He walked over and noted the address Jessie gave him then sat at his laptop to shoot a quick email with the update to the team. He peeked over the laptop as he worked, watching Jessie turn to his side and switch off the overhead light shining down on the bed.

"Maybe someday you'll tell me about you. I know there's a lot you hide away," Jessie said, snuggling into the pillow.

He didn't have a response for that, but there was no way he would poison Jessie with any bit of info from his past. He did everything in his power to lock that shit up tight and throw away the key. "Good night, Jess."

He finished going through his emails and unpacked a few items from his bag before settling in his chair to the right of Jessie's bed. He stared up at the ceiling tiles, going through everything Jessie had said, trying to compartmentalize Jessie's experience from his own. He turned to face Jessie and reached out with a shaky hand, ghosting his fingers along Jessie's fair cheek—a stolen, reverent caress he would only dare when Jessie was in a deep, peaceful sleep. He didn't know how someone could go through all that and still have a strong spirit and a smile brighter than the sun. How could someone not let something so negative break them? How could they manage to move forward and not let something so horrible color every action, decision, and relationship from that point forward?

Somehow, Jessie had found a way.

He brushed the loose strands of hair away from Jessie's face and wished that someday, maybe he could be strong enough to find a way to do the same.

"So your physical therapist tells me you're making great strides," Dr. Green said, scribbling notes in Jessie's chart.

"Yup," Jessie said, sneaking a glance at Aidan out of the corner of his eye. He bit his lip to hide the laugh that almost escaped at the scowl on Aidan's face. His "progress" could be attributed to his midnight rendezvous down the hall a few steps more each night with a skeleton crew of nurses at the edge of their seats or cheering him on. And Aidan right there by his side, supporting him as he hobbled each step down the hallway. He had been awake now for five weeks and he definitely felt stronger and a little closer to his usual self. They had replaced the full arm cast with a shorter, temporary forearm cast that extended to his wrist, and he was thankful to not have that extra weight to lug around.