A Mended Man (The Men of Halfway House Book 4) (13 page)

Cole ducked his head. "I fucked up. I'm so sorry. I'd never hurt him."

And that right there was another reason Cole remained on Aidan's good side, regardless of all his twisted shit. "I know. Thanks for staying with him while I was out."

Cole nodded before entering the elevator and apologized again before the doors closed between them.

Aidan stood with his head down and his hands planted on his waist. He didn't know what exactly had happened between Jessie and his father, but the pained look in those crystal blue eyes when the subject had come up once before had sliced through his heart. It had been enough to never speak of it again. But now, he felt as if he didn't have a choice but to broach the subject.

He returned to Jessie's room and grabbed the bag from the table with the burger and fries he had picked up from the cafeteria. He pulled the chair closer to Jessie's bed and noticed the tray of untouched food.
Dammit
. Jessie needed to eat to remain strong with all the pain meds and physical therapy. "How about you join me and eat something so I don't feel like a greedy pig?"

Nothing.

"Jess?"

Jessie finally made eye contact and forced a smile. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"You haven't eaten."

"I'm not hungry."

"Not even for one of these?" Aidan teased, holding up one of the fries Jessie couldn't resist.

"Thanks," Jessie said, taking the fry and biting into it. He closed his eyes as he took another bite. "I swear, I think they inject something highly addictive into these things. Fries just don't taste this good on their own."

Aidan smiled and made a mental note about the power of drug-laced fries and their ability to break down Jessie's walls. He reached into the bag and gave Jessie another while he rolled the tray of hospital food within reach and handed him the fork. Jessie gave in and ate his dinner while Aidan shared more wall-crushing fries along the way. When they finally finished, Aidan repositioned the pillows behind Jessie and set the now empty tray on the small counter area by the door. He filled a cup with a little water and set it on the table within Jessie's reach, finally settling in his usual chair to Jessie's right, where he had a clear line of sight to the door.

"Can we try walking later?" Jessie asked.

"Only a few steps," Aidan said. "I don't want to overstress your good leg." That was putting it mildly. A few weeks of inactivity coupled with all the broken parts and surgery had weakened Jessie's body and he was too hard-headed to pace himself. "Something's on your mind and I want to get that out in the open first, then I need to ask you a few questions."

"Ask me about what?"

"Your attacker. Michael. We don't have much to go on so I'm hoping you can…tell me about him to see if there's anything we can maybe use to find him." The last thing he wanted to hear about was Jessie's prior relationship with the asshole attacker, but better him than another detective who wouldn't be able to pick up on the minor nuances when something struck a nerve.

Jessie nodded, more an absent reaction than a response.

"Jess?"

He looked up, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Is it true? Was my father here?"

Aidan swallowed heavily, thinking of how best to steer around the metaphorical elephant in the room. Fuck, he hated knowing he would hurt Jessie, because he couldn't imagine the conversation ending on a positive note. "Yes."

Jessie did that subtle, slow nod thing again, as if digesting bits of information at a time. "It was a mistake…him being here. It's not something he wanted to do. Right?"

Aidan's chest ached at the sadness in Jessie's eyes. He wanted to kill that bastard who had caused this much pain to haze the otherwise bright, crystal blue. "I don't think he's coming back."

Jessie took a deep breath and his expression softened.
Acceptance
. As if he had known what Aidan would say, but finally hearing it released a huge weight off his shoulders. He remained quiet for a few, never-ending seconds, until he finally spoke. "I didn't think so." His focus shifted again to the bedsheet and the routine of flattening it when he tried to gather his thoughts. "I've told you about my mom and how close we were when I was growing up, but I guess I've never told you anything about my father, huh?"

Aidan's throat tightened. "No. I know your mom died when you were twelve and you told me she was like a buffer between you and your father, but we haven't talked about it. I know it's…not a good subject." After hearing Jessie's father's words straight from the asshole's mouth, yeah, understatement of the year.

Jessie reached out for Aidan's hand, clasping it tightly as if it would give him strength before he spoke. "There was always friction. He was very old school. He believed men should be big and strong and women should be at their husband's beck and call. My mom… She was my best friend. She took me everywhere. I think part of that might have been that my father didn't really care for her to have any friends of her own. I don't know. But I know we went shopping together, grocery stores, anywhere she needed to go. I remember watching her one time in the kitchen, cooking dinner. My father came home that day and he lost it. Told me it was not my responsibility to know my way around the kitchen."

He paused for a moment as if trying to choose the right words. "A few months after my mom died, he said he was tired of trying. He said he couldn't understand me or why I couldn't throw a football straight or hit a baseball farther than the baseline. He didn't understand why I loved our neighbor's shih tzu and would play with her whenever she dug her way out of her yard into ours to spend some time with me when I came home from school. He said it was a little girl's dog and that young men wouldn't play with dogs like that."

He spoke distantly, as if reading a detached script, trying to avoid any emotion. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "He made his feelings about me very clear when he threw me head first into the grass and I landed inches away from one of the presents she'd left in our yard I hadn't had a chance to clean up yet. He laughed and called it ironic considering
I was a shitty excuse for a son
," he said in a mocking deep voice. He paused again and swallowed heavily before looking over to Aidan. "He gave up on me and told me to leave. If I'm going to be honest with you, I didn't want to stay. I was terrified of becoming him."

Aidan gripped Jessie's hand almost as much as the hold that twisted his stomach and threatened to cause his dinner to come back up. Although he had never really felt a connection with his father the way Ty had, his dad would never, ever have treated him that way.

"You are nothing like him."

"You spoke to him?"

Aidan nodded curtly, unable to formulate a somewhat decent sentence with the anger turning his stomach.

"I wish you hadn't," Jessie said quietly. "He's toxic. And I don't want him to infect you in any way." He absently rubbed his thumb along Aidan's hand, moving his fingers and watching the way their hands mingled. "When my dad kicked me out, I didn't have any family to turn to. School had ended for the year so it was summer. I had a couple of friends whose parents let me sleep on their couch for a few nights. They knew my father and…I guess they weren't surprised we had a fight and he was pissed off at me. They were nice, maybe they figured things would blow over. I never really asked, I was happy to finally be able to be in a place where I wasn't getting yelled at. The neighbors started talking after about a week and my friends started getting teased about having a gay friend living with them. They didn't deserve that; they were just trying to help me. I couldn't go back home so I packed up my backpack and went for a walk and never turned back. I saw a few kids who slept under an overpass close to the highway, so I worked my way over there. I barely survived three weeks when I met a man. I didn't have a lot of choices," he finished quietly.

Aidan wondered if Jess had tried a shelter, a youth home, anything before taking refuge in the arms of a stranger. But there was no way he'd ask and risk Jessie feeling as if he were trying to place blame or imply there was some other, better option than what he had considered.

"I know what you're thinking."

"What's that?"

"Yes, I did try finding a place to stay. People think it's easy to walk into a shelter. I was barely thirteen. There weren't many in the area and even fewer for kids my age. I'd heard horror stories during those few weeks about child services and how they would take me back home. My father didn't want me, so I didn't think anyone else would want me either."

Aidan watched as Jessie trailed off, lost in thought with a hint of anger he didn't often see. "This man you met…"

Jessie looked back at Aidan, his focus obviously elsewhere until it snapped back to the present. "Don't hate me."

"I could never hate you."

Jessie swallowed heavily and lowered his head, his voice faint and barely audible when he finally spoke. "It was Michael."

Aidan stilled, trying to control the storm of emotions churning his stomach. Rage, hatred, a need to maim the bastard, then more rage. "You were young and had no one else. You were trying to survive and accepted the only hand that reached out to you."

"Please don't hate me," he whispered again.

Aidan dared to reach out, placing his hand against Jessie's cheek. Jessie's touch was magical, always calming his inner chaos. He hoped he could offer the same. "I could never hate you."

Jessie leaned into Aidan's palm and closed his eyes as a single tear escaped his lashes and ran down his cheek.

Aidan's breath hitched and somehow got stuck in his chest. He wasn't sure how long he held his breath as he watched Jessie stay still, pressing the cool of his cheek against his palm, seeking comfort until he finally spoke.

"He used to call me Runt. He'd tease me with the nickname, almost as if he thought it was an endearment. And he told me to call him Sire. I'd keep the house clean in exchange for living there. He hadn't asked for anything more. He said he was tired of being in a house by himself and just wanted some company. He was really nice at first, cordial, thoughtful. I had a roof over my head and a hot shower each day." His voice became distant and lowered. "I was a stupid, naive kid," he said in a whispered tone.

Aidan could barely breathe and now couldn't swallow past the tightness in his throat. The pain and sadness vibrating off Jessie radiated straight to Aidan's core and made him raw. He blocked all thoughts and wayward flashes from his mind, focusing only on Jessie's precise words. He couldn't let his mind embellish or fill in the blanks. That would break him. His leg bounced repeatedly, trying to burn off some of the tension surging through his body. But the not knowing was killing him. "Did he…"

Jessie remained still and his eyes pooled with more tears.

Aidan slowly exhaled and tried to focus on the present. "Don't think about that part."

Jessie nodded and took a deep breath. He pulled Aidan's hand away from his cheek and held it in his lap, stroking his fingers. He slowly blew out his breath as if centering himself before continuing. "His house was very private and all the windows and doors bolted shut. No phone. Windows were blacked out. I asked him once, what if the house was on fire, how would I get out?" He finally looked at Aidan, his eyes filled with a terror Aidan had never seen. "He told me to make sure that never happened. So I was really careful when I tried to cook something. I screwed up most of the stuff I tried to make. I wish I had paid more attention to my mom in the kitchen."

He rubbed Aidan's hand, running his fingertips along Aidan's fingers and palm while he gathered his thoughts. "One night, he came home drunk then passed out. He never did that. Usually, it's as if the alcohol would heighten his senses…and his temper. But that night, it was different. It was the only chance I had and I took it. I built up the courage to grab his keys from his pocket and I unlocked the bolts on the door. I ran. I didn't care if that meant I had to be on the street and take the risk. I didn't have any money. I was barefoot, wearing nothing but the big shirt I had on and the jogging pants I had to wash at the end of each day so I could have them ready for the morning." He finally straightened and his jaw muscles tensed and relaxed. "I hated those damn pants, but that's all he let me have. Those pants and one of his shirts so I…wouldn't forget him throughout the day."

Jessie closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if steeling himself again. "I lived in that hell for four hundred and fifty-six days."

After a few more breaths, he finally opened his eyes. "The only reason I know his name is because he left a magazine out one day. He never even carried a wallet in his pocket. I imagine he did that deliberately and was careful so I wouldn't know his name. I guess he hadn't noticed the mailing label on the magazine. So I went over it in my head all day to make sure I memorized it, then I set it back in the exact same spot before he returned home. A few minutes after he arrived that day, the magazine disappeared from the table."

"Did the label include an address?"

Jessie nodded. "I drove by one time about five years later and the house was no longer there, just the land. But that's where the house was. The same train still passed by at the same time in the day. When I mentioned that to the other detectives, I think they might have disregarded it. I don't know. But I'll give you the address if you think it'll help with anything. I still remember it."

Aidan nodded, thankful they had some bit of information that might be helpful in tracking this son of a bitch down. Regardless of any Reyes drama, he was grateful the task force now had the case. Disregarding an address, even if the house was no longer standing, was a stupid error and could potentially have caused this asshole to slip through their fingers. "Did anyone ever go by the house? Call him? Anything?"

Jessie shook his head. "No. And he never mentioned any family." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "More than fifteen years later, why the hell would he come looking for me? He didn't even want to know my name. He said it didn't matter." He finally opened his eyes and looked up at Aidan, the pain and sadness spearing through Aidan's heart.