A Mended Man (The Men of Halfway House Book 4) (23 page)

Pained, strangled grunts came from the living room.
Aidan
. He grabbed the flashlight from the nightstand and quietly took the familiar steps in the darkness down the hallway into the open space. "Aidan, are you okay?"

The pitch black stole the living room of the usual glow from the television and the steady whisper of white noise Aidan always seemed to play during the night to lull himself to sleep. A hint of moonlight filtered through the living room window, just barely enough to show Aidan thrashing on the couch in distress with the sheet pushed off his body and onto the ground. For some reason, Aidan preferred to sleep on the old, worn-out couch in the living room rather than in the comfort of a bed or in the large, almost-empty master bedroom he used as an office.

"Aidan?"

He continued to thrash on the couch, grunting and shifting, snarling like a wild animal. Jessie reached out to touch Aidan's ankle, hoping to soothe him and wake him from the nightmare. In a move faster than he thought humanly possible, Aidan launched forward, pushing Jessie's body against the wall, and locking his forearm across Jessie's upper chest. Even in the blackness of the room, Aidan's hazel eyes appeared vacant and crazed.

The sweat on Aidan's brow multiplied and his body heaved with each labored breath. He screwed his eyes shut, his hold loosening a fraction. He shook his head as if dispelling a thought and mumbled something Jessie couldn't quite decipher.

"Aidan." For some odd reason, Jessie wasn't scared and had an unusual sense of calmness take over every inch of his body. Without question, he sensed he should remain as still as possible to let Aidan know he wasn't a threat, but the need to comfort him took center stage. "It's me. Jessie." Aidan had served several tours in the Marines. Jessie had researched enough court cases to know flashbacks or intense nightmares were common after serving. Deep down in his soul, the thought that Aidan would never hurt him gave him peace.

Assuming, of course, Aidan was aware it was him and not an illusion of something or someone else.

Realization came crashing in, an odd time to have a major breakthrough—this must have been a reaction to the large explosion and blackness of night. Was this why Aidan slept with the white noise from the television each night? To have the noise and the light from the TV? To avoid a trigger?

"Aidan. It's me. Jessie," he repeated in his most calming voice. The sweat glistened on Aidan's brow and his jaw muscles twitched. He repeatedly mumbled again, barely a whisper. Whatever thought had overtaken his mind had a firm grip on Aidan's entire being. The man before him wasn't the Aidan who protected him and warded off the monster that threatened him.

This was a man possessed by his
own
demons.

"It's me. Jessie."

Aidan screwed his eyes shut and shook his head again, struggling with something internal. The pressure of the forearm across Jessie's chest loosened further as Aidan continued to repeatedly mumble the same stream of words he now clearly understood. "It's not real. It's not real."

"Aidan. You're home. You're safe here," Jessie softly coaxed. He kept his arms as still as possible and moved his thumb to press the button on the flashlight, shooting a beam of light upward to the ceiling and bouncing off the side walls. "You're safe, at home, with me."

Aidan's eyes sprung open, and he blinked repeatedly, staring at the beam of light.

"Aidan. It's Jessie. You're in the living room. You're home. You're safe." He didn't know if it was useless to chant the same words, but he had to comfort Aidan in some way. If not by touch, then by his voice. He remembered the comfort Aidan's tone offered him when stuck in that drug-induced darkness. He hoped the sound of his voice could do the same and somehow reel Aidan back into the here and now.

The haunted cloud in Aidan's eyes began to recede and the familiar hazel expression made an appearance. He stared at Jessie and slowly blinked.

"Shit, shit, shit…" Aidan immediately pulled his arm away, stumbling backward.

"It's okay."

Aidan ran his trembling fingers through his hair and exhaled a strangled breath, shaking his head madly back and forth. "Oh my God."

"It's okay."

Aidan turned to him, a crazed, wild look still in his eyes, but the hazel stare was clearly
his
Aidan. "It's
not
fucking okay! I could have killed you!"

"You didn't. You wouldn't hurt me."

Aidan shook his head and gripped his hair in both hands. He clenched his jaw shut as a slow, pained groan escaped. He slumped on the couch as if all the energy had drained from his body just as quickly as it had surged, then buried his head in his hands and let out a strangled moan that mirrored the cry of a pained animal.

"Look at me."

The sound of Aidan's shaky breathing echoed in the quiet room.

"Look. At. Me."

Reluctantly, Aidan turned his head upward, hesitant to make eye contact.

"I'm okay. I need to make sure you are." He stepped forward, and Aidan inched away on the couch, trying to retain the distance between them. This wasn't a rejection, the worry and pain in his eyes made that clear. Jessie took another step forward then another until he stood in front of Aidan. He reached out and ignored the wince just before his fingers made contact with Aidan's chin. "Look at me."

"I'm sorry," Aidan said faintly in a broken voice. "I'm so sorry. I'd never…" He yanked his head out of Jessie's hold and looked away.

It was a chance, but something within directed Jessie's next move. He raised Aidan's legs, positioning him back onto the couch to lie down. Aidan stared at him, his body tense but still willingly letting Jessie guide his limbs as if unable to move his body of his own accord. Jessie picked up the sheet from the floor and hesitated for a moment then sat on the couch next to him, laying out the sheet to re-cover Aidan's body. He set the still-turned-on flashlight on the coffee table, pointing upward to fill the room with a faint blue glow. "You're tired and you need to get some sleep before you go in tomorrow." He stretched his legs under the sheet along the length of the couch, lying down parallel to Aidan's stiff body, and pulled the sheet up over them. "Go to sleep," he said, snuggling into the single pillow, barricading Aidan between him and the couch.

"I'm sorry," Aidan brokenly whispered.

Jessie looked over his shoulder. "That wasn't you. I know that." He turned to face forward then reached behind him to grab Aidan's trembling hand and tugged it against his chest. "Try and go back to sleep."

"You shouldn't be here," Aidan said, just barely above a whisper.

"I'm exactly where I need to be." He pulled Aidan's hand upward and kissed his fingers then rested his cheek against Aidan's palm. "Go to sleep."

After a few moments, the stiffness in Aidan's body eased slightly as he shifted on the couch. He slid his arm under Jessie's head offering his bicep as a pillow, then pulled Jessie closer, caging him tightly in his still-shaking arms.

Jessie nuzzled into the warmth that enveloped him, kissing Aidan's hand whenever he heard another whispered apology or when the muscular cage surrounding him would quiver again. Jessie finally eased into sleep when a comforting weight rested against his head and a rhythmic brush of air danced across his shoulder like a gentle caress.

* * * *

Aidan reluctantly opened his eyes to face the morning. On the couch, with Jessie in his arms, he could no longer deny last night had been a nightmare, literally. Not just the memory itself, but the thought that he could have hurt Jessie—he couldn't wrap his brain around that. How could he have let that happen? How could he have risked the one person—

"Stop it," Jessie mumbled, snuggling into Aidan's embrace.

He scowled and looked over Jessie's shoulder. How long had he been awake?

"Stop it."

Aidan leaned forward and pushed his nose into Jessie's hair. How could he have been so careless to put Jessie's life at risk like that? The one person who had kept him more steady than he had been since that time. The one person who…

Jessie shifted on the couch, turning himself around to face Aidan, his crystal blue eyes piercing into him with an odd mix of anger and affection. "I said, stop it. I can feel you kicking yourself."

Aidan looked away. "I could have hurt you."

"But you didn't. I know you wouldn't."

"You don't
know
. I wasn't in complete control." He rarely had flashbacks, and when they came, they were manageable—exhausting and sometimes startling but always manageable. But all bets were off with the nightmares. He refused to sleep with a gun under his pillow or anywhere within reach to avoid exactly this type of situation. And hitting the bottle to ease a memory and risk his defenses waning—a definite
hell no
. He refused to lose control and risk compromising his ability to distinguish the reality from a memory. Exactly why he took such effort in controlling the damn triggers, especially at night. In his mind, easy math. Reduced triggers equaled reduced memories. Why deal with a damn bed that would remind him of that shitty, hard, musty mattress where they'd tied him down sometimes? He always had the TV on at night for the steady light to avoid any déjà vu of being blindfolded and vulnerable. Fuck anyone who thought he was afraid of the dark. He'd much rather have the TV on at night to some stupid, annoying white noise than the worry of doing something to hurt someone he cared about.

Like last night.

If he hadn't snapped out of it and had hurt Jessie…no way could he have recovered from that. No. Fucking. Way.

"Damn, you're stubborn."

Aidan scowled. Stubborn or not, he had a solution. Distance. No way…

Jessie reached up and placed his hand at the side of Aidan's face, brushing his thumb along the stubble and completely cutting off Aidan's train of thought. "You want me to come to you when I need something. You want me to feel at home here and comfortable around you. But you need to do the same with me." He withdrew his hand then snaked his arm around Aidan's waist, resting his head against his chest. "You know how I feel, Aidan. At least…I think you do. You keep your heart locked away in a steel box within an iron wall with triple combination locks and a biometric security system. When you shut down, you are completely closed off. Don't shut me out. Please. I want there to be an
us
."

Aidan closed his eyes and sighed.
Us
. After all these months together, every day, the teasing, the smiles, the quiet times… He wanted nothing more than to be with Jessie, but he couldn't. Now he just needed to get his damn body to get with the program and unwrap his arms from around him. "It's probably easier if we keep things the way they are."

"Easier for who?"

He bit back the anger that began to simmer.
Dammit
. He hated doing the right thing. He wasn't fucking noble or a damn gentleman. He had a chance to be with Jessie. To have something more than just a friendship. Where waking up with him wrapped up around him was totally okay. But he…couldn't. "I can't give you what you want."

Jessie inched back and looked up into Aidan's eyes. "What is it…exactly…you
think
I want?"

Aidan exhaled a shuddered breath, holding back a frustrated yell.
This sucks. Wanting something so badly, having it right there, handed to you on a silver platter, but having to turn it away because you know that's the best thing to do to stay sane. Fuck. My. Life.

"How about I tell you what
I
want so there's no misunderstanding."

Aidan shook his head and closed his eyes, pulling Jessie closer and pressing their foreheads together. He could barely breathe through the tightness in his throat. He held Jessie close, ignoring the screaming voice in his mind demanding he retreat.

"I want you," Jessie whispered, combing his fingers through Aidan's hair. "Any way I can have you, as long as it's the real you. Do you hear me? I want the
real
you. With all your soft and hard edges. With all your truths, regardless of how dark they may be."

"I'm sorry." Aidan swallowed heavily, unable to force another word past the knot in his throat and the twist in his gut from the war raging between his mind and body. He should back away, cut off this connection between them before it went too far. But his damn arms couldn't release the warmth and safety of the body pressed against him.

Jessie pulled away from the embrace and sat up on the couch. He ran his fingers through his hair to tame his bed-head then clasped his hands together between his legs, sitting quietly as if gathering his thoughts. His lean, tightly-muscled square shoulders slowly rose and fell with each deep breath.

"Do you remember what you told me when you went to my place after I was discharged from the hospital?" Jessie asked. He looked up, straight ahead toward the turned-off television as he spoke, meeting Aidan's gaze in the reflection of the dark glass screen. "You told me to stop apologizing. You said nothing was my fault. Do you remember that?"

Aidan nodded.

"It was your way of telling me to move forward. To not let what happened weigh on me."

Sometimes, Aidan wished his words were far less philosophical.

Jessie glanced over his shoulder at Aidan. "I'm asking you to do the same. Don't let the guilt or blame or whatever weigh you down. Whatever it is that happened that causes you to shut down like this, it does not define who you are. Don't you dare let whatever this monster is that's always hovering over you win the war." Jessie straightened and rubbed his hands on his thighs, taking a few deep breaths as if thinking carefully of his next words. "That day, you also told me I was here because you wanted me to be here and that you liked having me around. Do you remember that?"

"I remember everything."

Jessie turned his body and sat sideways to face him, a sudden determination sizzling in the air around them. "Good. Then you also remember you said you wouldn't apologize for that. Well, guess what? Neither am I. I
want
to be here, I
want
to be with you. But I can't be with you in here," he said, reaching out and resting his palm against Aidan's chest, "if you don't let me in."