AJ's Salvation (9 page)

Every muscle in Jam's body hurt. He was used to being outdoors, but the crouched-over position he had been in to paint was something else entirely. It had taken all day, but at least, now the porch looked fresh and inviting. It was something Dorly deserved, and he had to admit, he liked the spring-green color she had picked.

The hot water poured down his body, not releasing the tension at all. He knew that had nothing to do with the work and everything to do with the fact he had not only disappointed Alessandro but had also hurt Aly, too. He couldn't believe she'd start doubting his intentions, or that she'd believe he had another family down there. After all, Greg would have told her something like that. No, Jam could no longer see himself with any other girl. Aly was his one and only; only he wouldn't allow himself to be with her the way she longed for. 

Turning the water off, he got out of the shower and dried himself off. Reaching for his boxers and his sweatpants, he realized he had forgotten to bring a shirt. Listening for a moment, he heard Dorly mumble downstairs. The old woman had a tendency to talk to herself, and he had to grin. The first time he heard it, he had been confused until he realized she wasn't talking to him. Now, he shook his head, opening the bathroom door and walking over to his assigned room.

Stopping in front of the full-length mirror, he took a moment before raising his eyes. He usually avoided mirrors until he was dressed, but it had been so long since he had looked at his damaged body. Tattoos covered a lot of his skin, but they still couldn't hide the evidence he knew by heart. There was a knock on the door and then the person came in without even waiting for his answer. 

"Jam, you and I..." Aly trailed off, catching his glance through the mirror. "I didn't think giving you the chance to say no was necessary, so I came right in, but ... Jamison, what in the world...?" Her eyes focused on his back again, and she came closer while he reached for a shirt or a sweater—anything to cover his skin.

Grinding his teeth, he pulled a black hoodie over his head, mad at her for barging in and angry with himself for not having dressed as he usually did. She stopped the material halfway down his back.

"Alessia," he growled, a clear warning in his tone that she ignored, pushing the hoodie back until it was barely covering his shoulders.

"Do they hurt?" she asked as if she hadn't even heard him. 

"No, they’re just ugly," he forced out, closing his eyes as her soft hands touched skin no one had touched in ten years.

He felt stupid half dressed, so he threw the sweater to the side again, resigned to the fact that he couldn't make her forget what she had seen. And as much as he wished it wasn't true, he had longed for her to see him. All of him. She was gentle as she touched each and every scar. He watched her in the mirror, drinking in her beautiful features. He couldn’t read her face, and it unnerved him.

Eventually, she leaned in and pressed a kiss right between his shoulder blades, making him shiver. "We need to talk," she whispered and then came around, touching his chest the same way she had his back.

"Aly, please, just let me pull on a shirt," Jam pleaded, feeling self-conscious. She barely shook her head, but Jam saw it.

"
That’s just because you can’t see my scars
," she repeated his words, making him swallow. She recalled his exact words. Finally, she met his eyes. "Now, I can, and I can just repeat it. You're damn handsome," she whispered, gently poking her finger into his chest to make him walk back until his knees hit the bed and he sat down. He almost smiled as she settled down on the floor, reaching for his hand. She’d picked up that habit long ago. Whenever she and Greg had talked about something serious, she sat down on the floor looking up. 

He wasn't ready to talk, though, so he cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb over her lips. "You don't want to hear that," he whispered, mainly because he didn't want to talk about it.

"Jam, I came here because I want to know what you’re hiding. Because, as much as I hate to say it, you’re running. Seeing you like this now makes it pretty obvious it's from something big. I might not be the woman you want or love, but I sure can be the friend you need."

"I don't need a friend, Aly. I need you to do what you've been doing the last ten years. Take care of my son and move on," he whispered, still feeling the need to cover himself. She obviously saw him eyeing his shirt and grabbed his chin so he'd look at her.

"Since when have you ever been ashamed around me? When you were like twelve, you and Greg ran around butt naked," she reminded him, her eyes sparkling with humor, but he couldn't even get himself to smile.

"Stop, Aly," he pleaded and disappointment shadowed her eyes. She got to her feet, and he followed her example, wanting to say something when she pressed her hands flat against his chest and then rested her lips against his skin for a few seconds in a soft kiss.

"Fine, I understand. You don't wanna tell me, and it's fine. But you know what has healing properties? A child. Your child. Come and spend the evening with him. Watch his routines, cuddle in bed with him, and read him a story. It eases the tortured soul," she promised, and Jam saw the plea in her eyes. She wanted him to make it up to his son.

She stepped away from him, waiting, but he didn't say anything. Finally, he pulled a t-shirt and a hoodie on, thinking that only then could he think freely again. "Let's go," he then whispered, and she breathed a sigh of relief. 

Coming down the stairs, Alessandro didn't look impressed. He checked his mom's face, looking for whatever, but Aly just gave him a wide smile.

"Guess who's reading a story to you tonight?" she asked, and Alessandro gave Jam a look that came as close to his mother's icy stare as possible. 

"Why? He's leaving."

"Tomorrow, not tonight. I can still tuck you in if you want to," Jam offered, holding his breath even as he saw excitement flare in his son's eyes. Alessandro covered it well, though, by carelessly shrugging. 

"Whatever," he said and then leaned in to hug Dorly tightly. "Bye, Auntie Dorly. We have to go fishing again soon. Tom told me he caught a huge fish with his uncle the other day, and I wanna catch a bigger one." With that, the little guy walked out the door and Aly leaned in to kiss the older woman's papery cheek.

"Talk to you soon. Bye and thank you." Dorly just nodded as Jam gave her a sheepish smile. 

"She goes fishing with him?" Jam asked in a hushed voice once they were outside.

"In case you didn't notice, I don't exactly have a father figure in the house. I hate fishing and Dorly loves to sit with him on the bank. She prepares a picnic, and he tells her everything about his day and school. I don't think he’s ever brought anything back, though. He can't get himself to kill the fish. He hates blood." She smiled while watching her son. Alessandro held the door open for her.

"Lady?" he said, and she giggled, stepping inside. Jam wanted to follow, but his son picked up a brow. "Are you a lady?" Jam couldn't help but laugh, nuzzling his son's head before letting him enter first.

Aly told him to get ready for bed and then vanished in the kitchen. Jam felt a little lost, not sure what he was expected to do now, so he followed Alessia and stood in the doorway to watch her. She had turned on the radio, humming along to some pop station. She took a cucumber out of the fridge and cut it into little slices. She placed it on a plate then she prepared a sandwich with wheat bread, swaying her hips slightly. Jam wanted to go over and kiss her neck before he'd walk up the stairs to take care of his son.

"Stop staring at her," his son fussed the next second when he appeared next to him. Aly looked up in surprise, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. They settled down at the table while Alessia took some milk out of the fridge.

"Hot or cold, babe?" she asked, and Alessandro shrugged. 

"How does Dad drink his chocolate milk?" 

Aly met his eyes, and Jam saw the chance to get into his son's good graces. "Double chocolate, marshmallows on top, and just exactly drinkable." He grinned, seeing how Aly gave him a dark look while his son started beaming.

"Good choice. I'll take the same." He grinned and then high-fived Jam.

"Just tonight because your dad’s here," she fussed, giving them a serious look before turning away.

"I never get marshmallows before going to bed," Alessandro whispered.

"Thought so." Jam grinned back.

"Stop whispering, you two, or you'll get only milk," Aly called from the counter, her back toward them. Alessandro rolled his eyes at Jam with a smile. "And stop rolling your eyes at me. It's impolite," Aly went on, making Alessandro giggle. Jam couldn't help but bite his cheeks, rolling his eyes as well. Alessandro giggled even more. "Jamison Loane, stop encouraging your son!" She hadn't turned yet seemed to be able to see it all. Alessandro held his hand in front of his mouth so he wouldn't burst out laughing, but Jam couldn’t help it and they started chuckling like crazy. 

Aly came over and smirked as she placed the steaming mugs in front of them. Jam caught a whiff of cinnamon and spice and gave her a questioning look.

"Chai cacao, Mommy's specialty," Alessandro announced before drinking his whole cup without a pause and then smacking his lips in utter satisfaction. "Try it," he encouraged Jam, and Jam lifted the cup. As ordered, the chocolate was exactly the right temperature and tasted unlike anything he ever had tried. It was good and actually reminded him of Aly. It was crazy how much he liked it.

"Wow," he remarked with pride in his voice. She gave him a smile, obviously pretty smug. 

"There's a lady from Atlanta who comes to Mom's café just because of this," Alessandro told him while almost literally inhaling his food. 

"That's true. How about you go and brush your teeth and pick a story. I’ll tell your dad about the lady, and when I'm done, I'll send him up?" 

Alessandro was gone before she had even finished her sentence, and Aly got up, carrying his plate and cup to the kitchen sink. Jam took his own and followed her. He settled against the counter while she cleaned the dishes.

"Her aunt lives two towns over and is pretty sick. She comes over maybe four times a year, and each time she's here, she'll drop by to get a cup for her and her aunt. She loves her cocoa," she explained. 

"I'm in bed, Dad! Mom, you can tell him the story later," Alessandro called from upstairs, and Aly sighed. 

"Smell his breath and then send him to brush his teeth again, okay?" she pleaded, and Jam couldn't resist. He reached out, brushing his thumb over her lip.

"Will do, Mom," he teased, and she threw the towel at him, shaking her head. He could still hear her laughing as he made his way upstairs.

"Let me smell your breath," Jam said to his son, and instantly, Alessandro's face fell.

"It smells like chocolate," Lesso insisted, crossing his arms in front of his body. 

“Go and brush your teeth while I check out all your rockets, okay?” Jam suggested, already walking around the bed to show he meant it. Alessandro hesitated for a moment, and then he bolted out of the room. Jam couldn’t help but smile. He was all child, contrary to what Jam was used to seeing from TV shows. Sometimes, he was sure childhood ended at five. He was glad it wasn’t the same for his son.

“I’m gonna go and read in my room. Come and say good-bye before you leave,” Aly said from the door, carrying Alessandro’s dirty laundry. She looked every little bit the amazing mother he knew she was. 

“I will,” he promised, watching as she turned away. “And Aly?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Thank you for …” Jam shrugged, not exactly sure where he should start. He could be thanking her for so much, yet only one thing stood out at that moment. “Thank you for loving Alessandro like your own.”

“He is mine,” she just gave back as a way of explanation and then left. Jam cursed under his breath because each and every time she softened toward him, he managed to make her mad again.

He could hear how she and Alessandro exchanged quiet words in the hall, ending with a quiet ‘love you’ and then Lesso came back in.

“So how do we do this story thing?” Jam wanted to know, holding out his arms to show he was clueless. 

Alessandro picked a book from the shelf and then looked at Jam. “You sit on my bed like this,” he explained, pulling Jam over and positioning him until he had stretched out his legs on the bed and leaned his back against the headboard. “And I’m going to sit like this. You put your arm around me and hold the book.” Throwing his own legs over Jam’s, he cuddled into his arms until Lesso’s head rested right under Jam’s chin. The little boy was warm and soft, smelling of strawberry toothpaste and children’s shampoo. “And now you read,” Alessandro ordered, and Jam did as he was told. 

He opened the book, noticing the bigger letters. It was obviously a book for beginners. He started to read, but Lesso stopped him after less than a page.

“Is that how you talk?” he asked, looking at him with wide eyes. Jam couldn’t hide a smirk. 

“That’s what your mom tells you when you read, right?” he asked, and Alessandro nodded. 

“You need to give life to a story. No one would read books if they were all like recipes. Your voice needs to go up and down, and then, before you know it, your voice creates a whole world around you,” he explained.

“How long have you been reading with your mom?” Jam wondered, and Alessandro grinned. 

“She read to me before I could, and now, we do it together since I learned to read in school. She makes me read a lot, but you know what the best nights are? When she’s reading. I’m in the rocket when she does. She’s the best,” his son announced with so much love it made Jam want to squeeze him.

“Then let’s create a world.” He grinned, starting again; this time he made sure he used his voice to his best abilities.