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

by Jaime Reese

  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.

  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 terri
fied 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.