A Mended Man (The Men of Halfway House Book 4) (42 page)

He lowered his e-reader when Aidan stopped. Aidan worried his lower lip for a moment then resumed his pacing. Familiar enough with Aidan's characteristic stubbornness and need to think things over before finally voicing his thoughts, Jessie refocused on the magazine article, granting him his quiet space.

When Aidan was ready to talk, he would, and not a second before.

Aidan walked back into the bathroom, returning to the room with his hair brushed and the still lingering thinking-frown on his face. He planted his hands on his hips and finally looked over to Jessie. "I need to tell you something but I…I don't know where to start or how to say it."

Jessie set the e-reader to the side and sat up straight on the couch.

"I…" Aidan lowered his head and sighed. "I need you to just let me say it and not interrupt me at any point or I'll stop. I don't want to tell you…for a lot of reasons." He raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a frustrated breath. "But…you need to know," he finished quietly.

Jessie rose from the couch and walked over to him. He reached out, and Aidan inched back, raising his hands to avoid the contact.

"Don't. I'll…lose my nerve." Aidan's jaw muscles twitched and his frown deepened.

Jessie slid his hand in Aidan's, not letting him protest the contact as he silently led him out of their room to the back porch where they wouldn't hear a knock at the door or a ringing phone. He sat in his birdcage hanging chair and Aidan retreated to the bench. Anywhere else in the house would push them closer and Jessie wouldn't be able to resist touching him with the amount of frustration and worry vibrating off Aidan like a sonic plea for comfort.

Aidan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. He pushed his hands together, the roughness of his palms rubbing against each other the only sound in the early evening air. "Um, I don't really know where to start, so I'm…" He rubbed his palms against his thighs. "I'm just going to say it, however it comes out." He took a few deep breaths, his vision focused on a spot on the ground.

"When I served…my last mission…didn't go as planned. I can't tell you specifics, but the locations aren't relevant to what…I think you need to know." He spoke clinically, detaching himself from whatever he was preparing to say.

"We were a unit of five. I had served with all of them at some point in time prior to this assignment. We had a target and a mission. We were supposed to go in and get out. Twenty-four hours tops." He paused for a moment, pushing his palms together again. "It didn't work out that way."

His ominous tone sent a chill through Jessie's body. Jessie gripped the wicker edge of the chair, fighting the urge to reach out with a comforting touch.

"The intel we had…was wrong on a few counts. In the end, we were captured." He quieted, lowering his head. "I was the unit leader and I failed the mission."

The pain and desperation vibrated off Aidan in waves. Jessie wanted to wrap his arms around Aidan's neck and kiss him until the haunting memories evaporated, to hold him close and stroke his hair until the pain ebbed.

"They told me it was six months. I lost track of time, but Hunter…persistent son of a bitch that he is, knew something was wrong when I didn't come back within a few weeks. He gathered a rescue team and called in a lot of favors with some higher-ups." He ducked his head, rubbing his palms together harshly again, remaining silent for a few moments before he continued. "I was the only man left from my unit when he found our location."

Jessie closed his eyes, imagining the constant culpability and sorrow eating away at Aidan's soul—the failed mission, the death of the men he had been entrusted to lead, and the survivor's guilt. Jessie imagined the pain bore down Aidan's soul and supported the foundation of those inner fortress walls. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaling, hoping Aidan didn't sense the tension thrumming through Jessie's body as he usually did.

"They tried to get us to reveal our undercover agents within their group and what intel we had gathered, but we didn't. We wouldn't. They tried everything they could think of to extract information from us." Aidan looked straight ahead, narrowing his eyes as if trying to see something in the distance.

"They kept us tied up the whole time. They braided fabrics together." Aidan shook his head as if he'd gotten off track. "They stripped us after the capture, so we couldn't hide a weapon. Sometimes, they'd suspend us from this homemade pulley thing in the ceiling, using those strong as fuck braided fabrics like ropes. Thank God they never left us there long." He narrowed his eyes again and quieted for a few moments before continuing. "Just long enough to make a point. Our arms would get numb and…it was really hard to breathe. That's how Jack—" Aidan's voice cracked and he sucked in a breath. It took all of Jessie's strength not to reach for him when he saw the moisture gather in Aidan's eyes. "Usually, they kept us tied to a weird contraption with hooks in the walls using really short pieces of that fucking makeshift fabric-rope, so we'd have to stand. We'd stand for hours and couldn't move, having to stay awake for days at a time because the slack was too short and we couldn't sit. Sometimes, they'd put us on these pads…they were like really shitty mattresses, I guess…to change things up and fuck with our heads. I doubt it was a sense of mercy."

Aidan ducked his head, his eyebrows twitched as if battling with some thought. Jessie's numb fingers tingled. He released the white-knuckle grip of the chair's wicker frame. He took a slow, deep breath. Mercy? No, he imagined those monsters didn't understand the concept.

"The fabric was delicate, almost like silk, so it didn't leave a mark, but it was so damn strong when braided. How the hell could that shit be so strong?" Aidan's tone softened as if lost in the memory. "I figured it might be easier…to forget, since I don't have scars on my wrists, or anywhere else really noticeable on my body, but…" He shook his head, not finishing the thought.

But I can't forget.
Jessie could hear the rest of Aidan's thought, loud and clear, screaming from every cell in Aidan's being. Jessie bit his lips, holding back words of comfort, waiting for Aidan to continue.

"We each had that same material wrapped around our necks," Aidan paused, tightening his lips for a moment before continuing. "During those times they suspended us, they wanted us to just hang there and…surrender. If we tried to break free, that makeshift noose would stop us." He quieted, his throat working as he obviously fought to speak through the emotions. "They showed us exactly what would happen if we were tempted to escape. I lost a man to their…demonstration," he finished in a bitter whisper.

He looked down and pushed his palms together again, staring at them before he continued. "They kept us blindfolded most of the time. I guess…hoping to keep us disorientated. To…make us feel helpless and weak. That whole thing about senses getting heightened…" He looked off to the side and took a deep breath. "Maybe there's some truth to that. Because I felt every brush of air that blew across my skin as if it were a fucking wind tunnel in my face." He looked down, scraping his teeth along his lower lip. "They'd take off the blindfolds when they wanted us to watch each other…witness as they…punished us. They wanted us to see every hit…hear every scream." He looked up and inhaled sharply, then exhaling a slow, shaky breath. "Fucking heightened senses. I can still hear those assholes yelling at us." He looked down, staring at his clasped hands. "And I can still hear my men screaming." He pinched the bridge of his nose then scrubbed his hand harshly across his face. "I don't know what's worse. The screams from my unit or their silence."

Jessie quickly swiped away the wetness on his cheek before Aidan noticed. His heart ached as he imagined the pain Aidan and his team had endured during those months. Understanding came crashing in and the pieces of the Calloway puzzle slowly started to fall into place. The bed, the darkness at night, the not wanting to be held down when they made out, and why he chose to lounge at home dressed. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath fighting every instinct in his body pushing him to stand and comfort Aidan.

"We were trained to handle all kinds of shit. To…tolerate just about anything. But, we started fading as time passed. I'd talk to them, try to get them to focus on their families, something, anything positive to grab onto. But…it was too much." He rubbed his palms on his thighs and took a few deep breaths, pausing in his retelling, but his mind obviously continued to race a million miles a second. Jessie couldn't stand this, sitting idly by as Aidan struggled with so much pain. He fisted his hands and sat as still as possible. Trying…hoping to find the will to keep with Aidan's request and not interrupt.

Aidan finally spoke again, his tone barely above a whisper. "We tried to escape, but nothing worked. Toward the end, it was just two of us. Somehow, we broke free. The second we did, we took the blindfolds off and those bastards were watching us, grinning. Motherfuckers had set us up…I guess…to get our hopes up or something. Even with whatever adrenaline we had running through our body, we were too weak and dehydrated to fight them off. They…punished us for trying to escape. They found something…we weren't trained to tolerate. They…" Aidan swallowed convulsively. He clasped his hands together and his chest heaved with each forced, shaky breath. "They…violated us." He raked an unsteady hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. "They refused to do it themselves…they said it would be disgraceful for them to touch us that way, so they…they used what they had there instead."

Jessie couldn't breathe. Thankful to be hidden out of Aidan's line of sight in his birdcage chair, he closed his eyes and swallowed through the tightness in his throat, trying to fight the rising bile. He clasped his hands in his lap to try to steady the shake. The thought that they had violated Aidan with the intent to torture wrecked him and made his stomach churn. The fact that he had been in pain and his mind and body driven to the point of breaking and still, those monsters tried to take more from him. He knew all too well how that affected everything from that point forward. Every relationship, every interaction, and every decision and second-guess that followed…especially if Aidan had locked it up in his internal vault rather than talking to someone about it.

"I could handle just about anything, but that, I…I can't. It fucked with my head too much. I get flashbacks and the memories are there from everything else that happened. Dr. Engel says the reason the flashbacks are more frequent is partly because of the cases, but it's more of my mind finally letting all this shit out I've kept locked away for so long. But this…" Aidan shook his head repeatedly. "I can't. I just can't. There's no dealing with this. It's just…no. I didn't know it would feel like that. I can't do that to someone I'm with," Aidan said weakly, almost gasping each inhale as the strength seemingly started to evaporate from his body.

"I can deal with the couch, the bed, the crime scenes… Any of that shit. Even if I struggle with something, I'm trying to push through it. But this…" He angrily swiped at the tear that trickled down his cheek, sneering as if pissed by the show of weakness. "I can't. I don't know what this means for
us.
I know you said you wanted me any way you could have me, but…I don't think this is what you had in mind. I've been with guys where sex was all there was between us. I've never been with someone where it wasn't
the
important factor. So…I don't know how this can work. I don't expect you to be okay with this, and honestly…I'm not sure it's even possible. But I can't do that to you," he finished, almost in a whisper.

Jessie wouldn't dare deny he wanted to be with Aidan. The thought of finally being with someone who actually loved him—not because they said it with words, but because they said it with every other single detail, touch, gesture, glance, and thought—excited him with increasing anticipation the more they teased and explored each other. But the emotional connection surpassed the physical every time.

Aidan fisted his hands then wrapped his arms around his midsection, leaning forward as if he were ready to hurl. He quietly rocked himself for a few moments before he spoke again. "It was selfish of me to…let things go this far and not tell you. I know I'm an asshole for that. But…I…couldn't say no. I wanted to be with you, to…touch you."

He slowly blew out a deep breath, closing his eyes as if each word he had spoken had drawn every ounce of energy from his now drained body. "I just needed you to know. I didn't want you to ever think I pulled away because of anything you've ever done."

That's enough.
Jessie stepped out of the hanging chair and walked over to the bench, taking a seat next to Aidan. He couldn't stand this anymore—the distance, the helplessness, watching Aidan struggle—and be expected to sit idly by. He clasped his hands in his lap, wanting to respect Aidan's wish to avoid contact until he had finished relieving his burden.

They stood at a fork in the road. Aidan had bared his soul and showcased—what Aidan perceived to be—his greatest dishonor on a dais for Jessie to issue judgement and determine which path they’d take in their relationship. Aidan had finally thrown open his iron doors and extended an invitation to his private fortress.

An exclusive invitation—one Jessie had patiently waited two years to receive.

Aidan had been dealt gut-wrenching punches his entire life and had survived. But now, sitting beside him, Jessie's heart squeezed when Aidan bowed his head almost in surrender, as if preparing for a final, inevitable blow that would end him.

* * * *

What have I done?

Aidan wished Jessie would push like everyone else. Maybe that way, he could push him right back and away and not have this need to connect with Jessie claw at him like a ravenous beast demanding freedom. But Jessie just let him be, as he always did. He sat silently by him like a guardian, waiting, respecting his request for no contact. But now, he wanted—
needed
—Jessie's touch and the comfort in knowing nothing would change.