40. Chapter 39
Chapter 39
AJ
I wanted to believe her, but there was so much she didn’t know. Desperately needing to change the topic, I asked about her mother.
Blake squinted her eyes at me, as if debating whether she should call me out. Luckily, she didn’t.
“My mom was amazing. She would read to me, play with me in the backyard, and make my lunches, even after my dad hired a cook.” Blake’s eyes radiated love and sadness as she painted a picture of her mother. “She was short like me, so she kept a stool in the kitchen. I always stood on it when I helped her.”
“Do you look like her?” I asked. I loved seeing her eyes light up with joy as she shared the memories.
“Mostly. I have my dad’s eyes, but my other features are from my mom. Though she got the skinny genes, and I got my dad’s not-so-skinny genes.” Self doubt filler her eyes as she circled her midsection and hips with the wave of a hand.
No way I'd let that take root. Blake was beautiful, with curves in all the right places. “Don’t do that.” I took her hand. “You’re beautiful.”
She bit her lower lip, making me think things I had no right thinking.
“Thank you,” she said shyly. After an awkward pause, she asked, “What about you, which parent to do you look like?”
I flinched internally at the thought. I was the spitting image of my father, only three inches taller. Not that he knew that little fact, having left before I reached my full height. Too bad, because I was a hell of a lot stronger by then, too.
If he’d stayed, I would have forced him to stop hitting us. At least I’d like to think I would have. He’d beaten obedience into me more times than I cared to remember.
“I take after my father’s side of the family.” It was all I'd admit.
“What about your mom?”
She was beautiful once, but in most of my memories, she appeared small, weak, timid. He’d made her that way. She was always there to help me clean off the blood, but she was afraid to stand up to him.
“She was taller than you,” I said, resorting to my default setting and making a joke out of my answer.
I didn’t like the awkward silence, but didn’t know what to say.
“AJ, why do you think you’re not a good man?” she asked, returning to the topic I’d been trying to avoid.
How do I make her understand I’m dangerous?
“Have you forgotten about me tackling your friend and that innocent guy asking for a signature?” I was laying it on pretty thick, having done neither, hoping she’d remember how violent I could be. “I’m a violent man.” I hardened my heart as I looked her in the eyes. “And you hate violence.”
I could see the wheels turning in her head as she thought about it.
“You’re not violent. You were doing your job,” she said, throwing me a curve ball.
When’d she change her mind? I released her as I sat up. This wasn’t going the way I’d expected, and I needed to create distance.
“I was, but I could have been less physical with them,” I argued, using her words. Not that I believed them; I’d used the force necessary to get the job done.
“AJ.” She put her hand on my arm. “Why are you trying so hard to convince me you’re a bad person?”
Because I need you to stop looking at me like that. Like you could love me back.
“There’s so much you don’t know.” I didn’t believe I was a bad person, but I’d inherited my father’s anger issues and didn’t trust myself to not lose my temper and hurt the people I cared about.
“Tell me.” She sat up and crossed her legs. “Please? I want to understand.”
I opened my mouth to repeat the same generic reasons and excuses, the ones I gave everyone, if I gave them at all, but what came out was the truth.
“I have anger issues. I always have, and while I’m better at managing it, I can’t risk losing control and hurting you.” Saying it out loud felt like the final nail being hammered into the coffin of my future. I barely recognized my voice as I confessed, “I’m afraid I’ll be like my father, and you deserve better than that.”
Sympathy filled her eyes. Not fear?
“Did he hit you?”
I’d never admitted it to anyone before, but with Blake, the truth flowed from me like floodwaters rolling down a mountain.
“Yes,” I answered without making eye contact. “He beat me and my mom.”
And just like that, I’d told Blake, who I’d known less than a week, more than I’d ever told my best friend.
Blake’s small hand grabbed my chin and forced me to look at her. “I’m so sorry, Andrew.”
I waited for the usual anger to rise.
“Say it again.”
“I’m sorry-”
“No, my name.”
“Andrew?”
I nodded.
My first name on her lips, the name I shared with my father, the one I refused to use after he abandoned us, felt like a bandage on my wounded soul.
“Thank you.” The words weren’t nearly potent enough, but they were all I had.
We sat in silence for a moment before Blake asked, “Why didn’t your mom help you?”
“She couldn’t, not without incurring his wrath.”
“Do you ever talk to her?”
That was a loaded question. On the surface, sure, I called her for the usual holidays, but we never shared more than pleasantries. I considered filtering the truth, or making a joke, but Blake’s hand on my arm was like a truth serum.
“Not really. I wish I could say I’ve forgiven her for letting the abuse continue, but I’m not quite there yet.”
“She was a victim, too.” Her soft words brought tears to my eyes.
I nodded. Logically, I knew that. Emotionally was a different story.
Blake continued to ask and with each gentle touch, each sympathetic tear, each word of encouragement, I found it easier to open up and share my history.
“I’m sorry you don’t have a family,” she said.
“The Army gave me a brotherhood, which is pretty close.” It wasn’t the same, but she let it slide. The Sheppards offered me acceptance and support. They’d even invited me to holiday dinners; not that I’d ever accepted. Not wanting to feel like an intruder, I usually volunteered for holiday shifts so everyone else could enjoy the time off with their families.
I’m such an idiot . I’d been denying myself a loving family for years.
“AJ?”
“The Sheppards are my family. Though I’ve neglected the relationship.”
We talked for over an hour before I could no longer ignore Blake’s exhaustion.
“Let’s get some sleep.”
As Blake nodded, with the most adorable yawn, I slipped my feet under the blankets, slid to my back, and held my arm open. I felt lighter than I had in years. Decades, even.
Blake didn’t need a verbal invitation to shimmy onto her side and curl up against me. Her head on my chest, her hand over my heart. Holding Blake felt right; it settled something inside me. Made the world feel right, even though I knew I could never have her.
Home .
I wrapped my arms around her, creating a cocoon of safety for both of us. A physical one for her. An emotional one for me.
I felt her head lift a second before I felt her lips on my chest. “You’re a good man, Andrew Janerek.” Her warm breath tickled my skin as her words warmed my heart.
Resisting the temptation to kiss her lips, to claim her, I settled for kissing the top of her head.
My need for Blake Edith Davenport was so much more than physical desire.
And there was nothing I wanted more in the world than to be the man she believed I was.