AJ's Salvation Page 6

  “Mom, Tom has this new book he really likes and his mom read it to us and we wrote down lines we liked most. Can I tape it to your wall? Please?”

  “Of course, baby!” She laughed, wondering if he had even seen his father.

  “I want to place it on the top. Dad, can you pick me up?” He looked at him with big eyes, making his cute face. Aly crossed her arms, knowing very well how calculated the move was on his part. That face almost always got to her.

  “I’m gonna make you your cacao, okay?” she called, moving behind the counter and away from the two guys.

  “Dad?” his son asked in a hushed voice, as Jam picked him up to set him down on his shoulder. Lesso never had been very good at whispering, though.

  “Alessandro?” Jam gave back.

  “Can you stop making Mom sad? I could hear it in her voice when I was outside. She never screams, and I don’t like my mom sad,” Alessandro explained while pulling off some tape. Aly closed her eyes, regretting that she had fussed at Jam there. She should have anticipated her son’s arrival.

  “I didn’t mean to make her sad,” Jam said quietly.

  “Why did you then?” Jam lowered him back to the ground and then knelt to his level.

  “Because I’m scared.” Alessandro actually blinked and then started a carefree and heart-warming laugh as only little boys could.

  “You are scared of her?” her son asked, and she saw from the corner of her eye how he pointed a thumb over his shoulder at her.

  “I have secrets, and I worry your mom will find out about them. Then she won’t like me anymore,” Jam gave back so quietly, Aly wasn’t sure she had heard right.

  Alessandro leaned in. “She’s very good at that. I once tried to keep a fish Tom and I caught. I wanted to make sure she doesn’t realize I have him and she found out. She was really mad at me. But she still loves me.”

  “He forgot that fish needed to eat … and that you don’t keep them in the fridge.”

  She knew Alessandro made a face at Jam, most likely rolling his eyes. “Are you supposed to do that, young man?”

  “Sorry, Mom,” he called over his shoulder and then shrugged. “I broke a window once with her favorite bottle perfume. She still loves me,” he went on explaining, and Jam’s eyes got wide. Aly wasn’t pretending to be busy any longer. She was just curious.

  “All those things are not as bad as my secrets. Imagine how it would be if you were the reason your mom lost everything. You wouldn’t have a home anymore, and she wouldn’t have the café any longer. That’s how bad my secret is.”

  “Mom would still love me. We once started from scratch, so we can do it again.” Alessandro shrugged.

  Oh God, Aly loved her son.

  Jam wanted to cry. Alessia had made sure her son knew she’d never give up on him and that she’d never, in her entire life, stop loving him. It was all a child could ask for and everything a father could hope.

  “Hey, Dad?” Alessandro leaned in even closer, and Jam could smell the jellybeans on his breath. Oh, Aly wouldn’t like that at all.

  “Yes?”

  “Mom always liked you. She never stopped. Even when you didn’t come to see us. I sometimes see her holding a picture of you. She’s having white grape juice, and she keeps staring at it. I really think she’d be less mad if you’d just come out with your secrets. It works best for me. She’s always telling me that honesty wins you more points. Promise.” His son gave him a beaming smile and then nodded toward Aly. She was watching them now, and Jam knew she’d get behind his secrets, too, if he stayed, so he made a decision then and there.

  “Okay, I’ll be honest. I have to go back home tomorrow. I can’t stay any longer, but I see you and your mom have a great life. You can always call me,” he explained and then looked up at Alessia. “I’m sorry for making you mad.”

  She just nodded, her expression hard. "So am I."

  "But, Dad, you barely spent any time with me," Alessandro fussed, a stubborn pout making an appearance.

  "I know, buddy, but -"

  "I understand. Work’s more important. Everything’s more important. Do you have another son down there? That's it, right? Another family. You have a new woman and son. That's why you don't stay with us!" The accusation was so unexpected; Jam couldn't do anything but gape at Aly.

  "Alessandro? What's up? Where did you get that crazy idea?" Aly wanted to know, coming around to take his son from him. It nearly killed Jam to see doubt on her face. She was buying into that theory even though she should know better.

  "Tom's mom watched this show, and they took a guy in because he had two families." Lesso sobbed now, and Alessia pulled him into her arms, giving Jam a look to clearly solve the situation. Only Jam had no idea how.

  "That's not true, son. I only have you," he said softly, but the little boy just buried his face deeper into Alessia's stomach.

  "That's what he said, too. It doesn't matter. We didn't need you these last years, so Mom and I don't need you now!"

  "Baby, you've been so excited to meet your dad. Why are you being mean to him now?" Aly asked, desperation obvious in her voice and clear on her face.

  "Because he upset you and because he doesn't want us. He's leaving again. Tomorrow. Mom, can you call Spence so he takes us to the movies again? Please?"

  Jam got up, his heart aching. He knew his son was hurt, yet he couldn't help but realize another guy had done everything to win Aly, including dates with her and her son.

  "You don't like Spencer, baby. You've been fighting him every time he came over," Aly reminded her son, squeezing her eyes shut.

  "I thought Dad would come one day and do those things. I thought Dad loved us even if he had to work a lot. I thought ..."

  Jam didn't even wait to hear how that sentence ended. He couldn't listen to another word, so he stumbled out of the café. He heard Aly call out for him, but she never followed and he was glad about that. Numb, he returned to Dorly's house. He would give her porch that layer of paint he had promised, and then he'd tell the nice little lady he was leaving.

  His heart was racing in his ribcage, hurting with every unsteady beat, but Jam couldn't help it. He wasn't the father Alessandro needed, and he wasn’t the man Aly should want.

  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 r
ight 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.”