More Than Words - Jerry Cole Page 0,48
why they kept giving me back. So I learned how to say what people wanted to hear, but I never made any friends, never got close to any of them. Never wanted to. I’d just lose them, too, and it hurt too much the first time. I wasn’t letting that happen again.”
Bennett released his hands and held his face instead, positioning it so he could look into Jordan’s eyes.
“I am so sorry, Jay. I cannot begin to imagine how alone you must have felt, how miserable, how frightened, how angry you must have been. Maybe how much you still are. No child should ever have to suffer as you did. I hope they caught the bastard and hung him out to dry before they executed his ass.”
Jordan chuckled, surprising him. “Bloodthirsty, aren’t you?”
“Aren’t you? Didn’t you wish every awful punishment on him?”
Jordan brushed his lips and smiled at him. “I was too numb for a long time to think about it much. And then, when the dam broke, I was just mad all the time, with everyone, about everything.” Another touch of his lips against Bennett’s before he added, “Thanks for being so mad on my behalf. But I’m okay now. Really.”
Bennett smiled at him. “Thank you for telling me.”
How the hell did a person live with so much grief? And how did a little kid learn to protect himself from such a terrible loss again? Jordan was forty years old, and in all the years since his parents’ death, he’d been alone, without love, except what he’d managed to find with the friends he had, including Chandler, and the old lady he rented his house from. Bennett knew his own mother would smother Jordan with love if she knew his story. And while he would love to let her loose on him, the story wasn’t his to share.
“Do you wanna go for a drive?” he asked, inspiration hitting him. “There’s somewhere I’d like to show you.”
“Is it too far to take the dogs along?”
“It’s about half an hour away. Can they ride for that long?”
“I’ve taken them for longer rides, so yeah. Let me just change out of these sweats and I’ll be right there. We’ll take my truck.”
Bennett went with Jordan over to his landlady’s house. Mrs. Salvietti was sitting in a wide, comfortably stuffed armchair facing the window, wrapped in a thin jacket with a blanket over her knees. The television was on in the living room when they went in, and the dogs came over to inspect Bennett’s new scent while Jordan introduced him to her.
“Mrs. S meet Bennett. Bennett, Mrs. Salvietti. We’re taking the dogs for a drive.”
Bennett smiled at the woman whose sharp eyes met his when he walked over to shake hands. She was wide-hipped and with graying red hair and a heavily-lined face. A warm smile lifted the lines that defined her cheeks, lighting up her whole face.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. Thanks for taking this one out for a bit. He spends far too much time in that house with no company.”
Bennett laughed at Jordan’s expression. He was equal parts embarrassed and amused. Mrs. Salvietti sounded exactly like his own mother used to sound when Aidan would say he had no time to date because he was always working. Not that Aidan had brought anyone over for their mother to say anything like that to. No doubt his brother would have reacted exactly like Jordan was doing now.
“I go out,” Jordan protested, “you just don’t notice.”
Mrs. Salvietti laughed merrily. “Right! Because I’m so busy studying my eyelids or something, yeah?”
That comment got them all laughing. While Jordan let the dogs out to pee before they left, Mrs. Salvietti grilled him. By the time Jordan returned with Marco and Polo, she knew his job, that his dad was a minister and his mom a retired schoolteacher, that he had a niece, and that he had twin older brothers who had real jobs.
“What do you mean by ‘real jobs’?” she asked with a frown. “Being a photographer isn’t a real job?”
That wasn’t something Bennett wanted to discuss with anyone, and most definitely not with a stranger.
“Well, it’s not as essential as theirs,” he hedged. “They save lives and protect others.”
He hoped he didn’t sound as defensive as he felt. This was a sore point for him, one he tried hard not to expose to the world. Growing up with older siblings who had excelled at everything they’d ever done, who