Holding her breath, Aubrey eased her arm out from under Jack.
He was asleep. It took almost two hours for him to get there, and she well enough knew it wouldn't last long. When Jack slept, it was far from peaceful. If he wrangled three hours in one sitting, Aubrey considered that a good night. The nightmares had him stirring three, sometimes four times.
When Jack startled her awake, she'd bolt from bed and grab an Ativan before coaxing him from whatever it was tormenting his mind. Once he realized what was happening, Jack did what he did best. He'd push her away and refuse to take the pill to calm down, pretend nothing out of the ordinary took place. It was a vicious cycle; a living nightmare. She was helpless. Hopeless. Exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically just like him.
Aubrey hated herself for feeling this way, but sometimes taking care of Jack seemed worse than having a child. It was reaching the point where he refused to even close his eyes unless she was lying beside him. If Jack woke up and she wasn't there, then all hell was bound to break loose. Too many times to count he's come flying out of the bedroom drenched in a cold sweat, crying and shouting about how she doesn't care about him and is never there when he needs her.
When that happened, all Aubrey did was bite her tongue. Never once did she say anything back. Her therapist said that's the best thing to do; not antagonize him when his emotions were running at maximum velocity, and he was becoming violent.
She didn't tell her therapist about the occasional violent outburst because those were nothing she couldn't handle.
Once she got her arm free from his grip, Aubrey got out of bed. She bit her lip when Jack muttered something. Then he rolled over onto his back and took a heavy breath, still asleep. Relief crashed over her like a tidal wave. Tip-toeing to the door, Aubrey left it open so she could hear if he made any noise. She went straight for the kitchen to get a pot of coffee started.
As it brewed, she picked up his boots and put them by the front door, then opened the closet for the iron and ironing board. When she set the board against the wall, Aubrey didn't close the door right away. She pushed aside some miscellaneous clothes they hanged in there, grabbing the hanger which supported the dark blue jacket of his dress uniform. Rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, Aubrey hooked the curved end of the wire hanger on the top of the closet door. She ran her thumb along the name engraved in white on the black tag—Napier. Then she curled her fingers along the light blue braided cord fastened around the right shoulder. Of all the accolades pinned or stitched onto the jacket, Aubrey knew Jack was most proud of his infantry cord, no matter how hard he tried to hide the truth because he never wanted to appear arrogant.
As handsome as he looked when wearing it and as proud of him as she was, Aubrey counted down the months, weeks, days, hours, and seconds until Jack hung it up for good.
Seven months, three weeks, four days, two hours, and forty-nine seconds.
Putting the jacket back, Aubrey gathered the supplies she came for, then set up in the family room. As the iron heated, she poured a cup of coffee—Splenda, no cream—then grabbed the laundry basket stuffed with Jack's clean fatigues off of the dryer. While she ironed the uniforms and drank her coffee, Aubrey had the television on, though she kept the volume so low as to not wake him there wasn't a point in having it on at all.
It took over an hour to meticulously iron, and then inspect five pairs of fatigues for loose threads. When she finished, she tucked the board in the corner so the iron could cool off, then rushed into the bathroom before Jack woke up for the day.
Opening up the medicine cabinet, it was muscle memory. The first thing Aubrey grabbed was Jack's bottle of Zoloft. She uncapped it, dumped the pills into her palm and counted how many of the antidepressants there were. She repeated it with the Ativan and Abilify, relaxing a bit when she realized she'd been tied up in knots for no reason—Jack took his pills just as he promised.
The bubble of culpability for not believing him expanded in her throat, and Aubrey swallowed. It made her feel rotten for even allowing the seed of doubt to take root in her head. Jack seldom lied, and when he did and Aubrey confronted him with the truth, he said it was for her own good. To shelter her from the chaotic, capricious world they lived in. And she always forgave him, because if Jack—a man who'd seen people and the world at their worst—thought something was too brutal for her to handle, then she trusted his judgment.
Putting his pill bottles back as she found them, Aubrey shook out a Lexapro and Xanax for herself, setting them on the vanity beside the peony scented hand soap. She turned on the faucet, letting the water run cold as she knelt to sit back on her ankles, opening the cabinet under the sink. Aubrey grabbed the box of superabsorbent tampons, plucking out the rectangular blister pack of Ortho Tri-Cyclen. With a dark blue-gray pill on her tongue, she put everything back then stood. Popping the other two pills in her mouth, Aubrey filled up a small glass with water, hesitating, then chugged.
The birth control was always the hardest for her to get down. It had nothing to do with her Catholic guilt; an onus Aubrey hasn't experienced since she lost her virginity to Jack, at sixteen, in the back of his '93 Jeep Cherokee while the Sex Pistols' Never Mind the Bollocks played from the cassette player. What ate Aubrey alive was the qualm of knowing how badly Jack wanted a baby, and here she was, doing everything possible to make sure it didn't become a reality.
When they lived in Kosovo, that's when she'd gone on the pill without Jack knowing.
During the rare months he wasn't in Bosnia, they tried fruitlessly to get pregnant. Jack blamed Aubrey for the failure. Throwing it in her face, she was too stressed, and that was why her body wouldn't cooperate. She took his ruthless verbal spars in stride because he hadn't been wrong—it was her fault for the lack of missed periods despite the unremitting cream-pies Jack gifted her.
The biggest reason of all why Aubrey never once let his insults about her inoperative body get her down was because he was gone more often than he was home and separated from her family by thousands of miles. Aubrey knew she needed a kid like she needed a hole in head.
Nothing had been going right for them the entire time they were in Kosovo. It was pure, raw anarchy; his commanders were never truthful about how long he'd be home or how long he'd be in Bosnia, leaving all of their plans in upheaval.
It was stupid of them regardless, thinking the military cared about their plans.
Things were looking up once they moved to Colorado, where she threw away a pack of pills before finishing it. But then the panic attacks and hallucinations started, and he got arrested for battery against another soldier, which resulted in a punishment under the Uniform Code of Military Justice. After his Article 15 hearing, Aubrey made an appointment to get back on the birth control—a baby would have to wait. Putting a family on the back burner again had been a bitter pill to swallow.
Though unlike Jack, she didn't let the setback pull her down into the undertow.
They just needed a little more time.
Shutting off the bathroom light, Aubrey headed back into the kitchen. She poured herself another cup of coffee, stirring three packets of Splenda into the steaming black liquid.
"You'll rot your insides if you keep using that shit."
The powerful hands on her hips startled Aubrey. A breath lodged in her throat, but found its way out once she felt the heat of Jack's bare chest radiating into her back. She melted into him, biting her bottom lip as he nuzzled his nose into her hair, kissing her head.
Dropping the spoon on the counter after licking it clean, Aubrey spun around and wrapped her arms around his neck. She perched up on her tip-toes, gliding the tip of her nose along the bridge of his.
"I'd rather have rotten insides than a fat ass," she giggled.
Jack took one hand off of her hip, slipping it under the elastic band of her panties, grabbing her ass-cheek. He kneaded the soft, firm flesh. "Your fat ass is one of your most endearing attributes, cupcake."
His voice was guttural, sending a bolt of lightening through Aubrey's core. Her stomach somersaulted, her knees turned to Jell-O. Jack's mouth caught hers in a blistering kiss akin to a complete system reboot. His tongue—wet and warm—wasted no time seeking hers. They tangled, savoring the taste of one another. She would have collapsed had he not had that firm grip on her. She twisted her fingers in the chain of his dog-tags, inhaling sharply when she felt the erection straining the cotton briefs he wore press against her belly.
Without warning, Jack broke the kiss and ripped his hand out of her panties. Aubrey groaned in protest, trying in vain to reconnect their lips, but he just pushed her away. She was extra insatiable, wanting to spend all day with him because once he left for work in the morning, she wouldn't see him for three days.
Reaching over Aubrey's shoulder, he grabbed the cup of coffee she mixed, claiming it for himself.
"You'll rot your insides if you drink that shit," Aubrey mimicked.
She rested back against the lip of the counter, crossing her ankles. She flexed her thighs, squeezing them tighter together, hoping that would be enough to silence the all-consuming quiver Jack ignited.
It didn't.
Setting the mug on the small slab of counter space by the stove, Jack opened the fridge for the carton of heavy cream. He poured in a healthy serving, his strident laughter chilling Aubrey as he closed the fridge door with a little more force than usual.
His eyebrows shot up, bringing the mug to his mouth for a sip. Aubrey ignored how his warm brown eyes looked like two callous pools of black ink.
"Bold of you to assume it'll be your shitty sugar that kills me first. Not a bullet through the forehead."
"Stop it—" she kicked him in the shin, and that earned another round of piercing laughter— "you know I hate it when you talk like that."
"Yeah, yeah." Crossing the kitchen, Jack pressed a wet kiss to Aubrey's cheek on his way to the table. Once he sat down, he grabbed the previous day's newspaper. "I'm starving, gorgeous. Mind making yourself useful and whip up something to eat?"
Rolling her eyes, Aubrey pushed off the counter and headed to the refrigerator. She opened it, clicking her tongue to the roof of her mouth as she grazed what was left on the shelves. There wasn't much—eggs, milk, her leftover greasy Chinese takeout from last night—not feeling particularly up to doing the shopping.
"What do you have a taste for?" Gnawing on the tip of her long thumbnail, Aubrey glanced over to Jack.
He didn't look up from the section of the paper he busied himself reading, instead just shrugging. "Whatever you want is fine."
Always such the helpful one.
From the top shelf in the refrigerator, Aubrey grabbed the milk and eggs. She still had flour left from when she made piroshki so pancakes it is. Dropping them on the counter, she strutted to the pantry next to the small kitchen table. When she opened it, reaching up to grab the almost empty bag of flour, she felt Jack's eyes burning holes into her back. It was enough to set off a minor flare of uneasiness. With how unpredictable his mood swings have been as of late, it was getting harder and harder to decipher what he was feeling.
"What are you making?" he asked.
The gravel in his voice ignited a tremble in her hand. Aubrey tucked the bag of flour under her arm, hoping Jack didn't see the sugar container shaking when she grabbed that, too.
"Pancakes." Turning around, Aubrey's heart fell into her stomach to see him standing from the table. Jack inched his way towards her, and she began taking steps back. When her back hit the wall, cornered, she held the sugar tight. If Jack saw that he was making her nervous, a fight Aubrey didn't have the strength for would ensue. "Is that okay? I can make something else, but we don't have much because I haven't had the chance to get to the commissary."
His eyes narrowed, and he flicked his tongue along his bottom lip. Aubrey didn't like the way he was staring at her. She didn't know what he'd go off about first—how she'd forgotten to iron his extra set of fatigues for the field training exercise this weekend, the laundry piling up, or the lack of food.
Either way, it would be about her peculiar streak of slacking on household responsibilities, and she wasn't up for the challenge of explaining how unmotivated she's been.
Aubrey flinched when Jack yanked the bag of flour out from under her arm, and snatched the container of sugar from her hands, putting them down on the counter.
"I want something else."
"What do you wan—"
Aubrey was interrupted, and a shrill squeal of surprise escaped her mouth as Jack swung her around. He tossed her down on the kitchen table. Something told her it wasn't food he had a taste for anymore when he tore the baggy t-shirt off of her torso, throwing the useless garment over his shoulder. He pushed his way between her dangling legs, leaning over Aubrey to press his full, sturdy lips to hers for a ravenous kiss.
It didn't matter how many times they kissed, each brush of their lips was electrifying.
One of Aubrey's hands threaded through Jack's short hair, while the fingers on the other danced along the soft ridges of muscle on his abdomen. He licked her bottom lip, to which Aubrey returned the gesture before biting down on it. The sound of his bursting, throaty groan sent a chill down her spine. Rough, combat-worn hands glided up her sides, groping her breasts, rolling rosy beaded nipples between calloused fingers.
This time Aubrey broke the kiss, rolling her head to the side, losing herself in the jolts of searing pleasure while he slid her panties down and off.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, threatening to jump out of her chest any second. Every inch of her body ached for his touch, but her mind refused to let go of what happened the last time they had sex. She learned to indulge his kinks as they were nothing offbeat or demeaning, though as of late that seemed to change. There was no way of knowing what was bound to come out of his mouth, what he'd instruct her to do, or what he'd do.
Relax, Aubrey told herself.
It was only Jack pushing her limits. Opening her mind to a world she never knew existed as he'd done throughout their relationship. This was what kept things fresh and fun… far from boring. This was why they had the sex life most married couples were jealous of. They trusted each other enough so they could be at their most dirty, perverted, and undignified.
Jack took a step back, seizing the moment to shed his black briefs and kick them to the side. Before he had the chance to crawl between her legs again, Aubrey jutted her leg out, pressing her foot flush to his chest to stop him from coming any closer.
Aubrey cupped her breasts, and Jack eyed her keenly as they overflowed from her hands. She squeezed them, pushed them together, and then let them fall back to their natural position.
"Do you like my tits?" she mused.
Planting the other heel onto the edge of the table, Aubrey spread her legs just enough for him to get a small peek at her puffy, glistening slit. She wore the filthy little pout that drove him to the precipice of salacious insanity.
"They're gorgeous," he cooed, wrapping his hand around his cock.
Aubrey bit her lip when he stroked his diamond shaft. Parting her knees more, she ran a hand down her belly. Jack's eyes followed, dropping his gaze to her opening displayed before him. Her fingers caressed her swollen clit, which she couldn't wait to feel his tongue against.
"And my pussy. Do you like my pussy?"
Jack nodded in response, each stroke of his cock becoming snugger.
"Say it," demanded Aubrey, in a clear voice laced with explicit need. Her breathed hitched with very pass she made on her clit. "Say it, Jack. Say how much you like my pussy."
It was so cute when she thought she could take control. Jack figured he'd let her have it—let her think she had power here.
He growled, "I fucking love your sweet little cunt."
"Do you want to fuck my sweet little cunt?"
"No." Gripping Aubrey's ankle, Jack tore her foot off of his chest. He set it on the table, grabbing the chair and sitting down so he was eye-level with her dripping cunt. "I'm gonna eat you out like it's my last goddamn meal, then I'll bury my cock in you."
Hearing the words spill out of his mouth like molasses, Aubrey slammed her knees together. A bizarre wave of self-consciousness knocking the breath out of her.
"Aubrey," he warned.
The dark animus dripping from his words made Aubrey squirm, and not with anything resembling pleasure in the slightest. Jack hated waiting for something he frantically wanted, and she understood how much he loathed having to repeat himself even more.
Still, putting her pussy on the brunch menu was frying her nerves.
"I haven't showered yet, and I'm in-between waxings."
"I don't care." Along the smooth flesh of her outer-thigh, he planted his lips. Between kisses, he muttered, "I had a very long, boring night, sweetheart, and all I wanna do is eat." He smacked her thigh. "Now, open up for Daddy. You don't want me to starve, do you?"
Her knuckles turned white, fingers clinging to the lip of the table. Her eyes fluttered closed as her belly flipped and twisted in ways she never knew were possible. The husky tone, mixed with his torrid caress, hot breath blowing over her, and the debauched language, Aubrey surrendered. She parted her legs, exposing herself once and for all to a famished Jack.
Much to her surprise, he showed restraint. He brought his middle finger to her, ever so lightly teasing her slick opening.
"See—this happens when you're a good girl who listens."
Aubrey's back arched off the table as he slipped the tip of his finger inside. She propped herself up on her elbows, wanting to watch every move he made, but Jack pressed a hand to the center of her chest and pushed her back down. With his unoccupied hand, he laced their fingers together, inching his middle finger further inside, until he was knuckle deep.
She squeezed his hand, writhing and panting. Tears sputtered from the corners of her closed eyes and a scream lodged in her strangled throat when Jack curled his finger, pressing and rubbing the squishy spot billeted deep in her core.
"J—Jack… oh, fuuuck," she wheezed.
When her knees quaked Jack brought his mouth to her, adding another finger to his unrelenting digital assault. Aubrey's back arched again, her head digging into the table as her brain registered the warmth of his tongue devouring her. As if he were licking a fast-melting ice cream cone on a hot summer's day, he lapped her clit.
To Jack, Aubrey was an exquisite bourbon. One sip of her and his chest burned, while acting as the catalyst which drove him to violate the arbitrary morals of decency, sending him spiraling down into fiendish sin. Aubrey has always been his willing victim. His submissive toy in which he can act out his most nefarious urges. Jack could have her hogtied, her belly and ass full of cum, her face flooded with tears, and she'd still sniffle a blithesome thank you to him.
His balls became heavy with cum, tight from surging arousal, listening to Aubrey's greedy whimpers, and feeling how her body twisted to the brutal way he ravished her. Jack was crawling out of his skin. She was always so responsive to his touch, never hiding how she felt, eager to let him know what he did was bringing immeasurable pleasure.
Her mouth fell open, but not a single sound made it out. The only melody filling either of their ears were the notes of Jack's wet mouth and soaked fingers working her to the brink of unraveling.
"Fuck—" she exclaimed through gritted teeth— "you're gonna make me… I'm gonna…"
Aubrey's eyes still screwed shut the stars behind her lid threatened to burst into supernovas. Her long fingernails clawed at his scalp and her thick thighs cuffed his ears.
Jack wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked, halting when he felt her clamp around his fingers.
"You motherfucking asshole!" roared Aubrey.
She was breathing heavily, frustrated by her lack of release. Letting go of Jack's hand, she pushed the damp strands of hair off of her sweat slicked forehead.
Rising to his feet, Jack kicked the chair back. He leaned over her again, not bothering to wipe Aubrey from his mouth before plunging his tongue beyond her lips. Once he pulled away Jack smacked her breast, sending a nerve frying shock of excitement through her body.
"Don't be selfish; it looks hideous on you. Don't worry, I'll get you off, brat."
Aubrey wrapped her shaky legs around his hips, tucking a hand between their sweating bodies. She ran her fingers through the coarse hair along his lower-abdomen, taking his shaft in her hand. Using the soft pad of her thumb, she smeared the sticky, pearlescent bead of pre-cum along the velvet tip. Jack's head snapped back, now his turn to squeeze his eyes closed. He bit his lip, snarling, falling face first into the serene reservoir of being jerked off.
At the first sign of the smoldering heat in his gut, he grabbed her wrist. "You're gonna make me cum if you keep doing that."
"Maybe that's what I want; for you to cum all over me." Aubrey teased, "I'm not always a selfish brat."
Jack smirked.
"I don't want to cover your pretty face—" he cupped her jaw, smacking her cheek thrice— "I want to see my cum dripping from your cunt."
Aubrey went lightheaded, surprised when Jack slid into her. A shuddering moan escaped her reddened, swollen lips at the delicious sting of him stretching her flesh. For a moment he stilled, letting Aubrey get used to having him inside. He moved his hips, fidgeting, unable to find an enjoyable angle. It didn't take long for the frustration to dig its ugly claws into Jack, and he rumbled in annoyance, forcing Aubrey into stillness.
The last thing she wanted to do was move the wrong way and make him more irritated than he seemed already.
Roughly gripping one of her arms, Jack tossed it over his shoulder. When Aubrey got the message, she hooked the other one, hanging on as he stood up. The change of position made her clit grind against him. She let out a moan mixed with laughter, relishing in the way his fingers dug into the fatty tissue of her ass while he carried her to the couch.
Jack plopped down, the much improved deeper angle now doing wonders for them both. Her hands gripped his sturdy, broad shoulders while she planted her knees on the cushions, finding a steady bouncing pace.
Aubrey dipped her head for another kiss. All she focused on was the heat building between their bodies, and how she could still taste herself on his tongue. The kiss matched the rhythm of their hips—slow and deep.
"Just like that, baby," he encouraged. With one hand on the small of her back, he helped guide the pace. Aubrey withered, her body shuddering when his thumb found her sensitive clit. Jack pressed their sweaty foreheads together, and they were both panting. "Look at you, so beautiful riding Daddy's cock like such a good girl. Are you gonna cum for me?"
Her eyes rolled, and her cunt throbbed. "I—I'm gonna… gonna…"
"You're gonna what, sweetheart?"
"Cum—oh, God. I'm gonna cum, Daddy."
Letting her mind and body go, a bolt of lightening hit Aubrey. The climax was higher than she ever imagined. She was so high, time came to a grinding halt. Everything around her ceased to exist, allowing her to come undone under Jack's influence.
The pooling fire in his veins was too hot to ignore. Realizing how dangerously close he was to spilling inside of her, Jack was feeling more merciful than usual. He kept rubbing her overstimulated, swollen clit, draining every ounce of ecstasy from her. Normally, he'd make her beg for the euphoric release only good girls earned, but he'd gotten too far ahead of himself, overzealous to hear Aubrey's broken hedonistic cries.
That's okay. He'd more than make up for it later.
Blissed out in her orgasm, Aubrey was far too gone to care when Jack grabbed her sides, tossing her to the floor on her back. He slid off the couch, rolling Aubrey to her stomach, and then helping her up onto her hands and knees.
The gentleness he'd shown minutes before was gone. Without warning, he bottomed out, giving her no time to adjust as his pace turned wanton and intense. Jack never grew old of seeing Aubrey on all fours for him, hearing her howl with every brute thrust. He ran a hand up the length of her spine, loving how her back arched and her ass grinding even more into him when he tickled the bony column. Curling his fingers around her shoulder, they dug into her flesh with bruising force, while his other hand threaded into her hair, gripping it taut at the roots.
Keeping her head forward, Aubrey reached behind her and rested a soft hand on the outer part of his thigh. Tears brimmed her eyes, and her lower lip trembled. "Fuck… fuck, Jack, you—you feel so good. Fill me up with your cum like you said you would."
Jaw locked, teeth clenched, hips powering back and forth, Jack slammed his cock into her again and again until his world fell like a house of cards. He pulled her hair, she cried out his name one last time.
That's when he lost control.
Jack let go of her hair, his forehead dropping between her shoulder blades. A throaty yell spilling from his mouth as his thrusting slowed, coating her pulsing walls in spurts of thick, hot cum.
The added weight of him on top of her, Aubrey's weakened limbs gave out, sending them tumbling to the floor.
Exhausted, Aubrey closed her eyes. She tried to catch her breath, though she wasn't in too much of a hurry to let the fleeting bliss fade away yet. Her mind wandered to a place of contentment, leaving her to feel clingy and selfish.
Hoisting off of her, Jack fell on to his haunches. He wiped the sweat from his forehead while reaching between Aubrey's extended legs, spreading her puffy lips to see the milky aftermath of his orgasm trickle from the abused hole.
A haughty smirk stretched across his face. Jack spanked her ass, jiggling the cheek in his hand.
"I apologize, Mrs. Napier, as it seems I've made quite a mess."
Aubrey rolled over onto her back, keeping one leg extended while bending the other at the knee. She had a post-coital glow of the likes he's never seen before. The freshly fucked smile, messy hair, the flush blotches spreading along her neck and chest. She was far more beautiful than he ever remembered her being, and Jack was unsettled by how his heart swelled.
Reaching out, Aubrey grabbed the chain to his dog-tags, tugging. Jack obliged. He crawled over her, caging her body with his.
"If you shower with me, and help clean up," she kissed him, "then maybe I'll forgive you."
Jack lifted his hand off of the floor, looking at his watch. "No can do, cupcake."
Aubrey's brain short-circuited. The last thing she ever expected was for Jack to turn down the offer for another round of guaranteed sex.
"Wait—why? Got a hot date?"
"I do." He licked his bottom lip, his unsuppressed cackles escaping through his nose when her smile faded, twisting into something more malicious. "So kind of you to, uh, ask."
She bolted up onto her elbows. "With who?! You better not be headed back—"
Jack shut her up with a kiss.
"Since you're so goddamn nosy, and must know everything… it's with you." When she furrowed her eyebrows, Jack realized her post-orgasm brain was having a troublesome time making sense of what he told her. He kissed her forehead and then pushed her back down. "To make up for missing our anniversary on Saturday, I'm taking you out today. We've got somewhere to be."
Aubrey lit up like Christmas morning. She slapped a hand over her mouth, squealing. "Are you serious?"
"Jesus, Aubs. How much of an asshole do you think I am? Yeah, I'm serious. Just because I've got FTX this weekend didn't mean we weren't celebrating at all."
Swallowing, shame prickled her skin. Now she felt like the asshole for thinking Jack didn't care he'd be away for their seventh wedding anniversary.
"Where are we going?" she asked, lacing her fingers on the nape of his neck.
"Nice try." He pried her hands off of him and then stood up.
A smile tugged at the corner of Aubrey's lips as she watched Jack strut into the kitchen and grab a clean glass from the rack beside the sink.
"You're not very nice."
"If I was nice, you never would have married me." He filled the glass to the rim with water from the tap, then chugged. "Make it fast if you're gonna shower, 'cause I'm jumping in too. Wanna wash your filth off of me."
Aubrey stood up, her legs shaking like Bambi. As she walked to the bathroom, she muttered, "Douche."
"What was that, cupcake?"
"Love you!"
Jack smelled the bittersweet tang of burning tobacco and curled his fingers tighter around the plush covered steering wheel.
He glanced over to Aubrey, his forehead creasing in frustration seeing the tan and freckled white butt of a Marlboro loosely clamped between her fingers as she blew a thin stream of smoke out of the cracked window. It was a losing battle, keeping her from smoking. One he'd never stop fighting because Jack despised when she did. No matter how many times he told her she looked classless doing it, his harsh criticisms did little to deter.
Reaching over, he snatched it from her grip, flicking it out of his window while she whined in protest. In retrospect, he only had himself to blame for being the one whom she picked up the unhealthy habit from when she was only a sophomore in high school, and he a junior. Jack wasn't dumb. He knew Aubrey smoked when he wasn't around, having found her stash of American Spirit's once or twice when she got sloppy with her hiding spots. More often than not, she attempted to cover her tracks. Only when she wanted to get a rise out of Jack did she so brazenly light up in front of him.
"What did I do now?" he spat.
Jack kept his eyes on the stretch of deserted highway in front of him, though he was growing twitchy from the sudden simmer in his blood.
"You did nothing."
Why did she always have to fucking do this? Speak with hidden messages behind her words instead of coming right out and telling him he's an asshole. It would make things so much easier for them both if she had the balls to cut through the bullshit rather than delay a fight that would boil over and blindside him in a couple of days.
Jack looked over at her again, taking note of how she was twirling the small diamond engagement ring around her finger. Then it hit him like a high-speed train.
"This is because I didn't take leave for tomorrow. I told you months ago I wouldn't have the weekend off because—"
Aubrey held up her hand to stop him from talking. A move she knew he couldn't fucking stand. Now it seemed like she was intentionally trying to set fire to his fuse, one that had become shorter and shorter the longer they've been together.
"I know what you told me, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be a little annoyed that you chose our anniversary, of all weekends, to go play G.I. Joe."
Jack did a double take to his right just to make sure it was in fact Aubrey sitting next to him, not some cloned-alien version.
He couldn't believe that asinine thought left her mouth. Was she serious? Pinning this on him. Her words, sharp as a dagger, pierced a nerve Jack didn't even know was exposed.
He slammed his fist on the dashboard, startling her. Aubrey jumped out of her skin, then sank into the seat. Her mind was racing, mentally slapping herself for even saying anything because she should have known better.
"Don't start that shit with me! Where the fuck have you been for the last eight years, if you think I had any say in FTX being scheduled this weekend?! Do you really think I want to spend our anniversary freezing my balls off in the woods, not at home fucking your brains out?"
When silence met Jack, he hit the dashboard again. "Do you?"
From the corner of his eye he saw her shake her head, using the sleeve of her sweater to wipe the tears before they fell.
She was cowering to him.
"Be a big girl, Aubs," he taunted. "C'mon, use your words."
"No!" She sniffled hard, trying to hide the evidence of her crying. "I know you'd rather be home with me. I'm sorry for bringing it up!"
Aubrey couldn't apologize enough. Here was Jack doing the best he could to make up for missing their special day, and she was making him feel like it was going unappreciated.
Listening to her whimper like some fragile little girl only made his blood boil. She never used to be this sensitive. All that changed after she started taking the antidepressant and anti-anxiety medications. They were poisoning her mind, stopping her from feeling a morsel of basic human emotion because that would be the worst thing to happen to her. Jack wanted the lioness Aubrey once was. The woman who was never afraid to bare her teeth and show him her claws. She had been one of the few people in Jack's life courageous enough to put him in his place when he crossed the line. Her strength had been the reason he followed her around for months like a lost puppy in desperate need. Every time she rejected his offer to go on a date, that only made him want her more, made him beg.
And now…
Jack glared at Aubrey, but she was too busy wiping away those pitiful tears from her cheeks to see the manifestation of disgust on his face.
"What are you crying about now?"
Aubrey wanted to reach over and slap him, just like how he smacked her those few times she got a little too mouthy.
"Nothing," she said.
"Uh, nothing?" He swiped his tongue along the corner of his mouth. "It's not nothing. It's those goddamn pills… they're doing neither of us any good."
A bubble burst in Aubrey's belly, a flash of white-hot indignation singeing her from head-to-toe. To some extent he was right; it was the pills. The birth control was exasperating the mild depression and anxiety he was causing her. If he would have just listened to her four years ago and not re-enlisted, or at the very least took his sanctioned therapy sessions seriously, she wouldn't need the pills at all.
Shoulda, woulda, coulda.
Propping her foot up on the top of the side-door compartment, Aubrey was so angry, the tears dried themselves.
"Fuck you, Jack."
Her voice was calm and penetrating.
It sent chills through Jack, which peculiarly warmed him, churning out a cackle that gurgled deep in his chest.
The muscles in her jaw flexed, her fingernails were digging into her denim covered thighs—signs that Jack decoded a long time ago. She was talking herself out of sucker punching him in the nose.
Jack wanted her fist—the one he showed her how to form—to pop him square in the face. He wanted it to feel like he'd been struck by lightening. For his eyes to water. To taste the sharp metallic tang of blood dripping down the back of his throat. He wanted to see her knuckles stained sanguine.
She was so close to giving him what he wanted.
A reminder he was still alive.
Extending his arm, Jack pinched Aubrey's cheek hard enough to make her yelp. She slapped his hand away, trying to move as far away from him as she could, without jumping out of the car going 80mph.
"You're spending too much time with those, uh, other wives. All you need to do now is start having an affair and you'll be in with the inner-circle, cupcake. You always were so… pathetic. Falling all over yourself so the popular girls like you. Accept you. If I'd known you'd be too fucking weak to handle being my wife, I never would've put my dick in you… what a fucking mistake that was."
Aubrey felt her soul collapsing in on itself with every venom soaked word he lobbed at her. The only choice she had was to sit there and take it. He's not in his right mind; before she knew it, her Jack would be back. All smiles, cheesy jokes, and contagious laughter. What he said was the rambling of a broken, defeated man, needing to bring down those within his grasp. Because so long as everyone around him was miserable too, then he wasn't the one with the problem.
She couldn't overlook the irony in him accusing her of being the weak one. If anyone of them were weak, Aubrey knew it wasn't her. She possessed the strength to admit when she needed help and to accept it. There was nothing for her to prove, leaving her to wonder who Jack was trying to spite by rabidly insisting he's fine.
Himself, most likely. His commanders, too, because nothing brought him more joy than moving up the chain of command. But Aubrey knew the malevolence grew from the vituperative relationship he had with his father.
A part of her refused to let go of a tattered shred of hope that maybe Jack would come around; see there isn't any shame or harm in needing a little help every once in a while.
"Are you done?" she asked, as if she were speaking to a child.
Jack said nothing. He didn't look at her either. Just kept driving.
Ten minutes later, Jack pulled into a parking lot off of a two-lane highway. He picked a spot that was the furthest from the entrance of a shabby-looking warehouse, killing the engine of the Honda Civic they shared.
When Aubrey saw the giant sign reading laser tag, she would have jumped with excitement had she not been so pissed at him.
The tension between them was high. The animosity was so thick Jack choked on it. In his head, he replayed the very one-sided conversation that had gone down. He didn't feel bad for what he said—one should never be sorry for feeling a certain way—but that didn't mean he should have been vocal. She had enough going on in that hurricane mind of hers. The last thing she needed was him dropping a tornado.
"Aubrey." Leaning his head back against the headrest, Jack shifted his neck to look at her. She didn't acknowledge him, which only intensified the ache in his chest. "Aubs, look at me."
"What makes you think I want to talk to you, let alone look at you?"
"Well, I mean you're talking to me now, so…"
Snapping her head to face Jack, it took him back at how dark her eyes were. The pupils so blown they hid any proof of her blue irises.
"Do you hear yourself? Like, are you aware of the shit you say to me?" Aubrey held her breath as she waited for Jack to answer. This was one of those times where she hoped he'd lie to her.
If he admitted to not being conscious of the insults he hurled at her, Aubrey wasn't sure if she knew how to handle it.
She could barely help him through the panic attacks as it is.
Jack was aware. He was agonizingly aware of every single syllable, tasting the sour, bitter coating they always left on his tongue. A reminder that lasted for days, sometimes weeks, after spitting the words at her. He always wanted to stop it before they left his mouth, but it seemed like someone else was in his brain, forcing them out for him.
Nothing destroyed him like seeing Aubrey upset. Not even burying his mother fazed Jack as much as Aubrey bursting into tears did. He used to be a lot better at this, and it was frustrating feeling so out of control.
"Yeah, and I'm sorry, Aubs. It's just… you know how I get when I'm frustrated. I'm like my old man; can't keep my fucking mouth shut. I promise I didn't mean any of it. You're the best thing that happened to me—not for a single second do I think us getting married was a mistake. Shit, my first year in was hell, waiting for you to turn eighteen and graduate so we could get hitched and start our life together."
"Please, you're just saying that. We both know the only reason you wanted to get married is because you hated living in the barracks. I was your meal-ticket to get base housing."
"Guilty as charged," breathed Jack. "You were the one stupid enough to date my low-life ass, when all the other broads in school stayed as far away from me as possible. You deserved none of this. I fucked up your life good, didn't I?"
Aubrey recoiled, wincing at the sensation of being stabbed in the chest over and over. He was floating back down to reality, surveying the damage he'd left in his wake. At least this time the destruction was emotional. No broken glass for Aubrey to sweep up; Jack didn't have to make the awkward trip to the hardware store for supplies to fix a hole his fist made in the drywall.
Taking a deep breath, some stress melted off of Aubrey. She unclenched her jaw and took off her seatbelt, leaning over so she could engulf Jack in a tender embrace. Nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck, her head swam from the lingering fragrance of his cedarwood and citrus soap.
The comforting warmth radiating from Aubrey lulled Jack. He's never been a hugger, so he did his version of one—he rested a hand between her shoulder blades and gripped the thick cotton of her sweater. Her soft almond shampoo reminded him of better days he wished they could get back.
"You didn't fuck my life up," she mumbled into his neck. Aubrey sensed Jack's muscles tensing, so she caressed the back of his neck. "You did this for us. So we could have a better life."
"I'm not sure how much, uh, better all of this is."
Aubrey lifted her head, pushing her lush, black waves out of her face, her eyes fixated on Jack's. "Are you… oh wow, you're serious. I mean, the last eight years haven't been ideal, but I think it's way better than if we'd stayed in Gotham."
Jack twirled his finger in the ends of her hair. "You think so? You don't blame me for everything not going like we planned it to?"
"I do. And never—there's nothing to blame you for. Not everything can be controlled and crafted. Sometimes you just have to let things… be. With a little of guidance, of course. And if there's anything I've learned being with you, it's that for some twisted reason, we thrive in the chaos." When Jack's gaze averted from hers, Aubrey put two fingers under his chin, lifting so he'd look at her again. "I think that is what's been bothering you so much. You're having a hard time coming to terms with the fact your enlistment is almost over and going back to a—a normal life is scaring you."
"I can't go back and do a fucking nine-to-five, Aubs, I—"
"I'm not expecting you to," she interrupted. "My Dad told you last Christmas he'd be more than happy to have you come work for him."
"Yeah, but I know that's not what you want. If it were, you wouldn't have had such a fit when you found out I was running errands for him."
Jack watched Aubrey's face contort, years of repressed vexation bubbling to the surface.
"I'm not some Bratva princess, Jack. I don't need that life to make me happy. I'd rather be penniless as long as it's with you."
"Well, you are a Bratva princess, but that's besides the point, cupcake." To see her smile again, Jack mustered the best Russian accent that he could, "I'm thinking this is your way of telling me I'm not cut out for the life."
Aubrey laughed. She cupped his sharp jaw, rubbing the apple of his cheek with her thumb. "Oh, I know you are."
Jack cocked his eyebrows. She didn't have to say another word for him to realize her cognitive dissonance was wrecking havoc in that little brain of hers. She wanted him out of the Army, but she didn't want to back home because the last thing she wanted was for him to fall in deep with the Russian mafia. The prospect of jail stints wasn't what scared her—the Army prepared her for those.
What rattled her to the bone was knowing he'd be good at it.
He didn't take offense to her making him believe the opposite, and he kept his mouth shut about it.
For now.