Chapter 2 Jackson
JACKSON
From the sullenness of his features, crossed arms, and rapidly shaking foot, Aiden wanted to be in the therapist’s office as much as I did.
We’d wasted twenty minutes glaring at each other from opposite sides of the room without saying a word.
Next to me on the long couch, talking and dabbing at her eyes, was my wife.
Melodie had come up with this “grand” idea that a shrink could help us when she knew damn well it was hopeless and we were all torturing ourselves.
Our marriage was in shambles, yet she thought the most pressing concern was that I didn’t get along with her son.
Like there was something wrong with me not wanting my son to have wild sex with one man after another in the comfort of my home.
He’d converted the basement into a den of sorts, so he was out of our way, but the basement still belonged to the house, which I owned.
He had no business taking other men there.
I curled my hands into fists on my lap. On my way to the laundry room to grab a clean towel out of the dryer, I’d heard them grunting like wild animals, groaning, and panting, the bed creaking and smashing into the wall. I’d heard my stepson moaning, begging. Because of another man.
How was I supposed to feel about that?
He shifted, crossing his legs like women did.
The short ruffled pink mini skirt he wore rode up his slender thighs encased in fishnet stockings.
His sheer black lace top was indecent. He might as well have come here naked.
Earlier when we were leaving the house, I’d refused to take him in my car looking like that and had demanded he change.
He didn’t have a functioning car since he’d wrecked the one I’d bought him two weeks ago, and it was in the garage.
For sure, I’d thought he would have no choice but to change.
I’d been dead wrong.
Aiden had called one of his one-night stands to pick him up. Loathe to have any of them at my home, I’d caved in and grudgingly took him as he was with us to the therapist. He’d been pissing me off since we got here with his suggestive movements and that pout.
My stepson was driving me out of my goddamn mind.
This office should have been the right place to talk about how angry he made me just by existing, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t ever talk to anyone about how the sight of his firm, bare thighs made my mouth dry. Or how hearing his high pitched moans put images in my head that didn’t belong there.
It wasn’t that my dick didn’t work because of what happened during my last tour. It refused to function because my stepson broke it.
“I just don’t know what to do anymore,” Melodie said. “They don’t get along. If I wasn’t at home, they’d have killed each other already. This isn’t the way I want my son and husband to live.”
Despite this being a judgment-free zone, the way the therapist, Eva, looked at me said it all.
She thought it was my fault, never minding I was the most reasonable one in the office.
If my stepson covered up, I wouldn’t have to notice the way his short skirts played peek-a-boo with the underside of his ass cheeks.
No stepdad should know his stepson was wearing a thong. That was a hill I was prepared to die on.
“Jackson, Aiden,” Eva said in her soothing therapist voice, which for some reason irritated me today more than usual.
“I hope you’re listening to what Melodie is saying.
Your animosity toward each other has designated her to the role of referee in your relationship, and this would be exhausting for anyone. Jackson, how does that make you feel?”
Here we go again.
She didn’t really want to hear how I felt about this whole situation. I already had to deal with counseling for my PTSD. I didn’t need this extra psychoanalyzing.
“It’s not Jackson’s fault,” Melodie said. “He’s been through a lot. He’s always been active as a Marine. He thrived on the thrill, but because of his accident, he’s had to walk away from that life. It’s affected his relationship with my son, and with me too.”
I straightened my spine, wanting to snap at her not to mention my impotence. After a year of visiting every doctor I could think of, I still couldn’t get hard without medication. It was embarrassing enough that two people in the room knew about my problem. This stranger didn’t need to know as well.
“I see,” Eva said.
She studied me as if she could see into my soul. I refused to let her in. She didn’t know the first thing about the reason I was here or what I had been through in the Marines.
I knew she wanted me to open up, but I couldn’t. Not here, not now, and definitely not with a therapist who clearly didn’t understand the Corps or what it meant to transition back to civilian life.
“Jackson, how are you coping with being out of the military?”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “The Corps,” I corrected quietly.
I already talked about it to a shrink and didn’t need another one.
What did she want me to say? That I missed living life in the fast lane?
That I didn’t know how to relate to my stepson and my wife?
The only thing connecting my wife and me had been the sex, and we didn’t even have that anymore.
When I was deployed and came home, it’d been so long since we’d seen each other, all we did was fuck before I left again. Now that I couldn’t get hard, we had nothing in common.
“It’s fine,” I replied.
“Jackson, this is a safe space where we can talk—”
“We’re not here to discuss my career. You want me to get along with my stepson? Fix him.”
“What exactly is it about your stepson you want to fix?”
“Do you need me to tell you? Look at him!”
She angled her head in Aiden’s direction, then leveled her gaze at me. “All I see is a young man who is expressing his sense of style. Why do you think that’s wrong?”
“Because it is.”
If he didn’t dress like that…
I shook my head.
“It’s a waste of time,” Aiden said. “He won’t admit he’s a homophobic, transphobic asshole.”
“I am not.” I grabbed the arms of the chair and glared straight at him. “I don’t have a problem with gay or trans people.”
“The weird thing is that it’s true,” Melodie said, her voice flat and hoarse from all her crying.
“Outside of Aiden, he’s never once expressed any sentiment that shows he’s homophobic.
I don’t know why he won’t accept our son.
They got along fine until Aiden started exploring this side of himself.
It’s not like I fully get it, but he’s old enough to make his own decisions. Why can’t Jackson feel the same?”
“He looks at me, and all he sees is what I wear,” Aiden said. “I love dressing up. What’s wrong with that? It makes me feel pretty.”
“What do you want to feel pretty for?” I propped my arms on my thighs and leaned forward. “You’re a man. You don’t need to be pretty.”
“Are you listening to yourself?” His plump lips pursed and his eyes narrowed to slits. “I wear skirts and dresses and thongs and bras too when I want to. Get over it already. Maybe you should stop being such a shitty stepdad.”
“I did all right by you. Don’t I take care of you and your mother?
” I stood, towering over him. He’d come into my life when he was just twelve years old and I’d always provided a roof over his head, taken care of his schooling and his extracurriculars.
He dared accuse me of being a shitty stepdad to him?
Aiden scrambled to his feet as if that would make a difference. He would always be the little one. I was six-foot-six, and he took after his mother with his five-foot-four frame.
Damn, but he was a feisty thing. A hint of admiration sparked inside of me. He never, ever backed down. He had more backbone than some men I’d dealt with in my time as a Marine. He was either stupid or brave.
“So we never needed anything physical.” He jutted out his chin. “But what about our other needs? What about hugs? Or just fucking being there?”
“Well, I am here. Aren’t I?”
“Oh, please. You never wanted to be home at all. You’re only here because you’re a washed-up Marine who can’t do the work anymore.”
“You little—”
“Enough!” Melodie rushed between us, blocking us from getting in each other’s faces.
Or… chest to face. “I can’t do this anymore.
You’re both driving me crazy with all this fighting.
You’re at the therapist’s and still doing it.
I give up. Do whatever you want. Kill each other for all I care. I’m out of here.”
Melodie grabbed her bag from the couch and stormed out of the office, slamming the door shut. Silence filled the room after her departure.
“Now look what you did,” Aiden said.
“Me? You’re—”
“That’s enough.” Eva pointed at the couches. “You two, sit. I don’t usually do this, but you two should be ashamed of yourselves. Do you know the amount of stress you’ve been placing on that poor woman? She’s trying to reconcile her family, but all you two can do is bicker.”
Aiden sat first. After that, I’d look too petty if I didn’t, so I took my seat as well.
“According to your wife, you both used to get along. All that stopped three years ago. Now there has to be a reason. What changed?”
“It was the summer I decided to be my authentic self,” Aiden said, crossing his arms. “I started experimenting with clothes and exploring my feminine side. He went off the deep end, not that he had far to go. He was always a bit on the unhinged side.”
I stared at Eva. Did she really not expect me to respond to that? He was provoking me. Right in front of her, and she just dismissed it as if I deserved it. Did everyone think I was the bad guy in this?
“You two have differences, but there’s no reason you should be at each other’s throats. I recommend that you two not live under the same roof.”
“He’s not ready to be on his own,” I blurted. “He still needs to learn about responsibility.”
“Who’s going to teach it to me? You?” Aiden scoffed under his breath. “I’m saving until I can move out. Problem is, whenever I mention it, he refuses to let me go.”
“Which shows you actually care about your stepson, Jackson,” Eva said. “You’ve said a lot. I’ve heard your words, but that one action tells me you hope to fix the relationship with him. Are you willing to do this, Aiden?”
“He’d never go for it. He hates me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I snapped. “You irritate me. You drive me to the fucking edge. But I don’t hate you.”
“This is progress,” Eva crowed. “But I don’t believe you can improve your relationship in your current state.”
“What do you mean?” Aiden asked.
“Melodie isn’t doing you any favors when she intervenes in your fights,” she said.
“I can see from what just happened that she does this a lot. You two need to learn how to talk through what’s bothering you and how to apologize and still be there for each other.
You can’t do that if Melodie always interrupts your arguments.
See, fighting isn’t unhealthy, per se. It gets a lot off your chest and allows the other person to see how we feel about certain things. ”
“What exactly do you want us to do?” I asked.
“I want you to spend some time together, alone. Go on a trip somewhere. Just don’t take Melodie with you. You two need to learn how to survive with each other.”