Because (Seven Year Itch #4) (4 page)

The moment I put Aberdeen in our bed and plopped down next to her I knew it wouldn’t be long before I found solitude. Right before dozing off I could feel the bed move, letting me know Brandon had joined us. We were together. Our daughter was going to recover. For just a little while I want to pretend everything will be okay, even though I know we were far from it being true.

Chapter 4

I lay awake in bed feeling like I’m a piece of shit. I only ignored Shay’s calls because I thought she was trying to interfere in my night out with the guys. I had no idea there was an emergency at home. Every time I went out in the past she had some crazy excuse why I needed to come home. I had no reason to assume those phone calls were more important than anything else in my life.

I don’t even recall the drive to the hospital. One minute I’m ordering another round for me and the boys and the next I’m pulling up in the emergency room parking lot. Unlike what my wife accused me of, I wasn’t at a strip club hooking up with chicks. If I wanted some strange pussy I’d find someone worth my time, not someone who enjoys taking her clothes off for money. Contrary to her vivid imagination, I wasn’t a cheater. Sure, I’ve had opportunities and even considered them, but I knew what I’d be losing if I stepped over that invisible line of right and wrong.

Shayla was never going to change, nor was she going to change me. She’s determined to ruin every relationship I have with my friends. She’ll stop at nothing until I’m stuck at home with her because no one wants to be around me. My friends make fun of me. They don’t know what it’s like to be married. Only one of them are in a serious relationship and she trusts him to come home to her without argument. The rest of the guys just want to have a good time. They’re still living as though they have all the time in the world to settle down. They place bets on if I’ll be able to slip out long enough to share a couple beers while watching a football game. It’s gotten so bad that I’m hardly ever invited anymore. The time before this she showed up at one of the bars and caused a huge scene, going as far as to accuse me of hitting on the barmaid.

Tonight we’d been celebrating. My best friend Toby popped the question to his long-time girlfriend. The topic of a bachelor party came up, and since I’ve agreed to be the best man, I’m obligated to take charge. This won’t go over well with Shayla. I have it in my mind that I’m probably going to have to keep it from her. It’s a month away, but I’m worried. I don’t want to have to choose one or the other. I’ve been friends with Toby since Kindergarten. Letting him down would be a hard blow to our friendship. I don’t know if he’d ever be able to understand, especially since his girlfriend, Cara is so cool about them both having their own social lives. In a lot of ways I wish Shayla could be like Cara. It would solve almost all of our problems.

I’m not saying I’m the best husband. I know I’m not what she wants. I don’t think I’ve been that bad of a guy. It’s not like we started our marriage on good terms. She got pregnant right out of high school. I felt trapped and tried to do the right thing. Don’t get me wrong. I love Shayla, I always have. It’s just not the same as marrying for the right reasons instead of because certain circumstances expect it.

It’s also not a secret that Shayla wants me to be like her father. She needs a man who devotes every waking second to her, and it’s not possible for me. I wasn’t the kind of guy who settles for anything. I like new things. If I want a dirt bike I’ll get one. If I feel like trading it in for a jet ski, I’ll do that too. I make the most money so I can buy what I want. I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal when I’m taking care of the bills and making sure my family has what they need. I get bored easily. I’m fickle like that.

I’m not saying I’ve been secretly cheating on my wife for our entire marriage because I can’t stay satisfied, which is what she’d like people to think. Sure, I’ve accepted numbers while I’m out, and I’ll even admit to having a few late night chats online with some old conquests back in the day, but I’ve never acted on any of them. I gave my word that I wouldn’t stray. Since she doubts me I’m determined to prove her wrong, even if it means going through hell on a daily basis just to stick around. I work my ass off five days a week and expect to come home and unwind. Instead she’s on my ass. If I’m not stressing her out about something, she’s complaining about all the things I haven’t done.

After two years of college, where I decided I didn’t want to major in business, I’d picked a trade in order to provide my family with a roof over our heads and a career everyone could be proud of. I never expected to become a mechanic, and certainly not move up within the company to get a better paying service writer job. It fell into my lap. The money is great. The benefits are even better. I have a pension plan, health insurance, and we even get end of the year bonuses from the owner of the dealership. I’ve accrued three weeks of vacation time since I started, and am positive I’m set for life. Unless the dealership goes under, my family will be taken care of.

I think in some ways Shay resented me for being at the right company at the right time. She hadn’t been so lucky as far as jobs come. In the past seven years she’s worked a slew of jobs, all temporary. First she cleaned houses, and after that got too tiring for her, she decided to work retail. After going through three chain stores at an outlet center, she finally settled in at a Target when one came to a nearby town. She’d been working part time there for the past six months. The hours were perfect for when our daughter was in school, and she was always home in the afternoons to take care of the house and get Aberdeen off the bus.

In my eyes our situation was perfect. We made good enough money to be comfortable. I’d been saving up for the past year in hopes of being able to purchase us a new four-wheeler to go riding with my buddies. Shayla wasn’t keen on the idea, not that I gave a rat’s ass. My wife wasn’t going to take away my freedom. Just because I promised to love her doesn’t mean I have to bend over backwards and be someone I’m not.

Let’s not even get me started on our sex life, or lack thereof. My wife hates her body. She’s put on a few pounds since having Aberdeen. I used to joke about it to prove to her it didn’t bother me, but it only pissed her off. Now she refuses to be naked around me unless I barge my way into the bathroom after she showers. We fuck with the lights out, if it happens at all. This last argument left me in so much pain I considered telling her it was never happening again, but quickly realized I’d be the one suffering the most.

I can’t win for trying.

How many men go down on their wife to please them and end up with ice between their legs because of a broken dick?

She wants me to tell her she’s the most beautiful woman on the planet, and when I don’t she thinks I’m rejecting her.

I’d be lying if I told her that. I guess being honest makes me an asshole. She’s beautiful no matter what her size, but there are other people in the world who are stunning. She can’t be so jealous. It drives me nuts. If my wife could get over her problems maybe I’d be nicer. Maybe I’d be able to handle coming home and hearing her bitch at me. For now, it is what it is. I’m not changing. She can be happy with what we have, because I know she isn’t going anywhere. She’s got it too good.

When I think about my daughter the problems fade away. No matter how bad it gets between her mother and I, I’ll always be there for her. I’ll give her a good home and make sure she’s happy, even if I’m miserable.

Tonight scared the shit out of me. Imagining my daughter having something that could kill her made me want to die myself. I’m just glad I could be there when she woke up. It’s all that matters. Shayla seemed happy for once. Who knows if we’ll get back to the argument from earlier. I’m always prepared for it now. How pathetic is that? I’m so used to bickering that I expect it.

My friends continue to say I’m crazy. They hate Shayla. They make fun of me whenever they get the chance, saying she’s a lunatic. They try to sway me into making bad decisions when we’re together; some I’d never admit to my wife. She doesn’t need to know about things that would hurt her. She’s got enough going on in that head of hers.

Now she’s seeing a therapist. At first I thought it was a good idea. I mean, she clearly needed someone to tell her that her expectations were unreasonable. I can’t work miracles. I was hoping the doctor would understand, but instead she’d screwed things up more. Now, out of nowhere, Shayla is threatening to kick me out. She’s never done this before, and I honestly don’t know how I feel about it. In some ways I wonder if my life would be easier without her.

She wants me to compromise.

I just want her to shut up and be happy with what she has.

When I finally start to fall asleep I’m burdened with what tomorrow will bring. It’s a hell of a way to live, but it’s the only life I have.

Chapter 5

The sound of snoring wakes me up. I wish I could get a few more hours in, but it’s impossible. The house is quiet. That never happens when Brandon and I are both occupying it. For a while I sit up in the bed and watch him sleeping. In this form he’s innocent. He isn’t out doing things I’m scared will hurt me.

I hate myself for feeling this way about him. I never used to be insecure. It was like the moment we said our vows I feared all the things I could lose if we broke up; if he messed up. It never once occurred to me that maybe I’d be the culprit, but as my heartstrings continue to be tested I wonder if I’ve been blinded by my own denial.

The aftermath of the hospital visit has left me emotionally scarred. I can’t shake what it felt like to assume the worst. A life without our daughter would ensure for a failed marriage. It feels pathetic to know that for sure, nonetheless there was no way to deny it. Brandon wouldn’t stick around if something happened to Aberdeen. He wasn’t in this marriage because he was madly in love with me.

It disgusted me to consider.

Every woman wants to be loved. He loves me. I knew somewhere deep inside he does, but it was never going to be enough. I wanted his devotion, not just because it’s what a husband is supposed to do. It should be effortless, without having to try. We’d never been that couple.

How does a couple start over when too much negativity has transpired between them? We couldn’t erase what was done, and I was beginning to realize if things didn’t change we were headed for divorce. Like it or not, we couldn’t continue living this way. It wasn’t healthy for our daughter. She may have been young, but she wasn’t stupid. When her mom and dad refused to be in the same room together something was wrong. What made it more obvious was having two sets of grandparents who were still very much in love. Brandon’s parents couldn’t keep their hands off one another. They still cuddled and held hands when they watch television. I can’t even remember the last time Brandon held my hand for no reason.

Just thinking about it makes me over emotional. I slip from under the covers and make my way into the bathroom. Once the door is closed I flipped on the light switch and stare into the large wall-sized mirror over the vanity. The person in the reflection is lost, scarred, and afraid. I hate her as I stare and watch tears falling from my eyes. Crying isn’t what bothers me the most. Its knowing I probably can’t fix what is broken, both inside of me and with my marriage. How can I get my husband to change when I don’t want to change myself?

I figure its useless to crawl back in bed and try to relax. Getting in the shower is what I need. The stream of the water will shield me from my demons, temporarily at least.

Stripping out of my comfortable pajamas and catching a glance of my naked body in the mirror only makes me more vulnerable.

I let my hand slide down across my right breast, tracing the shape until I reach my nipple. I used to be a full C cup, but now they were more a larger D. Instead of facing straight forward, they sag.

I turn to the side and run my hands over my waist and then hips. Love handles. That’s what people call them. I take both in my grip and lift, trying to see what it would be like if they were gone. Then I spin around and look at my ass, what my husband likes to call an anchor. It was true, the bottom is shaped like the device used to steady a ship. How he could want me to bend over and take me from behind was beyond me. I’d seen the women he admired when he watched porn, or even the ones he favored when he was glued to the television. I was nothing like them. Brandon preferred blondes with hourglass figures. I looked like an oversized pear.

Since I couldn’t immediately change my body, I decided to stop moping and get in the shower. I’d no sooner felt the water warming me up when I hear the bathroom door creak open. Figuring Aberdeen was going to the bathroom, I crack the shower door to check on her.

Brandon is standing over the toilet with his back turned to me. Since I suspect he’ll go back to bed, I close the door and lean against the shower wall for support. The next thing I know he’s climbing in behind me without clothes on. My gut reaction turns me around to face him. He looks tired and frustrated, his brows creased and almost touching. I feel his hands coming up and bracing my shoulders, before realizing my tears weren’t just drops of water and wiping them away with his thumbs. I let my arms come around his back and my head fall onto his hard chest. From there, I close my eyes, praying the pain will go away for a little while. “Why can’t we figure out how to be normal?” I ask him.

“I don’t know, Shay. I wish I had all the damn answers.”

“I know I can’t make you love me.”

“I never said I didn’t. You’re the one who keeps implying it.”

“We’re falling apart piece by piece and I don’t know how to help put us back together. We can’t keep doing this, Bran.”

He cups my cheeks and forces me to look into his hazel eyes I love so much. “Stop talking,” he whispers. “For once just stop and be with me.”

“I can’t let it go. That’s your solution for everything. You don’t appreciate me at all,” I announce as gentle kisses attack the sides of my lips. “Bran, please.”

He’s determined, pressing me into the wall so he has complete control, then lifting both of my arms above my head. “I know this is what you want, me touching you like this.
You overanalyze everything. For once just shut up and let me have this moment."

"Ab could wake up any minute." I need an excuse to stop this madness. Why did we always end up in this predicament?

"She's out cold. Besides, I locked the bathroom door. Come on, Shay. Can you at least pretend you like me? Last night was rough. We need this."

I try to shove him away. "You might need this, but I don't expect sex to solve my problems. It can only complicate them more.
”

His hands are groping each of my breasts. I’m falling victim to his touch again, this time too drained to fight. His lips find mine. His kiss is hungry, silently making a path for what will come. I’m weak. I can’t stop this from happening because so many parts of me don’t want it to. I need this to remind me there is hope for us. Be that as it may, I know sex has never really been the obstacle. We’re too different people, both stubborn and unwilling to change.

I bring my hand over his cock and take hold. He’s reluctant to allow me permission after what happened earlier. I hear him suck in a deep breath and stare into my eyes questioning his own safety. I drag my lips over his as I speak. “I won’t hurt you. You’re right. I need you.” I start with a comfortable stroke to allow him time to relax. He takes both hands and places them on my shoulders, pushing me down just enough to comprehend what it implies. He wants my lips around his cock. My mouth waters as my knees bend, bringing me closer to his groin. I’m now face to face with his stiff erection. My mouth is starved with anticipation. I don’t love doing this, but satisfying him has always turned me on. I try to look sexy as I bring my tongue closer, running his soft head over my bottom lip ever so gently. He leans back against the opposite wall and runs fingers through my wet hair. Doing this is penance for making him miserable. I need to prove to myself that I can bring him something other than loathing.

I take him in my mouth, his girth a firm fit in between my lips. Fresh water trickles down his body, a water trail running across his shaft. I taste it as I work to lubricate it with my saliva. The metallic flavor crosses my tongue as I suck him fully. The way I move is slow at first. I don’t want to go too fast to prevent my jaw from cramping. If he wants a blow job, I’m going to give him one to remember. I owe myself the benefit of knowing I’m still good at something, because everything else I touch seems to turn to shit.

I’m getting into it, my rhythm steady and paced. I massage his balls with my free hand, taking my index finger and running it over his asshole and taint. He’s gripping my hair and trying to be in control, but I’m too involved to allow him to lead. This is my task, not his. While sucking harder I apply pressure to his ass with my one finger. He clenches up, preventing me from taking it any further. I laugh with a full mouth at my failed attempt to violate him. He likes this, I know it. It’s a dirty game we play.

I’d never tell anyone his secrets. It’s one thing I like keeping to myself. There are parts of Bran he’s never shared with anyone else and I value that. I try again, this time the tip breaking through. He groans as I push gently, still bobbing my head over his rock hard dick. He’s really into it now.

My cheeks are starting to hurt, but I forge on determined to finish this. I’m so turned on I can feel my pussy throbbing between my legs. I want to be touched and taken care of, but not until I know I’ve done this to the best of my ability. When I can tell he’s losing his grip I go faster. I’m gagging but still giving it my all, my little finger penetrating his ass even further. Then I feel him tightening. He’s trying to push me away, but I remain. I want his load. It’s mine. I’ve earned it. When I first taste the salty substance in my mouth I drive my finger in as far as I can go. He quakes over me, his knees weakened as he tries his hardest to remain standing. I’ve done what I set out to accomplish. He’s crumbling before me – because of me. It’s an achievement I don’t take lightly.

I let him have his moment before pulling away, wiping the remnants from my face while swallowing what hasn’t seeped from my mouth. My lips are stinging from working so hard, my cheeks hurt. I’m under the impression our moment is over. He’s gotten what he’s come for and he’ll go to bed.

Brandon never kisses me after I’ve sucked him off. He brings his lips close to my mouth and shoves my face to the side. He licks up my neck while I feel his hand coming down over my pussy. The second his palm grazes it I crumble. His touch is like an electric shock. Jolts of excitement rip through my body. He circles my clit with a couple fingers, his lips brushing against my ear lobe. I’m falling apart at the seams and he’s just begun. I don’t know how much it will take to bring me over the edge, but I’m about to find out.

Brandon uses his middle finger to drive inside of me first. I can feel his fingernail as it makes it’s exploration. I want to kiss my husband, but it’s out of the question. I’ll have to appreciate all the other good things he knows how to do to me instead. I watch as he lowers down. I expect him to use his mouth, but instead he only watches what he’s already doing. He leans his head against my inner thigh for a closer view. My breathing is strained as I try to contain myself. “I want to watch your pussy contract when I make you come, Shay. Show me how good I make you feel,” he says while applying a circular pattern against my swollen clit. I’m becoming weak, my knees shaking as I crumble. I’m losing my grip and it’s what he wants. I hear him groaning as I begin to crescendo. Tiny cries escape my lips as waves of euphoria come crashing down. I’m withering, breathless, and completely content.

Bran rises to his feet and brings his lips to my forehead. He holds them there for a brief moment and then backs away. “We need to stop fighting and find a common ground, Shay. Not just for Ab, but for us too. Something has to give. When you’re a bitch none of us can be happy. I’m sorry I didn’t answer the call, but I don’t need your permission to do things. I shouldn’t have to go through hell every time I want to walk out the door. Get over yourself. If you can’t then I don’t know what to tell you anymore.”

I watch him exit the shower but say nothing. He’s right. Something has to give, and I’m sick of waiting for him to make the change. If I want something done right I’m sure as hell going to have to do it myself.

I hate admitting it, but maybe he has a point. Moping around miserable wasn’t helping me change the way our relationship has molded into a loveless cesspool of negativity. I wasn’t the only one to blame, though. If he treated me better I wouldn’t feel so insecure. The monotony of our lifestyle has turned us into people I no longer wanted to admit exist. I wasn’t just living a lie, it was more like I was putting up a façade for everyone else to see, while drowning in an ocean of denial.

Something had to give for sure.

If it didn’t I was afraid where our life was headed.

People couldn’t understand what it was like for me. They assumed abuse was physical. On the outside I was still the same person I’d always been; a little extra baggage affixed to my ass, but the same general happy-go-lucky personality. Only the few closest to me heard me complain about our troubles, and in all honesty I was too ashamed to admit everything I lived with on a daily basis.

Denial is a bitch to accept.