I love buying video games from the Walmart clearance section. Yes give a game people say is the worst game in existence and I will absolutely love it, solely bc I got it for $20 but also bc Idgaf abt peoples opinions on it
I think in season 4, Misty should be allowed to go a little more batshit crazy than she already is. I need her to be on the edge of insanity, I need Caligula to speak to her with Natalie’s voice and tell her wack shit, I need season 4 to be off the walls crazy
Characters/ OCs who talk in their sleep need to be used more often. Sometimes they say gibberish, sometimes they say something funny, but every so often they say something that’s from their past that makes their partners smile drop into a frown. Something that they always skirt around talking about when they’re awake. I like the implied angst of their partner having to keep what they said to themself and it making them look at the sleep talker different. Either in a good way or bad.
Summary: Marrying Jackie Taylor was the best thing that ever happened to you. And it seemed to only get better with the additions of your babies. Yet the mystery of Jackie’s past seems to burrow its way into the life she’s built.
A/N: I blacked out and finished this chapter. I’m no joke v excited to roll out all the mysteries of this au✨
You knew it was bad when the only solution you could think of was to call Charlie. You sighed as you stared at your phone sitting silently on your desk. Not that Charlie was ever a bad option.
Charlie was great. You’ve known Charlie for years. She’s been one of your business partner for a while. She too inherited land and decided to make something of it. What started as business turned into friendship. And now you tend to write to each other with an occasional phone call here and there…but over the few months it’s become more occasional.
Charlie knew about your wife and kids. Really Charlie knows about your whole life. It’s easier to tell someone who isn’t connected to the web of your life about things in it.
And it’s hard to explain but…there’s something about her. It’s easy to overshare. She always had a way of making you feel…seen. Because of it…though you’re not proud of you told her about Jackie’s somewhat mysterious past.
Not in a gossiping way but more of well…more of a second opinion. You loved your friends and family but bless them—they’re a bit useless. Almost as useless as you felt in these waters.
Charlie was helpful because she seemed to have this deep understanding about what as big as Jackie’s trauma does to the brain and body. Hell she ran a center helping people who experience trauma.
Before you decided to go off the deep end. You wanted to ask Charlie what she thought. You want to help Jackie but you don’t know how. And more than that you don’t want to go too far where Jackie would feel…well betrayed.
You stared at the phone in your hand for a long time before finally pressing the number. It rang twice before Charlie’s voice, warm and steady, came through the line.
“Hey, stranger,” she teased. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you again. How’s the ranch? Kids? Jackie?”
Hearing her name out loud made your throat tighten. “The ranch is fine. Kids are good. Jackie’s… we’re managing.” You rubbed at your temple, wishing the words didn’t sound so hollow.
There was a pause. Not judgmental, not impatient —just Charlie letting the silence open, like she always did when she knew you weren’t saying everything.
Finally, you exhaled. “Listen, I need some advice. Jackie’s been… she’s been having a hard time. Nightmares, panic, just—things I don’t always know how to handle. I want to help her, but I don’t want to push too far. I don’t want her to feel like I’m… prying, or worse, betraying her trust.”
Charlie hummed softly, thoughtful. “That’s a tightrope,” she said. “With trauma that deep, sometimes the person doesn’t even know what they need. And it’s not your job to fix it all. You’re not supposed to bulldoze your way in. What you can do is be the anchor. The one who doesn’t flinch, doesn’t run when it gets ugly.”
Her words cut straight to your chest. “I try. God, I try. But last night, she—” You stopped, catching yourself. The image of Jackie’s pale face, her scream, the way your eye still throbbed from the punch—it burned on the back of your tongue. “She was so scared. And I don’t know how much longer she can keep carrying this without it… breaking her.”
There was another quiet pause, and then Charlie’s voice softened, low, almost protective. “She’s stronger than you think. But she’s also haunted. People don’t walk away from… certain kinds of survival without ghosts. And the worst thing you can do is pretend those ghosts aren’t there.”
You frowned, sitting straighter. “You say that like you know.”
Charlie chuckled faintly, but it didn’t sound amused. “I’ve seen it, that’s all. Up close. People who’ve been through…that…it’s like they’re navigating the wilderness.” She cleared her throat. “Just—don’t try to solve her past. That’s hers. What you can do is remind her there’s a future worth holding onto. That she’s not alone in the dark anymore.”
Her words lodged in you like a splinter — sharp but true. You pressed your hand against your still-stinging eye and let out a shaky laugh. “Not sure I’m much good at being the anchor right now. But I’ll try.”
“You’re better at it than you think,” Charlie said gently. “Jackie’s still here, isn’t she? Still fighting. That’s something.”
And though you didn’t know it, her voice carried the weight of someone who understood Jackie’s ghosts in a way you couldn’t yet imagine.
Charlie let the silence linger, then her voice softened again. “You know… maybe you should bring Jackie out here sometime. To the center.”
Your stomach tightened. The wellness center. You’d sent Charlie crates of fresh vegetables, milk, and honey from the ranch for years, but you’d never actually visited yourself. You pictured Jackie walking through those grounds, surrounded by strangers, asked to bare open wounds she barely admitted to you. The thought made your chest seize.
“I don’t know if she’d go for that,” you admitted. “I don’t even know if that’s… fair to her. Or good for her.”
Charlie didn’t push, just chuckled softly, the sound steadying. “Fair. Then how about you just come? You’re overdue anyway. Didn’t you promise me a calf and a few milking goats ages ago?”
Despite yourself, you smiled. “You don’t forget anything, do you?”
“Not when it comes to livestock bribes,” she teased. Then her tone dipped back into something gentler. “Seriously. Come for a visit. See the place. If you think it might help later… well, at least you’ll know.”
There was something in the way she said it, like she wasn’t talking about “help” in the abstract, but something she had lived through herself. Her voice carried a weight, a certainty that felt… familiar. You frowned, almost asking her what she meant, but stopped yourself. Charlie had always been good at speaking about trauma like she’d seen it up close. Maybe that was just the work she did.
You leaned back against the wall, staring at the darkened window, Ranger’s shadow moving faintly in the yard outside. The bruise under your eye throbbed again, a reminder of Jackie’s nightmares, of how close everything felt to unraveling.
“Yeah,” you said at last, though your voice carried hesitation. “I’ll… think about it.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” Charlie said warmly. “No pressure.”
But as you ended the call, unease curled low in your chest. Charlie’s words rang too sharp, too personal. And for the first time, you wondered if she saw more of Jackie’s pain than Jackie herself had ever allowed you to.
The school bell shrilled and soon the yard spilled over with kids, backpacks bouncing, sneakers skidding over the blacktop. You spotted Josh immediately—he came barreling toward you, curls wild, face split in a grin so wide it nearly blinded you.
“Mom! Mom! Look, look, look!” He skidded to a stop in front of you, already yanking a folded piece of paper from his backpack. He shoved it into your hands with all the urgency of a treasure map.
You crouched down, careful of your still-throbbing eye, and smoothed the crinkled paper open. The drawing was simple but earnest: stick-figure Josh with a soccer ball, his arms stretched wide, and beside him, a taller figure with long hair tied back—Jackie, no mistaking it. Both of them smiling, the sun beaming down in a bright yellow corner.
“Do you think it’ll cheer Mommy up?” Josh asked, eyes wide with hope. His voice carried a carefulness, like he knew something was wrong but couldn’t quite name it.
Your throat tightened. “Oh, buddy… I think she’s going to love it,” you said softly, pulling him into a hug.
He leaned against you only a moment before bouncing back, full of restless energy again, chattering about soccer practice and how he wanted to teach Ranger to play goalie. But the picture burned in your hands, bright crayon colors pressed into the paper with such earnest force.
Josh had noticed. Maybe not the details, maybe not the nightmares, but enough. Enough to want to fix it.
You folded the drawing carefully, tucking it into your jacket pocket as you took his hand. “Let’s go home,” you said, masking the heaviness in your chest with a smile. “I bet Mommy’s going to be so proud of this.”
Josh beamed and started skipping beside you, his small hand swinging in yours, while you tried not to think about how the weight of Jackie’s shadows had already begun to seep into the bright corners of your children’s world.
By the time you pulled up to the house, Josh was practically vibrating with anticipation, clutching the folded drawing like it was a secret weapon. He sprinted inside the moment the door opened, calling for Jackie at the top of his lungs.
She appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her expression tired but softening as soon as she saw him. Josh shoved the picture at her without preamble.
“Look, Mommy! I made it for you! It’s us playing soccer! Do you like it?”
Jackie froze, blinking down at the drawing. Her hand trembled slightly as she held it, the colors bright against her pale fingers. You saw the exact moment her composure cracked, her eyes shimmered, lashes wetting as her throat worked to keep steady. When she finally spoke, her voice broke on the edges.
“Oh, sweetheart… it’s beautiful,” she whispered, pulling him close to kiss the top of his head. “You and me, huh? That’s my favorite thing.”
Josh giggled, practically bouncing again. “Can we practice? Pleeease?”
Jackie nodded, swallowing hard, and smoothed her hand over his hair. “Yeah, buddy. Of course. Just… give Mommy a minute, okay?”
“Okay!” Josh chirped, already bounding toward the back door to find the ball.
When she lifted her gaze to you, it nearly knocked the breath from your chest. Her eyes were brimming, cheeks flushed, lips trembling as she tried to hold it together. And in that silent plea, you moved instinctively—crossing the space to wrap your arms tight around her.
Jackie melted against you, her shoulders sagging as the sob she’d been holding finally broke free. She sighed into your collarbone, shaky and embarrassed. “This is so dumb,” she murmured thickly. “I’m crying over a drawing.”
You pressed a kiss to her damp temple, holding her tighter. “A very cute drawing,” you said softly. “Made from love. Worthy of a cry.”
She laughed wetly, somewhere between a sniffle and a sigh, and you felt her chest loosen just a fraction against yours.
Jackie lingered in your arms a moment longer, her forehead tucked beneath your chin, her breath shaky but finally steadying. You rubbed small circles into her back, wishing you could anchor her here forever, in this quiet moment where nothing hurt.
Then the sound of sneakers squeaking on tile broke the spell. Josh peeked back around the corner, soccer ball tucked under one arm, a curious grin on his face. “Are you guys done hugging?” he asked, his voice full of innocent impatience.
Jackie gave a startled laugh, hastily swiping at her damp cheeks with the heel of her hand. “Almost, buddy,” she said, her voice still wobbly but lighter now.
You caught his eye and winked. “Give us thirty more seconds. Hug tax.”
Josh rolled his eyes dramatically but grinned, bouncing the ball once. “Fine. But then it’s practice time.”
Jackie managed a watery laugh, tugging you in closer for one last squeeze before she stepped back. Her cheeks were still pink, but there was a spark in her eyes now…it was fragile, but real.
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders. “Let’s go play some soccer.”
Josh whooped, running outside, and Jackie turned back to you briefly, whispering just for you: “I love you”
Josh was already in the yard by the time you and Jackie stepped outside, the ball at his feet and his little body buzzing with pent-up energy. Ranger barked excitedly from the porch, pacing back and forth as though he wanted in on the game too.
“Alright, coach,” Jackie called, wiping her face one last time with the sleeve of her shirt before jogging down the steps. “What’s the drill?”
Josh puffed his chest out, grinning. “Passing practice! You and me against Mommy!”
You raised your brows. “Wait, so I’m the bad guy here?”
“Obviously,” he said with absolute certainty.
Jackie laughed, crouching down to ruffle his hair. “Smart strategy. She’s got the longest legs—hardest defender.”
“Flattery won’t save you, Jacks,” you teased, hands on your hips. “I play dirty.”
The game began with Josh dribbling sloppily around the grass, Jackie guiding him gently, calling out little tips between her own bursts of laughter. Every time he managed to pass the ball to her, he would shout, “Teamwork!” and Jackie would beam as though it was the greatest word she’d ever heard.
You lunged dramatically, letting Josh juke around you while Jackie shielded him. She was rusty, you could tell, her footing wasn’t quite as sharp, her breath came quicker, but none of that mattered. Her smile stretched wider with every kick, her cheeks pink, eyes shining in a way you hadn’t seen in days.
“Goal!” Josh shouted when he finally kicked the ball past your foot and straight into Ranger, who caught it in his mouth and bolted.
The three of you dissolved into laughter, Jackie bending over with her hands on her knees, shoulders shaking. Josh chased after the dog, shrieking with delight.
When Jackie straightened again, she caught your gaze across the yard. For a split second, the world stilled. Her expression softened into something grateful, vulnerable, the kind of look that said she was clinging to this moment with everything she had.
You gave her a small nod, like a silent promise: More of this. We’ll make more of this.
And Jackie smiled, a little breathless but real, before jogging after her son.
Josh was still panting with pride when you herded him back toward the porch, cheeks flushed, hair sticking up at odd angles. Jackie was glowing in that way only her kids could make her glow—eyes crinkled, laughter soft and easy. You were just about to suggest rinsing off the grass-stained knees when Ranger’s ears perked at the sound of a car pulling into the drive.
Lily burst out of your mom’s sedan a moment later, bounding up the steps with her backpack swinging and her braid bouncing. “Mommy! Guess what? Guess what!”
Lily nearly tackled her, words tumbling over themselves in excitement. “Gramma took me to the craft store and we made mmmm candles, and and and then she showed me hoooow…..to roll grape leaves, AND MOMMY she she said she’s gonna teach me more recipes—like the ones momma ate when she were little!”
Jackie froze for the briefest second. The brightness in her eyes flickered. Just a hairline crack, but you caught it—the way her shoulders stiffened, the way her throat worked around a swallow before she could force out a thin, “That sounds… so special, Lil.”
Lily, oblivious, chattered on, tugging Jackie’s hand as she rattled off more details, while Jackie nodded and smiled, but it wasn’t the same smile from ten minutes ago. It was tight around the edges, her eyes glassy with something she was trying hard to blink back.
You knew that smile. You knew what it meant.
Your mom waved from the car, giving you a thumbs up before pulling away, completely unaware of the way Jackie hugged Lily a little too tightly, her voice just the slightest bit unsteady when she said, “I’m glad you had fun, sweetheart.”
Josh didn’t notice. Lily didn’t either. But you did.
And your chest ached, watching the light that had burned so brightly in the yard only moments ago dim into something heavier, something Jackie couldn’t quite keep from seeping through the cracks.
The house had finally gone quiet. Josh and Lily tucked in, Ranger sprawled out like a sentry by their door. You were rinsing the last mug in the sink when you heard it, a soft shuffle behind you. Jackie, barefoot, hair loose, eyes still a little glassy from earlier.
She leaned against the counter, arms folded tight across her chest like she was holding herself together. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, her voice broke the silence, low and uneven.
“You know what’s funny?” Jackie’s laugh was sharp, brittle. “I watched Lily today with your mom and all I could think was—my mom should’ve been there for me like that. She never… she never looked at me the way your mom looks at her.”
You set the mug down carefully, drying your hands slow, giving her space.
Jackie rubbed at her arms, eyes darting toward the window like she couldn’t bear your gaze. “I used to tell myself it didn’t matter. That I didn’t care. But seeing Lily—seeing your mom love her so easily—it’s like… it’s proof. Proof that it could’ve been different. That maybe I wasn’t the problem. And that’s…” She broke off, shaking her head.
“Jackie,” you whispered, but she kept going.
“I feel like I’m sixteen again,” she admitted, voice trembling. “Like I’m back in high school, playing this stupid role, being perfect Jackie, the one everyone thought had it all together. Pretending I was fine when I was falling apart. And now—now I’ve got the life I thought I wanted. You. The kids. This house. And sometimes it feels so far away from me I can’t even… reach it.”
Your chest tightened. She wasn’t looking at you—just staring at her hands like they belonged to someone else.
“I miss my mom,” she said finally, in a whisper so soft you almost missed it. “But I don’t. Not really. I think I just miss the idea of a mom. Someone who cared. Someone who… made me feel like I belonged somewhere. And instead I’m here, bursting at the seams, terrified I’m screwing it all up.”
The silence that followed was heavy, aching. You just stood there, wide-eyed, your throat tight, knowing if you said the wrong thing she might shatter completely.
So you crossed the kitchen slowly, wrapped your arms around her waist, and held on.
She stiffened, just for a second and then melted, burying her face against your shoulder. Her breath came out in ragged sobs she didn’t even try to hold back.
And you held her, heart breaking with every shudder, realizing for the first time just how much of Jackie’s hurt had never had a place to go—until now.
You let her cry against your shoulder for a long beat, feeling the weight of all the things she’d never said before settling into the space between you. Her hands were clinging to you like she was afraid if she let go she’d fall apart entirely.
Finally, you whispered gently, “Hey… we have that IVF appointment coming up. How are you feeling about… continuing with our plans?”
Jackie froze, her face pressing harder into your chest. Her body stiffened for a moment as if the idea had pulled her out of some private fog. Then she sighed, soft and shaky.
“When I met you…” she murmured, voice muffled but deliberate, “…I knew I wanted a big family with you. I knew I wanted five kids, two dogs, and a big yard. I could see it. Even back then, it was… clear in my head. So… I still want another one.”
You pulled back just slightly to look at her, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.
“I just… I need to shake off my funk,” she admitted, a small, almost embarrassed laugh escaping her. “I’ve been so wrapped up in… everything else, I forgot how much I wanted this. How much I want us.”
You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. That small crack in her armor, it was enough for you to see her fully. Enough for you to know that the fear, the pain, the shadows of her past—they were all there, but so was her love. So was the hope. And it was yours to hold alongside her.
Later that night, long after the house had gone still, you lay awake staring at the ceiling. Jackie slept beside you, curled toward your side of the bed, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. In the dark she looked peaceful—soft in a way the daylight rarely allowed her to be anymore.
But sleep wouldn’t come. Charlie’s voice kept circling in your head. People don’t walk away from certain kinds of survival without ghosts. You turned carefully, reaching for the phone on the nightstand. The screen glowed pale blue against the dark room. You slip out of bed and into the kitchen before doing what you never thought you would do.
Three rings this time. Then what you hear next is almost like rain on dry ground “You okay?” Charlie answered immediately, groggy but alert in the way people only sound when they already sense bad news.
You swallowed. “Sorry. I know it’s late.”
“No, it’s alright. What happened?” Your gaze drifted toward the hallway where your Jackie was asleep. “She doesn’t know I’m calling,” you admitted quietly. “But I think… I think I want to come see the center.”
In the silence your heart sank at it. Maybe you overstepped? No, you couldn't have. Then a soft sigh. Not shocked. Not confused. Like Charlie had been expecting this eventually. “You sure?” she asked softly.
“No,” you answered honestly. “But I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something she’s not telling me. And I don’t want to betray her, Charlie, I don’t—”
“You’re trying to help your wife,” Charlie interrupted gently. “That’s not betrayal.”
You rubbed your hand over your face, exhausted. “Can you book me in? Just a couple days.”
Another pause. Then quietly she hums, “Yeah. I’ll make arrangements.” You nodded even though she couldn’t see it. “Thank you.”
After the call ended, you stayed sitting there for a long time, afraid that this decision would blow up in your face. You never had secrets…especially from Jackie. It made you feel tense all over. But God, you needed to do something. You just couldn't shake it.
You were losing Jackie.
After a long while, you slipped back into bed and lay there listening to Jackie breathe beside you. Eventually, exhaustion pulled at you hard enough that you slipped back beneath the blankets, one arm draping instinctively across her waist.
And sometime later, Jackie opened her eyes. Wide awake. The words from earlier looped endlessly in her head. Five kids. Two dogs. A big yard. She wanted that life so badly it hurt.
But some nights the past sat inside her chest like rot, whispering that none of this belonged to her. That she was still that starving girl in the wilderness pretending to be human long enough to survive another day. Beside her, you slept soundly, one arm thrown across the mattress toward her side like even unconscious you reached for her.
Jackie’s eyes burned suddenly. Quietly, she slipped from the bed. The house was cold and dark as she moved downstairs, careful not to wake anyone. Ranger lifted his head as she stepped onto the porch, but settled again when he recognized her.
The ranch stretched silent beneath the moonlight. Jackie walked toward the edge of the property without hesitation. Like muscle memory. Like instinct. The flashlight shook faintly in her hand as she reached the old fence line. Then she dropped to her knees.
The dirt was harder than she remembered. She dug anyway. Fast. Frantic. Mud packed beneath her fingernails. Her breathing turned sharp and uneven. “No, no, no…” she whispered under her breath like a prayer. Finally her fingers struck metal.
Jackie stopped cold.
For a moment she just stared at the rusted edge of the tin box emerging from the earth. Then, slowly, she pulled it free. The latch squealed when she opened it. Inside sat remnants of another life. A tattered journal warped from moisture. A faded varsity patch. A bundle of old photographs bound together with twine. And beneath them—The necklace.
Jackie recoiled so hard she nearly dropped the box. Even after all these years, the sight of it made bile rise in her throat. Her breathing became ragged instantly. Snow crunching beneath boots.
Blood soaking into fabric. A voice whispering through firelight. Girls kneeling. Girls starving. Jackie slammed the lid shut. Tears blurred her vision as she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. “You’re not her anymore,” she whispered fiercely to herself.
But the words felt hollow. Because deep down, buried beneath the wife and the mother and the woman who laughed in the yard tonight…that girl was still alive.
Waiting.
Jackie wiped harshly at her face before standing abruptly, clutching the box tightly against her chest. Then she turned toward the barn.
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