Phoenix by Cecilia London

his new commander. Jack didn’t know much about any of their intentions but he would fucking well take a tiny concession from any or all of them.
    “I think that’s all for today,” he said. “Head over to my office in the main administration building and Schroeder will help you settle in with supplies and uniforms.”
    The men didn’t say a word, filtering out of the room behind his advisors. Fuck . His advisors. He’d have to deal with them later too, deal with whatever other issues they hadn’t addressed during what was a rather pointless first encounter with their newest recruits. But he wasn’t going to think about that as he headed to the other side of the base.
    *              *              *              *              *
    Jack stood outside the door to her apartment, pulling his keys out of his pocket. He could knock. That would be the polite thing to do. The proper thing. But she wouldn’t answer, not if she was as upset as he thought she was. And she shouldn’t be alone, not with so many emotions on her rapidly crowding plate.
    Schroeder had almost spoken up when Jack asked for a spare key to her quarters that morning, but after close to a year he knew better than to question most of his commander’s decisions, even if they were shitty.
    He knew what everyone thought. The rumors started to spread from the instant Caroline arrived on the base. Everyone knew what happened, everyone knew she blew up at him, and everyone knew she showed up with a group of men who seemed very attached to her. Less than 24 hours had passed and every single soldier thought his wife was dragging him around by the dick. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t care even if he walked in on her fucking her new boyfriend.
    Okay, maybe then he’d care. Just a little. Even though the man had deferred to him.
    Jack turned the key in the lock, opening the door a crack, listening carefully. Nothing. At first he suspected she wasn’t there. No. She didn’t like to cry in front of other people. She would be somewhere alone. And she had no other place to go. Not yet. Caroline had a spot waiting for her in his bed but that didn’t seem too high on her list of priorities.
    She would be here. Alone.
    He pushed his way inside. The living room was empty and as soon as he inched his way closer to the bedroom, he heard the sound. He’d always hated it when she cried. When she was upset she’d do her best to keep it to herself or let it out when he wasn’t around. Even in her grief, she was always thinking of his needs. But she thought she was alone. That she could pour herself out when no one was listening. The notion caused him to feel a twinge of guilt.
    She was curled up in a ball on the bed, making terrible, pitiful mewling noises, doing her best to muffle them with the pillow trapped in her arms. Agonizing sounds, worse than when they’d told the girls goodbye.
    Jack remembered watching his mother shake with sadness at a funeral when one of his young cousins had passed away from an undiagnosed heart defect. They had not been close and his mother couldn’t stand the child’s parents, who had always been particularly disdainful of his father. He asked her later why she was so upset. “No mother should ever have to bury her child,” she said.
    He hadn’t understood then. But he understood now.
    Maybe Caroline would let him hold her. And he could tell her it would be all right. That they’d get through it together. A nice, neat set of lies that she’d never believe. But he didn’t care. He sat down on the bed and put his hand on her shoulder. She spun around so fast that she almost knocked him over.
    “What are you doing in here?” she asked.
    An accusatory, angry question. Jack wanted to reach for her but scooted back instead. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
    She swiped at her eyes. “How did you get in my room? I locked the door.”
    There was no point in lying. She’d