Page 19 of Wanting What’s Wrong

Fifteen

Kat

I watch him dress as I wrap the sheet around my body, waves of dark emotions raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

He’s still who I grew up with—same body, same face. But, God, it is so much more now. So intrinsic. So intimate. So final.

But what did I expect? You don’t just lay down and let your step-brother take your virginity and expect life to go on unchanged.

It’s not like we need to get to know one another as a new couple. We know nearly everything about each other—every habit, every quirk. Our mutual history already ties us together tighter than any other couple I’ve ever known.

But still, there is the darkness. The forbidden fruit of us together and I know, somehow, it can’t be forever.

Something so wrong can’t last.

Can it ?

Trent’s eyebrows furrow as he pulls on his pants. I hear the squeaky brakes of a truck.

“Movers,” he says, with a glance over his shoulder at me. “I told them to come this morning. You tell them where you want your stuff—don’t you dare lift a finger, you hear me? And if you need to go anywhere, Edward takes you. Got it?”

“If Edward is going to be here to take me anywhere, how are you getting to the attorney?”

“Babygirl, I don’t think you understand how much money we have now. Edward will be here for you, I have another driver picking me up. We’ll get out and buy a couple vehicles as soon as we have time. So, you don’t lift a finger, you hear me?”

Looking at him, feeling his protection and his care, it is just like a dream. He is a dream. Men like him, they just shouldn’t exist in reality. Movies, books, billboards, sure. But not flesh and blood. Not for real.

Looking at him now, I feel my old insecurities, fresh and raw. You don’t deserve that. But in this dream, everything is upside down. He’s right here, right in front of me, full of fire and love. I couldn’t have dreamed this up, no matter how hard I tried.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over so easily. “You’re awful quick with the orders, Colonel Reynolds. I’m not one of your troops. I can take care of my own shit, okay?”

His eyes narrow at me. Intense and disapproving.

I give him a quick smile, but it doesn’t soften the hardness in his eyes. But I don’t budge either. My independence is what drives me. I’ve never relied on anybody. Not even him.

He takes a step into me. “You’re my family. And my baby. I’m here to help you. Get that through your beautiful fucking head, okay? Stop being so fucking stubborn and accept my help.”

The certainty in his voice, the confidence, it makes my independence waver. But only a little. “I am fine on my own, Trent. ”

The muscles in his jaw flex and clench. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

I shimmy over to the end of the massive bed and Trent looks down, giving me a kiss on the forehead, holding my shoulders still. His thumb and forefinger grip my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

He holds my stare for one beat. Two. Just enough to tell things have changed between us. “You need to get used to a new life, Kitty Kat. I’m not shitting you. I’m your new Daddy and you’re going to learn to love it.”

Daddy. Daddy. It’s no less powerful to think of that word now that we’re outside the heat of the moment. Deep inside me, it spins my belly and makes a shiver crawl up and down my spine.

“My toes curl every time you say that word.”

“Good,” he growls.

And in that growl, I hear something new. A deep well of something more, something darker, simmering below the surface.

And I don’t know if I’m ready for that at all.

“We’ll see. You’re not my commanding officer, Trent. And I don’t know if you’re my Daddy. But fine. Let them move my stuff. I won’t stop them.”

He flares his nostrils and shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. “I like you fucking bratty like that. A lot. I just hope to fuck the drive to the attorney’s office is long enough to let my dick calm down.”

I look down at the front of his pants and sure enough, there it is—the thick pulsing outline of his cock, trying to escape from his jeans. And all because of me.

A quick ripple of desire tickles me as I look at it. And I wonder how in the world he can be hard again. So soon.

“Get out of here,” I say with a playful shove. “I can barely walk as it is. ”

He takes my hand from his chest and kisses my palm. “Yellow dress today. I saw it in your apartment and brought it here myself.”

I blink back my surprise. “You did?”

“Fucking right. No way I was letting the movers touch that. Wear it for me today. White panties. No thongs; no lace. Nothing slutty. Slutty isn’t bad, but there’s a time and a place for my baby to be a slut for me. Today, I need my baby girl to be pure for her Daddy, we clear?”

The wave of emotions inside me takes the words right out of my head. I want him. So much. But this is so, so wrong. I swallow hard, knowing somehow that I have to answer. And I have to answer in the right way. “Yes, Daddy. We’re clear.”

He likes that. I can see it. He hits me with a cocky wink and then gives me a greedy kiss on the cheek. His stubble scrapes my flesh a little and I nearly whimper in pleasure.

“See you later, baby girl,” he says, and then turns and leaves with his trademark Trent swagger.

As I hear his footfalls grow farther away, I let myself crumple back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling fan slowly spinning above.

The noise of the movers downstairs puts me on edge. I don’t like anybody being in this house with me, because the more people that know I am here, the bigger the risk of Rominovski finding me.

Finding us.

I watch the fan spin, trying to settle my breathing, calm my anxiety. But I can’t. The looming dread is inescapable. Keeping secrets from Trent before last night would’ve been difficult. But now?

Impossible. There’s just no way I’ll be able to hide the truth from him forever. And when I can’t anymore, then what?

The movers move my stuff with military precision, and when I try to help—to grab a box, or my drying rack, or whatever—I get nothing but a curt, “We don’t need your help, ma’am,” before they get on with business.

Feeling a little awkward and weirdly pampered, I make my way into the kitchen for a cherry yogurt. There, at the kitchen table, I find Edward, looking at his phone.

“Morning, soldier,” he says with a friendly smile.

“Morning to you, soldier,” I say back. The cool rush of the fridge air soothes my cheeks and body, still blushing and flushed from when I was in Trent’s arms.

And suddenly, at the thought of him, not even the breath of the fridge is enough to keep me cool.

I push away my fantasies—no, my memories —and make my way to the table where I join Edward.

I dip my spoon into the yogurt and look around; the house is perfect, decorated with warm tones of cream and white.

Modern but dappled with wood and some antiques here and there. Instagram-ready in every way.

“It’s good being here, knowing this is Trent’s place.” Edward leans back comfortably in his chair. “You know that he and I were in hell together, I’m guessing.”

I shoot him a puzzled look with my yogurt halfway to my lips.

“SEAL training,” Edward clarifies with a laugh. “Not actual hell. Well, I mean, fuck. Kind of.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t know.”

Edward nods. “Yeah. I got hurt, bad. Broke my leg in three places. We were out in the Blue Ridge Mountains, East Jesus of nowhere. Not a fucking thing out there except mosquitoes. We were on a survival night. I went down the side of a hill, lost my pack, my beacon. The whole fucking deal.”

“Oh god,” I say, now again with my spoon hovering.

Edward nods. “No shit. Shock set in. I was so fucking cold. My leg bleeding, bone sticking out. Four miles to safety, easy. I was losing consciousness but somehow managed to call out one last time.”

“And? They found you?”

“ They didn’t do shit. Trent did. I was going in and out but I remember him saying, ‘Hold on. You’re not going to die tonight.

Not on my watch.’ He tied my leg with a field support and carried me out of there.

By himself. ” Edward looks down at his own body.

He’s a big guy. A very big guy. As big as Trent or maybe even bigger.

“Carried me back. Made sure I was stabilized. And then went back to finish his fucking mission. Unbelievable.”

I swallow hard, staring at the polished table. That’s my brother he’s talking about. My lover. My Daddy. My everything. Unbelievable is right.

“And you two stayed in touch?”

Edward takes a sip of his coffee. “Not really. I mean, I guess we did. Like guys do. But that experience, it bound us for life. A few weeks ago he sent me some money to get me square with my family, help me get set up in business. He’s a fucking hero, I’ll tell you that. Through and through.”

I look at the admiration in Edward’s dark eyes. Knowing Trent cares less for himself than for others. Knowing he’ll never let me or anybody else down.

“He’s special,” I say softly, my hands fidgeting with the foil lid of the yogurt container, folding it into tiny pie-slices.

I suddenly find myself feeling embarrassed, and automatically look away. My eyes land on a photograph on the mantel of Trent and me and my mom and dad. Seeing it so unexpectedly opens up a hole in my heart. I wish so much they could be here to see him again.

A wave of shame begins to bubble up now, knowing that I can never share what I have with Trent with anybody. Almost feeling grateful now that my parents are gone. Grateful that I won’t have to hide from them, too.

That thought makes me feel even more ashamed. Almost breathtakingly so.

But for all the world, we are just brother and sister. That is all. I turn to face Edward, keeping up the facade. “I’m lucky to have him as my family.”

He nods and smiles. “Hell yes, you are. And he’s a machine, besides. You know he has one of the highest kill rates in the service?”

I try to keep my face neutral. I know this is just how the military is. Some people in some professions talk about tax rates; some talk about water laws; active military soldiers talk about kill rates. But still. Still .

“No, I didn’t know.”

Edward sweeps his hand through his hair. “He’s good at what he does. I just wonder if he’ll decide to go back.”

I jerk my head around and lock my eyes on him. My heart plummets and I feel instantly queasy at even the idea of it. Go back? What the hell is he talking about?

“Why would he go back?” I ask, trying hard to keep my voice calm. But not at all sure I’m succeeding.

Edward shrugs. “His leave is two months but he has to decide. And they want him back. Pressure is on for him to stay with his team. He didn’t tell you?”

The room feels wobbly and my hands go clammy and cold. My mind spins and spins. Why didn’t he tell me? When he said he was coming home, I thought he meant he was back for good.

But what if he didn’t?

Or what if he didn’t tell me because he knew I’d lose my freaking mind at the idea of him being in danger again?

“I…” I stammer stupidly. “I’m just his little sister. He doesn’t tell me anything.” As I say the words, I feel the truth in them. And it makes me feel sicker still .

I turn to face the lake, trying to steady myself, trying to tease apart what Edward actually said from the terrible conclusions I am jumping to in my mind.

“ I wonder if he will go back” is not at all the same as Trent on a dusty Syrian rooftop, taking aim at the enemy, in mortal danger all the time.

I push my lips together and stand, smoothing the skirt of the yellow dress that Trent asked me to wear. I make my way to the mantel, to the family photos arranged there.

One of them is smaller, in a simple oval frame.

Trent is probably twelve and I’m around five and we’re standing in a pumpkin patch.

He’s looking at the camera, smiling, confident and handsome even then, even with braces and awkwardly between childhood and adolescence.

Me, on the other hand, I have my hand on my hip and I’m looking up at him.

Furious. Outraged. Mystified by this almost-teenager that had invaded my home, that played military exercises with my My Little Ponies.

But the look in my eyes, it makes me smile. If only I knew then, standing in that pumpkin patch, that he would be the one to take my virginity and capture my heart.

It all seemed so surreal.

“So, you want me to take you anywhere when they’ve finished moving your stuff?”

I close my eyes slowly, take a deep breath, and ground myself in reality as best I can. Because everything else aside—war, and love, and lust—there is something I need to do, and I need to do it as soon as I possibly can.

“Yeah. I gotta go back to the apartment really quick.”

Edward narrows his eyes. “For what? To take the baseboards? Trent and I and the movers cleaned that place out. And scared the crap out of that shitass landlord of yours, too.”

I don’t doubt that they did, on both counts. But I have to go back. For a little box, hidden behind the air vent in the bathroom, with all the evidence of what happened on that terrible night .

I know that somehow, some day, I will figure out how to get justice for Mom and Dad. And that little box is my only way to do so.

But I can’t have that little box falling into anybody else’s hands. It holds the key to my parents’ killer. And the evidence that kept my own life in jeopardy for years.

I look at Edward, keeping my gaze steady, and faking as much courage as I can muster. There’s no time to lose. I have to get back before my landlord gets his shit together and changes the locks.

“If you really want to know, I replaced all the switch plates myself. And as a point of principle, I am not letting that disgusting landlord keep them.”

Edward cocks his head. “Switch plates. Really ?”

I open the drawer in the kitchen and take out a butter knife. “ Really. So either you go with me, or I’ll find a way to go by myself. What’s it going to be?”