Page 11 of Wanting What's Wrong

Trent scoffs, shooting me an icy look, but a second later it’s melted away.

“Stop being so fucking hard-headed. Youwilltake the money. Youwilllive in the house. You will let me take care of you.”

A wave of relief bubbles up in me. I blow out a horse-breath as I come to a stop in front of a blooming magnolia putting the Jeep in neutral and pull on the squeaky parking break. “Fine.”

“Atta girl,” he grins, running his tongue over his teeth, making my head spin. “Now, let’s go check it out. I want this to be something we do together. See our new home for the first time, just you and me.”

I switch off the ignition and come around to his side, watching him wince as he shifts his body through the passenger door. He’s tense, tight with pain, and rock-solid as a statue.

The limo driver starts our way, but Trent waves him off, pointing to a guesthouse bigger than our family home and telling him to stand down until further notice.

Then he drapes his arm over my shoulders again and we move down the cut stone walkway and onto the expansive porch filled with pots and pots of pink impatiens and petunias. Trent pops a code into the digital lock and the door clicks open.

“Together.” He nods inside. “We step through this door together.”

My insides tangle more tightly as we both place our right foot inside the house. The tall ceilings and plush carpets are lush and luxurious. It looks like a spread from Town & Country or a Ralph Lauren ad. The air is cool, with a hint of eucalyptus and lilies.

We move forward in silence, through the foyer which is big enough to host a party. It’s so quiet I can hear Trent breathing and the flick, flick of my flip flops as we explore this unknown and unfamiliar grandeur.

“It’s so clean.” He says his eyes lingering along the floor.

“Fits you. Your room was always the opposite of mine. Order.” I point to his belly then to mine. “Chaos.”

“I love your chaos.” He blinks running his gaze up and down as my body’s ability to regulate my internal temperature goes haywire.

By the time we come through to the kitchen with its soaring beamed ceilings and a deep blue and gray granite island with seven bar stools I need a breath. It feels odd and uncomfortable somehow. I shrink back, wanting to be small and unnoticed, unlike this place, which demands attention.

“Trent. This is too much.”

He gives me a little squeeze. “Not even close. And I had some stuff brought over for you. I had the attorney’s office put it all upstairs. But if it’s not right, we’ll go shopping and I’ll have your apartment packed up and moved over soon as well. There should also be an Amex for you in your room. We will set up a bank account for you too.”

I blink, attempting to reconcile with this new world of possibility.

I have so much to say but all I can manage is, “I appreciate it.”

So lame. So formal. Impersonal, but there’s a part of me that believes this is a dream. It will evaporate as soon as I get comfortable. From the kitchen, we step through a dining room that seats twenty, then we loop back to the foyer.

“And just one more thing.” He pauses by the big, sweeping staircase. “Give me your keys to that shitbox outside. It’s not safe. We’ll have the driver take you where you need to go until we get you a new ride. He’s a buddy of mine. He’ll take care of you. I’m not letting you drive one more mile in that fucking death trap. You’re not going to be in danger on my watch.”

Danger. God, if he only knew about the danger. If only he knew all that was going on. But he is right I can’t keep living in the sort of danger I have been. And it doesn’t matter if it wasfrom my stupid Jeep or darker forces driving a big black Mercedes. Either way, I relieved, deep down, not to be alone anymore.

“Okay.” I hand over theHello, Kittykeychain and smile at the sharp contrast of the smiling pink cat face in his enormous rough palm. “Deal.”

He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Let’s go check out upstairs.”

The primary suite is somehow more decadent than what we’ve seen so far. A huge four-poster bed with crisp sheets, and beautiful modern art on the walls. It’s warm and rich and fresh.

I slip off my flip-flops, the urge to feel the white carpet between my toes suddenly urgent somehow. Trent peels off his fatigues jacket tossing it on a plush chocolate brown cushioned chair next to the bed. He looks so handsome in his gear. He looks so handsome in anything, really…

Until I see what is below.

The tight white tee-shirt shows the carved indents of his lean muscle. But it also shows the thick white bandages that cover swaths of his chest and belly.

My heart cracks in half looking at him. The reality that I could have lost him is suddenly a raw wound of my own.

He’s the only family I have. My vision blurs thinking of a life without him. His tattooed arms are thick with muscle. His body is so lean, so hard. Almost too hard, from too much work and not enough to eat.

I missed him so much and not until this moment did I let myself really feel how empty I was without him.

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