Page 6 of Wanting What's Wrong

But Henry had fared a lot worse. He ended up with a broken femur and a shattered jaw. He spent six weeks in the hospital with his leg in traction, drinking watered-down protein shakes from a straw, with his mouth wired up like a chicken coop.

I also remember my parents whispering, in a quietly proudway. About Trent. How he fought for me. How he stood up for me. For our family.

I remember falling asleep that night, feeling safe for the first time in a year.

My Trent. My protector.

We walk to my old beat-up Jeep, which is kept together with duct tape and prayers. Two younger soldiers follow behind us, carrying his gear, while he keeps his arm across my shoulders.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Trent says as we near my vehicle. “You’re still driving this piece of shit? I sent a car for you this morning. What the fuck, Kat?”

“Well, now you tell me!” I say, opening the door for him. “Therewasa limo waiting, but it scared the shit out of me, a stretch Humvee sitting out there in front of my apartment. He tried to talk to me, but I balled it into my Jeep before he could say anything. I wasn’t very nice about it either. Sorry.”

“Stubborn as ever. Besides, why are you driving this POS still? Why didn’t you buy something safe and fun with the money from the house or the little trust fund mom and dad set up?”

“Old habits, I love my Jeep” I say, then shrug on a smirk not wanting to get into the fairy tale I conjured about the ‘trust fund’ money. Luckily, the two soldiers are loading up his camo duffel bags and which distracts him for the moment. They salute Trent who returns the gesture, adding a nod, then they spin and make their way back to the hangar.

“Fine. But why the fuck did a limo scare you?”

Ugh.I shouldn’t have said that.I flutter my hand in front of my face, shaking my head. He doesn’t need to be burdened with all that right now. “Just. It was so out of the ordinary. Little ol’ Kat Reynolds, in a ride like that? Please.”

“Well, it was for you. Was supposed to be a surprise and you should have fucking ridden in it.”

“I couldn’t have afforded to even tip the driver and,youcan’t afford that.”

“Can’t I?” Trent asks, giving my shoulder a little squeeze.

I squint, examining him. For the first time I notice that on his wrist isn’t the old digital Casio he used to wear. It’s tiny, but I read the ‘Paneria’ just under the ‘12’ and even with my limited knowledge of luxury brands I know this is not in a soldier’s budget.

“Come on. Thewatch, the limo? Spill it. You win the lottery while you were away?”

Trent shakes his head, running his hand down his thick stubble as I open the driver’s door. “I’ll tell you while we’re driving.” He looks down at me with that greedy, aggressive dilation in his eyes. The blue of his eyes deepens and I want to dive into them and never resurface.

“I’ve fucking missed you,” he says, eyes closing for a beat, and I swear his voice cracks, making the lump in my throat nearly give way.

“Me too,” I choke out as I climb behind the wheel with one last glance as Trent closes the door, my eyes falling down low.

The heat of the tarmac is nothing compared to the scalding wave that rushes through me. The sound of my pulse rushes in my ears, drowning out everything else.

Trent shifts in the passenger seat, tugging at his fatigues and that’s when I see it. There’s no camouflage on this planet that could hide the tent in the front of my step-brother’s pants.

Holy shit. My panties just took a direct hit.

Three

Trent

Isaw the way other guys looked at her. I saw it in their eyes. The lust. The wanting. She’s the only one who doesn’t realize what a masterpiece she is.

If I wasn’t so focused on getting the hell out of there with her, I would have removed their eyes for the offense.

She’s a fucking all-American angel with a body built for fucking. Hot as hell, sweet as sugar, and she’s my step-sister.Of courseshe is.

Fate is a motherfucker with a hella sense of humor.

Two years away from heralmostmade me forget how perfect she is. Yeah, she’d sent selfies. Yeah, I’d spent hours, achingly hard, looking at her face, thinking about that night before I left.

The sounds I heard behind her bedroom door. Her whispers to me, thinking I couldn’t hear.

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