Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“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.”