A Little Too Far (14 page)

I grab my bags and clear customs, then head for the exit. I spot Dad and Julie in the sea of people waiting outside security before they see me. Julie nudges Dad and points when she finally sees me on the escalator. She’s bouncing on her toes by the time I clear the secured area.

“Oh, honey!” she says, wrapping me in her slender arms. “Oh, you look so beautiful! Oh my word, I can’t tell you how much we’ve missed you!”

Dad takes my backpack and my roller bag from me as I peel myself out of Julie’s embrace. He gives me a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How was your trip, kiddo?”

“I had to change terminals in Heathrow, which was a pain in the ass because I had to go back through security, but otherwise, no problems.”

“We expect a full report on your first semester abroad on the trip home!” Julie says, bouncing on her toes again.

Dad starts toward the elevators, and Julie and I follow. “You already know most everything,” I tell her.

She grasps my hand as we walk. “We know you’ve seen a lot of sights and you like your classes, but we haven’t heard much about the people you’ve met or friends you’ve made.”

I shrug. “There really aren’t many. I mean, the people are great, but I’ve only really gotten to know a few.”

“Like your deacon?” she asks with a squeeze of my hand as we step into the elevator to the parking garage. “It seems he’s been a godsend.” She lets out a little giggle. “Literally.”

“He’s been great,” I say. “The school tours we’re doing have given me the opportunity to get up close and personal with Vatican artwork. It’s been incredible.” I’ve never told them how the whole thing came about—as my penance for sleeping with Trent—and I hope they never think to ask.

“I want to hear all about everything you’ve done together.” She presses her shoulder into mine as the elevator opens, and we follow Dad into the garage. “I still can’t believe he got you to climb the St. Peter’s dome.”

There’s a tingle in my stomach with the memory. “Me either, but it was amazing.”

When we find the car, Dad loads my luggage in. Julie is grilling me for information before we’ve even left the garage—everything I learned in my classes, what foods are my favorites, have I learned any Italian—and I answer her questions as best I can. She asks again about friends, and I tell her about Abby, leaving out the parts about drunken clubbing and Italian porn. I’m relieved when she finally runs out of questions and starts telling me about things at home—until she gets to Trent. She clasps her hands in front of her face excitedly. “He’ll be home on Wednesday and we’ll all be together again.” She looks at me over her shoulder. “I know he’s dying to see you.”

“What?” It’s out of my mouth before I can rein it back.

“He can’t wait to see you,” she says, like I just didn’t hear her.

I heard her. I’m just having a hard time believing it. He hasn’t texted me in weeks. “Me too,” I say.

Chapter Fourteen

I
SPEND
T
UESDAY
trying to pretend everything’s how it’s always been. I sleep late, trying to get adjusted to the time change, and because none of my friends are home yet, I spend the rest of my time going through pictures with my parents. But I can’t stop thinking about how this is going to go. I have the words, but I don’t know how Trent is going to react to them.

When I hear his motorcycle pull into the driveway Wednesday afternoon, my insides are wound so tight that I’m sure I’m going to throw up.

“Lexie!” Julie calls up the stairs, “Come on down! Trent is here!”

I focus on breathing and move to the window. Trent cuts the engine and pulls off his helmet. His chocolate curls are shorter than I’ve seen them in a while, and as he lifts his leg over the bike and pulls his duffel off the back, it hits me that he’s bigger. As in, bulging biceps and pecs stretching the cotton of his Army green T-shirt. My heart thrums just watching him.

“Lexie!” Julie calls again.

“Coming!” I pull myself away from the window as Trent strides up the front walk to the door, and before I’m even on the stairs, I hear Julie calling out the door to him. I tread slowly down the stairs, and when I spill into the foyer, Julie has Trent wrapped in a bear hug. He lifts his eyes, and, as they connect with mine, an electric jolt hits me, just like when I stuck Dad’s keys in the light socket when I was a kid I smooth my hair down, sure it must be standing on end.

“Hey, Mom,” he says, his eyes still on me. His forehead crinkles in a question, but I don’t know what question he’s asking. “I’m not the long-lost offspring. That would be Lexie.”

“I just worry about you so much on that death trap,” she says, shooting a glare out the door at his bike. “I wish you’d get a car.”

“I’m fine, it’s not a death trap, and I don’t want a car,” he answers as he pries himself out of her grasp and pushes the door closed.

Dad gives him a quick man hug, two pats on the shoulder, then break. “Good to have you home, son. Need help with your things?”

“Thanks, Randy, but all I have is this,” Trent says, holding up his duffel.

“Lexie!” Julie says. “Come give Trent a hug.”

I move slowly from where I’m frozen at the bottom of the stairs to where he stands, near the door, staring at me with a look that seems to say either, “Do I really have to do this?” or, “Does she really want to do this?”

I wish I knew which.

“Hey,” he says, pulling me tight into his arms. “Missed you.”

“Me too,” I say, but it’s automatic, because all I can think about is the warm, spicy smell of him and the feel of his body—his actual body, not just some fantasy—pressed against mine. I can’t stop my fingers from sweeping over his biceps, memorizing the contours of his muscles, and I feel his goose bumps. “You look . . . great.”

“Trent’s decided to get serious about his training,” Dad says, giving him a pat on the back.

“Oh?” I look at Trent, and his eyes drop to the floor.

“He’s moved up a weight class with the extra bulk, and he’s still undefeated this season.”

Trent shrugs. “It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a
huge
deal.” Dad beams. “His coach thinks he may be looking at a top four finish at the NCAA Championships in March.”

“Wow.”

Trent’s jaw is tight, and his neck and ears turn pink. “It’s really not a big deal.” He steps past me toward the stairs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m going to shower and unpack.”

“Okay,” Julie says. “Dinner’s in an hour. I made your favorite. Beef stew,” she tells his back, as he climbs the stairs.

He doesn’t answer, and, a few seconds later, his door clicks closed.

I climb the stairs behind him and hesitate at my door, trying to figure out what just happened. The way he looked at me, I thought maybe . . . But then his mood shifted, and now I’m not sure what to do.

I find myself at his door. I lift my hand to knock, but instead, lay my palm flat and listen, my heart rate approaching the speed of sound. I start to knock again, but back away from the door.

Not yet. Now’s not the right time.

I slip through my door and flop onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. When I hear Trent head to the bathroom and turn on the shower a minute later, I listen and go back over what I want to say. I finally have it perfect, but what if he doesn’t want to hear it?

When Julie calls up the stairs that dinner’s ready, I’m still lying on my bed. Trent has been rustling around his room, and I’ve been following his movements as he unpacks, hoping for what feels like a good time to go in. I never got up the nerve.

He startles me when we both open our doors at the same time.

“After you,” he says with a nod at the stairs.

“Yeah, okay . . . sorry.”
Just shoot me.

I feel him behind me as we move silently down the stairs, and I’d swear his gaze has weight. It presses heavy into my back. We settle into our spots as Julie shuttles bowls of stew from the stove to the table.

“Smells great, Mom,” Trent says.

Julie lowers herself into her seat, and I realize from the quiver of her lower lip that she’s near tears. “It’s just so wonderful to have everyone home. I wish this wasn’t such a rushed trip. The holidays are meant for family.” She scowls. “Why would they schedule a tournament between Christmas and New Year?”

Trent shrugs. “It’s the same every year.”

“Well, it’s not right.”

Dad gestures to the living room, where the sounds of a football game waft from the TV. “There are bowl games from the middle of December to the first week in January. None of those athletes get to go home for the holidays.”

Julie turns her scowl on him. “That doesn’t make it right.”

“So, Lexie,” Dad says, obviously trying to change the subject, “tell Trent about all your Roman escapades.”

“Oh, well . . . I’m doing tours for kids at the Vatican Museums . . .” I look at Trent, whose eyes are on me, “but you knew that already.”

“I think it’s wonderful that this priest—”

“Deacon, Julie,” I interrupt. “Alessandro is a transitional deacon. He won’t become a priest until April.”

“Oh, of course. Anyway, I think it’s wonderful he’s taken Lexie under his wing,” she continues. She looks at me. “He’s shown you a good deal of the city, hasn’t he?”

I nod. “Yeah. He’s been really great.”

“You’ll have to show Trent all your pictures later,” Dad says through a bite of stew.

I glance at Trent, who’s looking at me out from under his long, dark lashes with slightly narrowed eyes, as if he’s angry . . . or maybe in pain. “Yeah . . . I will.”

“How did the brackets work out for the tournament?” Dad asks Trent, his curiosity obviously overriding his fear of Julie’s wrath.

Trent’s jaw tightens, and his gaze shifts to a potato that he’s pushing through his stew with the back of his spoon. “We’re in the top half with Eastern Michigan, Penn, and Oregon, so it’s going to be tough.” His gaze flicks to mine, and there’s something a little desperate in it. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about wrestling. In another world, he would have told me what was wrong without my even having to ask, but in this new, awkward world, I’m not asking, and he’s not telling.

Dad starts in on different wrestlers and their stats, and Trent focuses all his attention on smashing the carrots and potatoes in his bowl into mush.

After dinner, I help Dad clean up the kitchen, and when I go back upstairs, Trent’s door is closed. I almost go back into my room, but a shot of courage carries me to his door. I knock.

No answer.

He’s probably listening to his iPod. Or maybe he heard me. Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to me.

What if he just doesn’t want to talk to me?

I breathe deep and lift my hand, hesitating for just a second before knocking harder.

“Yeah,” he calls.

I crack open the door and poke my head through. Trent’s guitar leans on the stand in the corner, which surprises me. He usually takes it to school, but it definitely wasn’t on his bike when he got home a little while ago. He’s propped against his pillows, texting someone.

Sam? Are they sexting? My pounding heart stalls for a second before regaining its erratic rhythm.

“Warcraft?” I ask when he looks up at me.

He pulls his earbuds out, draping the cord over his neck, and I hear some pounding rhythm wafting out of them—something sharp and angry. He hesitates for a long heartbeat, as if this is something he has to think about it. “Yeah, Warcraft would be good,” he finally says with a nod.

I slip through the door and close it behind me. If I’m going to say what I want to, I definitely don’t want Dad or Julie overhearing. I chew my cheek as I pick up a remote and settle onto the foot of his bed.

He queues up the game, and when he joins me on the bed, he spares me a glance. “How were your flights?”

“Good. Everything was good.”

“Good,” he says stiffly, navigating Jethro over the lip of the cave entrance to the forbidden grotto, engaging the orcs guarding it, who explode in a shower of purple guts.

I bring Galidrod online, and he joins Jethro. We shoot orcs for a while in silence. I take the chance to study Trent’s face, hoping for a better feel for what’s going on with him, but he’s giving nothing away. He’s never been a mystery to me before. I’ve never had trouble reading him, but everything changed that night. Somehow, getting closer than humanly possible drove us father apart than we’ve ever been.

His eyes flick to me as Jethro finishes off the last orc. “You’re chewing your cheek. What’s up?”

Damn. He knows me too well. “I was really hoping we’d get a chance to talk before you leave.” Shit. My voice is shaking.

He looks at me and gives a small nod, his gaze so intense that it unnerves me. “What do you want to talk about?”

Just say it
.
I’m in love with you.
“What’s the deal with wrestling?” This is so not the direction I wanted to go, but it’s the only thing I can force out of my mouth.

He pauses the game, puts down his remote, and rubs his palms on his jeans. “What about it?”

“You wanted to quit, and now all of a sudden you’re, what? The Rock or something? What’s with that?”

His gaze burns all the way through my retinas as his fingers curl into fists on his knees. “I am trying to forget what we did, Lexie,” he says through a tight jaw. “Wrestling gives me . . .” He trails off and shakes his head, his face pinching. Is that expression regret? Chagrin? Disgust? What? “It gives me a way to do that,” he finally finishes.

“Oh.” Now it’s more than just my voice shaking. It feels like the temperature in here just dropped ten degrees, and I’m shaking all over.

He’s trying to forget. He wants to forget.

The doorbell rings downstairs, and I hear Julie yell, “Coming!” as Trent finally drops his intense gaze. “Listen, Lexie. I know this is what you—”

But that’s as far as he gets before Julie is calling up the stairs, “Lexie! Sam’s here!”

My stomach lurches. Sam? She wasn’t supposed to be home until tomorrow.

“What were you going to say?” I ask, needing him to finish. I need to know exactly where I stand with him.

“Oh! But I’m sure you want to say hi to Lexie too,” I hear Julie say in the weighty silence between my question and Trent’s answer. Sam mutters some response, and Julie sounds annoyed as she calls up the stairs. “Trent! Come on down!”

His gaze flicks to the door, and he stands, tugging his earbud cord from around his neck and tossing his iPod to the bed. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

But it does matter.
God,
it matters.

I follow him down the stairs, and just as I reach the bottom, Sam throws herself into Trent’s arms and gives him a wet smack on the lips. “I missed you, gorgeous.” She’s totally beaming. I’ve never seen her like this before.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi, Lexie!” Sam squeals when she lets Trent go, but she won’t take her hands off him to move to where I am. “You look amazing, gurl! Please tell me that glow is because you’re in love with some fabulous Italian!”

I shrug. “Sorry, no. No fabulous Italians,” I say, and Trent’s gaze lifts from the floor to me for just a second. “I thought you were coming home tomorrow.”

“We had a paper due for my communications final, which was all I had today, so I handed it in early and came home to surprise a certain someone,” she says, grinning like a love-struck fool and squeezing the arm that’s around Trent’s waist tighter. “Right now, I have plans for your stepbrother, but we’ll have to catch up soon. Maybe after Trent leaves for the tournament?”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.” I hear my voice say it, but it’s like my body’s just going through the motions on autopilot because all I can think is,
Please don’t sleep with her!
My mind screams it over and over. But I can’t say it.

“ ’Kay. I’ll give you a call.” She lets go of Trent just long enough to give my shoulders a quick squeeze. “Don’t wait up for us,” she whispers in my ear, and my throat tightens.

“All right. Bye.”

Sam grabs his hand, and they slip out the door. Trent’s eyes lift to mine just as she pulls him through, and there’s a question there that I just can’t read.

Then they’re gone, the door thudding shut behind them.

And that’s it. There goes any chance I had to say what I wanted to say. All I can do is stand here, staring at the closed door as all my insides explode in a shower of purple guts.