It Matters To Me (The Wandering Hearts Book 2) (27 page)

Another time Aiden was explaining to a local street vendor that it was actually a compliment for him to photograph him while he cooked. The vendor did not see the logic in Aiden’s explanation. He explained he’s a photographer and that he likes to tell stories with his images. He was eager to tell the story of such an amazing chef by documenting his work. The vendor, a portly gentleman with thinning black hair, proceeded to drop his trousers, mooning Aiden and informing him to ‘document this.’

Every day this job is something new. Another adventure waiting for me— an adventure that includes Aiden. When I started this journey, I couldn’t have ever imagined all the interesting people I would meet or how fun it would be. Editing is probably my least favorite part of the job, and I will still take editing photographs any day over any job I’d ever done.

I gulp in a huge breath of air and stand, beginning to undress. I see the light blinking on the room phone. Assuming it’s a message from Aiden telling me he misses me already, as he so often loves to do, I eagerly pick it up and learn I have four missed messages.

The first message is my mother. She says my cell is going directly to voicemail.
Yes, that’s usually what a cell phone does when the owner doesn’t want to be disturbed.

Message two is again my mother. She claims it’s urgent, and that I need to call her. When I hear her panicked voice on the third message, my thoughts immediately go to my dad, and I worry something has happened. She’s still too cryptic for me to find out anything pertinent from her messages.

Then I play the fourth and final message.
‘Well since apparently you’re never going to call me back, I guess I will have to tell you in a voicemail.’
She pauses. My mother often does this for dramatic effect, but this is different. I can hear it in her breathing. Something is really wrong.
‘Ben has been in an accident at work. He’s in the hospital. Call me, Kenzie.’

I drop the phone. Ben. I haven’t thought about him in so long. An accident. What does that even mean? He’s a mechanic. What could possibly land him in the hospital?

Reaching down, I pick up the receiver and tap the lever on the phone until I get a signal. Dialing the front desk, I ask them to connect me with my mother’s number. It’s the longest any phone call has ever taken to connect.

I try to speak when I hear my mother’s voice, but nothing comes out.

“Kenzie? Is that you?” she asks, not waiting. Again I open my mouth, but still nothing. She’s yelling now, “Kenzie?”

I swallow, and force my lips to move. “Is he okay?” My voice is shaking. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.

“He’s alive,” my mother rasps out.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means he’s not dead,” she quips, angry now.

“Mom!”

“He was at work yesterday when a lift in the shop failed. He could hear the hydraulics giving out, so he tried to beat it, and it pinned him.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, they said he’d be dead for sure if he hadn’t reacted as quickly as he did.”

“Oh my God, he’s been bitching to his dad for a year about that damn thing,” I huff and breathe a breath of relief. “At least he’s going to be okay.”

“Oh, sweetie—” my mom pauses.

“What is it?” My heart stops as the panic floods back in.

“He’s far from okay.”

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t woken up yet. There was internal bleeding— it’s just too soon to know.” It’s the most empathetic my mother has ever sounded, which makes the information sting all the more.

“To know what?” She doesn’t answer me. “They don’t know if he’s going to live?”

“They don’t know anything,” my mom explains. “Why wouldn’t you answer when I called?”

“Really? I don’t need you digging into me right now.”

“All I’m saying is I got you that damn calling plan so I could reach you.”

“Because every time you call me you just want to nag me about coming home!” I snap. “Jesus. Ben.” I suck in a sharp breath of air, my thoughts switching back to the idea of him lying in a hospital bed.

“Look, don’t flip out, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Keep your stinking phone on, will you?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I hear something.”

“Should I call the hospital?” I ask.

“Everything is so crazy there right now, I’d just wait if I were you,” she answers.

“Okay,” I reply. “Promise you’ll call the second you hear something.”

“Of course, sweetie. Just try and get some rest, all right?” My mom still has no grasp of the time difference or the fact that at this precise moment it’s only five-thirty in the evening here.

“I will,” I say, not in any frame of mind to try and explain once again how time zones work.

I
KNOCK ON HER DOOR.
I’ve been dying to see what she’s wearing. When I told her we were invited to a nice dinner at the home of some local friends, Kenzie had looked terrified. After a little bit of prying and pulling, I soon discovered this was because she was ill-prepared for such an occasion. Under the assumption she was on a one-week business trip to the African backcountry, Kenzie wisely only packed what she calls her “safari wear.”

If that, in and of itself, wasn’t adorable enough, when I offered her my credit card to go and purchase a dress from one of the local shops, she refused. She wouldn’t allow me to spend money on her in such a way. I told her it was a business write-off, but she wouldn’t be swayed. It was only when I agreed to withhold the cost from her future pay that she relented.

The door finally opens, and I frown when I see Kenzie wearing exactly what I had left her in an hour ago. My stomach sinks when I catch sight of her ruddy cheeks.

“Have you been crying?” I breathe the words desperately. I reach out and wrap my arms around her instinctively. This only serves to make her start crying again.

Stepping inside her room, I guide her to the bed, taking her arm to help her sit. Quickly I sit next to her, placing a hand around her waist. “Kenzie, you have to tell me what’s wrong. Has someone hurt you?”

She shakes her head, trying to catch her breath through the sobs, but she can’t. I see a brightly colored blue dress across the room, strewn across the back of a chair.

“Did something happen while you were dress shopping?” I ask as a million terrible scenarios run through my mind.

“No,” she finally screeches through heaving breaths. “Nothing happened to me. It’s Ben,” she manages at last.

“Ben?” I ask, bewilderment consuming me. “Your ex-boyfriend Ben?”

She nods.

“Something has happened to Ben?” I press.

She nods again, giving in to a handful of more sobs. I turn toward her, moving my knee up onto her bed and take both her hands into mine. “Okay, just try to take a few deep breaths and tell me what happened.”

Her pupils grow as her eyes widen in the dimly lit room. I feel wrecked. I want to comfort and reassure her. I want to be strong for her, but I can’t even figure out what the hell has happened.

“Did someone call?” I ask, trying to help her navigate the information rushing through her brain.

She nods, sniffs, and finally gives me a coherent answer, “My mom.”

“And she told you something happened to Ben?” I clarify.

She swallows before sucking in another audible breath. “She said one of the lifts at the shop collapsed on him.”

“Oh God,” the words escape my lips before I can stop them. The glare in her eyes tells me they revealed to her just how awful the situation was for the man.

She begins to tremble, and I squeeze her hands. “Look at me, baby.” She does as I ask her, “Did your mother know if he was going to be okay?”

She shakes her head. “They don’t know. She said it was too soon to know anything. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I should be doing something.”

“You should be,” I answer firmly, standing and moving over to the closet to grab her duffle bag.

“What?” she watches from the bed.

“Let’s get you packed and on the first flight out of here.” I don’t wait for her to respond as I unzip the bag and start to place her belongings inside.

She’s shaking her head, a confused expression on her face. “I don’t understand.”

“You need to go. You have to be there,” I assure her.

“But—” she hesitates, blinking repeatedly, “we broke up.”

“Baby, he’s obviously still important to you. You need to be there. I’ll stay a couple of days, finish the project we’re on, and then I’ll follow on another flight. Okay?”

“What if his family doesn’t want me there?” she asks.

“Kenzie, you’re incredible, they still love you, and it will bring everyone a little bit of peace if they see you,” I assure her.

“Aiden.” The way she says my name causes me to drop what I’m doing and walk directly to her. I fall to my knees and kiss her gently on the cheek.

Looking into her eyes, I say in an almost whisper, “If you don’t go, and something happens, you will always regret it. I won’t let you carry that. You’re going, okay?”

Her mouth falls open, and she silently agrees.

“Y
OU OKAY?”
A
IDEN ASKS, ENTWINING
his fingers with mine. I pull my attention back from my random thoughts and focus on his concerned eyes.

“Huh?” I breathe. A strand of his hair is hanging in front of one of his eyes. Looking back at me, he uses his free hand to pull it back on top of his head. “Oh, yeah, sorry, just thinking.”

“About?” he presses.

I shrug, hesitant to tell him that I’m scared. I’m scared of so many things and that in and of itself frightens me. I am terrified that Ben might be hurt a lot worse than my mother let on. I am afraid of how it will make me feel seeing him again. I ache at the thought of being away from Aiden. I am scared of what it means to have all of these random thoughts about two different men. I’m not good at love. I’m certain I would be very terrible at loving two men.

I exhale and force a grin. “I hate flying.” Though my answer is honest, it’s not the answer to the question he asked.

He gently squeezes my hand. “I’m so sorry I can’t be on that flight with you, babe.”

“It’s weird isn’t it?” I ask, determined to keep my focus on the here and now. “Do you realize we haven’t spent a night apart in what, at least six weeks? God, maybe more?”