It Matters To Me (The Wandering Hearts Book 2) (11 page)

“Yeah,” I reply.
Africa. Tell her about Africa.

“Like rolling around naked on satin sheets in a pile of money adventure, or sell all your stuff and fly off to England without a plan adventure?” she asks, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Oh, well, now that you put it that way, an adventure that includes both those things would be fun.” Here it is, I think. Here’s your chance. “But maybe I’ll go to Africa instead.”

“Africa?” She catches the hint as if she were a bloodhound.

“Yeah—” I start. “So, about that. I have a bit of a surprise.”

“Oh Lord, the last time you surprised me I didn’t poop for a week.”

I laugh a loud belly laugh adding, “And statements like that are why we’re best friends and always will be.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the Bert to your Ernie, now let’s hear it.” She cuts straight through my procrastination. “What crazy thing have you cooked up and is it going to require me flying somewhere to bail you out of jail?”

“I like to think of us more as Thelma and Louise,” I correct her.

“You mean the two nut-jobs who drive off a cliff in the end?”

“Exactly!” I exclaim.

“Seems fair. Now stop avoiding the question, what’s this thing about Africa?” she asks again.

Taking a deep breath, I finally blurt out, “I got a job.”

“A job? What does Africa have to do with you getting a job? Is it in Africa or something?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And how exactly does one go about getting a job in Africa just out of the blue, if you don’t mind me asking?” Her voice is heavy with skepticism.

“Remember the photographer I did the job for?” I remind her casually.

“You mean the one who likes to take inappropriate showers in the middle of a work day in front of his employees,” she says sarcastically.

“Now wait, that wasn’t exactly in front of me and in his defense, he had slipped in a pile of puppy poo,” I say, defending my new employer.

“Something smells funny, and it’s not the puppy poo,” she pointedly adds.

“Wait a second,” I snarl. “What’s so hard to believe about him wanting me to help on this job? Did it ever cross your mind that just maybe I impressed him that much?”

“Kenz, I’m saying that you didn’t do a good job. I’m sure you were amazing, but why wouldn’t he go out and find someone more …”

“More what?” I snap. I understand what she means, and part of me even agrees with her, but it doesn’t make it sting any less.

“All I’m trying to say is that you don’t have any work history in photography, why wouldn’t he try and find someone with that skill set?”

“He likes my skill set,” I announce, my voice frank.

“I’m just hoping that’s not the only skill set he’s after,” she says as if warning me.

“Wow, so that’s what you think of me.”

“No, that’s what I think of a man I have never met, and you barely know.”

I shake my head as if to tell myself she’s wrong. “He’s not like that.” I huff. “I gotta go.”

“Where?”

“To find a liquor store and drink it,” I groan.

“Don’t be like that. You know I just worry about you.”

“Like I worried about you when you took off to England?”

“Touché. So you’re sure you want to do this?”

“So sure I went to the Southside Clinic this morning and got a Typhoid shot.”

“You hate needles,” she reminds me.

“Exactly,” I confirm before sighing. In a soft tone, I add, “I need this.”

I wait for her to say something. Maybe yell at me or explain that I could be walking into a very dangerous situation. Perhaps she’ll sound more like my mother and tell me that I should call Ben. At last, she says in a gentle voice, “Then you should go.”

“What?”

She sighs deeply. “All I know is England changed my life. If I hadn’t crossed an ocean, I think I’d still be searching for myself five years from now.”

“Oh, Anna,” I breathe.

“Just promise me you’ll check in.”

“Absolutely!” My voice cracks. “I love you, girl.”

“Like a fat kid loves cake, forever and always.”

“Damn it,” I groan.

“What’s wrong?”

“Now I want cake,” I say.

She laughs. “You better get some then, it’s feeding time anyway.”

I cringe and add, “Just so you know, it’s okay if we never discuss your udders again.”

Anna laughs a belly laugh this time. “Don’t worry, it’ll be your turn one day.”

“You’re my favorite thing, Anna, my very favorite,” I say, smiling, and know it’s true.

“Back atcha.” I hear her final words, a break in the line, and then silence.

“W
HAT DO YOU WANT ME
to say to that?” I ask, looking into Kenzie’s wide eyes.

“How about the truth?”

“You have a great ass,” I reply, careful to make sure she sees my devilish grin. She shoves my arm. I love when she tries to assert her strength, even though she knows I could easily throw her over my shoulder and carry her into the bedroom. I doubt she’d put up a fight if I tried to have my way with her.

“You’re such a pig.”

“Well, what do you expect me to say?” I ask with a shrug.

She throws her arms up into the air, and I see that fiery redhead temper flare before my eyes. “You never take me seriously.”

A wave a hand in front of my face as if it were magically imbued with the power to make me serious.

“Real funny,” she puffs a breath of air at her bangs, trying to blow them out of her face. “I need to figure out what we’re even doing.”

“I can think of a few things I’d like to do.” The relentless teasing obviously weighs on her nerves.

“Am I wasting my time?”

I cock my head to the side, eyeing her from her dark roots all the way down to her pointed-toe, high-heeled, fringe-trimmed boots. “I guess it’s up to you what we’re doing here. I can tell you why I’m here. I love you.”

“That’s easy to say,” she’s in an argumentative mood. This usually leads to the best makeup sex, I think to myself.

“Look, baby,” I start, taking her hand in mine and pulling her close to me. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my life, and I’d have every fight we’ve ever had a thousand times again if it meant I could have you in my life every day for the rest of my life.”

She buries her head into my chest. I feel her body collapse on mine, all of her energy bleeding into me. “Damn.”

“Yeah, I know, that was pretty good, wasn’t it?” I laugh. Her closed fist playfully strikes my arm, again. She presses her cheeks against my forearms, wiping her tears away, and I can’t imagine a more perfect place for her tears to rest.

“Don’t let me mess this up,” she whispers, looking up at me.

I lower my head until my lips are on hers. Before she can break away, I wrap my arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground. She wraps her legs around me, and all I want to do is show her exactly how much I do love her. I walk her back to the couch, laying her down gently.

“Please Ben,” she begs with that familiar ache in her voice. She wants me.

“Look at me,” I command, and she does. “You asked what we’re doing before. Well, I can tell you I’m here, in this relationship with you, because I choose to be. It’s important to me that you know I choose to be here because I love you.”

She says nothing, but her lip is trembling.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, tightening her lips.

“What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, still not wanting to share.

I run the side of my finger against her cheek, erasing the wet trail. “Please,” I try to coax an answer from her.

She swallows hard.

“I’m going to mess this up. I always do,” she confesses, terrified.

I smile down at her. “Remember, I promised I wouldn’t let you,” I whisper before telling her with my gaze how I plan to make love to her. She looks back at me, the same want reflecting in them.

I wake and realize my back is soaked, sticking to the sheets. I sit up, stripping the covers from my body. The haunting dream of Kenzie still fresh in my thoughts.

“Damn it,” I groan, in that voice full of ache that she and I once both shared. Running a hand through my wet hair, I swipe my phone from the charger on my nightstand. 1:20 am. She hasn’t answered any of my calls. She certainly wouldn’t answer one at this hour.

Despite every nerve in my body pulling back and telling me not to call her, I’ve already dialed and I’m holding the phone to my ear. After the second, then the third ring, I hold my breath and expect to hear her familiar voicemail message pick up.

“Hello,” her sweet voice sleepily answers the phone. It’s just a single word, but somehow the deep rasp of her sleep-deprived tone makes me shudder.

“Kenzie?” I ask in disbelief.

“Is everything okay?” she inquires, and it sounds like she’s moving around to sit up in bed.

“Huh?” I grunt in confusion.

“It’s after one in the morning, Ben, has something happened? Is it your dad?” Her question gives me hope. She still cares.
That’s something,
I tell myself.

“God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. He’s fine.”

“Are you drunk?” Her question makes me smile. She never has been one to hold punches. My mom always tells her she’s one of the few women out there that can handle one of her boys.

“No,” I answer softly while my heart begins to race. This is the furthest I’ve gotten with her since the night she walked out that door. I want to shout. I want to demand that she tells me what in the hell is going on with her, but I don’t. I just sit here like an idiot saying nothing.

“Then why are you calling me?” she asks impatiently. I can imagine her sitting there, in her room, her head cocked, chewing her lip in frustration.

“I had a dream,” I reveal honestly. I wait, but she doesn’t say anything in response. She doesn’t hang up either. “It was our last night at college. It was that night we made a promise to each other.”

“I know what night you’re talking about,” she interjects evenly.

“Then you know what I promised you,” I say.

“We’ve promised each other a lot of things, it doesn’t mean things aren’t the way they are.” Her answer makes me want to put my fist through a wall. I ball my free hand, determined to keep it together.

“And what way are they? I mean honestly, Kenzie, I can’t even figure out what the hell happened to us? It guts me to think about us being like this. Just tell me.”

“Maybe that’s the problem, you don’t even know what’s wrong,” she snaps.

“Maybe? It sounds like you don’t know what’s wrong either,” I growl.

“I have to go,” she huffs.

I have to keep her talking. “I miss the way you smell.”

“What?”

“Like fresh laundry,” I add.

“So tell your mom to switch fabric softeners,” she suggests coolly.

“I’m sorry,” I offer, though I’m unsure what I am even apologizing for. I just want this stupid fight to be over.

“I’m leaving,” she declares abruptly.

“What?” I gasp in confusion. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“I got a job; it’s out of the country.”

“Where are you going?” He demands.

“Africa,” I answer.

“Wait, what? When will you be back? A job? What kind of job?” The questions fly out of my mouth at lightning speed.

“Look, I can’t do this tonight. I need to get some sleep. I just thought you should know.” My jaw drops and I struggle to breathe again.

“You just thought I should—” I hear the click before I can get the statement out. “Kenzie? Hello?” But she’s gone. Panic flashes from the top of my head, rushing down my limbs and tightening its grasp on my chest as I realize she’s gone.

She’s really gone.