It Matters To Me (The Wandering Hearts Book 2)

by Wendy Owens

  I swallow hard. His mom. The kidnapping. It’s always been a topic I was curious about, but never something I wanted to bring up. He certainly has never had an interest in discussing her since initially bringing the matter up at the swimming pool. I suppose things are different now. A lot of things are different now.

  I turn and face him, waiting for him to continue, but instead he lifts a hand and strokes my lips with his fingertips. My belly aches as I see that searching look in his eyes again.

  “If you ask my father, you’re nothing like my mother because as he recalls her, she was a raving mad woman.” Aiden’s tone changes when he says the word father. His contempt for the man is more than clear. “I wish I had more memories of her.”

  My heart begins to pound. I fear I might say the wrong thing, but it’s clear he wants to talk. I think for a second he looks like he might cry, but then the misty haze disappears as quickly as it came.

  “How old were you when she died?” I ask. I read everything Google had to offer on the story, but those were just articles. Impersonal. They had no idea who Aiden or his mother truly were. I had no idea when I read them. Sometimes, when I look at him I completely forget about the demons in his past.

  “Two and a half.”

  I breathe in a sharp breath. His whole face transforms, a deep sadness filling his eyes. I want to say something to comfort him, but I don’t know how to. There was nothing I could do or say when Ben’s brother died.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer at last.

  “When I was younger, I used to try and lock it all away behind these massive iron gates in my mind, but all that did was make it hard to see who the enemy was.”

  “The enemy?” I ask. “You mean, like the kidnappers?”

  He shakes his head, then looks at me again. “No, the Andersons,” he continues. “My mom trusted them.”

  “And then they just took you?” I inquire.

  “She gave me to them.”

  “Wait what?” I gasp. “What do you mean, she gave you to them?”

  “She knew Janet and Dale from when she was in college,” he looks in my eyes, and I can tell there are so many secrets he wants to tell me, but he’s torn. Secrets he’s scared to tell.

  “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” I remind him.

  I can feel his eyes fixed on me. “My dad always told me there was never a greater pain in the world than losing a child.”

  “It sounds like he cares for you.”

  “He’s a liar,” Aiden clarifies. “The greatest pain for my father is being defied.” I think of reassuring him, of comforting him and telling him how I’m sure his father loves him, but I don’t. I don’t know his father, and there is obviously something very broken in their relationship. Things I doubt I could ever fully understand.

  “And your mother defied him?” I ask.

  His chest rattles with a hitched breath, and I can feel him tremble as the wave of emotions washes over him, crashing hard against his soul. “He couldn’t punish her, so he made sure Dale Anderson paid the price. He spent twenty years of his life behind bars because he tried to help my mom and me.”

  “He’s out?” The question tumbles out of my mouth.

  He nods his head, “Dale claimed his wife was innocent and he was behind the entire thing. The prosecutor said if they both copped to it then they would each receive a reduced sentence. He wouldn’t do it. He was released three years ago.”

  “Wow, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I can’t imagine what they were thinking.”

  “Who, Dale and Janet? They were trying to help. By the time Dale was released my father and I pretty much had no relationship. After Dale was released, I decided to go and see them.”

  “Alone?” I gasp.

  “My dad’s version of events about the entire thing just weren’t adding up. I wanted answers. I had to have them.”

  “Anyone would,” I assure him.

  “As soon as Janet opened the door, and I saw the look in her eyes, I knew everything I’d been told were lies,” he explains. “There wasn’t some monster lurking there on the other side of that door.”

  “So you weren’t kidnapped?”

  “It was all more of my father’s lies to save face. Better to be the victim than a fool. My mother decided to leave my father, but she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving me with him. She was confident he would never stop until he found us,” his chest heaves and I want to be able to take his pain away. He swallows, forcing a lump down his throat. “She asked Dale and Janet if they would keep me and raise me.”

  “They agreed to take you knowing what she planned to—” I can’t bear to finish my thought. I uncurled Aiden’s hand and began to trace the shape of his hand on my hip, wishing he would say something, anything.

  “They had no idea what she was going to do to herself,” he says at last in an almost whisper. “She told them she was going to run and throw my father off her trail. Once she was certain he couldn’t trace her communications, she would send word … they never heard from her again.”

  His jaw relaxes, and a tear escapes down my check settling on his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

  He shifts, forcing me to move away from him. Sitting upright he tilts his head and looks into my eyes, at first expressionless.

  “What is it?” I whisper.

  He lifts a single hand, cupping my face, wiping away the trail of the tears with his thumb.

  “I’ve never talked to anyone besides Dale and Janet about what happened to me or my mother,” he begins. “It never felt safe enough to.”

  His expressionless stare shifts into such an intense glare that I’m tempted to look away, but I force myself not to.

  “Safe?” I gently press him.

  He shakes his head, “Part of me was always afraid of what people would think of me. Would they pity me? Would they believe my father’s version instead?” He looks into my eyes. “I don’t know why I told you about all of it.”

  “I’m glad you felt you could,” I say.

  He smiles. He doesn’t pull his hand away. “You never disappoint, do you Kenzie?”

  “I try not to,” I say in a teasing voice, but he won’t let me just shrug off the compliment.

  “I mean it.” His voice is serious. “I tell you the things I’ve been hiding behind from the world for all these years, and you respond by feeling my pain.”

  Huge, heavy sobs rip through me.

  “Why are you crying now?” he asks, in a panic, his hand on my chin before moving to my arm.

  I huff, “I don’t know, it’s all just so horrible, what happened—”

  He laughs, wrapping me into his arms like they were ribbons and I am a present. “Because of what happened to me? You do realize those things happened to me, and not you?” He’s trying to be humorous, but it’s not working. All I can think about is the torment it must have been for him. For the child he was.

  “I know, but nobody should have to go through what you did.” I can’t stop my bottom lip from trembling as I speak, certain I look like an emotional fool.

  His eyes soften more. “It happened a very long time ago, sweetie.”

  I stiffened. “I don’t care, it’s not fair.”

  “Life’s not fair,” he reminds me of something I once told him. “But it’s a little easier now.”

  “Why?” I ask naively.

  He laughs, showing me tenderness in the way he moves. “I’m trying to pay you a compliment.”

  “I make your life easier,” I say more as a question.

  “Of course.”

  I shrug, “I mean, I know I’m a hard worker and all, but I’m not sure I would say I make your life easier.”

  He squeezes me tighter and presses his lips against mine. There’s a smile on his mouth as we connect. I feel a stab of tenderness that gives way to a deep ache in my belly. He releases me, staring into my eyes, creating a longing within me.

  “You make being happy easy,”
he whispers into my hair, and I melt a little more. “That’s saying something. Happy has never been easy for me.”

  “Aiden,” I sigh. He supports me all the way back down onto the sheets. His lips graze against the flesh of my stomach, searing a hot trail as he inches down my body. My hand slips down to his head, fingers entwining into his hair. “Aiden,” I moan again.

  Our bodies collide and find a tempo that renders me completely at his mercy. In this moment I am his to do with as he pleases. Perhaps even more terrifying, I think my heart may be his as well.

  OUR APPETITE FOR EACH OTHER has been insatiable. I managed to convince her to take a break for some food after the last time we made love, but now, watching her as she walks in front of me, back to her room, I find myself once again aroused.

  She looks over her shoulder at me with a wicked glance, but I can’t tell if it’s an innocent flirtatious glance or if she’s telling me she’s ready for dessert. I adjust the growing bulge in my pants and grimace as I fully grasp the actual tenderness I have down below from the marathon love-making session we’ve shared in.

  She stops at her door, turning to face me. With a smile, she asks, “Ready for some editing?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Is editing a euphemism for something?”

  She laughs that damn sexy laugh of hers. “Well, I didn’t intend it to be.”

  We move inside. I kiss her, my hands resting on her hips and then fall back onto the bed. This makes the decision hers. If she wants me, I am in a great place to be had.

  She sits on the bed across from me and begins to swing her feet off the edge, flipping off her shoes in the process. “What are you thinking about?” she asks me.

  “Honestly?” I ask with a lifted eyebrow.

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you to be honest.”

  “I’m wondering how long until my cock isn’t sore.”

  She laughs again. This time, it’s loud and comes from deep within her. Her laughter trails off and her look shifts. She seems so serious. “When do we go back to the preserve?”

  Surprised by her question, I shake my head. “We’ve got everything we need, there’s no reason.”

  “What about Jumanda?”

  “What about him?” Confusion clouds my head.

  “We didn’t say goodbye. We didn’t say goodbye to any of them.” She’s concerned. I can’t help but love this about her.

  “We’ll be back, eventually,” I reply.

  “We’ll?” She picks up on the word quickly.

  “I mean if you want to continue being my assistant.”

  She thinks about my offer, her face emotionless. At last, she says, “I guess, or the other option is I could always file a sexual harassment lawsuit.”

  “Yes, that is always an option.” I grin.

  She bites her bottom lip with her top teeth, and I feel the bulge begin to grow in my pants again. I want to see those lips and teeth nibbling on something else.

  “Or you could stay on here with me for a while,” I add spontaneously.

  “What?” she gasps.

  “We don’t have to hand deliver the images to the client. We can edit them, ship them off, and then explore together,” I suggest.

  Her mouth drops open.

  “Is that a good shock or bad?” I ask, desperate for some sort of response.

  “I don’t even have an apartment,” she says.

  “What do you mean? Here? You don’t need one.”

  Shaking her head, frustrated, she says, “in Chicago. I had to move back in with my mom. And oh my God, what would my mom say if I called and told her I was going to stay even longer? Here? With you?”

  “Good for you, sweetheart?” I suggest innocently.

  “Ha!” She boldly exclaims. “That woman would never support any decision I make. I tell you what, I could win the lottery, and she would tell me I should have won it differently.”

  “I see.” I smile. “I’ll remember, Mom equals touchy subject.”

  “Sorry, it sounds amazing, but my life is a mess right now. It’s not like this job would ever be full time or anything. I’m going to need to find a real job.”

  “Ouch,” I wince at the statement.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I know talent when I see it,” I reassure her. “I can keep you busy enough to make the cash you need while you build up a client list.”

  “Client list?”

  “Kenzie, I wasn’t lying when I said you’re a natural. It would be a shame if you didn’t do this for a living.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And here I just thought you were trying to hook up.”

  “Well, been there, done that, and I’m still saying you’re good.”

  “Maybe you just want more sex,” she suggests.

  “Always, but I don’t think I need to compliment you to get it.”

  “Compliments would help,” she chirps.

  I smile. “But I don’t need them.”

  “You’re cocky!” She announces, trying not to smile.

  “Come here and I’ll show you just how cocky I am.” I reach for her, and she dodges my reach, squealing.

  “Stop, this is serious,” she protests, laughing.

  “Okay, fine, I’m completely serious. Chicago and all the problems will still be waiting for you. What do you say? Are you up for a little African exploration?” I wait for her answer.

  She says nothing, deep in thought.

  “You only live once, baby,” I remind her.

  She looks at me and her eyes widen. Leaping up and jumping across the divide between the beds, she wraps her hands around my neck. “I’m in!” She announces. I pull her curves in closer to me, kissing her repeatedly.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” I say.

  ONE DAY HAS SEEMED TO flow into the next lately. We hadn’t spent a night apart since the first night we made love. Quite honestly, there haven’t been many moments we’ve spent apart. He makes my blood start pumping and my heart race. Butterflies erupt to perform a perfect swan dive into the pit of my stomach when he walks into the room. There’s comfort when he’s next to me all the time. A comfort I am simply not ready to part with.

  Staying in Africa went over about how I expected it would when I told my mom. It was so bad the first few days that I shut my phone off altogether. After about a week the messages every hour stopped, and we could at least have semi-civil conversations by text. Though, I made it very clear that if her behavior reverted back, I would return to powering down my cell phone.

  Most of our trip has been funded by Aiden picking up small jobs here and there, but I know those funds can’t possibly be covering all of the expenses. I don’t like handouts, which he’s well aware of.

  After well over a month in Africa together, Aiden and I know the time is quickly approaching when we will be returning home. I haven’t admitted it to him, but I’m worried. Our relationship is perfect right now, but what will it be like in the real world?

  What happens when we aren’t going along on safaris or dining out at exotic restaurants in a magical foreign country? Back in Chicago, there are family members to contend with, and grocery store trips are the norm. Don’t even get me started on figuring out where in the hell I’m going to live when we get back. Mom has made it clear on several occasions that since I don’t need her help making decisions, then I certainly don’t need her roof over my head.

  I throw the door of the hotel room open, drop my things on the bed and prepare to hop in the shower. Aiden is taking me to dinner at a local family’s home tonight. They are cooking us an authentic meal, and I must admit, after Aiden went on and on about the wife’s cooking all night, I’m pretty excited. Hotel restaurants have become predictable and boring.

  Falling onto the bed, relaxing for a moment, I find myself smiling as I recount the numerous jobs Aiden and I have shot since coming to
Africa. Probably the funniest moment was when he let me take the lead on a session where we were photographing a prominent political family. When I encouraged the husband to place his hand on his daughter’s shoulder, Aiden subtly informed me the young girl was in fact the gentleman’s wife. He’s still teasing me about that one.

  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.’