One Moment at a Time Page 3

  “You’re looking for Ky,” she says simply, this time returning my phone for real. “Your friend Danelle answered your message from last night. I don’t think she’s as much help as you were hoping.”

  “Danelle?” I haven’t heard from her in four years. When the hell did I message her? I swipe my screen to unlock it. Sure enough, Danelle’s face is smiling back at me from the little bubble sitting on the right side of my screen.

  “For what it’s worth, I think you should do it. Go to Florida. Or...wherever. Find her. Even if it’s just to get over her. I mean, you clearly aren’t going to any other way.”

  She reaches toward me, closing the distance between us in a strange hug that should have felt familiar, but instead, feels empty and cold. “Take it from someone who loves you,” she whispers, her mouth beside my ear. “You need this. Either go out there and get her or get over her. Either way, it’s time to decide and get out of limbo.”

  I nod. Only because I have no real response to any of this. Then, I feel the pull of her skin over mine as she drags her arm from my shoulder and slowly steps away. One final nod, and this is it. Goodbye. Maybe forever.

  Silent, I watch as she joins her sister again and together, they get in Alexandra’s car and take off. Minutes pass. Maybe hours. I just stand here and stare down the empty road wondering what the hell I should be feeling and why the hell I can’t. I’m numb. Nothing inside me stirs except the slow churning in my gut reminding me how long it’s been since my last meal. But I don’t care about that either.

  It’s not until my phone vibrates in my palm, automatically drawing my eyes to it, that I wake up from this standing coma.

  It’s another message from Danelle.

  SUP Adventures

  Guided Tours & Lessons

  New Smyrna Beach, FL

  Huh?

  Before I can think it through, curiosity gets the best of me and I do the one thing I can’t undo. I scroll up.

  Ben – weird to hear from you. In a good way, of course. But, seriously man, it’s been ages! I’m going to assume you want to know how I’m doing (even though you didn’t ask) and the answer is well. Married now. Two kids. Third on the way. My husband saw your profile pic and requested I clarify all this upfront, lol.

  Ky. The real reason you suddenly decided to rekindle our friendship. Truth is, it’s been hard to keep track of her in recent years. The last time I saw her face to face was four years ago on vacation. She was working as a paddleboard instructor in a small beach town in Florida and we went to take a tour. She said then she was feeling the itch. You know how she is about living life one moment at a time. Everything is always ‘for now’ never ‘for good’ or ‘for-ever’. I guess you two have that in common, huh?!

  Anyway, I think I still have the name of that paddleboard place if you want it. Maybe they have some sort of forwarding address for her, you know, for tax stuff or paychecks of whatever they’d have to send her way. I doubt, of course, that she’ll still be wherever she went after Florida, but it’s a starting point, right?

  Let me know if you find her. On second thought, don’t.

  I like believing she’s out there conquering the world...I don’t want to risk finding out it conquered her instead.

  The last of her words are hard to comprehend. Somehow what she’s saying refuses to sink in. Then, when it does, the undeniable reality of her statement sends a shooting pain straight through my chest. I’ve spent every day of the last years fully content going about my business just knowing she was out there somewhere, still walking the same earth, seeing the same stars. I never considered the possibility I was left here alone, without her. I still can’t. I won’t.

  And suddenly the decision Alexandra asked me to make is a given.

  I don’t want to get over her.

  I want to find her.

  I want to be with her.

  chapter

  four

  BEN

  One shower and two bowls of reheated spaghetti later, and I’m on my laptop doing recon work. Danelle wasn’t wrong. There isn’t much to be found of Ky on the worldwide web beyond four years ago, and that paddle boarding place in Florida.

  Thankfully, the business is easy to find, and, it has a phone number listed right there on its website.

  “There’s no time like the present,” I mutter to myself as I begin to dial.

  “S’up?” And it’s the first time I totally get why they named their business that. It’s been a rough morning.

  “Hey, I’m actually calling because I’m looking for a past employee of yours. Kylie Hannigan? Would have been about four years ago?”

  The guy on the other end clears his throat, like he’s stalling. “This, like, a debt collection thing?”

  “What? No, no, not at all. I’m an old friend. Ky has a knack for dropping off the radar and I figured it was about time to track her down again.”

  He chuckles. Like he gets what I’m saying. I don’t like that.

  “Yeah, that’s Ky.” He definitely knows her. “Sorry, man. I can’t really give you any info about her though. Company policy.”

  “But...you do have info about her? Like, you know where she is?”

  There’s a shuffling of papers and some movement on the other end of the line. “I really wish I could help you, dude. But I can’t.”

  I exhale my frustration. I get it though. In some weird way, I even appreciate him sticking to his guns. If he’s not telling me, he’s not telling anyone, and Ky would prefer that.

  “No, it’s cool. I totally understand. Thanks anyway.”

  Back to square one.

  In an attempt to clear my head before I find a new breadcrumb to follow, I lean back in my chair, fold my hands behind my head and close my eyes. The second my lids fall into place and the outside world disappears, she’s there. She’s always been there. Floating in the background, just waiting for the moment I was ready to see her, ready to accept that she’s never going to be gone. God knows I tried to snuff her out, erase her from my memories, but it’s impossible.

  Ky always knew how to make an entrance. Mostly, because she always popped in right when I needed to see her most, but least expected to be able to. Like the night I was hellbent on drinking my way through downtown all over some stupid argument with my dad. He’d reminded me for the hundredth time or so that I was wasting away my potential and was right on track to becoming a top-notch loser like my Uncle Dave, his younger brother. Been compared to him my whole life, so this wasn’t a new insult being hurled my way. Still, it stung, always being the disappointment my father could barely call his son, let alone ever be proud to.

  And there I’d been, wallowing, contemplating the dumb things I could do to solidify my father’s opinion of me, when a hand reached past me, grabbed my glass from my palm and threw it, smashing the bullseye of the dart board hanging on the wall across from me.

  Stunned, I’d turned around. And there, peering at me over my shoulder, was Ky, grinning from ear to ear, bright blue eyes sparkling as always while her wild blonde curls danced on her head every bit as unruly as the rest of her. Tiny as she is, she’d had herself hoisted up on her tippy toes just to be able to reach over me. Had to be her tippy toes, because the girl never wore heels. Only those red Converse everywhere she went, with everything she wore.

  “Oops. Guess that wasn’t a dart after all.” She’d shrugged, grabbed my hand and said, “Oh well, now that your drink is gone, you might as well come dance with me.”

  Speechless, I’d let her drag me out onto the dance floor. She was already bouncing to the beat, and swaying her hips, thoroughly enjoying the song, when I finally found a way to form a sentence. Or question. Hell, it was a demand.

  “Where the fuck did you just come from?!”

  Her eyes had flashed wildly, and she’d grinned from ear to ear. “You missed me, didn’t you?” she’d teased, taking hold of both of my wrists and tugging them playfully to get me moving. “Just admit it, Ben. You’re los
t without me.”

  I knew right then and there that it was true, and I learned to savor the moments she popped in to surprise me, but never once, did I ask her to stay. To stop the coming and going and just...be mine. I always told myself I wasn’t ready. That I didn’t really want to settle down and give up the game, the freedom – the other women. But the truth is, part of me was always scared she’d say no. Not just because she literally said no every time I made a bullshit move on her, but because I didn’t think she had it in her to quit the adventure. And I knew I didn’t have it in me to go out and find one.

  But she was right all along. I am lost without her. And I think, if I’m completely honest with myself, I always expected her to come back someday and find me, same as she always did. But it’s been years now. Too many years to expect her to show up. Even if this is one of those moments I need her to most.

  “I guess that only leaves me with one option,” I mumble, leaning in to start typing again. “If she’s not coming back for me, it’s time for me to go out and find her.” It’s my turn to show up, out of the blue, and turn her whole world upside down. Which for her, would be making it perfectly right side up.

  Before I can talk myself out of it, my flight to Florida is booked with a departure date set for later this afternoon. There’s no better time than right now, I tell myself as I kick up onto my feet to abandon my desk and start packing.

  That’s my plan anyway. It’s thrown a bit off course when I walk in my closet to get my bag and find the three Will brought here from Georgia.

  Since I’m on a roll with facing my past, I decide to get it all done and over with at once.

  The Samsonite is first and it’s ridiculous. Cram-packed full of every medal and trophy I ever won while running track in high school. It’s no damn wonder this thing was so heavy. It is, however, a mystery as to why Will thought I’d get a kick out of this junk, let alone want any of it. I don’t. And so, in a cardboard box and up in the attic they go.

  His duffle bag is no better. In fact, it’s worse. More souvenirs from my years of running track, except these are in the way of old gym clothes. Some of them are so old and worn out, they won’t even be accepted by Goodwill.

  I sort through them as best I can while keeping things quick, flight departing this afternoon and all, and then move on to the final suitcase.

  Out of all the crap Will brought this trip, this is the only load I actually appreciate having had dropped in my lap after all these years. Not even my brother could have known how oddly appropriate, if not fated, it was for him to lug it all this way at this very moment in time.

  Because the stuff in this suitcase? It isn’t mine. It’s Ky’s.

  A whole box worth of junk she couldn’t fit in her trunk one signature moment’s notice move out of town that she handed to me in her haste to escape and asked me to hold onto until further notice. Needless to say, I think somewhere over the course of the last eight or nine years, we both forgot I still had this stuff.

  The idea of going through it when it’s not even mine, weirds me out, almost as much as it does to think that Will took the time to pack it all. At some point, some of these things, like the journal covered in New Kids On The Block stickers and the extensive collection of hoop earrings all hanging from what looks like a bracelet of some sort, should have tipped him off these things weren’t mine. At the very least, it should have triggered some curious questions from him, which, apparently it didn’t. We’re going to have a talk about that at some point. Later. After I find Ky. To tell her I’m crazy in love with her. And then to return all her junk.

  Unable to make progress with unpacking that last bag, I move on to doing the thing I came upstairs to do in the first place. Prepare for my trip. And I do. In record time.

  I’m halfway to the airport with my one single carryon bag packed and ready, before I make the call.

  “What?” Will sounds less than thrilled to hear from me again so soon.

  “I’m on my way to the airport. Something’s come up and I’m not going to be around for a while, so you’re in charge until further notice,” I explain, getting right to the point of my call.

  “What the hell are you talking about? Where are you going?”

  “To find Ky.” Straightforward. That’s going to be my new approach to everything. Bullshitting and tiptoeing my way around everything people find uncomfortable or unlikable is exhausting, and frankly, has gotten me nowhere. I’m done spinning around in circles. Straightforward. That’s where the money’s at. And my fucking heart.

  “You’ve lost your fucking mind, you know that, right?” Will hardly seems surprised though.

  “I can live without my mind,” I tell him, “but I’m done doing it without my heart.”

  I can hear him chuckle on the other end. He finally gets it. He has Hanna, he’d have to. “I’ll call Clare as soon as we hang up. She can handle the Dallas office until I can make it back out. Don’t worry about work. And don’t come back until you finish what you’re starting here.”

  “Trust me. I won’t.” I can’t. There’s no unknowing what I finally allowed myself to understand. And there’s no living with knowing she’s the one, the only one, unless she’s with me.

  Having no luggage to check makes getting through the first step of checking in easy. Security winds up being harder to pass when I get randomly selected for a more in-depth security clearance. I knew I shouldn’t have worn the ridiculous crown buckle on my belt, but when I’d stumbled upon it while packing, all I’d been able to think about was the night I’d worn it out and Ky had spotted it, teasing me instantly for wearing something so huge and gaudy. I’d tried my usual charms, of course, pointing out that I was a modern-day prince charming, but she’d only laughed harder, retorting that I was more like a toad angling for a kiss from a princess. It was hard to argue with her logic, given it was spot on as usual.

  Anyway, the belt seemed like a good idea in the moment, caught up in memories and enjoying the feeling of remembering what it was like to hear her laugh. Now that I’m standing here, in my bare feet being patted down by a guy twice my size, I’m seeing some flaws in my thinking.

  “Is this going to take much longer?” I ask, checking my watch for at least the tenth time since we started this particularly invasive encounter. “I kind of booked a last-minute flight and I don’t want to miss it.”

  The guy does a sort of snort. “A woman?” he asks, squatting at my left ankle to begin the pat down of my other leg.

  “You get this a lot?” I ask, almost disappointed to be less original in my quest for love than I’d anticipated. Sure, the movies make it look like this is the norm, running through airports, racing after the love of your life, usually deciding she’s the one just as she’s about to marry someone else. But, this is real life romance, it’s supposed to be a big deal.

  “I could work for Hallmark and never run out of material, buddy.” The guy sighs, standing upright. “You’re all set. Next time you’re in a hurry at the airport, cut back on the accessories and you won’t have this problem.”

  I nod, grimacing. “Got it.”

  From there, I all but race to my gate, arriving just as they begin the boarding process. I join the cattle being herded onto the plane, and one by one, we all find out seats. Mine, is beside an elderly couple heading south for the winter. Or east. And south. They can’t exactly be considered snowbirds given the mild winters here in Dallas.

  “Is it the ocean?” I ask, curious to hear what it is that draws people down to the land of a giant mouse and hurricanes.

  The man chuckles. “The ocean is nice,” he agrees, “but it’s the woman that keeps me on the move.”

  Suddenly, I feel like I’m looking into the mirror, staring at myself fifty years from now, still jumping on planes to follow my adventure hungry love. And it’s not nearly as terrifying as I always imagined it to be. Hell, he looks happier than anyone I’ve met in a long, long time.

  chapter

  fiv
e

  BEN

  Florida is hot and muggy in September, and I’ve just barely checked into my hotel when I’m being notified of the Hurricane Watch in place for the foreseeable future, covering the beach town I’m in, as well as every county up and down the coastline. I’m tempted to move inland, but the woman at the front desk assures me I have days yet to panic and that nothing will be set in stone with this windy beast until it’s actually cruising through. Thus, any attempts to move out of its path could prove to be futile, should the beast shift between now and its arrival set for three days from now.

  So, I have time. Three days is all I need to check out Ky’s old job, locate a few of her old friends and get a clue on her more recent whereabouts. I’ll be back on a plane and on to the next place before the storm ever gets here.

  Well, that’s my theory anyway, and for the sake of not panicking, I’m sticking with it.

  Since it’s dark out and the paddle board rentals probably aren’t operating anymore today, I order room service and settle in for the night. Flipping through the channels while I wait for my dinner, my gaze gets hazy and my mind begins to wander to the last time I found myself in a similar situation.

  A bunch of us had been out barhopping. Everyone was hammered come two a.m. Everyone except her. She had a thing about not drinking, always claimed it had to do with being present, never missing a moment of life, but I concluded a long while back it’s mostly just because she’s a major control freak, and alcohol tends to interfere with one’s self-control.

  Knowing she would be sober all night and thus would remember every little act of idiocy I might engage in while intoxicated had a way of keeping my alcohol consumption at bay too. So, come last call, she and I were often the only ones still walking upright and capable of driving.

  And as usual, there we’d been. The two idiots left in charge of getting our friends to the nearest twenty-four-hour diner for three a.m. pancakes. Of course, getting the job done always felt a lot like trying to herd a group of stumbling drunk kittens. By the time we managed to get the last of our friends to slide into our massive booth along the back wall, we were usually in tears, laughing at the insanity of it all. And we were always along the back wall. That’s where they hide the drunk twenty-somethings, away from the more civilized members of society...provided any of those are even out at that time of night and in search of greasy breakfast foods.