“Whitney! Thank God, where are you?”
“Chicago.”
“You need to come home. Can you come home?” she sounds panicked.
Home. Aaron is home. “I’ve got something—”
“Now,” she interrupts me. “He needs you,” she says, voice cracking.
“What’s wrong?” I stand up, pacing.
“He was working with a new horse, and I’m not sure, but Evan found him on the ground. We called the life squad. We’re at the hospital.”
No. Oh God, no, please don’t take him too. “Is he . . . ?”
“He’s. . . . He needs you, Whitney.”
“I’m on my way. If a flight will get me there faster, that’s what I’ll do. Otherwise, it’s almost six hours to get to you, but I’m on my way. Please tell him I’m on my way.”
“Just be careful, okay.”
“Yeah. Kinley, please tell him I love him,” I cry.
“Be safe, Whit,” she says softly and the line goes dead.
“I have to go,” I say to Kathy, who is watching me with concern in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Aaron.” My voice cracks. “He was hurt. He was with the horses. Kinley’s not sure what happened, but he’s in the hospital, and I have to get there,” I sob.
“Okay, let’s go down to my office and look for flights. I don’t want you driving this upset, and I have a full schedule of patients this afternoon.” She grabs my hand and leads me through the busy hallways of the hospital to her office. It brings back so many bad memories, bad news given here, but that barely registers as I think about Aaron. He’s hurt and I have to get to him.
“There,” Kathy says. “Flight leaves in an hour and a half, flight is two hours.” She grabs her purse. “Come on, I have just enough time to get you to the airport before I have to be back.”
I nod and follow her out the door.
I don’t know how I make it past security, the gate, boarding. I’m zoned out. Leaving him was stupid; God, what will I do without him in my life. Please don’t take him. Please, I need him. Mom, if you can hear me, please, I need him here. Please. I’m in silent prayer the entire flight.
I have nothing but me and my purse, so making my way through the airport is a breeze. Kathy reserved a car for me to make it faster. As soon as I’m on the road, I dial McKinley, but no answer. I try Olivia and Mike as well, and nothing. Frustrated, I toss my phone in the cupholder. I’m about thirty minutes from the hospital. I spend that time praying for him and working up my apology. I never should have left. I was selfish, just like Kathy said, and now . . . now he’s hurt, and if he doesn’t make it through this, I will never forgive myself.
Voices bring me out of a deep sleep. It takes me a minute to realize that I’m not back at the farm in my room, but in a hospital bed. I fucked up. I didn’t sleep last night. I couldn’t when I was worrying about her. I spent the night out on the dock, just remembering. Trying to figure out where I went wrong.
“She answered,” my sister says.
Whitney? “Who?” my groggy post-surgery voice asks.
“Hey there, big brother, how you feeling?” Kinley asks.
“Who?” I say again.
“Whitney,” Evan’s deep voice answers me.
It takes me a few tries, but I open my eyes to the bright light of the room. My arm is in a sling and the pain is gone, at least until what they gave me during surgery wears off. I try to sit up, levering with my good arm, but fail.
“Here.” Evan steps forward and presses the button on the bed to raise me.
I cast a glare at my sister. She could have done that, seeing as she’s sitting right next to me. “I called her,” she says, not caring a bit that I’m giving her the evil eye. “She answered. I thought she should know.”
“How is she? Did she tell you where she was?”
“I’m home,” her sweet voice comes from the other side of the room.
I whip my head around and blink a few times to make sure it’s not just a figment of my imagination. It’s not. She’s here. My gorgeous Whitney is here. It’s only been a day since I laid eyes on her, but that’s too long in my book.
“Aaron,” she says, and her voice cracks.
“Come here.” I hold out my good hand. She steps forward, and that’s when I notice the tears racing down her cheeks.
“We’re going to give you two some time. Mom and Dad have the kids in the waiting room. I think we’ll go give them a break. Let them know you two need some time,” Kinley says. She leans over and kisses my cheek. “She was distraught when she found out,” she whispers, just for me.
I don’t take my eyes off Whitney, we’re in a stare down, and it’s not until I hear the sound of the door being pulled closed that I break the silence. “Come here,” I say again, only this time I pat the bed beside me.
“Aaron,” she sobs.
“I need you next to me, Whit. I was worried about you, and I just need you close. Can you please come here?” I wiggle a little to give her some more room. It’s not much, but she’s a tiny thing; she’ll fit. She does as I ask and takes a seat on the bed.
Reaching out, she cups my cheek, running her fingers through my beard, the one I grew for her. “I didn’t know what I would find when I got here. All I knew was that you were hurt. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I just. . . .”
“Where did you go, Whit?”
“Chicago.”
“Care to tell me why?” I reach out and wipe her tears with my thumb, one side then the other.
“I don’t know if this—”
“It is. Trust me, it is. Since the moment I found out you were gone, I’ve been racking my brain as to what spooked you. If it’s the house, baby, we can slow down on that. I thought you were ready, that you wanted it too, but if you’ve changed your mind, that’s okay. We can back off on that. I just. . . . I need you, Whit. I need you to breathe.”
“I haven’t taken a full breath until this moment, setting eyes on you.” She closes her eyes and inhales slowly, exhaling the same way. “I had a test done. Kathy, she’s was my mom’s best friend, but she was also her oncologist. She’s been calling me for months, insisting that I have a mammogram, just as a precaution because of Mom’s history. Early detection and all that.”