The Path to Finding You

by S M Broad

“Are you sure? I feel like a complete tool.” He rubs the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed by his behavior.

  “Don’t worry about it, it’s no big deal. I’m gonna go get a drink.” I reach out to hug him, but he’s gone. Looking to my left, my eyes grow wide, and I cover my mouth in shock as I see Kohen grip the back of Davis’s shirt, yanking him further away from me.

  What the fuck?

  “Stay away from her!” Kohen clenches the fabric too tightly, the anger rolling off him so palpable if he were a cartoon character, steam would be shooting from his ears. “Trying to kiss my girl, Reed?” He spits venom in Davis’s face.

  “Kohen!” I yell at the same time Davis tries to defend himself, our voices mixing. I look around and see a slew of people staring.

  How embarrassing.

  “It was an honest mistake, I’m sorry!” Davis yells over the loud music, hands up in surrender as Kohen shakes with rage, free fist clenching at his side.

  “Kohen!” I call again, being ignored as he stares Davis into the ground. “Kohen, stop it!” I pound my small fists into his back, stupidly thinking I can do any damage to this mountain of a man.

  I move around the other side to pull Davis from his hold as two things happen at once; Kohen draws his fist back to punch Davis at the same time Latham appears out of nowhere, releasing his brother from the clutches of his best friend before barreling into Kohen’s midsection. Only instead of taking him to the floor, he pushes him against the faded brick wall roughly.

  “Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Latham shouts sharply in his best friend’s face, the veins in his neck popping with strain. “What the ever-loving fuck do you think you’re doing?!” He pulls Kohen forward and slams him back against the wall again, trying to jerk a reaction from him. I’ve never seen Latham this angry in the five years I’ve known him.

  Never.

  “Answer me, you asshole!” Latham growls angrily. Kohen stares blankly at Latham, unmoving, saying nothing.

  “Latham, please stop!” Aayla cries, hands shaking as she covers her tiny belly protectively. I run to her side, lacing our fingers together to pull her away from the madness happening in front of us. Knowing her past, seeing her husband, a man who usually is stoically calm and collected, being so physical with Kohen must be terrifying to her. We both know he would never in a hundred billion years hurt Aayla, Hensley, or the twins. He’d never hurt anyone unless he absolutely had to, but the lividity in his voice, the aggression, and hostility in his actions may be setting off an unwanted trigger for her. I turn back around, only to see Kohen looking at me, eyes unfocused and glazed over.

  “I’m…” He seems to snap out of his drunken rage, glancing around at all of us. “I’m sorry.” He looks at me again, tugging Latham’s hands where he’s got him pinned until he drops his hold.

  “Sorry.” His steps falter as he sways into the wall before righting himself, hanging his head in shame. An overwhelming scent of tequila and pot waft into my nose, making me gag as he passes by us, walking out of the bar.

  A ghost in the shell of the man I once loved.

  Chapter 11

  Thoughts of the night before still hang in the back of my head, but I push them away, beaming as I look at my new car. It’s the most adorable powder blue Mini Cooper. I’m thrilled that I will no longer have to bum rides from Latham and Aayla, and also very grateful that Latham co-signed the loan with me. I make my way inside, speeding up to a jog when I hear my phone ringing. I scoop it off the counter, clicking the green button.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Leila...Dennison?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Oh, that’s fantastic. My name is Sasha, I saw your photography ad in the paper and wanted to see if you had any openings.”

  Yes!

  I do a little wiggle, excited to have my first actual customer for the small, home photography business I decided to start. Aayla doesn’t count because she gets the family discount.

  This is so exciting!

  “What sort of session are you looking for?” I ask, grabbing a pen to write it on my Golden Girls wall calendar.

  “A six-month session for my son, Gabriel.”

  I practically melt, I love taking pictures in general, but babies are my weakness. My excitement mounts. I check the date, noticing I’m free for the rest of the day.

  “Would you be available today? I actually have an opening in an hour.”

  “That would be so wonderful.”

  “I can be at Bay Creek Park in forty-five minutes.”

  “That sounds great to me. I’ll see you then.”

  “I look forward to meeting you.” I disconnect the line with a giant grin plastered on my face, and it never leaves as I pack up a few new props I bought for photos. When I get to the park, I set up a little metal washtub under a shady tree and wait for my client. I’m texting Aayla about the shoot when I hear someone walk up behind me.

  “Leila?” I turn to the sound of my name and nearly squeal when I see the chubbiest little cherub of a baby ever. A beautiful woman with dark, spiral curls and a bright smile that looks to be in her mid-twenties holds a pudgy little curly-haired boy. He’s so adorably chunky that I want to hug and squeeze his irresistible squirrel cheeks.

  “That’s me. Are you Sasha?” She nods, and I smile bigger. “It’s so nice to meet you, this must be Gabriel. He’s adorable, I can’t get over these curls and chunky cheeks.” I giggle when he blows spit bubbles while babbling.

  “I thought it would be cute to do a bubble bath picture.” I nod to the washtub, and we get started. My smile stretches wider as I take his picture. The more he giggles and babbles, the more my face hurts from laughing.

  I love this job.

  An hour later, when I’m all done with Mr. Cutie Gabriel, I stop to get some take-out and drive home. I park my carcass in front of the TV while I eat, watching Bridesmaids. After dinner, I sit at my corner desk in my upstairs office, upload my session photos, and start editing them. After staring at my computer screen for almost three hours, I shut it down and drag myself to my room, falling into bed exhausted, snuggling into my grey cotton sheets to read a little before I head to bed. I’m right in the middle of my newest literary obsession, The Other Side of Tomorrow by Micalea Smeltzer, when my eyes get heavy and close. An immeasurable amount of time later, a loud thud makes me jump, and I look at my alarm clock.

  1:00 a.m.

  What the hell?

  I blink to clear the sleep from my eyes, set my e-reader aside, and climb out of bed cautiously, tiptoeing down the stairs. I jump again when someone starts banging on the front door. Flicking a switch on the wall to turn on the porch light, I peek out the window. I don’t see anyone, so I turn to go back to bed when there’s a loud thump from the other side of the door. My thoughts race a million miles a second as I picture myself in a real-life horror movie, where the short, sassy, foul-mouthed redhead dies first.

  Get a grip, Leila.

  I grab an umbrella just for shits and giggles, spinning to unlock the deadbolt and yank it open, squealing when I see a huge, dark figure slumped against the bottom of the door frame. I raise my weapon to protect myself from my intruder until the lump speaks.

  “Leilaaaaa.” The pained slur that falls from the shadow’s lips sends my body rigid.

  That voice.

  Even shit faced and mumbling, I’d know it anywhere. I flip the switch for the light again, basking the porch in brightness. I stare at a set of tired, bloodshot blue eyes trained on me, and my heavy heart cracks open. Kohen reaches a hand toward me, sliding it down my pajama pants with a soft thud. I crouch down to see him better, his usually strong body so small.

  So frail.

  So broken.

  “Leila.” He garbles again, and I look up to see his Jeep parked crooked in the driveway behind my Cooper.

  “Oh my god, you drove here. Are you fucking insane?” I wail at the thought of him putting himself and everyone on the road with him in
danger.

  “I had to…See you.”

  “Why are you here, Kohen?” I stroke his too-long hair, finding a little comfort for myself there. He groans, leaning into my touch.

  “I needed you…Hmm, that feels good.” He moans painfully, his head dropping forward before bouncing back up. He’s on the verge of blacking out, but I refuse to let him sleep outside in a drunken stupor.

  “Come on, you have to help me. Get up.” I sling his arm over me, propping his torso with my shoulder as I try to pull him up. He realizes my intentions and stands, wobbly, but I can manage his weight despite my petite size because he’s lost so much weight. He’s practically wafer-thin.

  Kohen steadies himself on the doorframe, looking down at me. His movements are slow as he dips his head, and I know I’ve got time to dodge the kiss, but I’m frozen in my spot. My joints lock up, body seizing as his lips brush mine, making an unwarranted jolt shoot through my veins. He pulls back, hooded eyes bouncing between mine. The sadness in his stare makes my anger waiver.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “It’s alright.” I guide him into the house and shut the door. Leading him to the couch, he flops down, and I turn to go get the trash can in case he needs to throw up, but I can’t move because he’s got a grip on my wrist.

  “I’m sorry.” He says again, circling my waist and holding me to him, burying his face in my stomach. I lose the battle to not touch him, running my fingers through his hair once more. “I’m so sorry.” His voice is muffled, but it still chokes me up.

  “Everything hurts without you.” He speaks, but I’m sure he doesn’t mean it.

  It’s just the alcohol talking.

  I cover my mouth to stifle a cry, but my resistant heart cracks when his shoulders start to shake with his own sobs. “It’s too much.”

  “What is?” I ask, not knowing why I’m indulging myself in fantasies of him.

  “The darkness.” He inhales the scent of my fresh linen laundry detergent and releases the breath on a sigh. “Once you’ve been there, you learn to appreciate everything that shines.” He goes quiet, so still, I think he’s passed out or fallen asleep until his voice startles me.

  “How you shine, Leila. You’re like the sun.”

  “Why are you here?” I ask him again, needing to get off this intense subject.

  “Don’t have anywhere else to go.” He hiccups back a belch.

  What?

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lost my place, couldn’t pay rent.” He goes quiet again, nuzzling into the cotton of my tee. When he pulls me onto his lap, I freeze, straddling him awkwardly.

  “Kohen…” I warn, hesitance in my tone. Where does he think this is going to go?

  “I won’t do anything, p-promise.” He stutters against my chest. “I just need to be near you.” He admits, my heart cracking open farther.

  “I love you.” The faint whisper of his words sends me rigid.

  Did I hear that, right?

  There’s no way.

  Instead of distancing myself from him like I know I should, I thread my fingers into his long hair, sifting them in rhythm until his breathing evens out. When I’m about ninety-nine percent sure he’s sound asleep, I push his shoulder lightly, and he falls easily back against the couch. I take a minute to study him, tilting my head sideways to get a better look in the darkened room, the only light from a streetlamp shining faintly through the sheer curtains. His sand-colored lashes lay against his closed eyes. Eyes that look exhausted even now that they’re resting. Dark, bruise-like bags sit under those eyes, his mouth hanging slack as a light snore drifts from his nose.

  He looks terrible.

  I wonder how long it’s been since he’s gotten a decent night’s sleep or eaten a good meal. I’m not sure of the time that’s passed when his arms fall away from me, but I slide off his lap onto the cushion next to him and stare at him. When a stream of lights from a car passes through the window, I notice a tiny baggie sticking out of his pocket. I reach for it, tugging it out and stare. It’s filled with unmarked pills in a rainbow of colors.

  Latham was right.

  I want to cry. How could it have gotten this bad? I instantly berate myself for leaving. If I hadn't gone to California, he would never have gotten this bad.

  This is your fault.

  Infuriated with myself and Kohen, I race to the bathroom and flush the pills down the toilet, watching as they swirl around the basin with the water before getting sucked away forever. I walk numbly back to the living room, stopping in the wide doorway. A flood of emotion rocks me so hard my closed fist flies to my mouth as I sob. The dam is broken, my feelings taking over. My eyes pinch together on their own as tears assault my face.

  Stop, this isn’t doing anyone any good.

  Pull yourself together, Leila.

  I take a deep breath to control the waterworks and compose myself. Hesitantly, I find my way back over to Kohen and tuck myself to his warm side. Placing a hand on his chest, I feel the erratic beat of this heart under my palm and lay against him until my eyelids droop, drifting to sleep.

  Chapter 12

  My eyes pop open and close again momentarily when the bright sun shining through the curtains hits them. I blink a few more times and then sit up to look around.

  How the hell did I end up on the couch?

  Last night comes flooding back in a rush, and I jump up, stumbling over my own feet as they get tangled in the blanket that was covering me. I steady myself and continue my search for Kohen, checking the bathroom, my office, the spare bedroom downstairs, and the kitchen. There’s no sign of him anywhere. Feeling defeated, I shuffle past the patio door on my way back into the kitchen and stop cold. A shirtless Kohen sits facing the backyard on the short steps of my wooden deck, smoking a cigarette.

  How is he not freezing his ass off?

  It’s the middle of October for shit’s sake. I mean, I know we live in the South, but the temperature rarely gets above sixty degrees this time of year. I watch him for an extended minute before he turns like he feels me watching him. His bloodshot eyes train on me, an unknown emotion flitting through them before clearing. I push the sliding door to the side and step out into the chilly morning air just as he stands, meeting me in the middle of the wooden deck.

  “Kohen?” I watch him curiously, eyes roaming over his naked torso, waiting for him to say something. He stares at me, watching me ogle his bare chest, but I can’t help noticing how thin he’s gotten.

  “I threw up on my shirt.”

  “Oh,” I say stupidly, frowning.

  That’s the best you can do, Leila?

  “Are you okay?” I chew my thumbnail nervously.

  “I think so.” He coughs, the sound is gritty and raw as he scratches his five o’clock shadow.

  “Do you want some coffee?” I eye him, catching a short nod before retreating back into the house with him behind me. I busy myself with the coffee maker, glancing back a few times to look at him. It almost seems like he’s an apparition, a figment of my imagination. I hate that this is so damn awkward. When the coffee is brewing, I turn to face him, unsure of what to say. My mind completely blanks.

  “When did you start smoking?” I ask because it’s literally the first thing that comes out of my mouth. He sits down at my small kitchen table, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “About...Two weeks after you left.” He looks at me again, and for several long, bizarre minutes, he stares at me, with me staring right back at him. The coffee pot beeping jerks me out of my trance.

  Instead of talking, I turn away from him to fix our drinks. I take two ceramic mugs from the cupboard, pour the coffee in them, and then stir some creamer in mine and sugar with milk in his. I cross the kitchen and hand him one mug, clasping the other in both my hands to warm my cold skin.

  “You still put that chocolate peanut butter shit in your coffee?” The question makes me smile, my stomach doing a tiny flip that he’d remembe
r something so trivial.

  “No, I actually switched to a cinnamon roll flavor.” I quip, propping my hip against the counter and laugh softly when he makes a face.

  “That sounds really fucking disgusting.” He says, taking a long sip from his mug while watching me. “This is so damn good; you always did make it the best.” For a split second, it almost feels like we’re back to where we used to be. Like we’re us again. My smile falls as I remember the hurt that was said. His own smile vanishes as he realizes the same.

  “Can I ask you something?” I keep my eyes on him; afraid if I blink, he’ll disappear. He hesitates before answering.

  “Sure.”

  “Did you really lose your apartment?” I lean forward on the counter, resting my arms against it.

  “Um, yeah. I got a little behind on rent.” His shoulders are tense as he looks at the floor, shame coloring his face.

  “What happened to all your stuff?”

  “I sold it.”

  “You sold everything?”

  “Everything except the Jeep and my clothes.”

  “You don’t have anywhere to go?”

  “Not really, no. Mom’s out of town for work, I won’t burden Kas and Jason, and Latham’s still not talkin’ to me after what happened with Davis.” He shifts uncomfortably, pausing for a breath. “Not that he’d let me stay there anyway because…” He clears his throat, unable to say the words I know are on the tip of his tongue.

  “You’re using drugs,” I say bluntly, making his head whip up.

  “How’d you know?”

  “I found the pills, Kohen.” My eyes flick to his now panicked ones. “How long has it been going on?”

  “I don’t know, two months or so.” He exhales, shrugging.

  “What else have you been taking?”

  “Sometimes, I smoke weed, but it’s mostly just pills.”

  “Why, Kohen?” I swallow thickly as I watch him, but he doesn't look at me.

  “The alcohol stopped numbing the pain.”

  “Numbing the pain of what?” I ask, waiting for him to mention his brother’s passing or even the pain of his dad being gone.