by S M Broad
Chapter 28
Shooting pain in my nose wakes me up.
Motherfucking shitballs.
I sit up in bed and wince, touching the thin cast lightly with my index finger. My head throbs, a result of all the crying I’ve done the past twenty-four hours. I reach for Kohen’s side of the bed, coming up empty. Instead, I find the sheets cold, three ibuprofens on the pillow and a lukewarm bottle of Aquafina next to me. I pop the painkillers into my mouth, chasing them with a big gulp of water.
Rubbing the rest of the sleep from my eyes, I silently wonder where Kohen is. I slide out of bed carefully, my sore ribs protesting as I hobble to the stairs. I stop when a sharp pain radiates up my side, holding onto the banister for extra support.
“Kohen, can you help me?” I call for him but get no answer. I ease a breath into my lungs and continue down the stairs, taking way longer than necessary. “This is fucking bullshit,” I grumble to myself.
Stupid asshole druggie and his cracked-out fists of rage.
As I walk into the kitchen, I stop short when I see Kohen leaning against the counter, arms folded across his chest. His right eye is slightly swollen from getting punched, but both of them are red rimmed from crying.
“What’s going on?” I look down at the packed bag at his feet, then up at him, frowning. “Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving.” The words hang in the dead air as he rubs his tired-looking face, knocking me back to the first time he said them. The blood in my vein’s freezes, turning icy. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Can’t do what anymore?” I step toward him, although he stands unwavering. He points at me then back to himself.
“This thing between us, I’m out.”
“You’re out?”
“Yeah.”
“What the hell are you even talking about?” I cross my arms gently over my chest, clenching my teeth so hard my jaw aches. He keeps his eyes on the floor.
“I don’t want to be with you.”
“You’re lying.” I walk until I’m right in front of him.
“No, I’m not.”
“Look me in the eye and say it, tell me to my fucking face. You can’t because you’re lying. This isn’t what you want.” I spit, growing angrier when he doesn’t look at me. I touch his arm but get a cold reception when he pulls it away.
“Don’t touch me.” He shakes as I reach for him again. “Don’t fucking touch me, Leila!” Kohen shouts, his voice strained, alarmed. I reach for him one more time, and he finally moves, tripping on his duffle as he grips his head in his hands.
“I gotta get out of here.” He lifts the black bag up on his shoulder, moving past me for the door.
“Don’t walk away, Kohen.” I’m grasping at every straw I can to get him to stay. “Please, don’t do this.” I beg, and for a split second, I see him waiver before the walls slam back into place.
“Whatever happens, we can work through it.”
“No. No, we can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t love you!” He bellows, hands clenched at his sides as he turns around with his eyes on the floor. I gasp and blink, unbelieving.
“Stop it, Kohen. Why would you even say that?”
“Because it’s how I feel. What do you want me to do?”
“Stay.”
“I can’t do that.”
“But you promised, Kohen. You promised you wouldn’t hurt me again.”
“Well, I lied.” He moves for the door, keeping his gaze anywhere but on me.
“You don’t love me, but you can’t even look at me and tell me that it’s over?” I follow him, my heart shattering all over again. “You’re such a coward!” I scream at him, overcome with raw emotion. He shifts on his feet, finally looking at me with ice in his eyes. All the tenderness, all the passion, all the loving memories are gone. I see nothing in those hollow topaz colored globes.
“Oh my God, you’re serious right now?”
“I told you I was.” The bite in his tone has me covering my mouth in shock as I try to even out my breathing.
“I cannot believe I let you in again.” I stare at him, turning to pick up one of the paint splatter Doc Martens by me and chuck it at him with as much force as I can muster with sore ribs. The heavy shoe hurls past him, hitting the door with a loud thump.
“How dare you.” I rush at him, beating on his chest with my balled-up fists as hard as I can. The pain I feel is more than in my aching body, it’s soul deep. Kohen shows no emotion, only stands there still as a statue, absorbing the less than effective blows until he’s finally had enough. Gripping my wrists in his hands hard, but not tight enough to leave bruises, he looks down at me. The harsh façade slips momentarily as his eyes well with tears of regret.
“I hate you, Kohen.” I look him dead on, spitting the words in his face. I choke on them, fighting the breakdown that’s clawing its way to the surface.
“I fucking hate you!” The words die on my lips as a rough cry catches in my chest. He sucks in a sharp, pained breath as the tears finally spill onto his cheeks.
Kohen releases me with a light push, wiping them away with the back of his hand and clears his throat, reinforcing the mask and steel walls of his heart before opening the door to leave.
“I will never forgive you for this.” I toss the words to his back. He pauses with his fist on the knob, taking in my words, and when the door slams, I crumple to the floor with a silent wail.
After crying so hard, my nose started bleeding, I put on my big girl pants, clean myself up, and drive the ten minutes to the Walmart in Loganville for supplies. I ignore the stares and silent judgements of strangers gaping at my broken nose and beat to hell face while I wander the vast store, placing a few bottles of ibuprofen in my cart, and then push my way to the candy aisle. I toss an assortment of things into the basket on wheels. I grab some caramel creams, sour gummy worms, chocolate covered pretzels, and a bag of Twizzlers before moving to the cookies and frozen section. I grab three packages of Oreos and two tubs of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. Figuring this will be enough to get me through at least a few days, I make my way to the check-out line. While I’m shuffling to the front of the store, I glance over into the aisle with all the alcohol and slow my steps.
I haven’t had a drink in months, but that changes tonight. I turn and walk down the shelves of beer, liquor, and wine, stopping when I see a case of Twisted Tea. I pick the heavy box up, setting it in the cart with the rest of my items, and then continue to the front of the store. I check out, load up my Cooper, and start the drive back home. I pull up to a red light just across the Grayson town line and stop, watching a young couple cross the road while holding hands.
They look so happy, in love.
I want to punch them in their stupid, happy faces.
My breathing catches, and my heart gets lodged in my throat when the song on the radio pulls my attention. The very same one that once had so many special memories with Kohen attached to it now makes me want to barf. I grit my teeth, punching at the stereo buttons angrily until the music ceases.
“Goddammit! Shit! Fuck!” I shout, banging my hands on the steering wheel until I feel better. It doesn’t do very much to ease the hurt, because I still feel like a run over pile of dog shit despite the outburst. The light turns green again, forcing me to keep on my way home. When I get there, I sit in the driveway for twenty minutes because I don’t want to go into the house knowing Kohen isn’t here. Eventually, I force myself to anyway.
It takes two trips to get all my shit, and by the time I’m done hauling in the bags, I’m completely exhausted. I just stand in the middle of my kitchen in a daze, surrounded by junk. My body feels numb, cold, and lifeless.
I’m emotionally crippled; damaged goods.
My heart is as mangled as my once straight nose. With a spiritless breath, I tear open the case of drinks and pop the top off one of the bottles. Then I slide down the wall and chug the contents.
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br /> Chapter 29
Six days.
That’s how long I’ve been barricading myself in the house, barely existing and ignoring almost every text and call except for a few messages. Three days ago, I replied to Aayla, Kai, and my mom to let them know I’m not physically dead.
Just emotionally.
I’m slumped over the messy countertop with my head down on the cold granite, coffee ice-cold, and Lucky Charms soggy, replaying my conversation with Kohen for the ten millionth time when I hear a key unlock the front door.
“Leila?” A worried Aayla calls from the foyer.
I don’t answer, knowing she’ll find me anyway, like some sort of Leila sniffing bloodhound. I knew it was only a matter of time before she came over to talk. Even though talking is the last thing I want to do, I won’t be able to avoid her anymore.
“Hey, there you are. Where have you been?” A chair squeaks across the floor as she pulls it out to sit down at the small table in the corner of the room. When I finally look up at her, it goes flying toward the wall behind her as she stands back up.
“Holy hell! What happened to your nose?” She steadies herself with fingertips on the tabletop and a palm resting on her beautiful, enormous pregnant belly. “Where’s Kohen?”
“He’s gone, Aayla.” I take in a breath to hold back the sob that’s suddenly pushing on my chest.
“What do you mean he’s gone?”
“He left.”
“Oh, my God.” She gasps, covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers that were on her belly. “Did...Did he hit you?” She gapes at me wide-eyed.
“What? No!” I jerk my head back in shock, my nose throbbing from the sudden movement. I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing through the sharp pain. “Shit.”
“You better start talking.” Her almost threatening or else tone would make me laugh if my feelings weren’t so fucking smashed to bits.
“The other night- or morning, I guess, around four, there was a knock on the door. It woke me up...I thought it was Latham. I thought something happened to you and the twins.” A round of fresh tears well in my eyes when I think about my serious lapse in judgment.
I’m so fucking sick of crying.
“Oh, honey.”
“I rushed downstairs and opened the door.” I continue before I get so upset that I can’t talk and take a drink of my coffee, gagging on the cold liquid but swallowing it anyway to wet my dry mouth.
“Who was it? Where the hell was Kohen?” She rambles in a rush, anxious for answers.
“He went for a run.”
“At four in the morning?”
“It’s not uncommon, sometimes he has trouble sleeping. It mellows him out.” I defend his actions even though I feel a copious amount of animosity toward him.
“Anyway,” I switch the subject back to how my nose got broken.
“There was a man. He asked if Kohen lived here. It was odd, so I said no.” I cast my eyes to the counter. “He pushed past me, saying Kohen owed him money and that he’d been watching us. When I told him to leave, he punched me. He got some good rib kicks in too, but that’s when Kohen came back. They scuffled before the creep bolted, and then Kohen took me to the ER.” I shrug because I don’t know what else to do with myself. Aayla waddles over and grips my hand.
“Why didn’t you call us?”
“It was four in the morning, Aayla. You’re seven months pregnant, what could you have done?”
“Been here for you. I’m sure Latham could have helped somehow.”
“I didn’t want to bother you guys. You’ve already done so much for me.”
“Oh, Leila.” She shakes her head at me, eyes filling with tears and hurt. “Did you at least get this guy's name?”
“Eddie? I think that’s what Kohen called him. Maybe it was Freddie or Teddy, I don’t fucking know.” I put my head in my hands. This is so fucked up.
“I’m calling Latham.” She whips out her phone and dials so fast, I don’t have time to stop her. Maybe deep down, I didn't want to. His voice crackles through the speaker after one ring.
“Hi, love, everything okay?”
“No.” I give her credit for keeping her voice steady and not crying like I know she wants to.
“What is it?”
“I need you to come over to Leila’s.” Aayla’s eyes find mine again, a sympathetic smile on her face. I want to hug him when without question, he replies,
“I’m on my way.”
“What the fuck happened to you?” Latham stares at my deeply bruised face and nasal cast when he rushes through the front door ten minutes later. Instead of replaying the story again, Aayla tells it for me. When she gets to the part about our fight, Kohen’s words come back to slap me in the face. They echo in my mind like a gong.
I’m leaving.
I can’t do this anymore.
I don’t want to be with you.
I lied.
I don’t love you
I grow increasingly angrier the longer I think about everything that happened. The conversation with Kohen, being beaten up by some asshole thug, even Aayla’s part in this pisses me off.
“This is your fault, Aayla.” The verbal bullet shoots from my mouth on its own, but I can’t take it back. It’s too late for that, and I chastise myself when her lips pop open on a shocked gasp.
“How is it my fault?”
“You encouraged him to try again, to ask me for a second chance. You talked to him on Thanksgiving. You said go for it, and he did.”
“Leila.”
“Now I’m back where I was when I went to California. I’m crushed, heartbroken, devastated.” My hand quivers as I jerk my index finger at her angrily.
“It’s your fault!” I snap, regretting the harshness immediately. Aayla covers her face as tears stream down her cheeks in silence. Latham steps in front of her, blocking her shaking body from my view.
“Look, I know you’re hurting right now, but I will not stand here and let you berate my wife with your hostility. She doesn’t deserve this.”
“And I do?” I scream, yelling just for the sake of masking my pain and blaming anyone but the man who’s really responsible.
“No, of course, you don’t, but don’t take your anger out on the one person who has always been there for you.” Latham stares at me sternly. His angry green eyes bore holes into my head, making me feel like a child being scolded. My stomach sinks lower when Aayla’s quiet voice comes from behind Latham.
“I’m so sorry, Leila. I just wanted you to be happy.” Her tone is full of anguish as she turns and walks toward the door as quickly as her puffy legs will carry her, slamming it as she leaves my house.
Latham gives me a disappointed look.
“Are you happy now?”
I snort rudely. “Yeah, Latham, I’m just fucking peachy.”
Chapter 30
By the third week of PKA, also known as the Post Kohen Apocalypse, which I blame for my fight with Aayla, I find the strength to get out of bed. I eat something other than cookies and ice cream, shower, and mark off yesterday’s date.
April sixth is in the past.
It’s time to start moving on with my life.
Again.
Like a phoenix, I will emerge from the rubble stronger than before.
I knock twice on the spring themed wreath decorated door and wait for an answer.
The wooden barrier creaks open, and I see my best friend for the first time in twenty-one days. This is the longest we’ve ever gone without talking, and I can’t stand it anymore, I’m ready to own up to my mistakes. I’m not even above begging on my knees. Aayla’s face crumples when she sees me.
“Oh, it’s you. Have you come to belittle me some more?” Her snotty tone is well deserved after the way I acted, but my shoulders still sag.
“No, I’m here to grovel.” I hold out the pecan banana bread I made, especially for her. She squints one eye at me before taking the disposable pan from my hand.
�
�Alright. Repeat after me: I’m the worst human being in the world.”
“I’m the worst human being in the world.” Tears spring to my eyes as I say the true words.
“I don’t deserve such an amazing and gorgeous best friend.”
“I don’t deserve such an amazing and gorgeous best friend,” I say on a gross, snotty sniffle.
“I love her more than Chris Pratt.” Aayla pops her hip out to the side with sass, knowing when it comes to her, I’d even renounce the stalkerish claim I hold on my favorite actor. I let out a garbled laugh and let her know I truly mean business.
“I love her more than Chris Pratt and John Krasinski.”
“You are forgiven.” She waves her free hand like Glinda the Good Witch as I pull her in for a tight hug.
“I’m such an asshole.”
“Yeah, you are, but I still love you. I missed you.” She hugs me back and then turns to walk into the house.
“I missed you, too. I’m sorry, Aayla.” I stop when she does.
“I already forgave you. I think you’ve kissed enough ass...tin Martin.” She blurts quickly, her brown eyes wide as they dart around the foyer.
“What?” I eye her but realize that Hensley must be in hearing distance, and she’s covering her slipped curse. I follow Aayla as she waddles to the living room, trying to sit down in one of their recliners.
I close the distance, grab her hand, and help lower her onto the cushion just as Hensley comes ripping into the room carrying a superhero Barbie.
“Thank you.” She grunts, scooting from side to side to get comfortable. She pushes on her belly, trying to move one of the twins. “Ugh, these babies are slowly killing me. They won’t get out of my ribs.”
“They’ll be here soon.”
“Not soon enough. I just have to make it to at least thirty-seven weeks.” She crosses her fingers hopefully and plucks a hunk of bread off the loaf as Latham walks in the front door. He sets his lunch box down then strolls into the living room, glances at me, and takes one look at his wife’s peaceful smile.