by Yessi Smith
A soft sigh brushes over my lips as warmth spreads throughout my body seconds before my eyes close, and the world goes black.
TWENTY-NINE
YANELYS
There once was a boy who was strong and kind and caring. He was courageous but sad. Sorrow and destruction followed his every misstep.
There once was a boy who loved a girl and protected her from harm, even when it meant alienating himself so that she could be safe from him.
There once was a boy who followed a path full of seduction and deceit. False promises were made that kept him away from the people who loved him most.
There once was a boy who one day woke up as a lonely man, away from his life, his family, his home.
Neither the boy nor the man knew the true value of love. He reached for love, but his own feelings of disapproval destroyed every chance he had of letting love in.
I grip the man’s hand and plead with the boy to find his way back to me. To fight and stop underestimating himself or the love we share.
“Be strong, Cam,” I whisper, brushing the loose strands of hair out of his face. “Come back to me.”
After we hounded the nurses, Camden’s doctor finally spoke to my parents, Pastor Floyd, and me and reassured us that Camden would make a full recovery although he had experienced respiratory arrest while en route to the hospital in the ambulance Pastor Floyd had called when he found Camden unconscious this morning.
They had been able to bring Camden back.
Now, all he has to do is open his eyes and choose to live. Really live, not just breathe and go through the motions of daily life. I want Camden to live and experience, and love and laugh. I want him to hurt and feel, and scream and cry. I want him to do all of that and more right beside Olivia and me.
“I’m waiting for you.” I press my lips to his forehead. “We all are. You have a new life to live, but you have to fight for it.”
“I’m tired of fighting,” Camden groans.
My lips twitch, relief flooding me at the sound of Camden’s voice. “Dig deeper inside of you, Cam, because you’re gonna fight. We’re gonna fight.”
Camden’s eyes flutter open, a pair of blue eyes looking back at me. “You’re so beautiful, Yan. You know that?”
“Figures you’d almost die, and those would be the first words out of your mouth.”
His eyes dance, his lips lifting for a second, but then another soft groan fills the room when he takes in his surroundings. “I’m in the hospital?”
I nod. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?”
His brows knit together, a tight frown painting over his lips. He takes in a sharp breath of air, and when his eyes meet mine, he nods once.
“That’s behind you, Camden.” I take his hand in mine and intertwine our fingers together.
“You can’t fix me, Yan.” He watches me, waiting for my response, as fear and pain play behind his eyes.
“But I can stay with you.”
I sit on the edge of his bed, and he moves to the other side to give me room. When I lie down next to him, he pulls me to him and kisses my forehead.
“Olivia,” he whispers his daughter’s name, making my heart skip several beats. “What about her?”
“She’s with my parents.”
“Tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow will come,” I interrupt. “And we’ll face it together. One day at a time, Cam. That’s all it takes.”
His arms tighten their grip around me, and I lean my face toward his, so I can kiss the stubble on his jaw. He tips my chin and places a soft kiss on my mouth. His fingers caress my cheek and I lean onto his hand, needing the same comfort I’m giving him.
“Together, we’ll make sense of it all,” I promise.
“I’m no good for Livvy.”
“You’re enough, Cam.” I take his hand and kiss the palm before I tighten my fingers over his. “You are so enough. It’s incredible just how enough you actually are.”
My words bleed into him, and I watch his walls give and begin to shatter behind his eyes.
“Stop betraying yourself with lies, and open your eyes, so you can see just how important you are. We all have something that destroys us and makes us flawed.” I lick my lips, our eyes connecting us, and I can feel his pain as my own. “It strangles our hearts and keeps our emotions raw, so we can’t move past them. We all have something we can’t take back that cripples our souls.”
“What destroys you?” he asks.
“You do. Every time you leave me.”
He balks at my words, but I press on.
“So, stop leaving me, Cam.”
His lips form a thin line as he presses them together. “I don’t know how to stay and not ruin everything.”
“One day at a time, remember? Forget about what could or might happen weeks or months or years from now. We’re only focusing on today.”
“Since we were kids, you’ve always tried to save me, but what if there’s nothing left to save?”
“I’m not trying to save you. You can do that on your own. I just want to make it hurt less.” The sides of my lips tip up, remembering the very same conversation we had when we were kids.
He draws in a small breath, both of us lost in the memory of our youth and the bond we’ve shared for years.
“You’re wrong,” he stammers, dropping his eyes to his lap. “I can’t save myself. You’re my knight, my warrior, my everything. You’re the one who made me fight when what I really wanted to do was give up.” Bright blue eyes look up at me, begging me, as they darken with his intensity. They overflow with emotions, with the never-ending sadness framing his thin face.
My tongue sneaks out, wetting my lips, as we stare at each other. The man I love, hardened by life’s many blows, watches me with all of his vulnerabilities exposed.
His hands reach out and take my face, his warmth emanating the same fierceness he has to find internally. His voice comes out raw, the expression on his face rigid, as he says, “When I left, I gave up. The only time I felt even the tiniest bit of hope was in Haiti, but when I lost that…”
“Your world came crashing down.” With tender fingers, I touch his hands, acknowledging his pain, wanting to carry some of his load for him. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m sorry for everything you’ve lost. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”
He leans his head forward, and I bring him to my chest, tightly hugging him, swearing I’ll never let him go. He trembles at my touch and lets out a loud sob. With his restraint gone, I hold him, both of us experiencing the same excruciating pain that plummets into our chests, leaving us breathless.
“I’m here now. And, Cam, I need you to get clean. Livvy and I—we need you to get clean. Livvy needs her dad, and I need my soul mate.”
“Okay.” His grip around my waist tightens, and he exhales a long breath. “I’m gonna do this right though. I have to go away again.”
My chest constricts, and he looks up at me with bloodshot eyes.
“I have to go to rehab, Yan. It’s the only way I can do this.”
“Okay,” I agree, leaning forward so that I can kiss his forehead.
He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he gazes at me with determination. “I’m going to get clean—for you, for Livvy, for myself. I just need you to promise me something.”
Our eyes meet, and I nod my head, licking my lips.
“Promise me you won’t bring Livvy to see me. I can’t have my daughter seeing me in a place like that.” Emotions rake over his face as he waits for my reply.
“Okay, but you can’t keep me away, Cam. We’re in this together.”
THIRTY
CAMDEN
I always knew whatever path I followed would somehow lead me back to Yanelys. She’s my destination. My hope, even when I thought I’d given up on that. My heart, mind, and soul still guide me to her.
Her words, her promises, hold me together. One day at a time is a lot less daunting than picturing endless days of tr
ying and fighting. Those words spoken from her lips reached me, breathing life and faith back into my lungs. The terror of wanting to live for her, for Olivia, doesn’t have as tight of a hold as it did before.
Because we’re doing it together, one day at a time. We’ll grow together—not through the years that we spend with one another, but the experiences that bind us, the wars we wage and win. Together. And I will win.
One day, when I leave the rehab center I was admitted to two days ago, I’ll wake up to my beautiful girl and greet the sun with the same determination Yanelys fills me with. Every night, I’ll go to bed, knowing I fought and won another battle against my addiction.
When I leave the confines of my small room and step into the front office, familiar shame slams into me when I spot Santiago waiting for me by the receptionist’s desk. My chest heaves, and I gasp.
Santiago’s throat bobs as he swallows and turns his brown eyes to the floor before they settle back on me. He clears his throat, his body tensing with every step he takes toward me.
“I’m not leaving her again,” I say before he has the chance to speak. “Or Livvy. I’ve screwed up,” I rush on, blurting out everything I feel and know to be true, “so many times, and I’ll probably keep on screwing up, but leaving her, leaving them, has been the biggest mistake I’ve made. I can’t do it again.” My chest lifts and drops in rapid succession. “You can hate me.” My heart constricts, moisture collecting in the corners of my eyes, and I run my hands over my face. “But I’m not leaving my family, not ever again.”
He purses his lips and nods once. “I was wrong to tell you to leave. I gave up on you the minute things got too hard.” He takes a few steps toward me and puts his hands on my shoulders. “I gave up on you. I’m sorry, son.”
A sense of joy and guilt weave together as I watch him hold himself together through his own feelings of remorse.
I put my hands on his wrists and squeeze. “You were looking out for your family,” I whisper, ignoring the curious eyes of the workers at the center.
“You are my family, Camden.” His eyes, puffy and rimmed in red, meet mine. “You’re my son in every way that matters, and I turned away from you. And you…” His voice breaks as his eyes wildly dance over to the couch resting in the far corner of the front office.
“Don’t.” I shake my head. “I took the heroin because of who I am. Because of the stupid choices I’ve made. This isn’t on you. It’s me. I need help.”
I look around, my eyes scanning over the walls of my self-imposed prison, and I know I’ve made the right decision in coming here. I need professional help. This isn’t something I could do alone. I know that.
Every minute that passes by is a reminder of how dependent I am on the pills that numb me. Even with the medicine the center’s been giving me, it’s hard. Because of the medicine, the side effects of withdrawal aren’t as strong as they were at Santiago’s beach house, but they’re still there, lying in wake with the constant need for just one more pill and its false promises.
“Your family —we will help you. I swear it. I won’t ever push you away again. You’re my son. You’ve always been my son, and I’m going to fight for you even if you don’t want me to.”
Gratitude pumps through my veins, and a small smile crosses my face. The fear of Santiago’s disapproval has weighed heavily on my shoulders. Knowing he still cares, that I’m still his son, frees me.
He takes my hands to his face and touches his forehead with mine. Tears clog the back of my throat, and I shut my eyes, allowing my emotions to squeeze and torment and eventually alleviate the tension in my chest.
“I love you,” I choke out and when Santiago drops my hands, I grip his wrists with tight fists. “You and Carmen—you’re my parents. And”—I’m unprepared for the turmoil swimming inside me, and tears fall from my eyes and down my cheeks—“thank you.”
Santiago pulls me to him, hugging and consoling me, while I struggle to find a breath.
“We love you, too. You know that, don’t you?”
Unable to speak, I nod my head and close my eyes tightly, forcing more tears to escape from the corners.
My whole life, I’ve reached for love but never gotten a proper grasp on it. But I can’t back away from it anymore. I can’t continue to live on empty when the girl who is my world has asked me to live and love by her side. For too many wasted years, I lived my life in denial and lost everything that was important to me because it was easier to hold the devil’s hand than risk the chance of Yanelys turning her back on me. But she’s finally seen the worst in me, and for some crazy reason, she’s still holding me close to her heart.
THIRTY-ONE
CAMDEN
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I whisper into Yanelys’s hair, bringing her closer to my bare chest when she murmurs a sleepy response.
Several days ago, I started to live again. One day at a time.
It hasn’t been easy, but change in its inevitability never is. Mistakes and regret form in its wake. Repercussions follow us that haunt us, never loosening their hold. At least, not really.
But I know it’s well worth every hardship when Yanelys’s eyes flutter open, and her lips lift into a radiant smile. Delicate hands trace over my back, sending shivers down my spine. My mouth covers hers, taking and giving, offering and demanding.
Earlier this morning, Santiago picked me up at the rehab center and dropped me off at Yanelys’s doorstep. She was shocked when she opened the door, but she didn’t ask further questions when I explained that I had been granted a day pass from my twenty-one day program. We took advantage of Olivia sleeping and went straight to Yanelys’s bedroom where we held each other until we both fell back to sleep.
The story of us unravels, spinning its tale through our limbs and into our souls.
Our mouths stay connected as I bend my knees and climb over Yanelys. I press a long, urgent kiss against her lips. Breathless, we separate, and I trace kisses over her chin, down her throat, and onto her naked breasts. Her lean muscles twitch, and she grips the back of my head so that I lean back and gaze into her tender brown eyes. Minutes pass with us just staring at one another, anticipation and need growing and stirring inside us.
When she leans her head into her pillow and arches her back, I align my cock with her entrance and kiss her neck as I go inside her.
“So beautiful,” I whisper. “You’re so beautiful.”
Her hands go to my stomach and wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to her. Her eyes watch me with the same faith she restored in me, and my heart thunders behind my chest.
I thrust inside her, filling us, and when she moans my name, my mouth covers hers, demanding and pulling every inch of who she is. Yanelys opens to me in invitation, and our tongues dance together as I fist her hair. Fast and hard, I lose control of myself, and together, we conquer each other. Unrestrained pleasure encompasses me with every jerk. Moaning my name again, she shudders once before her body goes languid beneath me.
Emotions run rampant when her dark eyes meet mine, and I slow my movements, so I can take her in. This woman, this incredible woman who loves me through my flaws, has my heart and has somehow saved me with her unwavering gentleness.
When I tip her chin up, her eyes never leave me, and I gasp when her hands touch and caress my face. My own hands grip her face as I continue to move inside her. Her eyes open in shock, and she lets out a joyous cry when I thrust one final time.
Arms wrap around my neck, bringing me to her so that our bodies are flush together. I rest on my elbow and touch the outline of her face.
“Thank you”—desperation floods me and spills over—“for not giving up on me. For getting me and loving me. I always knew you’d be the one to save me.”
“You’re the one who hasn’t given up.” Her fingers trace over my jaw and lips. “I can only do so much. The rest is on you.”
Her eyes soften, affection pouring from her. I inch down further and place a soft kiss to her swollen lips.
“I love you, Camden. I love every piece of you.”
My eyes close, taking in and absorbing her words as the truth. Letting them shape me. Because I choose to believe in her, in us. I choose to believe in love, daunting and fragile as it might be.
“I love you, Yanelys.” My voice comes out rough with the promise of forever enveloping us.
Her fingers dig into the back of my neck, and I touch my forehead with hers, breathing her in, letting her light and goodness bleed into me.
After showering and having breakfast with Yanelys and Olivia, we all piled into Yanelys’s car and drove to Pastor Floyd’s church.
For the past three hours, we’ve been working tirelessly, getting the church’s annual Thanksgiving lunch ready.
With the decorations hung and the aromatic scent of turkey and mashed potatoes lingering in the air, I step back and look at the sitting area just outside Pastor Floyd’s office. Small round tables fill up most of the space while the coffee table in front of the couch where I’ve slept countless times fills with food. Next to it, a small cooler—that I’ve washed after every time we’ve had one of these lunches—is full of soda and water.
It isn’t extravagant, but it’s special. And for the past seven years, it’s been mine. My sliver of peace throughout all the turmoil.
Pastor Floyd didn’t have to take me in, but he did it anyway. He gave me his kindness, and in return, I drained him. But his affection for me never emptied. He pushed and prodded and tried to help me reach a level of normalcy I’d never been able to obtain without Yanelys. Without my family.
As if pulled by my thoughts, she looks up at me from across the room, a smile playing on her lips. My heart thumps loudly in my chest, and I walk to her. With four long strides, I’m by her side, taking her into my arms. Her lips meet mine, making my heart steady while it continues to beat for her.
“You okay?” she asks, concern spilling from her eyes.
“Yeah.” I kiss her forehead, and she leans her head on my chest. “I’ve never been so okay in my life.”
