The Path to Finding You

by S M Broad

  “Yeah, let’s do that.” I moan when his hand slides over the fabric of my chiffon blouse, stopping right under the swells of my breasts. “I’ll do that thing you like.” I raise my eyebrows, wiggling them seductively at him. He chuckles loudly, smacking a kiss to my cheek just as the doorbell rings.

  “Come on, Latham and Aayla are here. Let’s go have some fun.”

  Every woman in this building- single, dating, engaged, married, and divorced- I included is swooning into a goopy puddle of mush onto the sticky bar floor as Latham murmurs the last line of “Tennessee Whiskey” by Chris Stapleton into the microphone.

  I am very much committed and in love with Kohen, but holy hell can that man sing a damn song. I watch him put on a spectacular show for his wife, winking and pointing at only her. Always making sure she knows that she’s the most important woman in the room.

  The only woman.

  She’s as captivated as everyone else when he sings. His deep, smokey, croon is dampening the panties of every single unsuspecting soul who walked into Sweetwater Bar and Grill for karaoke tonight. I wouldn’t even be surprised if a few guys have a nice stiff one for him. The room collectively sighs when the last note of the sensual, knee quiver inducing song fades out. When the crowd explodes with cheers, Kohen shakes his head, crowing.

  “Well, that’s just unfair. That swoony motherfucker is making us all look bad.” He takes a sip of his water. I nudge his shoulder, laughing without restraint as I cross my feet to look down at my Doc’s and back up.

  “If I wasn’t already pregnant, I would be now. Jesus.” Aayla blows out a heavy, aroused breath, watching as Latham steps down from the stage. “Ugh. I have to pee again.”

  I help her off her stool so Latham can walk her to the bathroom. On their way back to the table, a woman stops him and blatantly flirts with him. We’re talking about the whole nine yards- hair flipping, lip biting, giggling, and inappropriate touching. All this going on with Aayla standing right behind him. She watches in annoyance, one sculpted brow high as the ceiling, but stands beside her man proudly.

  That’s my girl.

  She’s a better woman than me, I’d have ripped her arm clean off like an angry she-wolf if she touched Kohen. He brushes her off, holding up his left hand to show his wedding ring and points to Aayla, but she just shrugs like it doesn’t even matter. That kind of shit makes me stabby. He mouths I’m not interested, but this chick cannot take a hint, so I decide to take up arms for my five months pregnant best friend who can’t physically defend herself against this leech. They manage to escape the soul-stealing succubus, but instead of letting it go, I instigate. I’m feeling froggy, so I decide to jump.

  Bitch is going down.

  I stand and make my way over to her, leaning against her table with a saccharine sweet and slightly murderous smile.

  “Who the hell are you?” She sneers at me from behind her martini glass.

  “Next time a married man tells you he’s not interested, back the fuck off.” I stare daggers at her, smirking when she reels back a little at my pissy tone.

  “What the hell are you even talking about?” She follows my finger when I point to Aayla and Latham sitting at our table, wrapped up in an embrace while he whispers in her ear.

  “That’s my best friend and her husband. You know...The man you just had your paws all over. If I were you, I’d stay away from that table for the rest of the night.” I give her one more look that conveys she doesn’t want to scrap with me because I’ll rip her cheap weave right off the tracks. Bitchy Bitch seems to find some lady balls and sits up straighter, trying to intimidate me.

  “I’ll do whatever I damn well please, ‘kay?”

  “Crawl back into the gutter you came from, ‘kay?” I shoo her like the pest she is and turn to leave when she shoves me from behind. My jean covered knees smack the hard tile floor with a thud as a loud curse fights its way from my mouth.

  “Motherfuck.”

  “Stupid bitch, mind your own fucking business.”

  I stand up and twist around, laughing when she wiggles her fingers at me in a taunt. I may be a lot of things. But stupid enough to swing first is not one of them. I cross my arms and shake my head, waiting for the inevitable. She gets irritated enough to take a swing, and all systems click inside my brain. I lurch forward to claw her beady little eyes out when a set of muscular arms wrap around me from behind.

  “Take it easy, tiger.” Kohen’s deep voice rumbles in my ear as he pulls me away from the cackling troll. His serene tone warms my blood, instantly calming the turbulence inside me.

  “I’m sorry, but she was way out of line. That’s my best friend being disrespected, and I’m not gonna stand for it.” I turn in his hold to look at him.

  “You were supposed to keep me in line, not the other way around.” He smirks at me, and the sentence reminds me of my fears for the evening.

  “How are you doing? Is this too much?”

  “All good, baby.” He tucks a hair behind my ear. “You know, I never realized you were so scrappy.”

  “Yeah, well, when it comes to Aayla, I’d commit murder,” I say truthfully, unashamed at my willingness to become a criminal for my best friend. I would ask no questions if she needed my help hiding a dead body. I’d buy the tarp and the shovel because that’s what you do for your family.

  “She’s the Christina Yang to my Meredith Grey.”

  “I know she is.”

  “The fact that you know that reference makes you so much sexier.” I hug him, pressing my face into the middle of his chest to kiss it before tipping my head back up. Kohen looks down at me, a smile playing on his lips.

  “Want to dance? It will distract you.”

  “You hate dancing.”

  “But I love you.” He blows out a breath. “Come on. Dance with me, baby.” He leans in and growls low, sexy and aroused. He pulls me by the hand, out to the crowded floor as “Come A Little Closer” by Dierks Bentley starts to play. Lacing my fingers behind his neck, I hold him to me as our bodies flow around each other to the slow song. The way my body fits together with his, so perfectly connected like two pieces of a puzzle, causes a profound, lustful feeling to explode over my heated body. I grasp the collar of his shirt, yanking him down to my height to kiss him.

  “Kohen,” I speak against his parted lips.

  “Yeah?”

  “Take me home.”

  Chapter 27

  “Leila, wake up.” Kohen’s whisper rouses me from a heavy sleep.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I sit up, rubbing my face.

  “I can’t sleep. I’m feeling a little on edge, so I’m gonna go for a run.” He shifts on the bed, running his hands over his short hair. I blink a few times, realizing it’s still dark outside.

  “What time is it?”

  “Early, almost four.”

  “Well, I’ll come with you. Just let me get dressed.” I move my underwear-clad butt to get up, but he puts a hand on my side, stopping me.

  “No, go back to sleep. I’ll be home in a little bit, I just didn’t want to leave without telling you in case you woke up.” He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “I love you.”

  “Love you.” My head hits the fluffy pillow, and I’m already halfway to dreamland as I mumble some words that may or may not be coherent. My eyes shut, but then I shoot up in bed, clutching the rumpled blankets in my fists when I hear a loud noise downstairs. I relax, thinking it’s just Kohen moving around the living room or kitchen and rollover. Covering my head with a pillow, I block out the sound until a repetitive pounding starts, bouncing around my skull. I blink an eye open, wondering who the hell is trying to beat my door down at the asshole’s crack of dawn.

  Twisting my head, I look at my alarm clock as the bright green numbers flash 5:15 a.m. I’ve been sleeping for an hour, even though I feel like I just closed my eyes. I jump when the loud noise happens again.

  What the ever-loving fuck?

  All of
a sudden, a terrible thought hits me.

  Aayla. The babies.

  I throw myself out of bed, skipping the stairs two at a time until I hit the landing. Without thinking, I toss open the door and freeze when I see an unfamiliar man with his hands braced on the doorframe. He’s tall, maybe only an inch or two shorter than Kohen, but he still towers over my petite body. He’s got inky black hair, so oily it looks like limp noodles and dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His ratty clothes and horrible body odor scream junkie.

  “Kohen here?” He sniffs, pinching his nostrils between his thumb and index finger. I know instantly that I need to stall long enough for Kohen to come back and help, but hoping I can get this creep to go away on my own.

  “I don’t know anyone named Kohen.” I shift slightly, trying to push the door closed when his booted foot in the jamb stops me.

  “Nice try, bitch. I’ve been watching you two for weeks, and I know he lives here.”

  Watching us?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nobody named Kohen lives here.” I play dumb, thinking it will be enough to deter this psycho.

  Wrong.

  His scowl deepens to a murderous glare as he pushes his way into the house, knocking the coat rack over with a loud clatter. He easily bypasses me because I have such a small stature. If he wanted to, I’m sure he could throw me around like a rag doll. I shove at his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

  “Get out of my house.”

  Where are you, Kohen?

  “I ain’t going anywhere till I get my fuckin’ money.” He sneers at me. My temper flares, call it the red-headed curse, so I shove him again, which only pisses him off more. I know I’ve pushed too far when he wrenches his arm back before throwing it forward. I move to duck, but his fist is too fast. His closed hand smashes into the middle of my face, snapping my nose with a sickening crack. My head snaps back, blood dripping down my chin onto my shirt as I collapse to the floor.

  “Kohen!” I scream for him urgently, cowering away from the man when he towers over me.

  “I thought you said you didn’t know him?” He spits on me, literally. I wipe the rancid bodily fluid from my cheek and curl into the fetal position, holding my nose just as his foot connects with my left side, grunting when a sharp pain bursts in my ribs.

  He kicks me again and somehow manages to hit with the exact same spot as the first blow. My ribs scream with pain, they hurt so bad I can already feel the bruise forming under my skin from all the broken blood vessels. I brace for yet another impact, but it never comes. Instead, a boisterous growl gets my attention.

  I look up and see a sweat-soaked Kohen charging through the open doorway to tackle the greasy asshole. I skitter away from the ruckus, cradling my broken nose in my hands while I watch Kohen wail on this piece of shit. Their grunts and shouts muffle the words between them, but I make out a few motherfuckers, bastards, and one son of a bitch.

  Kohen gets the upper hand in the fight, lifting the asshole off the floor with ease as he stands to his full size of six foot tall.

  “Get the fuck out of here, Eddie. I don’t owe you a goddamn cent, and if I ever see your face again, you won’t make it out alive. You get me, motherfucker?” The venom and ferocity in Kohen’s tone causes the tiny hairs on the back of my neck to rise.

  He drops the prick on his ass, stalking after him when he runs out the door, slamming it behind him. His shoulders rise and fall with his breath as he calms himself down before he turns, his face crumbling when he sees the blood all over me. He slides down onto his knees in front of me, gently moving my hands from my nose to check the damage.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” His fingers let me go and dig through his hair, tugging. He reaches for me again, but I flinch on instinct, my brain kicking into overdrive. His teeth clench as he watches me. He reaches for me again, but all I can do is stare blankly past him. “Leila? Are you okay?”

  Say something for Christ's sake.

  “I’m fine...I think.” I blink, wincing from the razor-edged pain lancing up the bridge of my nose.

  “You’re not fine, your nose is broken.” He exhales roughly, gripping my bloody fingers in his palm. “We need to go to the hospital. Come on.” He helps me up, bending to grab a flannel shirt off the floor where the coat rack is tipped over, slipping it onto my shoulders to cover my blood-soaked t-shirt. We walk to the door, pausing so I can shove my feet into my unlaced Nike’s. Kohen checks our surroundings as we head outside and down the sidewalk to his Jeep.

  He holds my hand and my waist while also not touching me where I was kicked, helping me into the vehicle before shutting me inside. He jogs around to the driver's side and into his seat, hauling ass to the hospital.

  It’s a bad day.

  Now, when I say bad, I don’t mean- I stubbed my toe on the corner of a table, or I spilled hot coffee all over the front of my white silk blouse, or there’s a run in my pantyhose - kind of bad.

  I mean, after waiting five hours in the emergency room, a doctor twisted my nose until blood gushed from it to reset the break and taped a nasal cast to the bridge of it. He prescribed me some high dose tranquilizers, gave Kohen major stink eye, and all but accused him of domestic abuse. I mean, we had to sneak back into my house at nine a.m. in broad daylight so nobody- also known as Latham and Aayla- saw us.

  I just woke up hours after getting attacked by an asshole junkie to find Kohen sitting on the couch, staring at the bottle of pain pills I got from the emergency room.

  It’s a bad fucking day.

  “Kohen, what are you doing?” I brace myself on the wall, fear prickling down my spine. Ironically, I’m more scared of this situation than I was by someone breaking into my house and beating the shit out of me.

  “I want to take these so fucking bad.” He scrubs a hand over his tired, barely battered face and then looks at me with panic in his bloodshot eyes. “Right now. The whole bottle. I want the pain to stop. I need it to stop.” His head drops between his shoulders as he breathes short and choppy. I hustle as fast as my sore, protesting ribs will allow me to, settling next to him on the couch and grip his hand with mine.

  “Talk to me, Kohen. Tell me what’s going on in your head.” I need him to communicate with me. Silence fills the room for a long stretch of time before finally, he speaks.

  “This is my fault. I caused it.” He says, his eyes pinching shut after one look at my swollen and already bruising face. When they open again and lock on mine, they’re remorseful. Deeply troubled.

  “No, it’s not.” I scoot closer on the couch until our legs touch.

  “Don’t fucking do that, Leila.” He barks roughly, voice raw with emotion. “Don’t patronize me, and don’t make this seem like it was just some random coincidence.”

  “But it was, Kohen.”

  “Just fucking stop it!” He shouts, making me flinch as he swipes the bottle off the table and shoves up from the couch to pace the living room. “You got attacked, and it was my shitty decision to use that caused it.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “Well, I do!” His hands fly out in front of him as he berates himself, fingers locked around the orange bottle, the other thumping his chest with a closed fist. “I do. I blame my fucking self.” He freezes where he stands and tosses his free hand across his mouth while he fights his emotions. Suddenly, he calms and comes to kneel by me, still clutching the bottle tightly; blue eyes swirling with unshed tears.

  “I wasn’t here to protect you. Why did I leave? Why did I go for a run? Why was I gone for so long?” The questions rapid-fire off his lips one after the other.

  “It helps you decompress, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I wasn’t here, Leila. I should have been here.” He covers his mouth again as if some painful realization has just hit him. “He could have killed you.”

  “But he didn’t. I’m fine. See?” I touch his cheek, showing him that I’m real. I’m right here with him. He releases a heavy exhale, l
eaning forward to press his lips to mine.

  This kiss is unlike any we’ve shared before; tender, loving, but also distressed.

  This kiss is poignant.

  “You’re so much stronger than this.” I pull back, pointing to the bottle. Holding my hand out, I ask him silently to give me the pills, and after a long minute, he finally does. I breathe a deep sigh of relief, get up off the couch, hobbling to the bathroom to flush them down the toilet. Kohen comes into the room a short minute later, standing behind me for a beat before walking to the tub to turn the handle.

  He plugs the drain, letting the water fill the porcelain basin. Kohen turns, unbuttoning the flannel shirt he put on me. He peels it down my arms and carefully removes my t-shirt before doing the same with my yoga pants and underwear until I’m naked. He moves to himself quickly, yanking his own clothes off. We stand there exposed, our bodies and feelings stripped; both of us vulnerable in this moment.

  His large, rough hands drift over my bare skin, warming the chill that has settled over me. They rove, seeking purchase, but never stray from his destined path up the delicate hollow of my neck, coming to rest at the underside of my jaw. He cradles my face steady, torment plaguing his eyes as he peers down at me.

  Letting his hands drop and lacing our fingers together, he leads me to the bathtub to help me in. Kohen turns off the faucet flow, climbing into the warm water behind me. He splays a hand on my belly, drawing me backward into the protective circle of his arms. Nuzzling his nose into me, he speaks softly into my tangled hair.

  “I’m sorry.” He slides his arm across my chest to settle just below my neck, cradling me securely. His voice cracks, shoulders shaking violently as he breaks down. “I’m so sorry, Leila.”

  I fight like hell but fail to assure him with words that I’m okay, that we’re okay, instead giving in to my own overwhelming emotions. Silently digging my nails into his arm, I cling to Kohen there in the dark while we fall apart together.