Page 40 of Once I Find You

“You fixin’ to keep rubbing that till it breaks in half?”

Mason’s voice rips me out of my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been sitting here polishing the same spot on this car this whole time. I shake my head, standing up and tossing the towel on the workbench.

“Lost in thought? ‘Cause it’s her birthday?”

Shit. I spaced that completely. “No, just a lot of shit on my plate, Mas.”

“I thought maybe you were thinkin’ about how she’s about to get wasted and maybe hookup with some guy.”

“Yeah, shithead, thank you,” I grumble, wiping my hands on my jeans and passing him to get to the counter. “And she isn’t hooking up with anyone.”

“Why? It isn’t like you’re obliging. Seriously, what kind of idiot man turns down a woman begging for it?” He laughs, shaking his head at his own hypothetical question.

“The ones who don’t like to take advantage of vulnerable women,” I remind him.

“Or, maybe the one who is afraid of what being with her implies, but pretends it’s because of her that he isn’t doing it.”

Goddamn him. “Mas, mind your business. I don’t need you poking me like that. Shit isn’t simple.”

“I guess it isn’t simple. But I can at least say that she seems like she’s genuine about you. You’re not still thinkin’ she’s going to yap to someone, are you?”

I sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t think she would on purpose, at least. She’s the type to talk without thinking. One fucking wrong sentence to the wrong person, and I’m done. Besides that, she’s on all these… ‘true crime’ groups online. Who knows, Mas.”

“She’d never do that. I bet she’d do whatever you said, anyway.”

“And that, might be the problem. I’m not qualified for that. I already—” I’m about to say that I already failed at taking care of someone. I let Mel down. Now what, I take in some young girl who clearly needs guidance and someone to hold her hand through life? I fucked that up before. I’m not good at being there for someone.

“What happened to them was not your fault, Kane. You and I were deployed.”

“Yeah, well I shouldn’t have fucking gotten deployed. I should’ve run back home the moment Mel asked me to.”

“Mel was an adult⁠—”

“She needed me! She fucking—” I stop myself, taking a breath to lower my voice. “She was alone, raising a little girl, and she was in over her head already. I thought supporting her financially was enough, and that I’d enjoy my time with them whenever I had the chance. It wasn’t enough, though. Not when that fucking…”

When my words die out, I feel his hand on my shoulder. “It’s alright. You didn’t know. No one knew. It was random, Kane. You can live the rest of your life whining about what you could’ve done, but now look. The world just placed a do-over into your lap. Layla needs you.”

Layla needs you.

I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think of it like that. I don’t know what the fuck I think anymore.

“Come on old man, let’s make dinner and clean up. I wanna enjoy the weekend.”

By the time my eyes open again, I find myself passed out on the couch where I’d been with Mason. He made me watch some boring movie again, and I couldn’t help myself. I stretch my arms, turning my head to crack my neck and sit up a bit. Fuck, what time is it anyway? I wonder if she’s still out.

I reach for my phone, and my heart sinks.

Six missed calls. Two voicemails. Even more texts than that.

I sit up straighter, immediately going to click on the voicemails. The first one is short.

“Ahh Crys, not that one! Oops, Kane! I was wondering…maybe you should come. My friend’s girlfriend is coming and I guess I…stop! I said I didn’t want that!” She laughs, and the voicemail ends abruptly.

I quickly click on the next one. “Sorry I called you a loooot…I don’t know. I’m standing outside because I just wanna go home. I missed the bus and Crystal left with her girlfriend…and the taxi was kinda expensive. I wanted to ask for a ride but you’re probably asleep. I think I’ll walk a few blocks over to check the subway times. I just um, I wanted to say that I’m sorry for sending so many texts and um, calling so much. I know it’s annoying. I guess now I’m sitting here alone with my drunk thoughts and realizing that maybe I’m—what? No, sorry I’m okay. I’m…waiting for my ride. Huh? No, I⁠—”

And it ends. Who the fuck was she talking to? Some random person? It must have been if she lied about having a ride. Why didn’t she call again? Why does all communication fucking stop?

I’m already grabbing my keys and heading downstairs. I scroll through her texts, which are mostly drunk babble. Except one.