Chapter 48: Front Men F*ck Their Karma

Check out the cover of Howie Day's "Collide" above. I think this is a great song for what Leed is feeling right now and Clay Coley has the same kind of powerful , expressive and raw voice I imagine Leed has...

Leed

I should not fucking be here, man.

This is bad karma.

I know that.

The thing is...I'm wounded. And when someone is hurting like I'm hurting, the rights and wrongs don't seem to matter so much. I'm stripped of all my balance and reason. My chi is all fucked and I can't get it flowing right on my own.

Actually, the truth is, right now, I don't even think I believe in all that balance bullshit.

Right now, I think life is nothing more than a fight for survival. Life and death. A fight to make sure your genes, your line, your strength, persists into the future. We are all animals.

A lion, they call me.

A lion doesn't give a fuck about his karma.

A lion roars. A lion claims his territory. A lion fights and fucks and does what he damn well pleases.

A lion spends his day lying on a rock, drawing strength from the sun, because he never knows when his world will go to shit and some outside force will bring the fight to him.

He doesn't care that he takes and rules...and leaves his pride to deal with the fallout of his dominance.

A lion does what he does and doesn't worry about shit.

You're a lion, Leed Lawson. Don't fight against nature. You can't win.

Go with your instinct. Take what you need to survive. It's your right. You are King of the Jungle, man. If you want lie down with that sunshine, do it. If it feels good, fucking take it.

Shit.

I don't want to be a lion.

Not with her. She doesn't need a lion. She needs a friend. The last time I came here, I came as a friend. I came for her. Now I'm here for me, and...

This is wrong. Wrong for her, bad karma for me.

I rise from the couch in this cheerful visitation room. "I can't stay. I have to go," I tell the Island Lady at the desk with the turban and the smile that feels like a laugh. She just shakes her head. I raised hell and charmed and wheedled and finally begged Island Lady to get in this place at barely 6am, and now I'm bailing.

"You in a bad way, chile," she clucks as I stride past her, and jerk open the door, walking out into the breezy beach wind.

I'm halfway to the rental car, when I hear a voice behind me, raised against the wind. "Leed?"

I turn toward it. The sun is rising directly behind her, her long pale hair is whipping in the wind, tipped with the promise of the brightening day, shining around her like a golden aura.

Fuck me. Is that supposed to be some kind of sign?

I don't even know.

All I know is I can't stop my feet from moving toward her.

I stop in front of her. She looks different—vibrant. Her amber eyes bright with a light I only saw in flashes in LA. She looks strong—so much fucking stronger than I have ever seen her. Her posture is perfectly at ease but her long limbs radiate vigor and tone that wasn't ever there before—not even the first time I saw her all those years ago. When she came to UGA to visit friends. Brought Kat to visit Trace.

There have been so many girls that caught my eye between then and now. They blur together. Not many of them memorable. But I remember everything about that night I met Ashlynn Ballard.

She radiated a different heat that night—pure fury. She was an angry little meteor bouncing around that practice hall, because Trace was corrupting her fourteen year-old baby sister. You would have thought that red solo cup Trace was sharing with Kat was full of the devil's dark blood, not a flat, warm beer from lasts night's leftover keg.

Yeah, Ashlynn was burning bright, and she caught my eye, all sexy and self-righteous and big sister. I'm a big brother. I vibed that part of her. Won't lie. Wanted to get that little fire ball under me. Wanted to feel that heat. I talked her down, got her laughin', even though I had just met her.

I tried to kiss her, but she wouldn't let me. Said she had a boyfriend.

I backed off, no worries.

Bad karma, to get in between her and her guy. I wasn't tryna start a love affair, after all. I was just lookin' for a little fun. A little warmth. A little light.

Would things have been different for her, if I had kissed her anyway? Would it have been a revelation for both of us?

Would she have let her light shine on me all night? More than a night? Would she have left her boyfriend? Would she have been tucked up beside me in my bed down in Athens that next year's winter break, instead of home, cleaning up Trace's mess on New Year's Eve? Would she still have gotten hurt that New Year's morning, gotten messed up with drugs after?

Would things have been different for me? Would the kiss have shown me sooner what I know now—that I was never comin' round to settle down with Tamara after my rock star ride? That Tam and I had feels for each other, but not what Trace and Kat have...love so bright that it blinds them to anyone else? Or what Mac has with Adam? A love that's reshaping the shit out of each of them, making them a better and better fit all the time? Would Ashlynn and I have found something special in that kiss—something worth diggin' deeper for?

Or would the kiss have fallen flat?

If had kissed her, would she have simply pushed me off and walked away? Would she have gone back to her boyfriend, never told him? Would that Cam guy still have let her go to Trace's house alone that New Year's morning, because he was too drunk or too dumb to feel the sketch vibe of the situation and do what he should have done—gone with her, helped her, protected her? Would things have happened just the same for her?

Would we still be standing here just like this—but with one minor alteration to our history? Just a kiss that didn't go anywhere. No chemistry. No question about what might have been.

Who knows? All I know is...it didn't happen. Now, what might have been can't ever be. No good for her. No good for Trace. No good for Soundcrush.

I shouldn't fucking be here. I should walk away now.

And yet, when she smiles, it grips me.

It's like I've never seen the dawn before that moment, and I can't walk backwards into the night.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, breathless from wherever she's come from. Yoga probably. She's in yoga pants and a strappy tunic.

"Ashlynn, I...I..." What the fuck am I supposed to say? I can't say all that shit. Ashlynn is in no place for all that. I take a deep breath, hold my arms out like a plea, open my mouth and say...

"I need a hug."

Cause I'm an idiot like that.

Except, Ash doesn't think I'm an idiot. She doesn't laugh at me, or shake her head, or even roll her eyes at what an idiot I am. Mac would hug me hard, but she would make sure to do all those things.

Ashlynn is not like Mac at all. Her brilliant smile softens into a sweet curl of sunny sympathy. She steps into my arms like she belongs there. Her embrace is soft, sensual and so warm. The tension in my muscles eases as her body soothes mine. Her arms envelop my shoulders and her hands go to the back of my head, drawing me closer. I press my face against her blowing mane, breathing her in.

Even here with the ocean smell on the wind, she smells just like the night I met her. When I flirted and played with her hair and leaned in and almost tasted her. She smells like vanilla and wildflower and sunshine. Like a meadow. Like promise and pure light. She smells like...

Like a happy place.

I pull her closer, forcing the breath out of her, but she doesn't protest. She rubs my back with one hand and smooths my long hair with the other and I...I just feel her. Feel her warmth. Feel her comfort. That's all I came here for.

I just need a hug from someone who understands that crazy shit happens and knocks you on your ass. Someone that understands that it's not fair, but you have to somehow make it okay.

Ash gets that. And she gives it to me, somehow. She heats me up and gets my chi flowing again. That block of ice that's had me frozen starts to melt. Ashlynn hugs the bitter to sweet, hugs the anger toward acceptance.

She rocks me gently down to mellow. Down to me.

After what seems like a long time, Ashlynn whispers in my ear. "You wanna cup of tea to go with this hug?"

This girl is like that. At least with me. So easy. Liquid light in her veins.

I force my hands from her body. "Island Lady gonna let me hang around, you think? It's not visiting hours, is it?"

Ashlynn tucks her arm in mine and leads me away from the lobby entrance, down a palm lined path to the right. "Well, I'm not in the residential facility anymore. I passed my three month mark. I'm in the transition program now." She points to a row of the tiniest little cabins I have ever seen. They look like kid's playhouses, almost. All colorfully painted like this is Bermuda instead of Florida. "I live in the third one. It's private, and I can come and go during the day, and I can have visitors, too."

I stop and lean behind, looking down her backside.

She laughs. "Jesus, Leed. That wasn't an invitation for a booty call."

I snort. "Very funny." I pluck her cell phone from the waistband of her yoga pants and wag it at her. "Are you telling me that you have your phone back and you could text me at any time? Why am I only hearing from you on Tuesdays and Thursday and Saturdays still?"

"Well, it's only been a few days since I moved out of the residential facility. I've been trying to stick to my same routine."

I nod. "Okay, that makes sense. You're forgiven." I hand her back her phone, resisting the urge to put it back where I got it, resisting the urge to check out that booty again. I can't, however, resist saying, "Yoga looks good on you, girl. You must have a serious practice, for this much change in your body in just a few months."

She smiles. "Twice a day, every day. I love it. Really love it. I've never felt anything so good, as the way I feel when I practice."

"Nothing?" I tease her.

"Nothing," she says seriously.

I'm sure that's not true, but it just feels like that to her right now. She's had a rough couple of years when it comes to men. I can almost feel Ashlynn blushing beside me, and I'm sorry I teased her. I put a hand on her shoulder, give her a light squeeze. "You look amazing. Not just the bod, babe. Your spirit is shining. Keep stoking that soulshine, Ash. It'll all come right for you."

She wraps an easy arm around my waist, and it feels natural, though we've never been like this before...friends that touch. I smile.

We are hug-buddies now.

I fucking love hugs.

Ashlynn's little bungalow is the cutest damn thing I've ever seen. A tiny turquoise dollhouse, trimmed in purple with a stained wood door, and a sunflower wreath. A block of brightly colored cabinets and shelves along one wall serves as both the kitchenette and a desk area. Through the slider that opens to the beach at the back, I see a couple of painted deck chairs, decorated with intricate swirls and patterns. Live plants hang from the ceiling inside, so low I have to move around them as I enter.

There's not really any furniture inside-not that there would be room for much. Instead, there's a pallet made of thick rugs on the floor, bolstered by dozens of pillows, stacked so tightly that once you step inside the square, you could prop against them easily. This little nest is basically both a bed and a couch. A laptop, and a bunch of books are at one side of the pallet, as well as some yoga bricks and a towel.

"Well, this is home sweet home," she says, as she gestures around. Hope you don't mind sitting on the floor." She puts on a kettle, and pulls down tea and mugs from a shelf.

I take a running leap and dive into the middle of the pallet, stretching and wallowing around on the pillows. "Yeah this is real torture, Ash. So uncomfortable." She watches me act like a giant man-child and laughs. I laugh, too. It's crazy how I've gone from sad to glad after ten minutes with her.

I put my hands behind my head, looking around at the cream based walls, boho tapestries, the beads, the chinese lanterns. It's both bright and light. "This is some cute shit, Ash. You decorate this?"

She nods. "For people like me, that are planning an extended stay...getting your transition home ready is part of the therapy. You know, preparing a safe space, a nest? I've been working on it since my fourth week in. I did all the painting, chose all the stuff from the in-house thrift store. And now it's home, until November."

I don't ask her what comes after. I know Mac's got a little plan for her to come to LA and babysit me. I'm not opposed to the idea, but Ash needs to do what's good for Ash, not what's good for me. No matter how much I could use her Sunshine.

It ain't just about me.

You're lying to yourself man. If you were truly unselfish, you wouldn't even be here, messin' up Ashlynn's cushions and probably messin' up her peace of mind, too. You think she wants to see you? You're just a negative image of Trace, the dude she's trying to forget.

But I'm here already. Leed the Selfish Lion. I know I'm going to soak up that sunshine I came for. The tea kettle goes off and she turns her back to me. I watch her graceful movements as she turns and twists at the cabinents. Watch her hands move as she works. She's thin and lithe like Mac, but she's got at least six inches on my sister. Ashlynn's limbs, hands and fingers are almost ethereal in the grace.

"Honey?" she asks as turns to me.

"Yeah, Sunshine?" I tease her.

She shoots me an adorable grin as she cuts her eyes up. "Do you want honey in your tea?"

"Yeah, Sunshine," I repeat softly.

She drops down into Sukasana directly in front of me, her spine straight, her attention on me as she holds out the tea.

I curl my abs and legs at the same time, folding myself into the same easy sitting position, taking the mug. We sip in silence, our gazes heavy upon each other. Her expression is soft, but to be honest, we don't really know each other well enough for me to read it. This is the first time we've ever been truly alone together. There's always been Trace or Mac or somebody else stealing the air between us.

"Thank you," she says.

I know what she's thanking me for. For this place, for convincing her to come here. Honestly, it wasn't a big deal. I knew about this place because of my mom. Sidney sent her here, a long time ago, when she was still struggling with drinking and drugging too much. This was the last rehab my mom ever needed to find her balance.

"You've said that before."

"I can't ever say it enough," she smiles softly, and I feel her warmth wash over me again, as real as when our bodies were pressed together. "I can't ever...feel enough. Gratitude, I mean. You gave me my life back."

"Nope," I say easily. "You're taking your life back."

"You took the time. To convince me to give this—the yoga, the acupuncture, the meditation-a shot. You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah I did." The words come out, and I'm surprised by them, but they are absolutely true.

She cocks her head and sips her tea.

"Why do you say that?"

I drink in the fragrant lemonbalm liquid, searching for the right way to explain. "Couldn't stand by and watch you hurt anymore, thinkin' there might be a better path for you, and keepin' quite just because I thought it wasn't my place to get involved. The way you were hurting...I hated you seeing you like that. You got too much light to drown in your own shadow. All I did was point you in the right direction. It was nothing. You are doing all the work."

Ash's expression quivers like she might cry, but instead she sits her mug down and draws mine from my hands. We're sitting face to face, so it's easy for her to reach out with her long, graceful arms and draw my head forward. She puts her forehead against mine. "Don't tell me it's nothing. It's everything. My head—it doesn't hurt anymore."

I kiss her forehead. "I'm glad, Ash. So fucking glad."

Her hands slide to my chest, and then she gently pushes away, rolling back into Sukasana. I shift my knees up to Bhadrasana, just to get a little space between us, because this is...too much. She has no idea what she's doing to me. She thinks she's thanking me, but she's making me feel things I shouldn't.

She picks up her mug again. "Wanna talk about it?"

"What?" I don't know why I'm fronting. We both know what the it is.

She doesn't say anything else. She gives me space and radiates warmth.

We finish the tea, and I decide I do want to talk about it. "I'm fucking up. I'm fucking up so bad, Ash. And I...I don't know how to stop. You wouldn't believe what a complete asshole I acted like yesterday, in front of Adam's parents."

She twerks her mouth, trying not to smile. "I probably would. I saw you last year, after Mac got hurt."

"Well, that was holes in walls and shoving a few paps that mostly deserved it. This is punching holes in Mac and Adam. And shoving the mother of my kid away."

She nods. "You have a right to be angry, you know. It's okay."

I shake my head. "I don't. It's my kid we are talking about. I don't get to be angry."

"Sure you do. You just don't get to stay angry. And you won't. You're not angry about the baby you know. You're angry at Tam, for not telling you the truth. You'll forgive her, for your son's sake."

"My dad didn't."

Ash understands. "Forgive your mom, you mean?"

I nod. "It's why everything he touched fell apart. Every job, every relationship, every new life he tried to build. He was holding on to the past hurt." I put my hand on my heart, because my chest feels so fucking tight. Brittle, like it could crack. "I...I feel that, you know? I'm so...stuck...like he was. Frozen. What if I put that on my kid?"

"Leed...the fact that you see that means you aren't like your father. You're hurt, but you won't be stuck forever. You could never be stuck," she smiles, putting her hand up to my shoulder, rocking me back and forth gently. "You are so so graceful and powerful. You move so easy. When you perform. When you practice yoga."

"That's different."

"It's not. That grace and ease, it's not just your body. It's your spirit. I think you should just...move towards Tamara and your son. And even Ben. Just a little bit. Then a little bit more. Before you know it, you'll be so much closer to forgiveness." She slides her hand down, beneath mine, over my heart. Her warmth eases the strain I feel there.

"You think?" I murmur.

"Yeah, I do," she says softly.

I curl my hand around her fingers. "Ash...I think...that's actually...really good advice. I want to, I just don't know how to start."

"You just, start. If I give you another hug, will you try?" she whispers.

I smile. "Deal."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She cocks her head. "Virasana."

It takes me a second to understand that she's asking me to assume that yoga position. She's making a point. Virasana is Hero's Pose—the pose from which an ancient warrior would summon his strength and prepare himself. I kneel, resting back on my knees, my hands on my thighs. She moves behind me, smoothing my hair."You'll be a good father, Leed. You have such good instincts, and the best heart."

Beneath her touch, I believe it's true.

"Tadasana," she murmurs, and I rock forward on the balls of my feet up to Mountain Pose, my arms extended slightly.

Ashlynn hugs me from behind, wrapping her arms beneath mine, stepping up on her tip toes to put her chin on my shoulder, pressing her warmth into my spine.

Her kindness and comfort flow to me, and I feel stronger, yet more flexible at the same time.

But I'm a dude, not just a yogi, so then I feel a little bit more than her energy.

I feel her breasts press between my shoulder blades, and the place where her thighs meet against my ass. Feeling her tight, sweet, hot body clinging to mine is the most fun I've had in fucking ages. Wondering just how much she's learned in her yoga practice, anticipating her flexibility, her balance, her stamina...

Yeah, I bet me and Ashlynn could have all kinds of fun.

"Hey Hotness, is it my turn to choose a position now? I can think of a few good ones," I tease her and she giggles. That sound. Throaty and full and warm, it's my undoing.

Normally,I have a lot of self-discipline over my body.I was keeping the dick under control, until she made that sound. She pats my pecs like the hug is over, but Ash is right. I move easy. Even easier now, filled with her fluid light.

I twist around catching her in my arms, staring down at her lips, giving her the clear signal of what I'm about to do.

"You know I...I...Leed...I...can't," she stammers. "Even if I wanted to...I can't. For a lot of reasons."

Yeah, I heard her. That's exactly why I know I shouldn't be here. Sobriety is hard enough. She doesn't need me making her...feel things. New things. Or her old feelings for Trace. She needs to stay focused on herself.

I release her. "I know. I didn't come to complicate shit. I just needed a hug." I shrug as I back away. "Thanks." It's a short walk to the door, and I've made it walking backwards. "I...gotta go. I'll...uhh...I'll call you."

"Will you?" she asks softly.

"Will you want me to?"

Guess what? Double Update! I hate to give the Hippie Chic's answer to that question....