Page 1 of The Road Back Home

The bell jingles over the door, signaling the arrival of another patron, but I keep my focus on the notes I am currently copying.

The professor’s family emergency had disrupted class, so the TA created a slideshow of the lecture.

I know the slideshow will no longer be available after this afternoon, so I reach blindly for my danish, taking a bite while continuing to write.

A crumb falls on the paper in front of me, and I brush it away quickly.

“Uh, excuse me. Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

I hold up a finger and finish the word I’m on before looking up.

The man gives me a nervous smile, and I look around the coffeeshop to find he’s right.

Every other table is occupied except for the seat across from me.

Chewing on my lip, I pull my laptop closer and gesture toward the chair.

He sits slowly, as if he’s expecting me to bite if he moves too fast.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, barely audible over the din of conversation around us.

“No worries.”

“And here you are, sir. Sorry about the wait.”

I stretch out my back as Tristan Rife sets a plate and a to-go cup of coffee in the empty space in front of the man at the table.

My gaze travels over this unfamiliar man’s appearance.

His gray eyes shine as he thanks Tristan; over his forehead falls ash-blond hair.

The color reminds me of the cat my childhood best friend had when we were kids.

On anyone else, it would look unremarkable, forgettable. On this man, it just looks right.

I check my phone; it’s only ten o’clock, but I’ve been been here for a few hours already. The ice in my drink melted a long time ago. I suck up the last watery mouthful and hand over my empty plate and cup. Tristan smiles, promising to be right back with another.

“Come here often?”

I stifle a snort and stare at the man with a raised brow. What a horrible cliche pick-up line. He seems to realize how his words came off, ducks his head with an awkward laugh. The tips of his ears turn red.

“Sorry. It’s just… You seem comfortable here, and he knows what you want.”

“They know me, yeah.”

We fall silent, and I go back to my notes. After another ten minutes, I reach the end of the slideshow, scribble down the final symbol, and flip my notebook shut. The man looks up from his phone screen and tilts his head.

“Can I ask why you write like that?”

I hesitate but ultimately decide there is no harm in explaining the reason behind writing in cyphers: At least this way, my desk-mate won’t ask to borrow my notes while he sleeps through lectures.

The man laughs and nods almost approvingly.

I can barely hide my surprise when he starts telling me of his own school years.

It smoothly turns into conversation about our hometowns, antics we got up to when we were younger.

I’ve always been cautious about talking to strangers, but there’s something about this man that doesn’t send alarm bells screaming.

He seems normal enough, and my creep-detector is silent.

So I let myself get lost in our chat, interrupted only by the other as we laugh and talk over each other.

Not even Tristan’s arrival stops the conversation.

The end comes when my phone vibrates on the table, and I glance down at it as I tell him about the time I broke my arm after jumping into Heather’s pool from a nearby tree.

“Ah, Hell,” I mutter. “Sorry, but I gotta run. It was great to meet you…?”

“Holden,” he replies easily, holding out a hand to shake mine.

“Dealla.”

“It was wonderful to meet you, too, Dealla. Hopefully, I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Well, Austin is a big city, so maybe, maybe not.”

Tristan approaches once more, and I wait until Holden is distracted.

Making a quick decision, I rip a square of paper from my notebook and chew on the inside of my cheek as I jot down my name and number in the code I use for my notes.

I print in small letters Use the internet at the bottom.

I slide it across the table until it’s partially hidden under Holden’s phone, wave goodbye to Tristan, and gather up my stuff.

It isn’t until I’m back in my apartment that I realize that maybe using a cypher wasn’t the smartest idea.

After all, I’m a stranger to him. Why would he want to put in that much effort just for my number?

And why had I given him my number? He hadn’t given any indication of interest in more than idle conversation.

I shake my head, pushing the doubts from my mind, and settle in on the couch to wait for Ashton to arrive.

And arrive he does. Katie stays at the door while I scoop the toddler into my arms and kiss his cheeks.

My stepsister leaves without a word except to say her son hasn’t had lunch, and I scowl as I close the door.

Plopping my nephew into his highchair, I brush a hand over his hair and set about making him a peanut butter-and-honey sandwich.

The day dwindles to night, and Ashton lies down in bed without a fuss.

I’ve just tucked his lion in beside him when my phone vibrates in my back pocket.

I ignore it long enough to sing his lullaby once, twice, then he’s asleep.

I tiptoe out of the room, holding my breath on the way, and Ashton doesn’t stir even when the door creaks quietly.

Pulling my phone free from the denim, I shove books and toys toward the bins with my foot.

The number on the screen is unfamiliar, and I frown, slowing to a stop.

My thumb taps the notification, and the message thread zooms onto the screen.

A laugh bubbles up at the sight of the attached photo: a string of symbols drawn in a shaky hand, my cypher that spells out Hi Dealla its Holden .

I inhale slowly and put away Ashton’s playthings before typing out a response.

Dealla

Ah you looked it up!

Holden

I did. It took a while but I finally got it!

Dealla

I’m glad, genuinely. I didn’t want to presume you’d actually search for it, but you did! I also didn’t realize how cruel you might think it was until I got home.

Holden

Not cruel. Definitely interesting.

So anyway, hi. I figured out your code and I texted you.

At least I hope you left it for me and not the guy at the coffeeshop.

Dealla

Nah, Tristan has my number. We’re friends.

Holden

That’s cool.

So what are you up to?

Dealla:

Just relaxing. It’s been a LONG day.

A whine then cry comes from behind the closed door of my bedroom, and I drop my phone to the couch.

Rushing into my room, I use the glow from the nightlight to guide the way to Ashton’s bed.

He struggles against my hold as I lift him to my chest, and I frown as he stretches toward the floor.

My gaze follows his reach, finds the stuffed animal halfway under the bed.

I set Ashton on the mattress and duck down to grab the purple lion.

He takes it happily, cuddling into it, and lies down once more.

I run my fingers over his soft hair and start singing his lullaby.

Twenty minutes later, he’s asleep again, and I make my way back out to the living room.

My phone screen lights up with a game notification, and I chuckle when I see the other four notifications that have come in the time I was away.

I unlock my phone and dismiss the game alert before moving on to the texts.

Holden

Yeah, I know how it goes. I’m glad to have the next week of not going anywhere or doing anything.

Just so you know, there’s a time limit on hotel room service

I’m hungry

Did you fall asleep?? Lol

Dealla

I’m so sorry. Ash woke up, and I had to get him back to sleep.

Holden

No worries. Even if you HAD fallen asleep. He sleeping well now then?

Dealla:

Yep! He just needed Lionel the Lion.

Holden

Good to hear! Can I ask who Ash is?

I stare at the text for a long minute. This is usually the part where everyone runs away.

Even if all I work toward is friendship, rarely does anyone stick around long after they find out about Ashton and my role in his young life.

But if I want a chance at knowing someone, at having a friend, it’s a risk I have to take.

Right?

Dealla

Ashton is my nephew. Sort of. His mom is my ex-stepsister. I’m basically helping raise him.

Holden

Sounds like a lot of work

Dealla

He’s worth it, even though he takes up pretty much all my free time. He’s basically my favorite human on Earth.

Holden

That’s sweet :)

What are your plans for the night?

Dealla

I’m about to bust into some popcorn or something and watch TV until I fall asleep. Such a raging party over here.

Even as I continue texting Holden, I can’t help but wonder when he’s going to disappear.

It isn’t unusual, unheard of, for people to abandon me once they see just how important Ashton is to me, how much time I spend with him instead of others.

Between school and my responsibility as his aunt and secondary guardian, it’s hard to build friendships, and I’m always the one left holding the crumbling remains of acquaintanceship.

Chewing on my lower lip, I decide not to worry about the impending end. It’s too easy to talk to Holden, and for some inexplicable reason, I don’t want to let the doubts settle in. Not yet.

Holden

I’m bored

I grin at the text but get distracted by the book Ashton shoves against my cheek.

He crawls into my lap, settling in, and I toss my phone aside.

His solid weight on my legs is comforting, and I breathe in the scent of the baby lotion I’d slathered on his skin after his morning bath.

Pressing my lips to his hair, I open the book and start to read the story about a boy and his stuffed velveteen rabbit.

Ashton’s finger slides across the illustrations as I say the words, and he gives me a scrunched-faced grin when I tickle him.

“More!” he demands when I close the book on the last page, and I laugh.