Page 17 of The Road Back Home

I keep my head ducked as I make my way to the car waiting under the awning.

Risking a look at Holden will only melt my resolve to leave, and I can’t afford that.

I need to get back home. Unfortunately, I can’t stop myself from meeting his gaze once I’m shut away in the backseat.

He waves as he leans against the doorframe, haloed by the light from the entryway behind him, and his expression is as morose as I feel.

I blow him a kiss, and he tucks it in his pocket as the car pulls away.

I’ve just reached the airport when my phone vibrates.

Once I check in and get through security, I sit on the floor with my back against the wall and open the message.

It’s a selfie from Holden, captioned I miss you already .

I laugh quietly and save the photo. My mind replays the last week—the most amazing week of my life that hasn’t revolved around Ashton.

My heart twinges at missing my nephew, but it aches just as bad with the thought of leaving Holden behind.

Ashton will always be my number one priority; being one of his caretakers has been my role since he was born.

But Holden has swiftly grown important to me, too.

It’s been a little more than a handful of months since we met, not even three since we started dating.

Somehow, though, he’s buried himself so far under my skin that I can scarcely breathe without feeling him in every molecule of my being.

By the time I land in Austin, the sun has begun dipping below the horizon.

I find my SUV in the long-term parking garage, throw my suitcase into the back, and slide in behind the wheel.

The drive away from the airport is full of the typical traffic I’ve known since I moved to the city, and I don’t relax until I’m off the highway and on residential streets.

There’s a progression of dilapidation to the homes I pass, from the slightest of grunge to ‘one slight breeze away from falling down’.

I loathe the fact Katie lives in this sort of area with Ashton.

Unfortunately, she refuses help, so even my dad with all his money can’t convince her to find a better place on his dime.

I sigh as I come to a stop outside the ramshackle house with its crooked shutters.

One window has been boarded up at some point in the last two weeks.

The other window holds light, but no shadows move behind the curtains.

Something leaden slips into my gut as I slide out of the driver’s seat.

Fireflies dance through the summer-hot area tinged so sweetly with fresh rain and wet soil.

Crickets chirp in the overgrown grass. Sweat beads along my hairline and slides down my temples.

I shove my hair from my face as I make my way to the porch.

A ragged crackling scream pierces the air, and my breath catches in my throat.

My hands shake violently, but I find the right key on the ring.

Stuffing it into the lock, I twist with more force than necessary then rush over the threshold.

Shards of glass glimmer on the floor in the stark glow from the lamp.

A gaping maw stares at me from the wall, a hole clearly made by a fist going through the drywall.

Clothes and dishes litter the floor; I cover my mouth and nose at the stench smothering the house, the bite of alcohol and chemical sweetness.

A strip of black rubber lies curled on the table.

I swallow and swallow and swallow again to force the bile back down my throat.

Another shriek breaks through my disgust, and I move before I can think it through.

Ashton stands in his playpen in the back room, naked except for the diaper that sags down his legs.

Snot and tears cover his ruddy cheeks. He tugs his fingers from his mouth when he sees me in the doorway, and I rush to pull him into my arms. My eyes burn as I struggle to breathe, as I fight against the urge to find my stepsister and beat her to a pulp.

Once I’ve cleaned and dressed Ashton, I pick him up again and head down the short hall to Katie’s bedroom.

It’s no surprise to find her passed out on her bed, face lax with sleep and drugs.

I don’t bother leaving a note—I just grab the diaper bag and walk out of the house with Ashton held close to my chest. I stop only to shut and lock the door behind me.

I don’t have it in me to risk Katie’s life even more.

“Hey, bud, you hungry?” I ask as I buckle him into his seat. “Wanna get some chicken nuggets?”

“Nug’?”

“Yeah, baby, we’re gonna get some.”

Ashton is asleep before I even reach the nearest drive-thru.

I set the bag of food on the passenger seat and sigh heavily.

Scrubbing a hand over my eyes, I point my wheels toward home and curse Katie for ever existing.

For ever putting herself before Ashton. For ever hurting the child the way she has—and is.

Ashton wakes as I carry him into my apartment, stays half-alert long enough to eat two chicken nuggets and endure a quick bath, and falls asleep as soon as I tuck him into bed. I press a gentle kiss to his forehead, but he doesn’t stir. I watch him for a moment longer then tiptoe from the room.

A low buzz comes from my purse, and I dig through the bag until I find my phone.

I want to ignore the notifications, want to ignore the world, but I’d promised to let Holden know when I got home.

His five messages change in tone, from questioning to worried to demanding some sort of response before he gets on a flight to Austin.

Dealla

Landed. Home. Stopped and got Ashton.

Holden

Glad to hear you made it.

Is everything okay? You don’t sound like yourself.

Instead of texting, I blow out a breath and tap the icon to start a video call.

Holden answers before the second ring, and his smile disappears in an instant.

I don’t let him speak—my voice trembles as I explain what happened.

I perch on a stool and press a palm against my eyes. A tear slips free, and I sniffle.

“What are you going to do?” Holden asks once I’ve fallen silent.

I shrug, avoiding his gaze. “I’m gonna call child welfare services tomorrow.

Katie endangered his life for the last time.

I can’t let it go anymore. I can’t always be the one to fix whenever she screws up.

What happens the next time she does this and I’m not there to save him?

Fuck, Holden, what if something had happened while I was gone?

” I wipe my cheeks dry and exhale sharply.

“I can’t lose him because she’s a horrible mother.

If it means I don’t ever get to see him again…

Calling will be worth it if he’s safe from her. ”

“I think that’s the right decision.”

“God, Holden, why the fuck can’t she get her act together?” bubbles out of me, and Holden’s face twists up in his sympathy.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I wish I did, but I don’t.”

“I better go. I need to be with him right now.”

“I get that. Will you be alright?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

I mumble out a goodbye before ending the call.

Ashton doesn’t wake when I carry him from his bed to mine.

He only curls against me in his sleep, and I gaze at his relaxed face in the soft white coming from the nightlight.

Not for the first time, I wonder how Katie can be so selfish when she has someone so amazing depending on her.

Calling the authorities in the morning damn near shatters me to pieces, but I do it anyway. The social worker on the other end takes the report, doesn’t make any promises, just thanks me for the information. The line beeps in my ear, and I pull my phone away to see they have hung up.

Katie doesn’t call, text, or come for her son over the next week.

Instead, I juggle school with taking care of him, struggling to calm him during his tantrums and soothing him through his nightmares.

Tristan and Luci help as much as they can by alternating who watches him while I’m in class.

When they can’t, I allow Luci’s cousin Allie to take care of him.

I know I can never thank them enough for all they do in my life, but I try.

I buy them candies and coffees, books and small tokens of appreciation that make me think of them.

My days start too early and nights end too late. I wish I could talk to Holden, to have real conversations with him again, but I have no time. No energy. So I make do with quick texts in the morning, sporadically throughout the day, and before I fall asleep.

The beginning of September arrives in a flurry of heat, humidity, and more heat.

I don’t trust myself to drive to the coffeeshop, having been woken at three by Ashton whining to crawl into bed with me, so I text Luci with a request for a mocha with extra espresso and extra whipped cream.

I grab the box of frozen waffles from the freezer, popping two into the toaster, and wait for them to finish heating.

Ashton smiles brightly when I put a plate on his highchair only moments later, and he stuffs the first chunk into his mouth.

A knock echoes through the apartment within the hour, and I pull open the door sharply.

Luci passes over the iced coffee with a grimace, complaining that it’s bitter.

I only roll my eyes and suck up a mouthful of chocolate-flavored coffee.

It is more bitter than usual, but I need the caffeine, so I don’t complain.

“Ooh, you’ve got a text,” Luci announces before tossing my phone in my direction. “Lemme guess, it’s the cutie?”

“Okay, first, you know you looked at the screen and saw it was from Holden. You also know damn well he’s beyond ‘the cutie’.”

“I do, yes. God, you’re disgustingly in lust, aren’t you?”

“Why are you even still here? I only needed extra caffeine, not you, too.”

“Because you love my face.” Luci scrunches her nose, sticking her pierced tongue out, then her expression grows serious. “But for real, I’m happy you two made this a thing. You deserve bright skies and sparkles, not the doom and gloom you were trudging through.”

“It wasn’t gloom, Luce. It was… routine.”

“Well, now you’ve got that cutie there and this cutie here,” she says with a gesture toward Ashton. “So yay, happiness!”

I smile, shaking my head, and read the texts from Holden. The ‘good morning, beautiful’ is nothing new, but it sends butterflies through my belly just the same. He promises to call tonight, and I cling to that promise as if it’s a lifeline. I always do, and he never breaks his promises.

Luci stays until Ashton lies down for his nap, then she takes her leave, citing a closing shift at the coffeeshop.

I’m left alone in the quiet, and I don’t like it.

The week with Holden was too short, but it was long enough that it made me look forward to having someone else around every day.

The silence grows unbearable, so I turn on the softest playlist I have in my music app on my phone.

Setting my phone aside, I drag my bag out from under the coffee-table.

I might as well get started on homework while I have half a chance.

Ashton is unusually withdrawn at dinner as he picks up chunks of chicken with his little fingers.

I lean my head on my hand, pushing food around my plate, and watch him.

My stomach churns, roiling violently. Heaviness lingers in the recesses of my mind, and an uneasy sense of foreboding fills my chest. A small voice whispers a warning, but what it warns against, I have no idea.

Something tells me I won’t like it.

A loud pounding on the door causes me to jerk to attention, and I realize I’ve been staring without seeing at the countertop.

Ashton whimpers, a pitiful sound that tears at my heart.

I comfort him quietly as I slide off the stool.

He calls my name once I disappear around the corner into the entryway.

Promising I’ll be right back, I pull open the door and freeze.

My heart stutters before kicking into high gear.

I can’t breathe—air won’t come—and icy numbness floods through my veins.

I stare. My mouth opens, but no words fall free, so I close it.

“Gonna let me in or what?” Katie asks as she shoves past me with ease.

“What are you doing here?” I hurry after her. “Kate—”

She ignores me, leaning over to unbuckle her son from his seat. “Come on, Ashy, let’s go.”

“Katie, please. Please don’t. Katie.”

But Katie is carrying a crying Ashton to the door, striding down the corridor to disappear around the corner.

I call after her even once she’s out of sight, but it’s in vain.

Katie doesn’t come back. Ashton is gone.

I choke on the sob bubbling up. Tears snake down my cheeks, first one then another and another and another until I can’t count them anymore.

My vision blurred, I reluctantly shut the door and stumble to the couch.

My gaze roams over the mess on the floor—toys and papers strewn about.

The star-speckled bucket lies on its side, crayons spilling out onto the rug.

I pull my knees to my chest, stare at the chaos left behind, and let myself cry.

Let myself fear and worry and hate Katie for who she is and what she’s done.

Holden

Is it still okay to call?

Dealla

Not tonight, sorry

Holden

Is everything okay?

Dealla

No. Nothing is ‘okay’. Katie came and got Ashton. She risked his life and she gets to keep him. I’m angry and I’m hurt and I want to strangle her and I’m sorry to unload all this on you but why does she get another chance to ruin her kid’s life???

Holden

Oh, sweetheart. That’s awful. Is there anything you can do?

Dealla

Short of kidnapping him and going on the run, no. And if I do that, then I really would never get to see him ever again.

Holden

I’m so so sorry, D. I wish I could be there.

Dealla

Nothing you can do. I’m going to bed. I can’t handle this shit right now.

Sorry.

I shut my phone off before he can reply.

I slowly, numbly, turn off the kitchen light before dropping onto the couch again.

Sleep won’t come tonight, I know this, but lying alone in the dark is better than having to talk about the situation.

Tugging the throw blanket off the back of the couch, I halfheartedly wrap myself in it and squeeze my eyes closed.

How has this happened?