Page 19 of The Road Back Home

The silence of the bedroom suffocates me, but I find it oddly reassuring. The silence means Ashton is still sleeping, that there’s nothing that needs my attention right this minute. Unfortunately, the downside to the silence is I have plenty of time to think over the last handful of weeks.

Holden hadn’t wanted to leave the day after Katie’s arrest—he’d nearly begged to stay longer, said he could put off his schedule to be with me.

However, I’d all but forced him from the apartment.

His life was important; I couldn’t monopolize it.

Despite that, I have called him every day since he left, even when I have nothing to say.

Just hearing his voice is enough to quiet the voice in my head saying I’m going to screw up everything I have in my life.

My thoughts turn to my nephew as I stare at him sleeping in his bed across the room.

His birthday is in less than two weeks, and I have no idea what I should do.

My stepmom organized his party last year.

All I had to do was book a flight, show up, and dote on the little boy.

Now I’m the one in charge of planning everything because his mother made the awful decision of assaulting an officer, driving under the influence, and resisting arrest.

The responsibility is overwhelming.

With a soft sigh, I push back my blankets and grab my phone from the nightstand.

A shiver runs up at my spine at the chill of the room.

I tiptoe from the room and to the thermostat, adjusting the temperature.

The couch cushion sinks beneath me as I plop onto it, and I scroll through the short list of contacts until I find Mama Paige .

“Good morning, darling,” she says as soon as the line connects.

“Hey, Mama. I’m so sorry it’s been a while.”

She laughs; the sound soothes the sharp edges in my soul. “Honey, there’s nothing to apologize for. You’ve been taking care of that baby, so of course your time hasn’t been your own.”

“And you’re okay with that? That he stayed with me instead of coming to you?”

“He saw more of you in a week than he has of me in a year,” my stepmother points out. “If he’d come here, it woulda messed him up good. And you’ve always been so great with him. I trust you with his life, sweetheart. More than I can trust Katie right now.”

I swallow thickly at the enormity of the responsibility; I’m tasked with caring for a toddler who relies on an adult for everything. Relies on me. Coughing to dislodge the lump in my throat, I ask, “Heard from her?”

“She called yesterday, said she was sorry about the situation she got herself into.”

“I think this is more than a ‘situation’,” I scoff, shoving a hand through my hair.

“I told her exactly that! Told her she was warned a long time ago that her decisions come with consequences, and the one who’ll pay the most is the darling child she brought into this world.”

The conversation peters out for a long moment—I don’t want to talk about Katie anymore, and I know it hurts Mama to discuss Katie’s current predicament.

I blow out a breath and change the subject: Ashton’s birthday and the subsequent party that should come with it.

I take notes as she gives me ideas of themes and presents and decorations, but half of me laments the fact that only four people will be here for the toddler.

Not one of them is his mother, and that’s the saddest thing I have known in a long time.

Ashton interrupts then, and I let him jabber animatedly to his grandmother.

I’ve missed being able to talk to my stepmother freely about something other than Katie and all she’s done.

I can pinpoint exactly when the topic of discussion began to revolve around her.

Katie graduated from high school and exerted her newfound freedom by doing whatever she wanted, regardless of who got hurt in the process.

I miss the Katie my stepsister used to be.

“Hey, idiot, you have a package.”

“Damn it, don’t scare me like that!” I scold Tristan as I struggle to hold Ashton’s legs still with one hand so I can slide a diaper beneath his bare bottom.

Unfortunately, he escapes by twisting his entire body, and he clambers to his feet to run around the apartment naked.

He squeals excitedly with each step until Luci lunges forward.

His shriek of laughter pierces the air when she swings him up into her arms and deposits him in my lap.

Forcing myself to take a steady breath, I pretend my friends aren’t staring at me.

“Thanks, Luci. Ashton Alexander, let me dress you so you can be presentable for when Mamaw gets here.”

“Mam?”

“Yeah, Mamaw. But if you keep bein’ naked, she ain’t gonna wanna come. So what’s it gonna be, munchkin—dressed or in your birthday suit?”

“D’ess.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Ashton stops fighting, lets me diaper and clothe him.

The second I drop my hands, however, he’s gone again, scooting toward the toy bin.

I sigh, watching him tug toys out of the box, then I push to my feet.

Tristan holds a shipping box in his arms when I turn around, and I gesture toward the countertop.

Luci passes over a knife, and I cut through the tape while my best friends wait with bated breath.

A tag attached to one of the bags catches my eye, and I read it quickly. A quiet huff of laughter escapes, and I pull my phone from my back pocket while Tristan digs through the box.

Dealla

Did you REALLY send Ashton birthday presents?

Babe, you didn’t have to do that

Seriously

Holden

I was just about to ask if you got it yet. I got the notification that it was delivered, but I wasn’t sure if you’d noticed.

And I know I didn’t have to get him anything. I wanted to. He deserves nice things, and I figured he might like these.

Dealla

You are seriously amazing. Thank you! I’ll put them in a pile for him to open once his grandmother gets here. And don’t worry—I’ll send you pictures xx

Holden

I would appreciate that xxxxxx

Luci bounds toward the door when someone knocks, but I stand still, staring at the screen of my phone with a soft smile on my face.

Holden cared enough to remember Ashton’s birthday.

He’d sent presents. He put thought toward Ashton and his happiness, and this fact only solidifies the knowledge that Holden is one of the most generous and caring men I will ever know in my life.

Ashton screeches delightedly over each gift that we adults help him unwrap—a child-sized broom and mop set, a large look-and-find book, and an adjustable easel—but they all go largely forgotten in the wake of Ashton opening the ones Holden sent.

He immediately tosses the rubber balls, jaw dropping when they light up and flash in different colors.

Tristan hides the sticker book under the couch cushion; we all know Ashton doesn’t need total freedom with stickers.

Luci sets the mess-free coloring book on the shelf.

“Who are you texting?” my stepmother asks as she sets Ashton in his highchair. I look up guiltily from my phone, where I’m busy attaching images to a message. “Is it the someone who sent Ashton such wonderful presents?”

“How do you know I didn’t just go overboard?”

“Dealla Taylor, you should know better than to keep something from me.”

Tristan snorts and flashes an impish grin when I glare at him. “Yeah, Dealla, you shouldn’t keep things from your mama.”

“You’re not helping, Tristan. Fine. It’s, uh, it’s my boyfriend. And yes, he sent the gifts.”

Mama listens as I give her the basic information about Holden and our relationship.

I don’t mention his job, just that he travels for work and came through Austin roughly seven months ago.

I trail off in the middle of describing the wonderful week I’d spent with him when my phone vibrates in my hand.

Holden’s contact photo fills the screen, and my heart immediately races in my chest. She and Tristan exchange knowing looks; Luci cackles from the living room, and I ignore them all to answer the video call.

“Lemme guess, you wanna talk to the birthday boy.” Holden’s grin is answer enough, and I giggle and shake my head. “Of course. He’s most important today. But, hi, it’s nice to see your face.”

“Hi, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you as soon as I’m done talking to my buddy.”

Smiling, I lean the phone against the paper towel holder so Ashton and Holden can see each other without my phone falling victim to cake and frosting.

My stepmom gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze, and I take it for the approval I know it is.

That Ashton is so willing and excited to chatter on is the biggest endorsement Holden could ever receive.