Page 20 of The Road Back Home

I sigh, wiping my hands on the dishtowel as I make my way to the door.

It’s not even six in the morning—no one should be here yet.

When I pull open the door, Tristan grins brightly at me with a casserole dish in hand, pushing past me.

I laugh quietly, lock the door, and follow him into the kitchen.

He sets the dish on the counter and turns to face me.

“What do you need me to do?”

“I… have no God-forsaken idea.” I run a hand through my hair, staring around at the half-started meals littering the countertop. “Tristan, why did I do this?”

“Do what?”

“Offer to cook a Thanksgiving dinner. I’m going to screw it all up. I know I am.”

Tristan stops rummaging through the fridge and moves to stand in front of me. His fingers press comfortingly into my shoulders. “You’ve got this. Trust me.”

I force myself to take a deep breath and try my hardest to believe him.

It’s near impossible, though. The last few years have been spent with just me, Tristan, and Luci.

We would eat frozen pizzas and drink wine until we fell asleep on the couch.

Now Ashton is here, and I’ve invited Holden and his friends.

I want—need—this dinner to be perfect. Ashton deserves his first actual Thanksgiving to be a good one.

I can’t humiliate myself in front of my boyfriend. I can’t let my nephew down.

If my friends were the only guests, we would be able to laugh off any mishaps, get drunk, and forget that dinner was ruined.

That isn’t an option now.

“What if it sucks?” I whisper, and his grip tightens.

“Listen to me, Dealla. If somehow everything goes wrong, well, Ashton is too young to remember. We have plenty of wine and whiskey to get rid of memories. And Holden is so damn head over heels for you, he won’t give a damn about anything except for the fact he got to spend time with you.

His friends, whoever comes, won’t judge you, either. ”

I exhale slowly, nod once, then set about getting the food ready.

Tristan and I work in silence; he focuses on the turkey and ham, while I dump the ingredients for green bean casserole into a baking dish.

Once that’s ready, I move on to cornbread and scalloped potatoes, thanking my past self for buying frozen pies instead of trying to make my own.

After everything is in the double-oven, I breathe easier.

It’s barely past eight in the morning, but I pour myself a glass of wine anyway.

I take a sip before setting the glass on the counter, then head to my bedroom to get dressed.

Usually, I stick to ‘comfort clothes’, leggings and a loose T-shirt, but today…

With Holden coming, I decide on a plum-colored wrap dress that falls to my mid-thighs and sheer tights.

My fingers tremble slightly as I works the clasp of the necklace Holden bought for me.

The opal pendant settles, cool and shining, against my skin.

All the anxiety I’ve battled since four this morning melts away with the tired, face-scrunching smile Ashton gives me once he wakes.

I swing him up into my arms, kissing his cheeks over and over, before setting him back on his feet.

He lets me change his diaper and dress him, then he toddles off to the toy bin.

Building blocks tumble to the floor with a series of clatters.

I head to the kitchen area to double-check that I’ve started timers and to make sure everything is on target, then I swallow the last mouthful of wine in my glass.

Tristan takes it from me easily, refilling it, and I shake my head with a smile as he presses it back into my hands.

I lean against the counter and watch as he rummages in the freezer for the bottle of whiskey I keep hidden away for when wine just won’t do.

“I’ll get it,” I announce when someone knocks on the door three hours later.

My heart hammers beneath my ribs, and my stomach twists around itself. I’m not ready. Not yet. This is an enormous step in my life. I’ve never hosted Thanksgiving before, not like this. I have no choice now, though. I made the decision, now I have to see it through.

I wipe my hands on the dishtowel then head to the door. Luci stands on the other side, flanked by—

“Hey, sweetheart,” Holden says softly, easing his way past Luci to kiss my cheek.

“Hey.”

I step back so Holden can lead Luci, Eddie, Evelyn, and John into the apartment.

Tristan greets the newcomers warmly and offers drinks.

Luci moves to help him pour wine and whiskey, and open a bottle of beer.

Holden ignores the rest of them, pulls me into his arms. His lips are chapped but gentle on mine, and I melt against his chest. It’s such a chaste thing, barely more than a brush of lips, but still it sends my knees shaking.

“Missed you,” I whisper, and he smiles crookedly. “I’m glad you could come.”

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

I reluctantly pull away and move toward the kitchen.

Shooing everyone except Tristan from the area, I set about removing food from the ovens, and he places everything on the counters and bar.

I turn to announce dinner is ready but stop short.

My words shrivel on my tongue; heat fills my eyes, and my breath hitches.

Ashton leans against Holden’s knee, one hand clinging to the hem of Holden’s maroon button-down, the fingers of his other hand shoved into his mouth.

Holden’s hand rubs gentle circles into the toddler’s back, and his lips hold a small smile even as he talks to Luci and Evelyn.

I force myself to turn away, and Tristan catches my eye.

I know he understands, and I nod in response to his unasked question. I’m fine, I just need a minute.

A minute I get, then it’s time to get back to myself.

“Let the feast begin!” I proclaim, and the others descend upon the food in mere seconds.

I stand back out of the way while everyone loads up their plates, only speaking to ask for a serving of this or a scoop of that.

A peaceful sort of chaos, I think before I see the small plastic plate in Holden’s hand.

He has Ashton in one arm, and he sets the plate on the counter to grab a serving spoon sticking up from amid the macaroni and cheese.

Ashton has an arm around Holden’s neck; he points to the potato salad next, and Holden scoops some onto the plate.

Luci steps up beside me, leaning in close to whisper, “He’s pretty amazing.”

“He is.”

“Ashton loves him.”

“And that’s what frightens me most,” I admit, unable to ignore the frown on Luci’s face. Shaking my head, I gesture with my chin toward the food. “We’ll talk later. Let’s eat.”

Luci nods and bounces off to grab a paper plate from the stack.

I follow behind, and we grab what we want in silence.

I stab at a slice of ham, moving it to my plate, and glance at the turkey.

It’s already half-gone. I swallow and turn my gaze back to the green bean casserole. Someone groans from the living room.

“Holy shit, Dealla, you’ve outdone yourself.”

My face heats with the compliment, and I flap a hand in the air at Tristan’s words.

The discomfort of being in the center of attention only grows when the others chime in with their own praise.

I finish filling my plate then head to the living room.

Evelyn has left a spot between herself and Holden, so I settle in the empty space.

The television flickers on, and Tristan connects his phone—and music streaming app—to it.

His playlist appears on the screen; he taps a button on his phone, and a strong guitar riff comes from the speakers.

Luci gives a small cheer as the drums come in, and I can only laugh at my friend’s enthusiasm.

Tristan adjusts the volume so we can all speak without shouting, and conversations flow.

I listen with one ear to everyone, but I largely stay quiet.

Holden’s thigh presses against mine. I relish the warmth, the solid steadiness.

“So, not that I’m complaining, but why aren’t we watching the game?” Evelyn asks.

Luci cackles and I snort at Tristan’s grimace. He throws his roll at Luci, who giggles and peels the bread in half. I shake my head and answer Evelyn: Tristan is vehemently against sports since he got kicked off the baseball team in high school.

John swallows his mouthful of food and asks, “Why’d you get kicked?”

Tristan sighs and tells everyone about “this asshole kid” deciding Tristan had screwed up during their game and swung a bat at his head.

Even though I know the tale by heart, word for word, I still wince at the mental image my best friend’s words dredge up.

Mike’s actions had caused a brawl among the players, and it took three adults to peel Tristan away from Mike.

Both boys got banned from school sports for their remaining two years.

Tristan still thinks it was worth it, even if he’s unhappy with the consequences.

Once we have all finished eating, I help Tristan and Luci gather up the empty plates and plastic cutlery. I’ve just dumped the plates into the recycle bin when Tristan steers me out of the kitchen.

“What—Tristan Marcus, what are you doing?”

“You go away. You cooked, so shoo. Go sit on your pretty little ass and drink some wine.”

Shaking my head, I do as ordered, making sure to grab the bottle of whiskey for Holden on my way to the living room.

An odd expression rests on his face, but he doesn’t speak as he sits on the floor with Ashton.

I frown, cocking my head, as my mind replays the last two minutes.

It clicks, and I understand. I lower myself to the floor behind him, legs stretched out next to his, and rest my cheek against his shoulders.

My arms snake around his waist; his fingers entwine with mine.

“Only you,” I remind him softly.

The tension bleeds from his body.

Someone snaps a photo of us, but neither Holden nor I move.

I do, however, call out a demand for the picture to be in my inbox immediately.

Eddie laughs and promises to send it without delay.

After a moment, I pull away, carefully push to my feet, then lean down to press my lips to Holden’s hair.

He smiles up at me, and I hope he’s heard the reassurance I don’t—I can’t—say aloud.

Night descends. Ashton is the first to fall asleep, curled up on Luci’s lap.

As I tuck him into bed, the others clean up the mess from the meal and drinks we’ve shared after.

Tristan passes out spare blankets and pillows while Luci arranges them on the floor and couch.

Once everyone is situated in their sleeping spots—Tristan and Luci on the floor, John and Evelyn cuddling on one end of the couch, Eddie on the other—I lead Holden into the bedroom and close the door.

I undress in silence, slipping into a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt he’d left behind, and he strips down to his boxer-briefs and undershirt.

I fall asleep to his fingers brushing soft circles on my back, his body stretched beside mine, and the steady cadence of his breathing more soothing than any lullaby.

The next morning comes too soon, in a swath of light and the little knees slamming against my neck.

I groan and push Ashton gently away. He giggles, settling in between my body and Holden’s.

When I roll over, it’s to see tiny fingers poking at the tip of Holden’s nose.

He mutters intelligibly and raises a hand, ostensibly to swat at whoever is attempting to wake him.

His eyes fly open, and he yanks his hand back so he doesn’t smack Ashton.

Unfortunately, the domesticity gets interrupted by a knock on the door.

Eddie’s voice comes through the wood, warning Holden they’ll be late if they don’t leave in the next twenty minutes.

I frown. I don’t want them to leave. I don’t want Holden to leave.

I’ve enjoyed this slice of life with him.

I’d had a taste of it when I visited him in Franklin; another taste has led to me wanting more.

I watch thirty minutes later as Holden presses a kiss to Ashton’s forehead then sets the toddler on the floor.

Ashton toddles off toward Luci while Holden turns his attention to me.

I lean forward to meet him in the middle, hope he can understand in my kiss what I feel for him.

. He pulls away looking a little dazed, so I take it as a victory even while my heart breaks in my chest. Eddie shoves Holden to the side, embraces me tightly, then bounds out of the apartment.

Evelyn and John exit with cheerful goodbyes.

Holden kisses me again then follows his friends.

“I think Thanksgiving was a success,” Tristan announces from the living room while I close and lock the door.

“Yeah,” I murmur before clearing my throat. I make my way to the couch and drop to sit beside him. “Yeah, it was.”

“Was he okay yesterday? And don’t try to lie to me, Dealla.”

I sigh and let my head drop back. Should I truly be honest? Or should I downplay Holden’s emotions? But it’s Tristan. I can’t lie to him even if I wanted to. So I explain the jealousy, the way it reared its ugly head. Tristan frowns and runs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t mean—”

“Oh, I know you don’t mean to make him jealous. And I think he knows it, too. It’s just hard on him because you and I see each other almost every day, whereas he and I can only see each other through video calls.”

“Should we stop?”

“No!” Luci shrugs when both Tristan and I look at her. “I somehow doubt Holden is the kind of guy who would take it well if you end a years-long friendship because of him. I think he’d be really pissed, “

I nod slowly then admit Luci is right—it would absolutely upset Holden, probably even infuriate him, if he found out I ever stopped talking to Tristan for any other reason than I wanted to.

Sighing, I tilt my head until it rests on Tristan’s shoulder.

I have no words, so I say nothing. I just watch Ashton play with his toy piano, my mind racing.

What would I do if I was forced to choose between my best friend and my boyfriend?

I’m not sure, and this fact is terrifying in itself.