Page 23 of The Road Back Home

December thirteenth.

The hearing.

It’s today.

I have spent the last two weeks caring for Ashton and going to class.

Allowing home inspections from the child welfare agency.

In my spare time, I fit phone calls with my parents, hangouts with Luci and Tristan, and the occasional text conversation with Holden.

He hasn’t brought up the topic of me moving in, and I haven’t, either.

It doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it. The question occupies my mind in the light of day and quiet moments of night. It haunts me. I have no answer, I have nothing to offer but a hope that Holden changes his mind. I would even accept him ending the relationship because I won’t move in.

Slipping out of bed, I grab my phone and tiptoe from the room. Ashton sleeps on, ignorant of what the day can bring. Either he will be coming home with me or going to some unfamiliar office where he will await a strange family to take him in. Both options are equally frightening.

A knock echoes through the quiet apartment, and I frown at the sound. My neighbors have only ever knocked on my door roughly three times in the years I have lived here, and none of those times had been before ten in the morning. I twist a lock of hair and pad to the entryway.

As soon as the door opens, Tristan smiles, reassuring and steady and almost as needed as the cup of iced mocha he holds in his hand.

“Thought you might need some reinforcements.”

“The coffeeshop isn’t even open right now, what the Hell.”

“Kenny let me in early so I could make it for you. Five shots of espresso because you’re a caffeine fiend who probably didn’t sleep worth shit last night, and extra white chocolate.

Also, Kenny wishes for the best and says if you need him to, he’ll close up shop long enough to teach the judge a lesson. ”

“You wouldn’t help him?”

“Of course I would, idiot. But I’d do it by getting you and Ash safely out of town.” He shrugs and perches on the stool. “Besides, Luci’s the better fighter. She’d have his back.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you guys?”

“Well, you came into Rise her orange jumpsuit washes out her tan skin, but she looks better than I remember seeing her in a long time. She looks healthy, even if not happy. I stare for a moment before finding the guardianship attorney I’d hired. The woman smiles and leans forward.

“We’ve got a good shot,” she assures me.

I only nod silently.

The judge enters, calls everything to order, and the world spins on its axis, wild swinging arcs that torment me.

I swallow down bile and struggle to answer any question asked of me, to listen as Katie does the same.

She doesn’t lie—she doesn’t change her mind.

She tells the judge exactly what she’d told me on that fateful phone call.

“I love my son enough to do what’s best for him,” Katie says, and I glance at her ex-stepsister. “I haven’t always shown that I love him, but I do. And I know Dealla is the best thing for him. She has been since the beginning.”

The judge’s brow rises, and he leans back in his chair. “And where is the father in all this?”

“He, uh, he died of an overdose when Ashton was two months old.”

My stomach falls to the floor. I’d never known that. Katie never spoke of Ashton’s father, and now it makes sense. She knew none of us would approve of him, even after his death, so she’d kept it a secret. A sharp twinge pulls at my heart, and I look at Katie in a new light.

“Miss Gutwein, I expect you’ve thought long and hard about this, and it isn’t just a way to deflect your responsibility as a parent.”

“I’ve been thinking about this every day since I was arrested. I want the last thing I do as his mother to be what is in his best interest.”

The judge stares at Katie with narrowed eyes then turns to me.

My head swims, prompting me to breathe , and I tremble as I await his words.

Holding his chin with the fingers of one hand, he scrutinizes me, considers me, deliberates on the future of more than just me.

He’s deciding the fate of an innocent two-year-old child.

“Miss Higgins, you are willing to take on full parental responsibility for this child?”

“I am,” I whisper, cough quietly, repeat myself louder.

“If I award you custody, Miss Higgins, you will not have a life of your own for the next sixteen years. You will have all responsibilities of being a biological parent.”

“I know. I—I’m ready for it.”

The silence stretches on, and I barely manage to not squirm under the weight of his gaze.

My hand itches to reach for Katie, to hold her hand like we’d done as kids when scared.

To cling to the children they used to be and seek comfort from the touch.

But Katie isn’t who she was. She’s made too many mistakes to go back to her old self. And I am different, too.

“It is the belief of this court,” the judge begins before clearing his throat, “that the child, Ashton Alexander Gutwein, should no longer remain in his mother’s care. With that said, I have taken into consideration the mother’s wishes. I award you, Miss Higgins, custody of said child.”

It’s Katie who says what’s on my tongue: “Thank you, your Honor.”

Stepping out of the courthouse into the bright December morning feels like stepping into another world.

Tristan walks beside me with Ashton between us; the toddler’s hand fits so well wrapped with mine, and I blink away the heat in my eyes.

Though my life wasn’t supposed to be like this, I can find no complaints.

Katie made decisions, both poor and good, and I may be the one picking up the pieces, but this is a jigsaw that I don’t mind putting back together.

One piece is missing, though.

On the drive home, I tell Tristan what happened in the courtroom, and he pumps a fist in the air at the news. He gives me a smug smile but doesn’t say the ‘I told you so’ that I know is held behind his teeth. I’m thankful for that. I’m not sure I’d have such restraint were I in his shoes.

Thankfully, he changes the subject to something less fraught with emotion—my Christmas plans.

I tell him the truth: I have none. I hadn’t even considered making plans, not with everything up in the air.

And now, the only thing I’ll be doing on the twenty-fifth will be spending time with Ashton and adjusting to my new life path.

But that’s the future. I have the present to focus on.

I sigh as I pull into a stall in the parking garage. Tristan frowns, turns to face me as much as he can in his seat, and pokes my arm. When I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, he takes it as permission to ask the question that has been hanging over our heads like a sword of Damocles.

“What are you going to tell Holden?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I guess I’m still thinking it over.”

He nods slowly then pushes open the door.

I follow suit, but where I open the back door, Tristan lopes off toward the elevator that will take him to visitor parking on the top level of the garage.

Ashton stays at my side while I grab the diaper bag, then we head inside the apartment building.

Once I lays my coat on the bar counter, I usher Ashton to his toys and hope he stays distracted. I have a phone call to make.

The couch cushion compresses beneath me, and I blow out a breath as I tap the name that shows up too many times to count in my call history.

Holden greets me within two rings, his voice full of cheer, and I grit my teeth as heat fills my eyes.

I bring my knees to my chest and press the phone closer to my ear.

Clearing my throat, I wipe at the tear slipping down my cheek.

“Hey.”

“How’d court go?”

Something in me threatens to snap at the fact he remembered. I haven’t reminded him since the day the date was finalized, but still he remembers I had to go in front of a judge because of my stepsister. A huff of humorless laughter escapes from me, and I shake my head.

“It went fine. Uh, Katie said she wanted me to have Ashton, said I’d be great at caring for him. The judge evidently agreed after all the home inspections and stuff.”

“So… You have custody?”

“Yeah.”

“Sweetheart, that’s amazing ! You’ve been so worried about him being placed in foster care, but now you don’t have to worry anymore. He’s with you.”

“I know. And I’m so fucking glad for that. I don’t think I could’ve dealt with not ever seeing him again.”

“I’m glad, too.” Holden pauses, and I know—I don’t need him to ask, but he does anyway: “Have you thought more about what I asked?”

I catch my lower lip between my teeth and bite down. My words dry up on my tongue. The silence says what I can’t.

“You’re not going to.”

It isn’t a question. There is no emotion in Holden’s voice, and my heart aches at the flat tone. At the hollowness. I bury my face into my knees and try twice to speak before I succeed.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I—I do, Holden. I swear it.” I sigh heavily, wincing as two blocks slam together in Ashton’s hands. “I just can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because Ash has been through enough change in his life. I can’t just uproot him from everything he knows. He deserves stability, and moving wouldn’t give him that. So I think it’s best we stay here.”

“Dealla—“

“Sorry, Holden. I gotta go.”

I hang up before he can say another word, and it takes all my willpower to not throw my phone across the room.

My throat is tight, and my eyes burn with the tears I stop fighting.

Against my instincts, I had given thought to Holden’s offer of moving in with him.

I’ve dreamed about it, waking in the morning wishing it could be reality. I should have known it never would be.

I couldn’t leave Ashton, no matter how tempting it was to think about living with my boyfriend, and now, I can’t be selfish enough to throw yet another change into his life.

I gasp in a shaking breath that does nothing to ease the splintering in my soul. Now I’ve told Holden no, it’s only a matter of time before this becomes the beginning of the end. I was right, all those months ago: It hurts like Hell facing the goodbye.