Page 26 of The Road Back Home

Eddie takes his leave when Ashton begins yawning with a fierce consistency.

I carry my nephew upstairs and change him into warm pajamas dotted with firetrucks.

He lets me lay him in the bed, tuck him in.

I kiss his forehead, squeezing my eyes closed against the tears, and wonder—not for the first time—how his mother could be so selfish.

“Love you more than the rainbow,” I whisper, and he gives a sleepy little giggle.

“‘Bow.”

Holden is already turning down the blankets when I enter his bedroom. He grins at me before approaching on steady, sure steps. His hands slide along my waist, and I lean into him. My head falls to his shoulder, and he holds me tightly.

“I’ve missed you,” I say quietly a moment later. “I’m glad we came.”

Holden takes a step backward, pulls me with him.

I allow him to lead me to the bed where he tugs me down to sprawl on the mattress.

I know Ashton is just across the hall. That he can wake at any minute.

But I want to be selfish—just this once.

So I do: I let my boyfriend cover my body with his, let the fire burn me clean from the inside out.

Christmas arrives with little fanfare—a dark sky outside and an alarm clock on the nightstand that says it’s only six in the morning.

Ashton had crawled into bed between Holden and me around midnight, and his knees have been digging into my back ever since.

Quietly blowing out a breath, I roll over slowly, carefully, in hopes of not waking the child. He remains asleep.

I stare at the sleeping pair I’m sharing a bed with.

Something in my chest tightens, warmth blooms beneath my breastbone.

A desperate wish that this moment would stretch on into forever.

It’s surprising how little trepidation I feel though I know everything can go so wrong.

I’d told Holden the truth: Not uprooting Ashton was—is—my only course of action.

I have to think of him, and that could easily spell disaster for my relationship.

I have spent most of my life too afraid to jump headfirst into anything, or anyone, that brings me happiness.

Time has brought the wisdom of knowing that my last attempt at a serious relationship failed because of my own doing.

I kept myself too guarded, unwilling to give Derek the kind of love he deserved.

He’d been so wonderful. He’d promised me all the space and time I needed, but all I had given him was goodbye.

I had Tristan and Luci, my family, Ashton.

I thought then that I didn’t need anyone else.

Being with Holden has shown me how wrong I could be.

There are no guarantees, but I have to believe in this, has to give this all I have without disrupting Ashton’s life.

“Best Christmas present ever,” a voice murmurs, and I meet Holden’s gaze in the dim lighting of the room. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

I reach over to brush Holden’s hair from his face. “Merry Christmas.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Not too long, though Ashton hasn’t been very considerate to my kidneys while he slept.”

Holden lifts his head and smiles down at the child still sleeping peacefully. “Think we should wake him?”

I nod but make no move to follow through.

A large part of me hesitates; I’m reluctant to break the serenity of early morning.

I am content to stay here with the two people who have stolen my heart so effortlessly.

The world could be burning to ashes outside of these walls, and I wouldn’t care.

Not as long as I have Holden and Ashton by my side.

Eventually, life must go on; hiding away forever isn’t an option, so I wake Ashton with soft voice and gentle words.

The toddler squirms, grumbling and stretching, then peels open bleary eyes.

Holden rolls out of bed and extends his arms over his head; he lets his head drop back as he groans low in his throat.

I force my gaze away from the taut muscles and focus on the fact Ashton needs a diaper change.

As soon as I’ve secured the diaper in place and slid Ashton’s pants up his legs, Holden scoops him up and holds him close. I huff out a laugh when he carries Ashton from the room without a backwards glance. I press my lips together to stifle my smile, though it breaks free.

I hurriedly dress in a pair of stretchy black pants and pull a cardigan on over my tank-top.

Once done, I cross the room to the door, twisting my hair into a sloppy braid on the way.

Voices carry through the halls, a myriad of tones and pitches and accents, though they all have one thing in common: Each speaker is clearly in high spirits.

I come to a stop in the entryway to the living room, stare at those gathered.

Phil sits on the floor with Henry who scrutinizes Ashton with the gravitas of a child unhappy with competition.

Ashton, for his part, is too distracted by the bright lights and shiny baubles on the tree to care about Henry’s displeasure.

Eddie looks away from his phone as if he senses someone’s attention on him. His face splits with a wide grin, and he bounds over to embrace me. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“‘Sleepyhead’? I’ve been awake for over an hour. Ash and Holden slept longer than I did.”

“Hey, hands off my girl!” Holden calls out from the couch closest to the pile of presents.

Eddie pretends to think then shakes his head, squeezes me tighter.

I laugh and push ineffectually at his shoulders; my gaze darts to Holden’s face, and I relax further at the lack of jealousy in his expression.

Finally, Eddie releases me, and I pick my way across the room so I can sit beside Holden.

“Let’s open some presents!” Eddie demands, and it serves as a catalyst for the children.

Both boys shriek and bounce up and down. Each gift brings another squeal of delight, and I force myself not to cry at the joy on my nephew’s face. He should get this kind of happiness every day. I vow to myself to give him the life he needs. The life he deserves.