Page 33 of The Road Back Home

Unfortunately, Holden is gone by the time I wake in the morning.

I stare sleepily at the empty half of the bed; something gnaws away deep inside of me, a sharp, acidic little thing with jagged little teeth.

My hand brushes over the cool sheets, and I let myself dwell on the longing—the missing him—for a moment before rolling onto my back.

The ceiling stares back, a blank expanse of white that does little to ease the ache.

I have to order myself to go through the morning routine, step-by-step, until I stand on the sidewalk outside of Tiny Tots Nursery.

Ashton goes willingly into the room with Annie, and I head to the opposite side of the building in a daze.

It’s an unfamiliar situation I’ve found myself in, missing someone this much, someone who isn’t Ashton or my parents.

Everything about my relationship with Holden has been unfamiliar, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Holden comes home after a week full of video calls and text messages and Gazed at the stars and thought of you s and Can’t wait to be home with you and Ashton again s.

He gives no warning for his arrival: I find out when I pull into the garage after work and see his car where it belongs.

I rush through getting Ashton unbuckled from his seat then usher him into the house.

The smell of food cooking hits me in the face as soon as I cross the threshold, and I instinctively breathe in as I help Ashton remove his shoes and jacket.

He scurries farther into the house as soon as his shoes are on the rack; his shriek sounds only a moment later.

A familiar laugh follows, and I make my way to the kitchen to see my boyfriend holding Ashton to his chest. Holden meets my gaze and kisses Ashton’s hair before lowering him to the floor.

“Okay, bud, I gotta cook, and the oven’s too hot and dangerous for you to be around. So go play, alright?”

Ashton nods and vanishes into the other room.

I grin at the sound of plastic blocks clattering onto the floor, then I turn to Holden.

He reaches for me, and I go willingly. God, will I always go to him without hesitation.

The kiss leaves me breathless, my head spinning with the relief that he’s here.

He’s home. He doesn’t release me even as he picks up a spoon to stir the creamy sauce in the pan.

Resting my head on his shoulder, I close my eyes and wish for this moment to stretch into forever.

The announcements overhead are garbled, indecipherable, but the board is clear enough.

I chew on my lower lip, arms wrapped around my middle, and let my gaze scan over the faces emerging from the tunnel.

My stomach lurches with each flash of tanned skin and blond hair.

None of them are right, though, so I keep watching. Keep waiting.

“Oh, my god, I’ve missed you!”

I turn at the loud voice, grinning widely when Luci drops her bag to the floor.

We rush toward each other, meet in the middle for an embrace that threatens to crush my spine, and sway together.

Tristan plasters himself along my back, and I blink against the heat in my eyes.

The earthy cologne and spiced floral perfume are the same as before, well-known and so missed.

When Holden had suggested a month ago having my friends fly in for my birthday, I vetoed it—I didn’t want them spending a lot of money on me.

He’d gone behind my back and invited Tristan and Luci anyway.

I had been annoyed that he’d gone against what I said, but now, I can’t remember why I was so irritated.

“You two ready?” I ask when we separate.

“Hell yeah,” Tristan replies with a bright smile as he picks up the luggage. “I get to get wine-drunk with you again. Why wouldn’t I be ready?”

“We are not getting wine-drunk at two in the afternoon.”

Luci laughs, taking her powder-blue suitcase from Tristan. “I love how you think you have any say in this.”

Tristan slings his free arm over my shoulders, and I roll my eyes but guide them to the exit.

Luci all but bounces beside us, chattering on about her latest relationship.

It’s a new development, something I have heard very little about, and I swallow thickly.

Moving in with Holden was one of the best decisions I have ever made, but I still hate that I’m missing so much back in Austin.

When will the homesickness end?

My thoughts get derailed when Tristan mention he’s brought my mail with him—and there’s a letter from Katie.

This announcement lingers on my mind through the drive home. I listen with one ear as my friends regale me with stories of their lives, but I can’t stop wondering what Katie has to say. All I know is there’s nothing my stepsister can say that will make up for all the Hell she’s caused.

Tristan passes over the letter as soon as we are inside the house, and I say tonelessly that I’ll be back.

I can feel Holden’s scrutiny on my back as I head upstairs to read the letter in private.

The sight of the loops and swirls of Katie’s handwriting is more painful than I anticipated.

It reminds me—as if I could ever have forgotten—that Ashton is only in my care because Katie was so selfish. Because Katie couldn’t be a mother.

I can’t put it off any longer: I peel back the flap, heart pounding in my throat as I unfold the paper inside.

Dealla,

I know I’m probably the last person you ever want to hear from, but I have something to say. I was selfish, immature, irresponsible, and dangerously negligent. Ashton didn’t deserve that. Our parents didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve it. But I didn’t think about that. I did what I wanted.

I can’t change what I’ve done. I can’t change that I put myself before my son’s needs.

His safety. No matter how much I regret doing that to him, I did it.

And I do regret it. So much. I also regret ever putting you in the position of having to raise a child you didn’t give birth to.

You’ve loved and cared for him far better than I ever did.

I want to thank you for that. Because of your influence, he’ll grow up knowing love and safety.

Yes, he should have gotten it from me, since I’m the one who gave him life.

No, scratch that. I gave him existence .

You’re the one giving him life. It was never your responsibility, but you’re doing it.

You’re shouldering the burden of my choices.

I can’t tell you how much I admire you for doing it.

I don’t think I would do the same if I was in your shoes.

I’ve been going to therapy twice a week since I got here. Rehab, too. They’re making me do some soul searching, and it’s helping. I’m seeing all the mistakes I’ve made and trying to do better.

I don’t know how to say this without sounding selfish but I don’t think I can take Ashton back after this.

Not because I don’t love him, but because I do.

I’ve finally seen how much I love the little guy.

But I can’t screw up his life any more than I already have.

I can’t take him away from the one constant he’s ever had.

You .

You’re the only one who’s been there for him every step of the way, no matter how much it messed up your life. You’ve been so amazing with him, and I can’t take that away. So I hope you can continue being there for him. If not…

Don’t feel obligated to reply. I won’t take it personally if you don’t. I just needed you to know that I’m trying, even if it is too little too late.

Love,

Katie

Bile rises in my throat as I read the letter again.

A small part of me can acknowledge that Katie is finally getting the help she needs and owning up to her mistakes; Hell, I can even appreciate the fact.

But the larger—and more vocal—part of me thrashes violently and reminds me it’s too little too late.

Two years of Katie’s selfishness at the expense of her child, and she thinks an apology will suffice?

It feels to me like yet another self-involved act.

Ashton is happy, carefree, because I interfered. Because I took over caring for him every time Katie decided she didn’t want to. Because I was there for him.

A tear drops onto the paper, smudging the ink, and I sigh before wiping away the dampness in my eyes.

Who cares, I think bitterly. There’s no point in worrying about Katie anymore.

You have a kid to raise . With another deep breath, I shove the letter back into its envelope and put it in the nightstand drawer.

I scrub my cheeks with the hem of my T-shirt, push to my feet, and head downstairs.

I ignore everyone’s attention and scoop Ashton into my arms. He whines when his toy falls from his hand, but I hold him close and breathe in the scent of baby shampoo.

“I love you so very much, Ashton Alexander. More than the rainbow.”

“What’d it say?” Tristan asks once I have set the toddler back on the floor.

I exhale sharply and sit beside Holden on the couch; his arm immediately wraps around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “She apologized for the crap she’s pulled over the last few years. Also, uh, said she won’t take him back when she gets out of jail.”

“Are you okay?” murmurs Holden, and I shrug.

“I guess? Like, I knew she’d probably say that. But it’s not because of selfishness, she says. She says it’s because she can’t take him away from what’s best for him. So... That’s a new development I’m trying to wrap my mind around.”

No one speaks for a long moment. The silence is suffocating, and I yearn to break it with something lighthearted. Inject some levity into the situation. I can’t. There is nothing funny about the last hour.

Ashton suddenly lets out a loud roar, stomps his dinosaur toy across the floor, and the silence shatters with laughter. The toddler frowns up at us, but no one can explain. I lean more heavily into Holden’s side and watch my nephew play.