Page 38 of The Road Back Home

I grin despite myself, but before I can reply, a tiny voice calls my name. I let out a sharp exhale, closing my eyes, and push the darkness back. My heart pounds a painful rhythm against my ribs, though I ignore the way it steals my breath.

“Better go. Gonna cuddle Ash until I no longer feel like throwing myself into the void. Um, Holden?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I, uh… Thank you.”

Something flickers across his expression, here then gone before I can interpret it.

He just nods and ends the call. I love you, too .

It’s too late, so I push myself to my feet and make my way back into the bedroom.

Ashton waits until I’ve changed into pajamas and crawled into bed, then he scoots closer.

“Love you,” he whispers, burying his face into my side, and I can’t fight the tears any longer.

“I love you more than the rainbow, sweetie,” I say softly as I wrap my arms around him.

I hold him tight until he’s asleep. Even then, I don’t let go.

Days pass, and Ashton soon forgets about the incident. He quickly becomes the same cheery, laughing child I’ve loved for two years. His happy disposition should soothe my heart.

It doesn’t.

I don’t forget. The guilt still smothers me, especially when I’m alone—like I am now. I stare blankly at my laptop; the essay question sits on the screen, a line of blurred letters. I blink, and the words swim into focus.

“Monster incoming!” a voice calls from the foyer.

I sigh then plaster a smile onto my face as I turn in my seat.

Phil, Samantha, and two toddlers enter the kitchen, and Phil sets Ashton on his feet.

I open my arms in time for the toddler to launch himself at me.

Kissing his cheek until he squeals, I let myself sink into the peacefulness that comes whenever he’s around.

“Oh, there’s my favorite little man. How was your playdate with Henry? Did you have fun?”

“Yes!”

Phil chuckles and takes the seat across from me. Samantha sits to his left, blanching when he announces, “He kinda ate part of a crayon.”

“You ate a crayon?” I ask Ashton, and he nods solemnly.

“Ick.”

“Yes, honey, it’s ick. Why don’t you go play for a bit with Henry? Auntie Dee needs to start making dinner.”

“Thanks for letting us stay,” Samantha says, and I wave her off. “No, seriously. It’s three more people to cook for.”

“It’s okay. Y’all are never an imposition. Besides, I always make too much stir-fry, enough to feed a few armies.”

“Is this the famous stir-fry Holden could never shut up about way back when?”

“That’s the one.”

I close my laptop and move it aside. With Samantha’s help, it takes little time to cut up the bell peppers and slice the onions, and I am soon enough sautéing them while Holden’s friend—our friend—mixes honey and soy sauce in a bowl.

She sets the table while I finish scooping the vegetables and chicken into a large bowl.

I carry the bowl and another full of rice to the table, calling for Phil and the boys.

We’ve all just sat down when a low hum comes from the direction of the garage; a door creaks open moments later, and Holden’s voice fills the air.

“I’m home! And something smells amazing.”

I smile at Holden as he steps into the room, my heart settling in my chest. Ashton shrieks from his seat, and Holden crosses the room to brush a kiss to my cheek.

Then he’s off to heft Ashton into his arms. Identical brilliant smiles split their faces, and I push aside the pitiful voice in my head that asks where my exuberant greeting is.

Phil catches my eye, cocks his head. I force a smile in response. I’m fine. I’m happy Holden is home. The heaviness, however, remains in my bones. I try to ignore it. This is nothing more than a small hiccup.

I’m not certain I believe myself. Not after the call last night.

It was normal, easygoing and full of eagerness for Holden’s arrival home.

I’d spent the hour filled with the same sense of love and belonging I felt back in the beginning.

But then we hung up. It wasn’t until almost two hours after I’d gone to bed, when I was lying wide-awake with a toddler’s feet pressed into my spine, that I realized Holden hadn’t said “I love you.” Instead, it had come in a text in the middle of the night, like an afterthought.

Sighing, I dole out a portion of food for Ashton while Samantha does the same for Henry. Holden takes his seat, launching into conversation with Phil. I glances at Samantha, and I want nothing more than to admit that there’s something wrong. It’s also the last thing I could stand to do.

The confession would only serve to disrupt the relative stability of my life, my relationship.

“So what are you two doing for your anniversary next month?” Samantha asks after she finishes chewing her bite of veggies.

Silence reigns at the table in the wake of her question.

I slowly meet Holden’s gaze. I had forgotten that the one-year mark of our relationship was in six short weeks.

Judging by his expression, so did he. I take a sip of my water in order to hide my discomfort.

How could he have forgotten? How could I ?

Samantha and Phil look between us, frowning, but I duck my head so I don’t have to see the judgment that’s surely on their faces.

My appetite fades into nothing, replaced by a heavy knot in my gut.

Shame washes down my spine, hot and thick as it spreads through my body.

Clearing my throat quietly, I push myself to my feet and gather up my plate and fork.

I’m no longer hungry, and I need to do something that isn’t dwelling on the fact I nor Holden found it important enough to remember our anniversary.

As much as I love my parents, I never thought I would follow in their footsteps.

I could not have anticipated, not once, that my relationship would go much the same as the marriage between Rose and Jackson Higgins.

It wasn’t until I was a teenager and asking questions that they admitted they didn’t spend enough time with each other, they didn’t find the same things important, they didn’t work hard enough to keep their love alive.

Eventually, they’d sat down and decided to end their marriage.

Now look at where I am with Holden. Only a year together, and already we’re growing apart.

My mind races for the rest of the evening.

Even as I watch Holden playing with the kids, that damned voice in my head keeps asking if I’m prepared for the end that’s coming.

He’s none the wiser about the storm brewing inside of me, and I loathe it.

I want— need —him to interrupt me from this infinite loop of doubts and crushed dreams. He doesn’t, though.

Holden leans against the doorframe hours later; his arms are crossed over his chest as he watches Ashton sleep. I wrap my arms around his waist, resting my forehead against his shoulder, and breathe in his familiar scent. The one that’s never failed to ease my troubled mind.

Until tonight.

“He’s peaceful like this, isn’t he?” I whisper, and Holden huffs out a quiet chuckle. “You coming to bed?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

I close my eyes against the sharp twinge in my chest but pull away. Holden doesn’t move, doesn’t look back at me, as my hands fall away from his side. I stare at his back for a long minute then turn, making her way on silent footsteps to our bedroom.

I fall asleep before he comes to bed.