Page 43 of The Road Back Home

I stumble across the hall and collapse against the doorframe.

Ashton’s nightlight is unplugged, sitting innocuously on his dresser as if it isn’t an omen.

The outlet is uncovered. Dealla must have known no tiny fingers would be at risk of trying to jam themselves into the socket.

His toys have been put away, and the drawers are nearly empty.

The pillow is missing from the bed. His lion is nowhere to be found.

I stumble from the room and down the stairs. My stomach threatens to expel whatever is in it—water and bile—as I scroll through my contacts. Samantha and Phil haven’t heard from Dealla, and concern floods their voices when they admit she canceled the playdate a few days ago.

“What’s going on?” Samantha asks; her voice is soft, pitying. Worried.

I swallow thickly and shove my fingers through my hair. “I—I don’t know. She didn’t say anything to you?”

“She just said she wasn’t feeling well and she’d let me know when she was over the bug she had. Holden?”

“I think I fucked up,” I whisper, the words clawing their way from my throat with all the grace of shattered glass.

My friends don’t have anything to say to that, but I have no need for a reply. I hang up without bothering to say goodbye, scan the list of names in my phone. My thumb taps on one halfway through the list.

“I see you’ve noticed she’s gone.”

“She’s there?” I croak out, too afraid to hope.

Luci’s heavy sigh crackles down the line, and I’m sure I’m not imagining the disappointment in her voice when she confirms Dealla fled to Texas, Ashton in tow.

I drop clumsily into a chair at the table, fingers clenching into a fist on my knee.

Clearing my throat does nothing to rid me of the lump that’s lodged itself there.

“Did she say anything?” I ask.

“I… I can’t tell you that, Holden. I’m sorry. God, I wish I could, but DeeDee made me and Tristan swear we’d stay out of it.”

My voice crackles as I plead, “What am I going to do?”

“The only thing I can say with certainty is that she’s not ready for the end. Not really. The question is: Are you?”

Her words are a challenge. They say I have two choices. I can either let my little family, the one I’ve found in Dealla and Ashton, slip through my fingers. Or I can fight for them.

I tell Luci I’ll call her back, ending the call without another word, then run upstairs.

I shove a couple pairs of jeans and a handful of socks into a duffel bag I find at the bottom of the closet, then I yank three shirts from their hangers.

I don’t care what I grab—they could be covered in rainbow flowers and purple polka-dots for all I care.

I don’t care. All I can focus on is what I can possibly say to Dealla when I’m face-to-face with her again.

This isn’t what I wanted. I should have tried harder that night.

She should have, too, my brain whispers, and I falter in my movements. The last thing I want to do is split the blame, but I know the voice is right. Traitorous but correct. She should have talked to me instead of walking out.

Dealla should have called at any point and yelled. Screamed. Anything .

Instead, she tucked tail and ran, taking Ashton with her and leaving my heart behind.

Once I’ve finished packing, I spare two minutes to purchase a last-minute plane ticket. The price gives me no pause. My family is worth it. My family is worth more than my entire fortune. I’d give up everything for them.

Phil stands in the entryway when I make it downstairs. I skid to a stop, my heart hammering in my chest. I don’t know if it’s fear of being too late or hope I still have a chance. My friend rolls his eyes and gestures toward the door.

“Don’t just stand there. Move it!”

I shove the duffel bag into the backseat of Phil’s car then slide in beside it. Samantha glances at me in the rearview with a sad smile, one that I pretend not to see. As soon as Phil is in the passenger seat, his wife puts the car in drive.

“How’d you guys know?” I ask as she speeds down the road.

Phil turns in his seat to answer: “We put two and two together and wound up with four. I mean, you said you screwed up only days after she canceled a playdate? It was obvious something happened. We figured she’d go back to what she knows.”

“And the flight?”

It’s Samantha who responds this time. “We hoped you weren’t stupid enough to let her go like this. After all, you love her and Ashton. He loves you. She loves you. We aren’t about to let you lose them for whatever reason. So we figured you’d have gotten the first flight out.”

“And if I hadn’t bought a ticket?”

“I did for you, just in case,” she announces with a shrug. “Pay me back later.”

The car comes to a stop outside the airport forty minutes later, and it takes all of my willpower to move. To unbuckle my belt. To wrap my fingers around the door handle. Now that I’m faced with the reality of going to her, my courage is evaporating fast.

What if Luci is wrong? What if Dealla is ready to let the sun set on our relationship?

“Man, if it comes to that,” Phil says softly, “just know you won’t be alone.”

Surprised that I’ve spoken my fears aloud, all I can do is nod at his words. I’m certain it isn’t quite that simple, but I have no time to argue. I swallow, though my mouth is dry, and push open the door.

Every step toward the entrance hurts. Each impact of shoe to pavement echoes with the remains of fragile hope drowned out by terror of love lost. Voice swell around me, crash into my senses as a tidal wave of muffled noise, and I check the ticket the airline had emailed me.

Finding the terminal, I brace myself for anything that may happen.

My strength is waning fast, but I hope this house of cards remains standing.

Luci waits just outside the gate by the time I make it through the flight and security. Her lips curve into a smile when she sees me approaching. A fluttering kicks up in my chest as she hugs me tightly.

“You made the right choice, pobrecito .”

“Then why do I feel like this is going to blow up in my face?”

“Because love? It’s fucking hard.” Luci shrugs and leads me toward the exit; I follow like a lost puppy. “But I think this will be worth it. No matter what happens.”

“Does she know?” I ask quietly as we exit the airport.

Luci shakes her head, letting her sunglasses fall to cover her eyes.

“Telling her you’re coming would only result in her rabbiting.

” She catches the questioning look I send her and chuckles.

“Okay, so her dad? Pretty damn loaded. I mean, not to your level, but definitely above comfortable. He’s basically funded her life while she took care of Ash and went to school.

He paid for her to live in the apartment for five years without the need to renew her lease. ”

“He didn’t cancel it when she moved out? Was he hoping we’d break up?”

Luci snorts, reaching over to pat my shoulder, and swears under her breath when someone speeds past us as we attempt to cross to the other side.

“Of course not. He just wanted her to have a familiar place for y’all to stay whenever you visit.

Look, he just wants her to be happy. He knows you make her happy.

Therefore, he’s invested in the relationship.

Don’t worry, he doesn’t know about this. ”

I blow out a breath and don’t say anything as we approach her car.

She turns on the radio once the engine starts, and the drive commences in silence.

I stare without seeing out the window, at the shops and eateries zipping past, until Luci slows.

I blink back to myself and stare at the complex she stops in front of.

Rising high above the surrounding buildings, the sight is familiar and sends a sharp stab to pierce through my heart.

“Thanks, Luci. I can’t thank you enough. But… Why are you helping me?”

She shrugs and reaches toward the glove compartment; pulling out a pack of gum, she offers it to me. I shake my head. She takes a moment to pop a stick of gum into her mouth, chews twice, then turns her attention back to me.

“Because you make my best friend happier than I’ve ever seen her. If I didn’t think you were good for her, I never would have laid my bets on you. Now, with that said, good luck.”

“I screwed up.”

“Then, Romeo, I guess you should stop stalling and go fix it. Go get your Juliet.”

“You know they both died, right?”

“Holden? Fucking go.”

I do.

Cool air envelops me as I step into the lobby of the building, duffel bag strung over my shoulder. No one seems to notice me—the few people I pass, anyway. The elevator hums, an almost peaceful sound, as it rises. The doors squeak quietly as they open before me. I swallow and exit on shaking knees.

Before long, I near the door I never thought I would see again. I thought when Dealla moved out, it would be permanent. This apartment was supposed to be far in our past. It was supposed to be nothing more than a stepping stone to our forever.

So many memories were made here. Our friendship, sleeping together for the first time, falling in love with her…

All wonderful events that transformed my entire world.

She and Ashton burst into my life, brought so much color to my existence, and I can’t go back to black-and-white monochrome.

If this ends up going to Hell, I will forever be scarred with the memories of how deeply I love them. How I will always love them.

I want to keep them. I want to keep the love I’ve built with her. I want my fucking family back.

Drawing in a steadying breath, I rap my knuckles against the door.

My gaze hones in on the plaque screwed to the wall.

14-07B . My skin has grown clammy, and I shiver as the air conditioner pushes more cold air through the corridor.

I feel five sizes too small. Bile creeps up my throat the longer I have to wait.

Black spots dance along the edge of my vision.

That traitorous voice tells me, again, that this shouldn’t be on just me to fix.

The door slowly opens, the chain straightening with a metallic click , and I get my first glimpse of Dealla in the last week.

Her breath comes out in a shuddering gust, unsteady as if she can hardly dare to exist with me in front of her.

The knife in my chest twists viciously, ugly and violent, at the sight of tear-clumped lashes around eyes rimmed in red.

Her chapped lips part, but she doesn’t speak.

“I’m sorry,” I rasp out. My throat tightens, and tears burn in my eyes. “Dealla, I’m so fucking sorry. I—I don’t know what went wrong, but can we talk about this? Please? I’m not ready for goodbye.”

Dealla stares at me through the gap between door and frame for a long minute. It scares me how I can’t read her expression. I used to be able to look at her and know what she was feeling, thinking, but now, I might as well be trying to understand a brick. We might as well be strangers.

The floor falls from beneath my feet when she shuts the door. My lungs collapse. I can’t breathe. She’s not even giving me the courtesy of goodbye. She’s breaking me further. She...

I stumble back, blink once, then Dealla is there again.

She doesn’t say a word. She just turns on her heel and walks farther into the apartment.

My body moves of its own accord, fear that this is a trick spurring me quicker.

My feet take the steps forward. My hand shuts and locks the door. My heart thunders against my ribs.

Everything screams for me to run to her and hold her as tight as I possibly can, to never let her go again.

I don’t. I fight the urge. She left without goodbye for a reason, so I’m not going to force myself into her personal space. As much as I ache to, I can’t do that to her. I’ve already hurt her enough. I want—need—her affection and love freely given.

Ashton stops squishing mashed potatoes between his fingers as soon as I step into view. “’Den! An’ Dee, ’Den!”

“Yeah, baby, Holden is here.”

“Up!” Ashton shouts and reaches for me.

“Do you mind?” I ask Dealla in an undertone.

The look she gives me is indecipherable, but she dips her chin in response.

I ignore the mess Ashton has made and hold him close.

I don’t care about the potatoes now clinging to my shirt or the carrots against my cheek.

I bury my face in the toddler’s hair and breathe in slowly to steady my heartbeat.

As I wipe Ashton’s face and hands moments later, I glance at Dealla where she stands at the end of the bar. She shields herself, arms hugging her torso tightly, and her face is closed off. The last thread holding my heart together snaps, and I close my eyes for a second.

“Can we talk?”

She doesn’t reply. Instead, Dealla disappears into her bedroom, and the door closes with a click that sounds far too final. I carry Ashton to the couch, dropping onto the cushions, and run my fingers lightly over the child’s back.

I wonder if this is it.

I thought I was prepared, but how does one prepare for losing the greatest love they’ve ever known?