Page 44 of The Road Back Home

Holden

The bedroom door creaks open, and Dealla clears her throat softly.

I hesitate then look away from Ashton, up at the woman who has the potential to destroy me.

She beckons me closer, and I hates that I don’t know what her eyes are saying.

Exhaling sharply, I set the toddler on the floor and promise to be right back.

Steeling my spine against all that can go wrong, I approach Dealla with waning hope.

Her hand stretches out, and I stare blankly at the leather-bound book she holds.

Her journal. The book I swore never to open, to read, to even touch.

Is this a trick? My gaze darts to her face.

There’s no amusement, no sign this is a test, so I slowly grab the journal from her hand.

Her mouth opens as if she’s going to speak, but she shakes her head and brushes past me.

I hesitate then enter her bedroom at her gesture.

Closing the door behind me, I move to the bed and sit.

My heart hammers, agonizing and rapid-fire, beneath my ribs as I peel open the journal to the first page she’s marked with a strip of paper.

It’s dated to a month after we began living together, when she’d uprooted herself and Ashton for me.

Holden leaves for some music thing—I think a collab with another musician. I’ll miss him, obviously, but I can’t deny that seeing him so happy about something is heartwarming. I just wish I could be as happy as he is.

It’s been three days since he called and… It doesn’t seem to matter. I don’t wait by the phone or even get upset anymore. Is that a bad thing? Is it wrong that I don’t need to hear his voice?

Work was rough today. I feel like I’m drowning.

I should be happy Holden is home again, but I just…

I don’t know. It feels like everything we’ve had has disappeared.

I still love him, God, do I fucking love him even though I can’t seem to say the words.

(Why???) But we don’t actually talk anymore.

It hurts so much to know it’s all become about sex, Ash, or superficial bullshit.

I want to go back to when we first started, when we would talk all day and night about everything, no matter how silly and trivial.

I just want to be happy again? Why can’t I be happy?

Know what the first thing he said to me today when he got home was?

“Where’s Ashton?” No mention of me. No hug or kiss or even so much as ‘hi’…

It took everything in me to not burst into tears right then because it HURT. When did he stop caring about me?

Last night was the first night he didn’t say “I love you” before hanging up.

I didn’t even notice until a couple hours later when he sent a text.

I don’t know how to feel about this. I’m confused.

I just want to know what to do. Should I just break up with him, cut my losses, and move back to Austin with Ash?

Or should I suffer through and hope it gets better?

Neither sounds like a good enough option, but I’m afraid it’s all I have.

I can’t talk to him about it. I can’t push him into coming to the conclusion that he doesn’t love me any longer, that he’s only sticking around because he doesn’t want to hurt Ashton. I don’t know if I could survive that.

I haven’t heard from him in a week. That’s fine, I guess.

It’s not the first time we’ve gone so long without talking.

But it is the first time since we moved in.

I’m honestly kind of glad, though. If I speak to him now, I’ll unload all my frustrations, and it will be a mess.

I mean, if I’m so confused myself, how can I possibly portray what I’m feeling without overwhelming or confusing him? ?

I just… I need him to love me like he did before.

We got into a fight. Kind of. He forgot about picking Ash and me up from work, and when Josh dropped us off at home, I found out the reason he forgot was because he was too busy talking on the phone to remember us.

A friend came first. So I took Ash out for some chicken nuggets, and when we got home, Holden was gone.

He never came home. My entire world is crashing down around me because it proves what I’ve feared—he doesn’t love me like he says he does. I’m just a safety option.

He hasn’t noticed we’re gone yet. It’s been 5 days since Ashton and I came back to Austin.

Ashton isn’t happy about it. Yet. He keeps asking about Holden, and I just don’t know what to tell him.

Thankfully, Tristan and Luci know now. They’ll be able to help us.

They’ll help Ash adjust, and they’ll help me get over my broken heart.

I think Luci is upset I never told them how I was feeling, but what was I supposed to say?

“Oh, hey, I know we’re all BFFs and all, and that I up and moved in with some guy a million miles away, but I think it was a mistake because now I’m miserable and he fell out of love with me, but hey, how are YOU?

” Not exactly an easy conversation. And yeah, they ARE my best friends, but I don’t need judgment.

I’m already hating myself enough for letting it all get to this point.

And I don’t want them hating Holden. It isn’t really his fault he no longer gives a damn about me. It’s just reality. It’s what happened. I just have to accept it and move on.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking this. I just really fucking miss him. I miss being in love with him—him being in love with me. I miss being happy with him in a way I’ve never been before. I wonder if he misses that, too…

My chest is hollow, tight, by the time I finish reading the entries. They date back for months. Months , and she never told me. Blowing out a tremulous breath, I rub a hand over my eyes. How could I have been so blind? How could I not have noticed Dealla withdrawing from me?

I set the journal aside, wipe away the dampness on his cheeks, and stand.

It may have been my lack of attention—her lack of communication—that caused this fracture, but I’ll be damned if I let us break completely.

Dealla is stretched out on the couch, cuddling with Ashton as he struggles to stay awake, while cartoons play quietly on the television.

She glances up at me as I near; her dark eyes skim over my face, and her brows draw tightly together.

I shake my head and assure her in a whisper that we can talk once Ashton is in bed. She nods.

Sitting by her feet, I pull them into my lap, and she lets out a soft snort and giggle when my thumbs dig into the arch of her right foot.

I flick at her ankle as she tries to tug away from my touch, but I’m falling headfirst into the sound of her laughter.

It’s been too long. It brings me back to the beginning, brings about a flicker of what we were.

Ashton gives up on staying awake within the half-hour. I gesture for Dealla to remain where she is and gingerly move her feet off my thighs. Her gaze lingers heavy on my face as I lean down to carefully lift the snoring child into my arms, but she stays silent.

The bedroom door creaks softly as it swings open on its hinges.

I step through into the darkness beyond, smiling down at the toddler in my arms. I press a gentle kiss to the boy’s soft hair, tuck him into bed, and stay crouched next to the toddler bed.

My throat tightens the longer I watch Ashton sleep.

I’m certain I can move past a failed relationship. I’ve done it before, a few times. It would take time, definitely, and I would carry the scars with me for the rest of my life. But losing Ashton, too? That is a wound that would never heal.

I blink rapidly against the tears then force myself to move, to leave the room and confront whatever is about to happen. Whatever may come, will. And I have to face it head-on.

Dealla still lies on the couch. Her eyes are closed, but I know she isn’t asleep.

The tension in her body is evidence enough.

Slipping into the space behind her, I pull until her back is pressed to my chest. Her breath comes out shakily as I drape my arm over her waist, and I hold her close and wonder where my words have gone.

I spent the entire flight, all day, all week, trying to think of what to say. Now those thoughts are gone.

“I’m sorry.”

“What the hell are you sorry for?” I whisper and bury my face in her hair.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you by letting you read my journal.”

“Oh, darling, no.” I kiss the crown of her head. “You didn’t hurt me. Reading how you felt without me realizing, yes, that hurts. But it isn’t your fault.”

“I just… Holden, our relationship revolved around sex and Ash. You and I, we never talked. Actually talked . I kept hoping it would get better, but it never did.”

Her voice cracks, breathing grows harsh, and I realize she’s started crying. I want to say something to make it better. To take away all the pain I have caused her. But there’s nothing that can change what has been done.

Dealla sniffles and brushes a hand over her cheek. “I tried. I did everything I could to figure out where things were going wrong and fix them. I don’t know what else I could have done.”

“It was all me. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, I know you are,” she says before sighing.

Cold washes over me as she pulls out of my grasp and sits up. She scoots down to the other end of the couch, and the aching in my heart grows more painful—visceral—with the distance between us. Dealla refuses to meet my eye. Her fingers visibly shake as they rake through her hair.