Page 54 of The Road Back Home

“Well, in that case, thank you, buddy.”

Ashton gives Holden a wide grin then his expression grows serious. “Bath ’night?”

Holden caves like a house of cards—much like I knew he would. He always struggles to say ‘no’ to Ashton, and a bath is one of those things that will rarely warrant a rejection.

The next gift is less amusing. I chews on her lower lip, squirming as Holden stares down at the item in the small silver box.

His expression is unreadable, and I’m uncertain what it means.

He stays silent for a long minute—sixty seconds of nothing—before swallowing hard.

When he looks up at me, he blinks rapidly.

It does nothing to clear the wetness in his eyes.

“This… Wow. Dee…”

“Like it?”

“I fucking love it.”

Holden gingerly lifts the wooden guitar pick from the velvet inlay.

A mess of burnt-in scribbles mars the polished surface.

Ashton had drawn it weeks ago, proudly proclaiming it was a picture of Holden.

Seeing Holden’s reaction to Ashton showing it off had given me the idea.

I’d photocopied and emailed the drawing to an older woman who’s an expert in wood-burning.

I smile when Holden’s fingers wrap around the pick, his knuckles turning white as he clutches at it.

“Last one,” I announce and pretend I don’t see him wiping a hand over his cheeks. “This one is from just me.”

Rich brown leather meets my gaze as Holden tears the paper.

The journal looks nearly identical to the one he uses for writing lyrics, but where that one is a plain black thing, this one has his name embossed in the spine.

Holden glances up at me, cocking his head in question, and I point toward the book without word.

He sticks his tongue out at me before opening the journal. Clearing his throat, he begins to read:

“‘Holden, you are such an amazing man. You’ve made Ash and me happier than we’ve ever known, and I can’t say enough how much I love you. You’re funny, sweet, generous, and so loving’. You’re also a terrific lover, and I can’t get enough of—”

“Holden Lynch, I didn’t write that!” I protest, swatting at his arm as he laughs. “Don’t be crass.”

“Fine, fine. Sorry. ‘Even through our bad times, I knew you were the only one I’d ever love this much, this fiercely, this deeply’.

” His voice cracks, but he presses on. “’You became a part of me, and I love you so much.

Thank you for letting us crash into your life.

You make my world brighter. Thank you for loving Ashton so much.

Thank you for loving me. Happy birthday, darling. Here’s to many more’.”

Ashton wiggles off of my lap, crawling onto Holden’s. “No cry, is okay.”

“I know, baby. I know. I’m okay.” Holden blows out a shaky breath and kisses Ashton’s forehead. “I love you, sweet boy.”

“Love you ’bow!”

Holden’s face softens, and he blinks again. Turning toward me, he leans forward to kiss me, hard and insistent. “Thank you for loving me, too.”

It isn’t until later in the evening, when Holden and I are tucking Ashton into bed, that I realize his phone hasn’t once gone off since his mother called.

Even when we were doing nothing but watching TV, he wasn’t messing about on his phone.

He just kept his attention solely on our little family.

I know this won’t last—he has a career to get back to.

This was meant to be a quick three-day visit before he embarks on the first leg of his tour. But I don’t want to think about that.

Ashton pats Holden’s cheek clumsily. “Night-night, Daddy.”

“Goodnight, Ash,” Holden murmurs with a soft smile. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Once Ashton is snuggled into his blankets, I lead Holden to our bedroom.

The bedside lamps’ bulbs are set to their lowest warm setting, casting soft golden light over the room.

Holden disappears into the bathroom while I turn down the blankets on the bed, tossing the extra pillows to the floor.

The mattress dips beneath my weight as I sit on the edge, and I fold my arms over my abdomen and stare at the far wall.

My brain dredges up the thoughts that have plagued me since this morning.

“How do you feel about Ashton calling you ‘daddy’?” I ask as soon as the bathroom door opens behind me.

Holden’s footsteps don’t come for a moment, then they shuffle across the carpet. I feel the moment he lowers himself onto the bed; the weight approaches, then an arm pulls me backward. His lips are warm and soft on my neck.

“It feels… weird, but in a really fucking good way.”

“So you’re okay with it?”

Holden breathes out evenly, slowly, and I can almost hear him thinking. But then his smile is on my skin, and he pulls on me more until we’re sprawled across the bed.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Tension bleeds from my body, and I draw in a shaky inhale. My stomach stops churning with the steadiness of his answer. Minute trembles overtake my body as I roll to lie beside him.

“Well, then,” I start, voice wobbling, “congratulations, Dad, it’s a bouncing baby boy.”

Warmth and safety surrounds me, brought to me by Holden’s arm over my waist, the solid form of his body against mine. My eyes flutter closed with the brush of his lips along the curve of my shoulder. He comes to a stop with his mouth to the shell of my ear.

“If he’s my son, that means he’s your son, too,” he whispers.

My stomach gives a violent swoop at the words, but then: “He’s always been mine. I just never realized it before.”

How, I’m not sure. Ashton has been my world for so long, my main priority, the one person I would drop everything for. I would kill, die, and live for that little boy.

Holden leaves before sunrise, before I even wake. I glare at the empty space beside me and the tented paper on the pillow. After a moment, I reach for it and unfold it.

Sorry for leaving before you woke up. I wanted to, but you looked so peaceful. Just know that I’m going to spend the next two months missing the fuck out of you and Ash. Call me when you wake up. Call me whenever you want. I’ll always answer.

I love you, D. Forever. I’ll be home as soon as I can.

With the words firmly in my mind, I throw back the blankets and push myself out of bed. It’s time to start the day—judging by the sound of a little boy talking to himself in his bedroom.

Ashton’s good mood lasts until he realizes Holden is gone.

He’s sullen and angry and misbehaving all day long; Tara sends me home with him when he throws a toy truck at another kid’s head.

I try to cheer him up, but not even the promise of ice cream and cuddles works.

So I heft him into the bathtub in hopes the bubbles will do the job.

They do. Somewhat.

“I miss Daddy,” he announces, splaying his fingers in the air in front of him before dropping his hands into the bubble-filled water.

“I know, baby. I miss him, too. But he’ll be back before you know it.”

He nods and yanks his boat out of the basket hanging on the wall. I sit back on my heels to watch him play, and I wonder how I ever got so lucky.

“You Mama?”

I still instantly at the small voice, the question asked with such innocence, and Ashton stares up at me. What can I say? I’d meant what I told Holden: I saw what pregnancy did to Katie’s mind and body, and I couldn’t see myself going through something like that. But…

The bubbles that dangle from his chin, the bright blue eyes, the scrunched-eyed grin he gives her… How could I ever have thought I was nothing more than his guardian, when he’s been the perfect son I never knew I wanted?

“Do you think I am?” I ask instead of bursting into tears, though it’s a close call.

Ashton wiggles his fingers and gives a solemn nod. A tear slips free despite my best efforts. Leaning over, I brush a bubble from his cheek and smile.

“Then yeah, I’m Mama.”