Page 6 of The Road Back Home

My heart clenches beneath my ribs, and I stretch out on the couch with my legs hanging over the arm.

Deciding to ignore that comment and go all-in, I ask him to tell me more about himself—music included.

There isn’t much I actually know besides the personality he’s shown and the fact he lives just outside Franklin, Tennessee.

Thankfully, Holden obliges, and I settle in to listen.

I step out of the car and glare at the sky outside the parking garage as damp air clings to my skin.

Clouds have begun to roll in and threaten rain, and the forecast says this storm will be a bad one.

Sliding a hand over my sweat-soaked hair, I press the lock button on the key fob and, as my SUV beeps twice, I had toward the door.

Opening the door causes a blast of cool air to envelop me, and I shiver and cross my arms over my chest. My footsteps quicken, leading me through the corridors, around the myriad of turns, until I reach the end of the hall that holds my apartment door.

My voice rings out in the quiet as I approach: “What the hell.”

Holden looks up from his phone, smiling brightly.

His gray eyes are washed out by the fluorescent lights, but they’re alight with his happiness.

I want to run from it. I’ve never had that before—no one has come close enough to me, except Tristan and Luci who wouldn’t let me say ‘no’.

Not like I gave anyone else much of a chance.

It frightens me, this nebulous thing I have yet to examine.

I’ve had schoolgirl crushes before, but this is different.

This is adulthood. This is “getting on a flight and coming to see someone who’s still a near stranger”.

Shaking it off—after all, he hadn’t come strictly to see me, it’s just a happy coincidence that I live in the city he’s visiting—I raise a brow. “Hi. What are you doing? And how did you even get into the building?”

“Followed someone in. And I’m mostly scrolling through social media.” He pauses, frowns. “Did I not tell you I was here?”

“I don’t think so.”

I pull my phone from my bag and show him a screen devoid of notifications. Holden’s lips pull down in the corners as he swipes and taps on the screen of his own phone. When he meets my gaze again, his face is twisted up.

“I didn’t press ‘send’.”

I don’t bother hiding my laugh. Gesturing for him to move, I unlock the door and push it open.

He follows me inside and locks the door behind us.

My throat tightens with the realization he remembered.

He hasn’t been here in over a month, and he remembered .

I can’t find it in me to tell him it isn’t necessary now that Ashton isn’t here. I wish Ashton were here.

“Okay, so I kinda need to shower,” I admit slowly then bite down on the inside of my cheek. After a second, I gesture vaguely around the living room. “Um, there’s a remote to the TV somewhere, so you can watch a show or something while I’m, y’know, busy. Sorry for the hunting you’ll have to do.”

“It’s okay. I can watch something on my phone.”

“Alright. Well... I’ll be right back.”

I duck into my room and hurry to grab clean clothes.

It isn’t until I catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror that I see how out of sorts I look.

My skin is still mottled from exertion and heat, and my hair clings to my skin.

I yank the band from my ponytail, shaking the damp strands loose, and lean over to start the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, I step out of the bathroom scrubbed and dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized T-shirt bearing the logo of a band from the 70s.

Holden pauses the video on his phone, sets the device aside, and I flop onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

I’ve gone for a jog every morning since the day I found out who Holden really is, but it still wears me out.

“Tired?”

I nod, resting my head against the back of the couch as I explain the exhaustion from the jog and the fact I’d tossed and turned all night.

“I can leave if—”

“Nah, it’s okay. If I nap now, I definitely won’t sleep tonight, and that would be even worse.”

“I’m surprised Ashton isn’t here,” he comments lightly, his gaze tracking over the tidy living room, and I ignore the stab through my chest.

“Katie—his mom said she wanted to keep him this weekend.” At Holden’s slow nod, I continue without really knowing why: “It’s her way of saying without saying she wants to punish me.”

His head cocks to the side, his face screwing up. “For what?”

“She thinks I was implying she’s a bad mom because I asked her to bring more diapers the next time she brought him over.” I shrug and scratch idly at my thigh. “It’s stupid, but if I try to defend myself, I won’t get to see Ash for even longer.”

“That’s awful.”

“It is what it is.”

Why had I told him all that? I squirm under the weight of his concern, the way he chews on his bottom lip as he stares at me, so I hurriedly change the subject.

He brightens when I ask about his biggest influence when it comes to music, and he launches into tales about touring, his songs, how he feels standing on stage in front of thousands of fans.

The love he holds for his profession is evident in the exuberant gesticulating and the light in his eyes.

I wonder if I’ll ever be so happy about anything other than my responsibilities with Ashton.

Holden and I don’t do much beyond watching television.

He doesn’t mention how often my attention drifts from the shows, and I’m thankful for it.

Though I ache at the fact Katie is using my nephew as a tool against me, there’s something not as overwhelming to the hurt as there usually is.

Holden . He’s the only difference. He’s here, he’s only feet away, and I’m not completely alone.

It terrifies me, I realize, that he’s such a calming presence after so little time.

Holden proves to be helpful in the kitchen come dinnertime.

He dices bell peppers efficiently while I cook chicken and mix honey with soy sauce together.

While I sauté the peppers and onions, he sets about making rice.

His hand falls warm and strong against my hip as he passes behind me, and I suppress a shiver at the touch.

Don’t get attached, a small voice warns me. He’ll leave, and you’ll have nothing . No, not nothing. I’ll still have Ashton. That’s good enough.

“I need this recipe,” he all but moans as he sets his bowl on the coffee table an hour later.

I bite back a smile and shake my head. “You literally helped make it. You should be able to remember what goes in it.”

“Well, write it down anyway, because that was fucking delicious.”

“I’ll text it to you,” I promise before scooping the last bite of stir-fry into my mouth.

We clean the mess together, and a comfortable silence wraps around us.

I put away the dishes while he wraps up the leftovers and finds a place for them in the refrigerator.

When he turns around, he has a bottle of wine in hand and a brow raised in question.

I debate whether it’s a wine kind of night then promptly decide every night is a wine kind of night.

I nod, reaching for a pair of glasses, then follow him to the living room.

To my surprise, we go through two bottles of wine over the next three hours.

My words are starting to slur around the edges from alcohol and fatigue.

Holden laughs at my pout when I pour the dredges of wine into my glass, and I stick my tongue out at him.

I watch him dig his phone from his pocket—when had he slipped it in there?

—and a heavy tug emanates from deep in my gut as I stare at him.

The stubble that covers the sharp curve of his jaw, the stormy sky-gray of his eyes, the downward tilt to his lips…

I know it’s the alcohol and lack of physical relationship over the past two years, but my body is definitely reacting to what I see in front of me. With a frown, I glower at my lap.

“Fucking useless, shut up.”

Holden’s head snaps up, and his brows stitch together. “Did you just call your—” He gestures. “—fucking useless and tell it to shut up?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it is useless.”

“I…”

I wave a hand vaguely, cutting off his attempt to find words. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.”

“No, no, you’ve got me curious now. You can’t just leave it at that.”

“I can and am,” I reply with a smirk.

Holden rolls his eyes, but I can see his smile.

I count it as a win, especially when he lets the subject drop.

I glance at my phone on the coffee-table then reach for it.

The screen lights up, and somehow, I’m not surprised to see it’s past eleven o’clock.

Holden must realize the time as well, for he hesitates but asks about sleeping on the couch.

I don’t question it: I grab a spare pillow and blanket from the laundry closet.

Setting them on the end of the couch, I grab my glass and take Holden’s from his hand once it’s empty.

A shiver races down my spine as our fingers brush.

Looking back later, I won’t be able to say who moved first or if perhaps we moved at the same time.

All I’ll ever know is one second, I’m on my feet staring down into those beautiful gray eyes, then the next, I’m straddling his lap.

He’s an amazing kisser, my brain catalogs, and I nearly giggle.

My lips part, my tongue brushes his lower lip, and he obliges.

He tastes of wine and the salty bite of soy sauce.

His hands come up to rest on my waist, holding me here even as he explores my mouth.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I murmur into the kiss; I’ve just remembered the wineglasses are still in my hands, my arms held out to the side. I pull back, stretch to put them on the table, then face Holden again. “Okay, we’re good. Where were we?”

I breathe in his huff of laughter and swallow it down as I seal our mouths together.

He pulls me even closer. His heartbeat thunders under my palms as I slide my hands over his chest. He groans low in his throat when my fingernails press into his skin, my hips push down against him.

My skin grows tight, my very essence blooming into something larger than myself.

My body threatens to burst apart with the sensations.

“Do you have anything?” he whispers when we part, breathing heavily.

I bite my lip then gasp when his teeth scrape against my throat. “Fuck, don’t stop,” I whimper.

“I don’t want to, believe me.”

“Then let’s not.”

“Answer my question first.”

I clamber clumsily off his lap, tugging on his hand, and he follows me into the bedroom.

My hands press against his chest; he lets himself fall to the mattress while I round the bed to dig through the nightstand drawer.

I know the box is in here—Luci had bought it for me months ago in hopes it would motivate me to ‘get lucky’.

She had no idea then that this would be me getting lucky.

Once the condom is in hand, I crawl onto the mattress to straddle Holden again. He pushes the hem of my shirt up, up, up over my head and tosses it aside. I burn for him as his gaze rakes over my bare skin. Want darkens his eyes, sends flickers of desire up my spine.

Somehow, we strip without major incident, and I stretch out beside him as he rolls the condom on.

I let myself get lost in the sight of him, solid and warm and desirable and real .

My fingers curl into the hair on his chest. At my touch, Holden lunges forward to kiss me again.

His body blankets mine, and I let go of any and all control.

I sink into the stretch and burn and waves of pleasure that storm through me.

Holden slows, his motions becoming more measured.

I stifle a whine only to moan when he shifts and pushes deeper inside of me.

My hands slide along the bedsheets until I can dig my fingernails into his thighs.

My legs tense around him, hold onto him, pull him in as I roll my hips with each thrust. My head falls back against the pillow as his thumb finds my core.

Everything I feel in the moment drowns out the screaming in my head that says this is a bad idea.

The admonishment fades with the orgasm that tears through me.

Holden collapses beside me only moments later, and I giggle as he throws an arm over my waist. His damp face presses into my neck, and he blows out an unsteady breath.

“Fuck.”

I hum softly. “Mm, no, I think we just did that.”

I close my eyes and examine the looseness in my muscles.

It’s been so long since I’ve had any sort of intimacy like this with another person.

It’s relaxed me more than anything else since Ashton was born.

My heartbeat steadies, slows, and I shiver as his fingers drag over my collarbone with a feather-light touch.

He brushes a kiss to my shoulder and lifts himself up on one elbow.

“That was fantastic,” he murmurs. His tone is too soft—too tender—too much—but warmth blooms to life under my skin.

“It really, really was.” I pause, struggling to catch hold of a thought. Eventually, what comes out is, “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

And maybe it’s true, but it’s also a horrible mistake. Once is bad enough, but to go back and relive these precious stolen moments… To memorize the way he feels and tastes… I’m playing with fire, and I’ll only end up burned in the end.

“So would I,” he says quietly.

I push myself to sit up. I’m nude, but I feel far more naked now than before. Holden strokes a finger along my spine but doesn’t push me to talk. He just waits patiently, so sweetly.

“I don’t want a relationship, Holden.” When he remains silent, I continue. “Between Ashton and school, adding a relationship—especially a long-distance one—isn’t feasible.”

“I understand.”

I don’t doubt his words. I can feel the truth in the way his voice brushes velvet-soft against my ears. Maybe… All in or all out , I scold myself. And all-in sounds mighty fucking good.

“If you’re okay with a friends-with-benefits kinda thing whenever you’re in town, though, I could work with that.”

Half of me wants to take the words back as soon as they slip free, but I leave them hanging between us.

Holden sits upright, planting his feet into the mattress and resting his forearms on his knees.

His eyes sparkle in the silver moonlight streaming through the gap in the blinds.

He leans forward and kisses me softly, oh so softly.

“So can I.”