I push to my feet, carefully easing myself off the piano bench, and run my fingers through Holden’s hair as I pass. He smiles up at me but doesn’t stop playing; Eddie rolls his eyes with a grin and strums his guitar along to the notes coming from the baby grand. I ignore his silent teasing; I’m too focused on spending time with Holden, showing him the affection he deserves. He had managed to clear this last week from his schedule, but I know his tour starts soon. His departure looms ever closer, and I struggle to be okay with it.
My footsteps are light on the stairs as I take them one-by-one, my fingers trailing along the banister. The gate at the top of the stairs clicks when I close it behind me, and I turn toward the hall. It stretches ahead of me, illuminated by a single nightlight plugged into the wall outside Ashton’s bedroom. I tiptoe closer and push on the door. It swings open silently, and I step inside the room.
Freeze.
The bed is empty.
Heart pounding in my chest, I run to the bed and duck down to peer under the frame. No Ashton. I chew on the inside of my cheek as I turn to the closet. He’s never hidden in there before, not even during games of hide-and-seek, but I have to check. Toy box, play tent, between the dresser and the wall…
Ashton is nowhere to be found.
My throat tightens, and I gasp for air. My vision pulses at the edges, palms cold and sweaty, and skin on fire with ice. Tears prick at my eyes as I stumble down the hall, down the stairs, down to where Holden and Eddie still play together. The music cuts off abruptly when Holden catches sight of me; he stands and rushes to my side. My hands tremble violently as they flail in the air between my body and his. Stomach churning, I fight for words.
“Dee?” Holden presses. “What’s wrong?”
“I—I can’t find Ashton. He’s not in bed. He’s not in his room. Ican’tfindhim.”
Holden stares blankly for a moment then clasps my hands in his. My breath hitches as he squeezes. The pressure does nothing to calm me.
“Sweetheart, breathe. Ash woke up from a bad dream while you were outside, so I put him in our bed. It’s okay. He’s safe.”
A sharp exhale gusts from me, and I nearly collapse in on myself. My skin buzzes, hot and washing red, and I clench my eyes closed. How could I not think to look in the bedroom I share with Holden? It isn’t the first time Ashton has slept in our bed, and the gate keeps him from coming down the stairs without someone with him holding his hand. No one could have come into the house without us noticing, I know this.
My stomach still threatens to expel the dinner and wine I’d ingested.
I push away from Holden, storming out to the patio on weak knees, followed by the calls of my name. My fingernails dig into my scalp as I clutch at my head, and a scream bubbles in my throat. I bite back a sob and stumble down the stairs. Away from the light coming from the windows, into the darkness that can hide my shame.
Holden had been there for Ashton. He’d calmed the child and got him back to sleep. But I should have been the one to do it Ashton is my responsibility,mine, and for me to have failed in my duties… Blood roars in my ears, thoughts swirl in my brain with no end and no beginning, panic clings to me with acidic claws. Drawing in an unsteady breath, I struggle to focus on anything but the self-loathing—the warm grass beneath my feet, the humid heat that lingers, the expanse of bruise-blue overhead speckled with flecks of white.
“Dealla?”
My steps falter at Holden’s voice, but I don’t stop pacing. The stairs creak slightly under his weight as he descends to the backyard, and I step more quickly. I need to get away. Unfortunately, Holden is quicker: His hand wraps around my arm, and he gently pulls me to a stop. I close my eyes so I can avoid seeing the concern—the judgment—on his face. His arms rest too heavily on my shoulders; I lay my forehead against his chest and fight against the urge to fall apart.
“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, and I flinch, tugging away. He sighs when I turn away. “Talk to me, please.”
I force out a watery laugh and scrub at my face with the palm of my hand. “Nothing. Just… Nothing.”
“Dealla, stop. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I just…” I sigh, slumping, and cover my face. “I’m tired. I’m so damn tired. Always so scared I’m going to fail. Anytime I have to scold Ashton or do anything besides play with him, I’m suffocated by this—thisterrorthat he’s gonna grow up hating and resenting me. I can ignore it most of the time. I mean, I can’t be worse than Katie, that’s for fucking sure, but tonight seems to just reaffirm that I deserve to feel this way.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, and his brows are drawn together when I drop my hands. He’s listening. He’s listening and he wants to know and hecares.
“You were there for him. I was too busy selfishly hanging out with Eddie to even know Ash had a nightmare. But you knew. You knew, and you fixed it. You’ve been so wonderful to and for him. And fuck, Holden… It’s not fair to you.”
My words echo in the silence between us. I watch him closely, can see the second he realizes what I mean. His lips press together until they’re barely more than a jagged line in his face. His jaw tics, and I know this is going to hurt like hell. Goodbyes have never been terribly difficult for me—I’m too used to goodbyes—but this… This is different.Heis different.
Holden inhales deeply and, surprisingly, reaches for me. “I know this is hard,” he says as he closes the distance between us. “It’s not easy for me, either, coming in and trying to find my footing in a family made before I ever found it. I understand the fears and second-guessing yourself. But don’t assume you know what’s best for me, for us, and end what we have. Becausethatisn’t fair to me.”
I wrench out of his grasp, laughing without humor. “Why not? You didn’t sign up for this!” I shout as I gesture in the direction of the house. “You and I were content with being fuck-buddies when you had time, then that changed. Now you’ve had me and a child taking over your house. Your life. Why in God’s name would you be okay with this?”
“Because I fucking love you, damn it!”
My head snaps back in response, and I gape in wide-eyed silence at him. Holden sighs heavily and shoves a hand through his hair. Neither of us speaks for a long minute; he’s clearly gathering his thoughts, and my world is upside-down. My tongue is stone in my mouth. He grabs my hand, grip tightening when I instinctively try to pull away.
“Listen, Dealla. Yes, we started out as friends with benefits. Yes, that was nice. Really fucking nice, actually. But I told you all those months ago that I don’t do casual well. I came to your apartment drunk off my ass, terrified you’d run if you knew my feelings because it wasn’t what you wanted. You’d told me you couldn’t do a relationship, and a relationship is what I wanted.”
“Holden, please, stop,” I plead with a cracking voice.
