The Road That Leads to Us

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “We’ve got this, huh?” I raised a brow.

  “Of course.” She rolled her pretty blue eyes and feigned a huff of exaggeration before grinning widely. “We’re bad asses.”

  Willow

  Five days later we crossed the state line into Virginia.

  Home.

  We’d stopped several more times—most notably in Memphis (Elvis, come on we had to) and Nashville.

  But now had come the time for us to reenter the real world.

  I wasn’t very happy about that, but I refused to let my sadness about the end dull the journey.

  It had been a great one.

  We’d been gone for three weeks, but it felt infinitely longer. It seemed like years had passed. I half-expected to show up at home and find that my siblings were grown and my parent’s had turned my room into some kind of hedgehog playroom or something—I honestly wouldn’t put it past my dad to try that, but my mom would’ve intervened if he had.

  I glanced over at Dean and saw that the muscle in his jaw ticked and his hands were clenched around the steering wheel.

  He heard it too—the sound of the clock ticking down to our final minutes alone in this car.

  We still had around four hours before we arrived home, but it felt like four minutes.

  I’d told my dad yesterday that we’d be home today, and since seven in the morning he’d been sending me countless texts asking me when we were going to get there. He needed to take a chill pill. Or twelve.

  “I don’t want it to be over,” I confessed into the silence around us.

  Dean heaved a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “Me either, but the real world isn’t going to wait forever for us. We have to rejoin it sometime.”

  I knew he was right, but it didn’t make the fact any easier.

  It seemed with each mile we got closer to Winchester my heart beat a bit faster.

  Dean entwined our fingers, giving my hand a soft, reassuring squeeze. “I know it feels like everything is different, Willow, but it’s really not.”

  “I know,” I said softly, glancing out the window at the blur of green and somewhere in front of us someone honked their horn. “I don’t know why I feel so weird about this,” I admitted with a shake of my head.

  “We left one way and came back another,” He lifted my hand to his mouth and pressed a tender kiss to my knuckles. “Things are going to be different now, but not in a bad way. Our two families will just be even more merged than they were before.”

  I laughed, imagining our huge families—because for both of us family wasn’t defined by blood, it was also the people that were always there for us. Like my Uncle Ezra and Uncle Hayes—both were members in my dad’s band, not related to us by blood (but Ezra was my dad’s foster brother) but they were family nonetheless. I knew that both of them, and their wives my Aunt Sadie and Aunt Arden, would be there for me in a heartbeat if I called upon them. Not to mention their kids as well—who were my unofficial cousins, much the way Liam was my unofficial big brother even if I still really wanted to throw a rock at his head.

  “It’s one big ass crazy family,” I laughed.

  He shook his head. “That’s for sure.”

  When we had an hour and a half left for travel we stopped off to get gas and lunch. I went inside the building to pay for the gas and get our sandwiches while Dean stayed outside to pump the gas.

  I grabbed a smorgasbord of other stuff—chips, candy, chocolate, gum, and yes, even lollipops. As our last stop, it only seemed fitting to get a little bit of everything, even if it was completely unnecessary. I carried everything out to the car, where Dean had parked off to the side, and nearly dropped everything. Dean darted forward to grab two of the bags from my hands.

  “I figured we could just eat here. I have to go to the bathroom first, though.” He nodded at where he’d parked the car, off to the side of the building.

  I shrugged and he sat our food and drinks on the trunk of the car before heading inside of the building. I grabbed my backpack from the car and sat on the trunk beside the food. I pulled out my journal and flipped to the first blank page I found. Not only did I want to scribble the final pieces of our trip, but there was a poem I was itching to write.

  My pencil scratched across the page in my haste to finish before Dean returned. The tip of the pencil crumbled and I brushed away the pieces of lead before continuing.

  Suddenly arms wound around my sides and Dean let out a mighty roar, scaring the crap out of me.

  I would’ve fallen off the trunk of the car if his arms hadn’t held me so tightly.

  “Did I scare you?” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

  “Yes!” I swatted his arm with my journal, which turned out to be the worst idea ever when he snatched it.

  “Hey! Give that back!” I tried to grab for it, but he held it above my head. The jerk. “Dean!” I pleaded. “That’s personal!”

  He placed his hand on the side of my face and pushed me away playfully.

  “I’ve been trying to get my hands on this the whole trip. You’re crazy if you think I’m passing up this opportunity. What’s in here? Sappy love poems about how much you love me.”

  “Something like that,” I muttered.

  Some of my poems were about Dean, but I’d hardly call them sappy. Most were very personal though, about my thoughts and feelings. A few were even about nature. But all of them were meant for my eyes only.

  Dean held me at bay and scanned the page. Flipped back to the previous one. And then another.

  I finally made another attempt at grabbing it from him and succeeded. I held the journal to my chest and was surprised to find that I was panting like I was out of breath.

  “I told you not to read them,” I scolded him, fighting tears for some strange reason. Having someone read my poems felt sort of like grabbing my heart out of my chest and splaying it in front of someone to figure out the inner workings. “They’re bad,” I continued.

  His eyes widened in surprise and his lips parted. “They’re far from bad, Willow. They’re incredible. Why didn’t you ever tell me you wrote poetry?” His mouth dipped into a frown and his forehead wrinkled. He was deeply hurt by this fact.

  “No one knows,” I emphasized.

  “Why?” He sounded so shocked.

  “They’re so personal that it feels weird to be like, ‘Oh here, read this!’”

  He shook his head at me. “Here you are so deeply confused about what you’re supposed to do for the rest of your life and the answer has been in here the whole time.” He tapped my journal with a rough shove of his finger.

  My brows furrowed together. “Write poetry? I hardly think I can make a career out of that.”

  “Not just poetry,” he said with a shake of his head. A lock of brown hair fell forward into his eyes and he hastily flicked it away. “You should write.”

  “Write what?” I was not following the train he was on.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged, his lips twisting in thought. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers together and his face lit with a thought. “What about a blog? You could write about our trip, and your life in general—I mean, you do enough crazy stuff for it to be interesting. You could post your poetry too.”

  “But that’s not a career,” I argued.

  “You could make into one,” he reasoned. “I know you have the talent to make it happen. You’re already in the public eye, I’m sure people would check it out.”

  “Yeah, because they’re nosy.” I snorted, glaring off to the side. “I don’t know if I want to draw any more attention to myself.”

  He eyed me as if to say really?

  I took a moment to think about what he was really saying. “It could be fun. I guess.” I lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

  “Think about it,” he pleaded.

  I nodded. “I will.”

  It wasn’t that crazy of an idea, and it was something I could definitely do.

  I’d never thought of being a
blogger, but now that he brought it up the idea was actually appealing.

  He leaned over and grabbed my journal from my hands, tossing it on the ground.

  “Hey!” I yelled for what felt like the thousandth time. “That wasn’t—”

  His lips descended on mine, silencing the rest of what I had to say.

  My body, the treacherous being that it was, succumbed to his touch and all thoughts about my journal, blogging, and our impending arrival at home all ceased to exist.

  Which I was sure had been his plan all along.

  Dean

  I turned onto the dirt and gravel driveway that led back through the trees to Willow’s home.

  Her hand was clammy in mine and she kept nibbling on her bottom lip with nerves.

  With her free hand she typed a text to her dad that we were almost there.

  The trees opened up, revealing the old house and a whole heck of a lot of people standing outside with a WELCOME HOME sign hanging on the roof of the front porch.

  I spotted my mom, dad, brother, and sister. Even my Uncle Trent and Aunt Rowan. My cousins Tristan, Tripp, and Tinsley—my aunt and uncle chose to stick with the ‘T’ name theme my grandparent’s chose for my dad and Trent. Even my aunt and uncles’ friend’s Tatum and Jude with their five kids—Juliette, or as we all called her ‘Ettie’, Asher, Luke, Colton, and Lucy.

  Willow’s family was there too, along with her aunt and uncle, and the other members of her dad’s band. Ezra was unmistakable with his curly black hair. He stood with his arm wrapped around his wife Sadie’s waist. Hayes and Arden were there too—her hair standing out vibrantly with its bright red. And all of their kids—Ezra and Sadie’s son and daughter Everett and Everly, and Hayes and Arden’s children, Mia, Adalyn, and Noah.

  “Whoa,” Willow said as we came to a stop, “they brought in the whole welcoming committee.”

  “They did.” I nodded, still in shock at all the people standing outside waiting for us.

  “I feel so loved.” Willow’s voice was full of awe as her eyes scanned everybody.

  Neither of us seemed to know what to do. Finally, we undid our seatbelts and stepped out of the car to greet everyone.

  Maddox was the first to step forward and Willow ran towards him. She hugged him tight and I heard her tell him that she loved him.

  My own parents came towards me and my mom shook her head with a grin. “I knew it!”

  “Maddox and Emma told you?” I guessed.

  She nodded and smacked my arm lightly. “As my son I should’ve heard it from you first, but I’m too happy to care right now.”

  I ducked my head.

  “We missed you,” my dad said, ruffling my hair like I was a small boy.

  My siblings then took turns hugging me.

  “It feels like you’ve been gone forever,” Grace said, tears shimmering in her brown eyes.

  “Family dinners were really boring without you,” Lincoln agreed and his floppy brown hair fell into his eyes.

  “I’m sure that’s not true.” I clapped my hand against Linc’s shoulder.

  “He threw macaroni into my hair one night,” Grace groaned. “It was gross.”

  “It was hilarious,” Linc argued.

  “You weren’t the one with macaroni lodged in your hair!” Grace yelled back.

  “Hey, you two!” My mom scolded. “It’s over and done with, Lincoln is grounded, let it go.”

  Some things never changed, and for that I was silently grateful.

  “You ready to get back to work?” My dad asked me with a raised brow.

  I nodded. “You bet.”

  The trip had been fun, but I loved working on cars and I was ready to get back to it.

  I acknowledged my aunt and uncle, their kids, Tatum, Jude, and their family as well before rejoining Willow.

  When I stepped up beside her my hand fell to her waist and she leaned slightly into my body before smiling up at me.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Her uncle Mathias glared at the two of us. “What is this?” He stared at my hand like it was a poisonous snake wrapped around her waist.

  Willow laughed softly under my breath. “You mean my dad didn’t bitch about this to you?”

  “Hey!” Maddox cried, looking wounded. “I take offense to that.”

  “Sorry, dad,” Willow sighed. She lifted her eyes to me and smiled reassuringly before looking at her uncle. “Dean is my boyfriend now.”

  Mathias opened his mouth, ready for a rant, but Willow silenced him when she held up her hand.

  “There’s nothing you can say to change this, so save your breath. The most important problem we all have is Liam,” she said forlornly and her head dipped.

  Mathias and Remy exchanged a worried look and even Maddox and Emma did as well.

  “Is it bad?” Remy asked hesitantly, worry marring her face.

  Willow lifted her head in a single nod. “He’s not okay, that’s for sure.”

  Remy pressed her lips together in a thin line, trying to keep her emotions in check, but a choked sob escaped. Mathias quickly gathered her into his arms and they walked off towards the cover of trees to speak.

  “We have food inside. Are you hungry?” Maddox asked.

  “We already—” Willow started.

  “Excellent. Everyone inside.”

  Maddox began to usher everyone inside—and trying to get that many people inside at one time was pretty impossible.

  Once we were inside Maddox picked up a cardboard box and handed it to Willow. “This arrived for you today.”

  Willow let out a small squeal and thrust the box against my chest. “It’s for you!” She danced on the balls of her feet, waiting for me to open it.

  “For me?” I asked skeptically as I looked down at the box.

  She nodded eagerly. “Open it!” She clapped her hands together.

  I ripped into the box and pulled out the shirt. “You didn’t?”

  “I did!” She cried gleefully. “Isn’t it the best thing ever? You can add it to your overflowing t-shirt collection.”

  The shirt was gray with blocky black letters that said: MY SPIRIT ANIMAL IS A SLOTH.

  “Put it on,” she pleaded as people passed by us, heading for the kitchen and backyard.

  I shrugged out of the shirt I wore and handed it to her.

  “You just wanted to see me shirtless, didn’t you?” I jested.

  “Maybe.” She grinned slyly as I slipped on my new sloth shirt.

  I pulled the shirt down and she looked at it with an approving smile. “I wanted a cow one for myself, but apparently I’m the only person that has a cow for a spirit animal. ‘Tis a shame that the majestic cow is so under appreciated.”

  I shook my head at her silliness, trying to hide my growing smile.

  Holding my arms out at my sides, I asked, “How do I look?”

  She looked me up and down. “I’d do you.”

  Laughter bellowed out of me. “Oh, Willow.” I wound my arm around her neck and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

  I set the box down on a side table before we joined everyone in the backyard.

  Willow laughed at the sight that met us.

  It was a full on party.

  Food. Cake. Balloons. You name it, and it was there.

  “I think my dad missed me,” Willow whispered under her breath.

  “Maybe just a bit,” I joked.

  “He has lost his mind for real this time.” She shook her head and started down the steps to the brick paver patio. “Dad!” She yelled over to where he stood by the pool talking to my dad. “What’s with all of this?” She motioned to all of the tables set up—heck there were even carnival type games which the younger kids were playing.

  He shrugged and shoved a bite of cake into his mouth. “Imisschedtu.” He said around a mouthful of food. It sounded more like Pikachu than I missed you—to me at least.

  Willow shook her head and smiled up at me. “Well, I guess it’s only fitting that our
epic road trip ends with a party.”

  “There’s no other way to end a road trip.”

  She grinned up at me and wiggled her brows deviously, nodding towards the pool. “Mermaids?”

  “How about you be a mermaid and I’ll be a merman?” I joked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

  She reached down, entwining our fingers. She looked at our joined hands, a small smile dancing across her lips before she looked up at me. Her blue eyes shimmered with love and mischief.

  We ran forward together, both laughing, and plunged into the water.

  It seemed oddly fitting, like we were cleansing ourselves and becoming anew.

  I knew we still had a lot to figure out, but I also knew we had all the time in the world to do it.

  Willow

  The party had long since ended and everyone had left, including Dean.

  Before he left he gave me a brief kiss and told me that I should do it.

  It being tell my parents I wasn’t going back to school.

  I was still no closer to having an idea of what I wanted to do. Dean’s blogging idea was okay, but I wasn’t sure if it was really for me.

  My heart beat unsteadily as I went in search of my dad.

  I wasn’t surprised when I found him in his hedgehog/knitting room cooing at the baby hedgehogs.

  He looked up at the sound of the door squeaking open.

  “Hey, Princess.” He smiled at me. “I knitted you a whole bunch of stuff while you were gone. You should be stocked up for the winter.” He pointed to a bag overflowing with items.

  “Jeez, you went all out,” I commented. “I went to college and got nothing.”

  He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “Watching you leave for college wasn’t easy for me, but watching you leave with Dean was a thousand times worse because it was the first time I knew I could lose you.”

  “You’re not going to lose me,” I groaned, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs.

  “I am.” He nodded sadly, his face twisting with remorse. “You’re grown up now. You’re going to get married, buy a house, and have your own children now.”

  “Whoa.” I held up a hand. “Let’s not get carried away.”