Chapter 46
Home, Home
Maliyah
My hand shook as I reached for Felicity's doorbell. It had felt like forever—a lifetime of garbled words through wired teeth, of typing on phones and tablets, of watching their confused faces on video calls. All leading up to this point.
The door swung open moments after I pressed the button.
"Aunt Maliyah!" Macy launched herself at me, arms wrapping around my waist. "Mom said you can talk now! Say something!"
I laughed—actually laughed without pain shooting through my jaw, though it was sore and tight, it didn’t hurt anymore. "Hi, sweet girl."
"You said it! You really said it!" She pulled back, beaming up at me.
"Lucas! Zoe! Your mom's here, and guess what!
? She has a surprise!" She glanced up at me again, a conspiratorial smile spreading across her face, revealing the gap where her front tooth had been.
"I didn't want to tell them and ruin it," she whispered, her voice dropping to that stage-whisper volume that only children seem to think is actually quiet.
The thunder of small feet on hardwood made my heart race. Then they were there—my babies—barreling toward me with shouts of "mom!" and "mama!"
"Hi, my loves," I said softly. My voice was still rough from weeks of limited use, but it was mine.
Zoe moved first, pulling back to look at me. "Mama?" Just that one word, barely a whisper.
"Yeah, baby!"
She dug back in, burying her head into my leg, and I held on for dear life while I pulled both of my babies away so I could get down on their levels and hug them to me.
As I knelt, Zoe's arms locked around my neck like a vise, her small fingers digging into my skin. Her face buried deep in the hollow of my shoulder, dampening my blouse with hot tears. Her whole body trembled against mine—each sob rippling through her tiny frame and into my chest.
"Shh, sweet girl. I'm okay. I'm here." I pressed my lips to her temple and inhaled the familiar scent of her sweet shampoo, rocking her gently from side to side.
Her whole body shuddered with each hiccup, her small hands framing my face as she stared at me with wonder-filled eyes still swimming with tears.
"You can talk," she whispered, her voice cracking.
"You can really talk again." Her fingers trembled against my cheeks.
"I missed your voice so much, Mama. I missed it every single night. "
Lucas hadn’t said anything, but he was right there next to Zoe, squeezing me close. My sweet boy, trying so hard to be strong. I pulled back to look at him too, and saw his eyes were red-rimmed, jaw set in that stubborn way that meant he was fighting tears.
Bringing him back in, I said, "Come here, buddy."
I felt his resolve crack as I squeezed him to me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered into his hair. "I'm so sorry I was gone. I'm so sorry this happened."
"Not your fault," he mumbled against my shirt. "Just... don't leave again. Okay?"
"Never. I promise."
I sank down to the floor, ultimately sitting in the entryway, and pulled them both onto my lap. It didn’t matter to me that they were too big for that now, too heavy for me—I didn't fucking care. I wrapped my arms around them and let myself cry—really cry—for the first time since coming home.
A flash—Bryce's boot hovering in slow motion before slamming into my ribs. The sound of bones snapping inside me. White-hot lightning shooting through my chest. His eyes, dead, as he smiled down at me, savoring my scream.
I crushed my babies against me so hard they squirmed, but I couldn't loosen my grip. Their presence was my anchor in this moment.
Fuck Bryce. His memory was unwelcome. He didn’t get to intrude on this moment—on holding my children. On surviving to come home to them.
So, I pushed the memory away, shoved it down, and focused on what was real: Lucas's heartbeat against my chest, Zoe's fingers clutching my shirt, the smell of their hair, the sounds of their joy.
We were here. We were safe. He was gone.
"Don't cry, Mama," Zoe said, patting my face with her small hands. "You're okay now. We're home."
But that just made me cry harder. Because we were home. They were here in my arms. It wasn’t all that long ago when I'd been so scared I'd never see them again.
"You're really better?" Lucas asked, moving back to study my face. Always smarter and more observant than most kids his age, I could see he was cataloging the changes.
"Getting there. The wires are out, which is huge. Still have to be careful for a while, but yeah. I'm better."
"Your face looks different," Zoe announced with four-year-old honesty. "Do you like your lines? Can I color on them?"
"My scars?" I corrected gently. "No, honey, you can’t color on them. But they are healed and, in time, they will probably get lighter and lighter." I’d forgotten to put makeup on today and I hadn’t considered how pronounced my scars would be to my kids.
"I think they make you look tough," Lucas said. "Like a soldier. Like a hero."
My throat tightened. Reed had said almost the same thing this morning. Warrior goddess, he'd called me. I pushed the thought away.
Felicity appeared behind the kids, eyes suspiciously bright. "So, I hear someone mentioned pizza?"
"PIZZA!" Zoe shrieked. "Can we really have pizza, Mama? Can you eat pizza now?"
"You guys can have pizza. I'll stick with something softer. But yes, let's celebrate!"
The next hour was beautiful chaos. Caden ordered three different pizzas and a pasta side dish for me.
The kids talked over each other, telling me everything I'd missed. From homework projects to artwork, to Lucas’s story about how he gave his "friend" Maddie his dessert the day before at lunch.
And, of course, the tooth that Lucas lost earlier today which led to the all-important question: "Will the tooth fairy still come," he asked me. "You know, if I’m here at Aunt Felicity’s"
I caught Felicity's eye over his head. She winked.
"Hmmmm. Well, I’m not sure, but she might have trouble finding you here."
At the disappointed look on his face, I continued, "You know, we could make it super easy for the tooth fairy to find you."
"Really?! How!?"
"Well, you could just come home."
Both he and Zoe paused and stared at me. Like they weren’t sure what to say or do. My heart stuttered. Was this the right thing? Had I screwed up my kids? My mind started to spiral.
Until Lucas's eyes widened, his small hand freezing mid-air above his plate. "Really?" The words barely disturbed the air between us, his lips hardly moving. He swallowed hard, a muscle working in his jaw just like mine did when I was trying not to hope too much. "Like come home for good?"
"Yeah sweetheart. Like come home for good."
And suddenly pandemonium ensued. Both of my kids launched out of their seats to slam into me again. "Okay, okay!" I coughed, taken aback by the force— but I held on with everything I had in me. I wasn’t taking any chances that I’d miss even a single moment.
We ate crowded around Felicity's dining room table, Macy showing Zoe some complicated hand-clapping game while Lucas talked incessantly about his research for his project. I tried not to think about Reed volunteering to help, but it was impossible.
"Mama, watch!" Zoe had pizza sauce all over her face. "I can eat a whole piece by myself!"
"Amazing, baby. Chew carefully."
"Are we really coming home tonight?" Lucas asked suddenly. "Like, to stay?"
"Yes. We're all going home tonight. Together."
"And tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow too. And the next day. And the day after that."
He nodded, seemingly satisfied, but I caught him watching me throughout dinner like he was afraid I might disappear if he looked away too long.
By seven, both kids were dragging. Zoe had curled up in my lap and Lucas was leaning against my shoulder, trying to pretend he wasn't tired.
"Let’s head out," I said softly. "Get you two in your own beds."
"Do we have to?" Zoe whined. "I like it here."
"I know, baby. But don't you miss your room? Your stuffed animals?"
That did it. "Yeah, I do. It’s just so faaaaaaaaaaar away." Her voice dropped off as her eyes drooped more and more.
Getting them into coats and shoes took another fifteen minutes. Hugs all around. Felicity squeezed me extra tight.
"You sure you're okay?" she whispered. "I can come help—"
"I know. But I promise, we're good. I've got this."
She pulled back, studying my face. "You do. You really do. Call if you need anything?"
"Absolutely."
The car ride home was quieter. Zoe fell asleep almost immediately, head lolling against her car seat. Lucas stared out the window, occasionally glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
"You okay, buddy?"
"Yeah. Just... it's weird. Going home. Good weird, but weird."
"I know it's been a lot of changes," I said carefully.
Lucas squared his small shoulders and lifted his chin. "It's okay. We're okay." His voice dropped an octave lower than his usual pitch, and he reached over to pat my hand twice, the same way I'd done to comfort him after nightmares. Seems my little man was growing up fast.
"We are pretty great, aren’t we?"
"The best," he agreed.
Our apartment building loomed in the darkness. I parked, then gently shook Zoe awake.
"Come on, sleepyhead. We're home."
She blinked at me, confused. "Home, home?"
"Home, home."
Lucas carried Zoe's backpack, while I managed Zoe—her legs wrapped around my waist, arms draped over my shoulders. I’d get their bags out of the trunk in the morning. My fading strength was more and more evident with every step up to our floor, but I didn't care. I had my babies back.
"Bath time," I announced as we entered and I set Zoe down.
"Noooo," she groaned. "I'm too tired for bath."
"Quick bath. Then bed. We’ll do hair tomorrow"
"Can you do bubbles?" She perked up slightly. "And the songs?"
"All the bubbles. All the songs."
Forty minutes later, both kids were clean, in pajamas, and tucked into their beds. I sat on the edge of Zoe's bed first, smoothing her curls away from her face.
"Mama?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"Are the bad things over now? The scary things?"
My chest tightened. "The scary things are over. You're safe. We're all safe."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Okay." She yawned. "Love you, Mama."
"Love you more than all the stars."
Her eyelids fluttered, fighting sleep. "Love you more than..." Her voice trailed into a whisper as her small fingers loosened their grip on the edge of her blanket. The last word—"moon"—dissolved into a soft exhale, her breathing already deepening into the steady rhythm of dreams.
I kissed her forehead, turned on her night light, and slipped out.
Lucas was still awake, sitting up in bed with a book.
"Lights out, mister."
"Five more minutes?"
"Two."
The corners of his mouth curled upward as he tilted his head to one side, eyebrows lifting hopefully. "Three?"
"Deal."
I sat on his bed while he read, just watching him. My serious, careful boy, who'd been forced to grow up too fast.
"Mom?"
"Hmm?"
Lucas's fingers traced the familiar dinosaur pattern on his comforter, his shoulders relaxing as he sank deeper into his own pillow while shifting his book on his lap. "I'm glad we're home."
"Me too, buddy. More than I could ever possibly explain."
When his three minutes were up, he marked his page and set the book aside. I tucked his blankets around him, kissed his forehead.
"Sweet dreams, my love."
"Mom?" He caught my hand as I stood. "We're really okay, right?"
"We're really okay," I assured him.
He nodded, satisfied, and closed his eyes.
I stood in his doorway for a moment, just breathing. My babies were home. Safe in their beds. I could talk to them, sing to them, tell them I loved them without struggling through wired teeth.
We'd survived.
My own bed felt too big after weeks in a hospital bed, then sharing space with Reed's presence always nearby. I changed into soft pajamas, careful of my still-tender ribs, and climbed under the covers.
The apartment was quiet except for the familiar sounds of home. The refrigerator humming. Heat clicking through the radiators. Zoe's white noise machine down the hall.
Normal sounds. Safe sounds.
I should have told them Reed was coming Saturday. Should have prepared them. But Lucas seemed so protective, so determined that everything must be fine as it was. And maybe part of me was still protecting myself too. Still holding back.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Reed: How did it go with the kids?
I stared at the text. He hadn't pushed to come along. Just gave me space to be with my babies while somehow letting me know he was thinking of us. And he’d been excited for the weekend.
Me: Good. They're asleep. Zoe demanded all the bubbles and songs.
Reed: Sounds about right. You okay?
Such a simple question. Was I okay? My jaw ached from talking more today than I had in weeks. With everything that had gone on during the day, I was exhausted down to my bones.
But my kids were in their beds. I was in mine. We were home together.
Me: Yeah. I'm okay.
Reed: Good. Sleep well, Maliyah.
Me: You too.
I set the phone down, pulled the covers up to my chin.
Saturday, Reed would come for breakfast. Lucas would interview him for his project. It would be the first real test of... whatever this was we were building. Rebuilding? Yes—rebuilding feels better.
I thought about his face at lunch today. The naked hope when I'd said Lucas wanted to talk to him.
For weeks, he'd shown up. Not because he had to—he could have walked away after the rescue. Could have checked the hero box and moved on. But he'd stayed. Through the nightmares, the frustration, the anger I'd thrown at him.
He'd earned something. Trust, maybe. Or at least the chance to earn it.
What would it take to trust him completely? To stop waiting for him to run? To actually believe him when he said "always"?
I didn't know.
But lying there in my too-big bed, thinking about that kiss outside the restaurant—soft and uncertain and real—I realized I wanted to find out.
Tomorrow, I'd make a plan. Figure out how to tell the kids about Saturday. How to navigate Lucas's protectiveness and Zoe's attachment and my own battered heart.
Tonight, though, I just held onto this: We were home. We were healing. We were going to be okay.
And I realized—it was okay not to have all the answers right this minute.