The Long Road Home Novel Novels & Stories

"Because of Mario. When his man killed Nina... Little Nina was only 12 hours old, she hadn't even named her yet. I was holding her when... when he killed Nina and then he told me that I had two weeks to leave with the baby or he'd come for her too so I left. I took Nina and moved away from the city just outside of New York." "Fuck, I can't even imagine what you've been through." He takes hold of my hand and pulls me over to a couch that's against the back wall of his office and sits down before pulling me down onto his lap. "So you had just lost your best friend and suddenly you were alone with a baby who wasn't even your own and homeless?" I nod as I try to stop my tears from coming out but

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. I’ll Be Home for Christmas (A Thorntons Christmas Novella) Published by Blue Violet Press LLC Seattle, Washington Copyright © 2017 by Iris Morland Cover design by Resplendent Media All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for

When it came time to fill out our college applications, my family focused all their attention on my brother, who suffered from severe claustrophobia. My mother pored over the dorm room sizes at several universities in our city. "Let's just stay local," she said. "It's closer to home, and it'll be easier to take care of Cyrus." Maya Simmons, my girlfriend of three years, even changed her first choice, giving up a university where she had planned to study political science and law in favor of a local teachers college. "Don't worry, Mrs. Lockwood," she said. "I'll stay here and keep him company. I'll look after Cyrus for you throughout all four years of college." My father looked at her, v

Miyaka, if you ever read this, it means I finally found a way to tell you the truth. She stopped reading. Moises looked at her. “Don't rush.” She looked down at the letter. Fourteen years ago, he had written words she had spent her entire life waiting to hear. And somehow, they had been hidden beneath the tree where they had made their first promise. Miyaka took a shaky breath. Then she continued reading. But before she could reach the next sentence, headlights appeared through the trees. A car stopped at the edge of the road. Miyaka froze.

The road home is different from the road east. Not the road itself. The same road, the same miles, the same stops. But the quality of it is different because we are different from the people who drove this road two days ago. Not dramatically. Just in the small accumulated way of people who have stood in front of something they have been moving toward and have finally arrived there. Bowen sleeps again. I do not tell him. He will deny it.

I nodded. However, the faint unease in my heart did not fully fade. The next morning, when I woke up, Charlie was already gone. On the nightstand sat a glass of warm water and a note. Urgent matter at the office. I'll come back at noon to have lunch with you. The handwriting was neat and precise–just like him. I took a sip of water and picked up my phone. Our group chat was exploding. Rachel: [Holy shit! Have you seen the trending topic?!]

Home. The word landed in the silence of the car with a dull, heavy thud. Home. A fortified truck stop on the edge of the city, where Eli was waiting. Eli, with his cold, calculating eyes and his rules, his constant, unspoken judgments. A place of relative safety, yes. A place with walls and supplies. But home? No. Not my home. My home was a memory, a collection of scents and sounds and feelings that had been eaten by the world. What waited for us at the truck stop was just another kind of survival, another set of walls, both physical and emotional.

I held the bag in the air, “I want the North End of the city.” North End has always been the territory controlled by the Russo family; it’s their headquarters. I knew he wouldn’t agree. He was never reckless enough to sacrifice his family’s reputation and wealth to make it up to an old flame he had. Unexpectedly, his reply, solid and certain, came back to me like a blow to the gut. “Sure. North End is yours.”

Nova I sat on the bench outside my room with my collection of drinks to stick in the little refrigerator inside my room lying beside me and lit another cigarette. I was a complete mess. I wanted to call and make sure Brodie was looking out for my family, but I didn't want to listen to my family try to talk me into coming back home. This was Brodie, though, so I knew he would make sure they were safe.

I lowered my gaze to the new studio contract on the table. The address was in the south of the city, by the river, a place where fog gathered more often than not. "I've paid my share too." … On opening day, Tristan came. He did not come inside. He only stood across the street, holding a paper bag. "Do you want to go over?" Wyatt asked. I shook my head. Not long after, the front desk brought up a package. Inside was the repaired fog lamp, and the line "Come home when the fog clears" on the base had been re-engraved.