Written In The Stars: Book Two

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: GOING HOME

The drive was shorter than Elijah expected, his GPS guiding him into a quiet suburb roughly an hour and a half away from where he lived now, and only forty minutes from where he'd grown up. 

Every yard manicured, every house with clean paint on the siding, every vehicle parked beside the garage in fairly new condition. The houses weren't extravagant, just scattered one and two story homes averaging around two thousand square feet by his guess. Still, it looked like place he would have enjoyed visiting in the summers, or maybe even living in if he'd been given a choice. 

Elijah's truck stood out as he drove past all the minivans, crossovers, and SUV's, the only other truck he noticed being from a lawn care company. He parked it in front of the house at the very end of the cul-du-sac, in front of a pale yellow house, and stepped out of his vehicle before his mind could take over with all the worries bubbling up throughout the drive.

Dressed in a short sleeved black button up shirt and simple slacks, he didn't stand out too much.  Younger compared to the few people he'd passed driving in, but it was a fifty-five and older community, so that wasn't surprising. 

Truth was, Elijah hadn't even put together that Thanksgiving was approaching until he saw the autumn wreath against the cobalt blue door. So close to that time of year when everything went right. And that time of year where everything had gone wrong. 

Elijah pushed through his nerves and his the button for the doorbell, noticing a little girl in a princess dressing, running in a jagged circle at high speed, completely alone. He supposed this was the sort of community you didn't have to worry about leaving your child unattended as you visited a parent. 

When the door creaked open, Elijah was surprised to find a man so small in stature. His jeans hung loosely, only remaining up with the assistance of a belt. His green and white plaid shirt looked like a child playing dress up in his father's clothes. The old man's hair was pure gray, mostly absent, and wire rimmed glasses that looked a size too big rest upon his nose.

It was surreal. There was no other word Elijah could use to describe this feeling. He looked so small and fragile. So innocent. 

"Can I help you?" It was a trembling, scratched voice that matched his frame. 

Still, Elijah couldn't be fooled, and this wouldn't change anything. "Are you Hank?"

The man's body swayed a little as he stood in the doorway, his eyes traveling up and down before focusing on his face. "Elijah?"

He'd never met his man as far as he knew. Harrison had told them his mother's family had cut off her mother as soon as she fell pregnant, and his mother never spoke of them. "How did you-"

"It's the family genes," Hank explained as he opened the door a bit further, leaning what little weight he had against it. "You're taller than I thought you'd be. Please, come in."

This man was supposed to be meaner. He was meant to be a demon to conquer, so why in the hell was it impossible to feel anger toward him? Elijah hadn't come all this way to beat up and old man, but so much as calling him out didn't seem right anymore. Maybe he could be fooled. 

When Elijah didn't move, Hank let out a raspy cough. "Please, son. I'm not sure what Harrison told you about our family, but I can guess. I promise, you're safe and welcome here."

That was one thing he never considered. Harrison Fox was famous for his deceit and callousness. He'd told Elijah time and time again that his mother's family had no interest in having him in their life after her passing, and back then he'd trusted his old man's words because they'd never been in his life before her death either.