Page 3 of Sins and Salvation

Inside our flat, I lock the door, slide the chain across, and check the window latches. A ritual I perform every time we come home.

"Homework first, then you can watch telly for a bit," I tell Conor as he dumps his backpack on the kitchen table.

While he works on his spelling, I prepare a quick dinner. Pasta with sauce from a jar, but I add extra vegetables. Growing boys need their vitamins, even when money runs short.

The clinic job pays, but never enough. Nursing was my dream once. Now it's just what keeps us afloat—barely.

My phone buzzes with a text from Beth, my friend from work.

Need someone to cover night shift tomorrow. Double pay. Interested?

I type back immediately.

Yes.

Double pay means new shoes for Conor, whose toes are about to burst out of his current pair. It means a buffer for emergencies. It means one night with less sleep in a life already short on rest.

"Can you read this, Mam?" Conor pushes his homework toward me, smudges on the page where he's erased and rewritten.

"Perfect," I say, though I spot two mistakes. He beams at the praise. I'll help him fix the errors later, gently.

After dinner, bath time, story time, and tucking in, I finally sink onto the sofa with a cup of tea. The flat feels smaller at night, the walls closing in. Photos on the shelf catch my eye—Conor as a baby, Conor with my parents, me with Conor at the beach last summer.

No photos ofhim. I purged those years ago.

But I kept one, hidden in a book on my nightstand. Declan Donovan with his arm around me, both of us laughing, before I knew what he was, before he left without a goodbye. Before I discovered I was going to have his baby.

The memory hurts, so I focus on bills instead. I organize them by due date, calculate what I can pay now and what must wait. The mental arithmetic makes my head ache.

A noise outside gets my attention. I go to the window, careful to stand to the side as I peer out. The same black car from earlier idles across the street.

My heart pounds against my ribs. I step back from the window and check the door lock again.

This isn't the first time I've noticed watchers. They appear periodically, like a reminder. The Donovan name is a curse in Dublin. Even though Declan abandoned his family's criminal business, the shadow still follows us.

I never told his brothers about Conor, his father made it clear a bastard baby would be dealt withhisway. I have never reached out to the Donovan’s for help, no matter how desperate things got. Their money comes stained with blood. I want nothing from them.

Still, fear crawls under my skin. What if they know? What if they decide a Donovan grandson belongs with them, not with a struggling nurse in a shabby flat?

The car eventually drives away, but my nerves won't settle. I check on Conor, his face peaceful, one arm flung above his head just like his father used to sleep.

My phone buzzes again. Beth with the shift details. I confirm I'll be there, then wash my face and change for bed.

Tomorrow is another early morning. School drop-off, then the clinic from eight to four, home to make dinner, then back to the hospital for the night shift. My mother will come and stay with Conor. She'll fuss about me working too much, but she'll still come.

In bed, I stare at the ceiling, counting pennies in my head. The side of the bed where no one sleeps is empty and cold. I don't miss Declan. Not anymore. I miss what we could have been.

A father for Conor. A partner for me.

Instead, I got abandonment issues, and years of looking over my shoulder, wondering if his family's enemies might one day see my son as a target. Or worse, if his family might see him as an heir.

Sleep comes in fits and starts. In my dreams, Declan returns, but his face changes between the boy I loved and something harder, colder. A fighter's face, marked by violence. A monster in the darkness.

I wake before dawn, heart racing, with the sick feeling of being watched. The feeling never goes away these days.

The morning light brings reality into focus again. Make breakfast. Pack lunch. Get Conor ready for school.

As we step outside, I scan the street. No black car today, but I keep Conor close all the same.

---