Each step feels exposed, vulnerable. With the crib balanced on my hip, hand on the railing, my eyes dart to every shadow.
At the top, my fingers find the keys, my heart hammering until the deadbolt clicks. Inside, I secure the lock again, engaging the security chain. Only then do I exhale.
Poppy sleeps. Rowan watches. “Everything okay?” my sister asks.
“Just the usual.” My voice comes out clipped. Rowan watches me, never blinking, like she’s waiting for me to crack. I don’t. I can’t. I’d rather go down fighting than let anyone, especially a man, see that side of me again. But I can feel Axel’s eyes tracing my skin even when he’s gone. That’s the problem. He notices too much.
I brush a finger across Poppy’s cheek. She sighs, unaware of the storm I keep at bay. Upstairs offers no safety, only a quieter vigilance. Calls from Oregon ping. The dark sedan still circles outside. I have to be more patient, more persistent, more careful. For Poppy, there is no room for error.
Rowan shifts on the couch, watching me as I check the locks a second time. "You know, that Slade guy seemed nice today."
I glare at her, but my pulse skitters anyway. "Really? You want to do this now?" Axel’s presence has been haunting the edges of my control all day. The way his gaze lingers. The way he makes my body remember what it feels like to be seen as a woman, not a problem. I hate that part of me wants more of that attention.
"I'm just saying." She tucks her feet under her, getting comfortable. "He wasn't pushy about that car. Didn't ask questions. Just noticed and moved on."
"He noticed too much," I mutter, pulling the living room curtains closed and double-checking that they overlap completely. "The last thing I need is someone paying attention."
"Maybe attention isn't always bad." Her voice softens. "Sadie, it's been almost a year. You can't keep living like you're constantly under attack."
"Can't I?" I turn to face her. "You know what happened last time I let my guard down. You know what he's capable of."
Rowan sighs. "I do. But I also know my sister deserves a chance at happiness. At a normal life."
"Normal." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "I don't even remember what that looks like."
"It might look like a tall guy with kind eyes who brings you coffee and doesn't push when you're clearly scared."
I busy myself arranging Poppy's bottles for tomorrow morning. "I wasn't scared."
"Sadie." Just my name, but it carries the weight of everything she knows about me.
"Fine," I concede. "I was… concerned. But that doesn't mean I need some knight in flannel armor to save me."
"Nobody's saying that. But maybe, just maybe, you could allow yourself to be open to something good. Someone good."
I lean against the counter, suddenly exhausted. "It's not that simple."
"It never is." Rowan stands, gathering her purse. "But I worry about you, locked up here with all these deadbolts and security routines. Living in fear isn't living, Sade."
"I'm not afraid," I say automatically. "I'm prepared."
"Promise me you'll try? Just a little?" She looks at me with those big sister eyes that have always seen right through me. "You deserve to breathe once in a while."
"I promise," I say, though we both know it's mostly to get her to stop worrying. "But my priority is Poppy. It has to be."
"I know." She hugs me, quick and tight. "But taking care of yourself is part of taking care of her."
After Rowan leaves, I go through my nightly ritual. Lock the door behind her, deadbolt, chain, security bar. Check the windows again. Make sure the baby monitor is charged and the volume is up.
Only then do I allow myself to creep into Poppy's room. The nightlight casts soft stars across the ceiling, illuminating her peaceful face. She sleeps with her arms flung wide, complete trust in her vulnerability. I adjust her blanket, brushing a curl from her forehead.
"I've got you," I whisper, though she can't hear me. "Always."
For just a moment, watching her breathe, I feel something close to peace. This is what matters. This perfect, innocent life that depends on me. My fierce love for her is the only thing stronger than my fear.
I allow myself exactly three minutes of this tenderness before reality creeps back in. Three minutes to just be her mother, not her protector or defender or the wall between her and danger.
Back in the living room, my phone sits on the coffee table like a ticking bomb. One missed call. Oregon area code. Next to it, my car keys, reminding me of the envelope I still haven't opened.
