"He was here," Warren says, voice muffled."Da was here.He was angry."
My blood runs cold.
Declan.
Warren still has nightmares about Declan, even though we left three years ago.Even though we've built a life far away from him.The fear is still there, woven into my son's bones, and I hate it.I hate that I couldn't protect him from it.I hate that I stayed as long as I did.
"Your da's not here," I say firmly."He doesn't know where we are.And I won't let him near you.Ever.I promise."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He sniffles, pressing closer, and I hold him tighter.This is what matters.Not Tank.Not my bruised ego or broken pride.Warren.Keeping him safe.Keeping him whole.
"Can I sleep in your bed?"he asks.
"Course you can."
I carry him to my room.He's getting too big for this, but tonight I don't care and tuck him into my bed.He burrows under the covers, still shaking slightly, and I lie down beside him, pulling him close.
"Tell me a story?"he whispers.
"What kind?"
"The one about the knight."
I smile despite everything.He loves this story.The brave knight who fights dragons and saves the kingdom.Simple.Heroic.Nothing like the real world.
So I tell it, watching as his breathing evens out, as his body relaxes against mine.By the time I reach the part where the knight defeats the dragon, he's asleep, mouth slightly open, one hand curled under his chin.
I brush the hair back from his forehead, pressing a kiss there.
This is why I don't let men in.
This is why I can't.
Because Warren needs me to be steady.Needs me whole.And every time I let someone close, they take pieces of me I can't afford to lose.
Declan took almost everything.My confidence.My safety.My belief that I deserved good things.
I've spent three years clawing it back, building walls, learning to be enough on my own.
And tonight I let a biker with sad eyes and careful hands slip through my defenses like they were nothing.
Won't happen again.
Can't happen again.
I extricate myself carefully from Warren's grip, making sure he's still asleep before I slip out of bed.The flat's quiet now, just the sound of rain against the windows and my son's soft breathing.
I move to the kitchen and put the kettle on.Tea.That's what I need.Something warm and normal and routine.
While the water boils, I lean against the counter and close my eyes.
I can still feel him.Tank.His hands on my skin, his mouth on mine, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress.For those few minutes before everything went to shite, it felt…
Good.It felt good.
