Page 23

The house is deathly quiet as I get dressed. Too quiet. I check Conor's room first—empty. I panic until I hear voices from downstairs—Declan and Conor whispering.

I pause on the stairs to watch them.

Declan butchers’ pancakes in the pan, while Conor sits on the counter chatting about his favorite Nintendo game.

The sight makes my chest ache.

"Mom!" Conor spots me and grins. "Declan makes pancakes with chocolate chips!" They look more like scrambled eggs.

"I see that." I enter the kitchen, avoiding Declan's gaze. "Did you sleep okay?"

"This house makes weird noises."

"Old houses do that," Declan says. "It's just settling."

"Are we going home today?" Conor asks.

I glance at Declan, who shakes his head.

"Not yet," I tell Conor. "The windows need more time to get fixed."

"But I need my stuff for school tomorrow."

I pull out a chair and sit at the counter. "You might miss a few days of school."

His face falls. "But we have the science fair this week."

"I know, honey. I'm sorry."

Declan places a plate of very badly made pancakes in front of each of us.

I know that I need to tell him that Declan is his dad, and I need to do it today—now.

After breakfast, Conor goes to the living room to watch cartoons while Declan and I clean up.

"How do you want to do this?" Declan asks, his voice low.

"I don't know." I rinse a plate with more force than necessary. "How do you tell a six-year-old that his father who was very far away and never coming back is here now?"

"We'll find the right thing to say."

"There is no 'we' yet, Declan." I put down the plate and turn to face him. "One night doesn't magically replace the seven years you vanished."

He steps closer, trapping me between his body and the sink. "Last night wasn't just one night."

"No, it was stress, and fear and bad decisions."

"It was us." He puts his hand on my waist. "It's always been us."

I shove him away, needing space to think clearly. "I can't live like this, hidden away in a safe house. Conor needs to go to school. I need to work. We need our normal life back."

"You think I don't want that?" Declan runs a hand through his hair. "Until my brother deals with the Russians, this is the safest place for you both."

"And then what? You don't have other enemies? Your own family kill one another for sport Declan, there will always be something to hide from. I can't do that."

He has no answer for that. He knows it is the truth.

"I want to go home," I say. "If we can't, then a house in the city, safe but not a prison. Conor needs his routine."