Page 82 of Chicago Sin

Leave it to my ma to ask that question. “We went to church together yesterday.”

“That’s great. Did you confess?”

“I did.”

It was the hardest and yet easiest thing I’d done in a long time. I did it for me. I did it for Hannah, and I did it to try to free my soul. I spoke the words I needed to and didn’t hold back:

* * *

Bless me father for I have sinned.

My soul is damaged beyond repair.

It’s been five years since my last confession.

Five years since my mother wept as they led me out of court in handcuffs.

Three years since I killed a man in prison. Now there’s a price on my head.

Three days out, and I commit another sin to stay alive.

And then another with her, my beautiful witness.

And another with her.

And another.

I’m not asking for absolution.

All I really want is her.

* * *

“That makes me happy to hear,” she says. “I’d like to meet her.”

Something crowds my chest. Because I don’t get to do normal. I probably won’t get to introduce Hannah to my mom even though I’m sure they’d love each other. They’re both warm, open-hearted women.

“Yeah, we’ll see. Travel safe, ma.”

“I will. Be careful, Mando. I’ll be praying for you.”

“I know you will. I love you.” I say the words, but I think I might also have a glimmer of the feeling, too. Or just the memory of the feeling. Moms are powerful that way.

I end the call as I head to my new job. The don told me to call in sick but fuck it—I’m going. Fuck the Hermanos. They can come for me on the construction site if they want. I have a piece, and I’m ready for them.

I need to get a life going on the outside. Hiding at Hannah’s forever is not an option, as much as I enjoy her. Yeah, enjoy.

That’s a word I didn’t think I’d be using any time soon.

I was balls deep in her again multiple times last night. One epic session involved me putting her on her knees on the bed and fucking her with my thumb in her ass. Then, before the sun even rose, I found my hand cupping her pussy when I woke, and it was on again. I rolled her to her belly and spread her legs wide. Held her down with my hand at her nape because she likes a little struggle.

She came twice—she’s so damn responsive. So brave.

I realized that at some point last night. The level of vulnerability she displays can only be born from immense courage. Her example is the only thing showing me the way back to being human again.

Not that I think there can be many humans like her.

It’s so funny to me how normal she seems—like an ordinary twenty-something-year-old. She’d fit in anywhere. But she’s anything but.