20. Enya
ENYA
I can't stop watching them.
Devin and Warren are sitting on the floor of my small sitting room surrounded by dinosaur toys. Warren explains the difference between a Tyrannosaurus and an Allosaurus with so much exuberance while Devin listens intently, asking questions, and taking it all in.
My chest aches.
This is what I left Declan for. This right here. The possibility of safety. Of someone who doesn't make my son flinch. Someone who gets down on his level and lets him lead.
Devin's careful. He asks before he touches anything and waits for Warren to hand him the toys instead of reaching. He gives him space and attention in equal measure.
It's everything Declan never was.
"Mam?" Warren's voice pulls me back. "Can Devin stay for dinner?"
I look at Devin. He's already looking at me, waiting for me to decide.
"Of course he can," I say. "If he wants to."
"I want to," Devin says quietly.
Warren beams. "Can we have fish fingers?"
"Fish fingers it is."
I move to the kitchen, where I can still hear Warren chattering away to Devin, asking about his bike, about the club and whether Devin's brothers are like cousins.
Devin answers each question simply and honestly, all the while being age appropriate.
"They're like family," he says. "Brothers who look out for each other."
"Do they have bikes too?"
"Yeah. All of them."
"That's so cool."
I smile despite the emotion building in my throat. I pull fish fingers from the freezer. Chips. Peas. Normal family dinner. Nothing fancy.
Because there's a man at my table who my son isn't afraid of, who I'm not afraid of. Who's choosing to be here not because he has to but because he wants to.
It's overwhelming.
Devin appears in the doorway. "Need help?"
"I'm grand. But you can set the table if you want. Plates are in that cupboard."
He moves around me, careful not to crowd me as he gets plates, cutlery, and glasses. He sets the small table like he's done this a hundred times.
Warren climbs onto his chair, legs swinging. "Can I have juice?"
"Please," I correct gently.
"Can I have juice, please?"
"Of course you can, love."
I pour juice and then serve dinner. We sit and it’s comfortable, easy, and I feel relaxed, much more than I thought I would.
It's perfect.
Warren talks non-stop through dinner. About school and his friend James who has a new football. About the dinosaur documentary he watched at his auntie’s.
Devin listens and responds by asking questions that make Warren light up.
I eat slowly, just watching. I’m trying to memorize this. How normal it is. I love how peaceful it is, and that I don’t feel any fear.
"Mam?" Warren's looking at me. "You okay?"
I blink and realize I've been staring. "Yeah, love. Just happy you're home."
"I'm happy too." He grins, then looks at Devin. "Are you happy?"
Devin's quiet for a second. When he responds, Devin’s voice is a little thick. “Yeah. I'm happy."
Warren nods, seemingly satisfied, and goes back to his dinner.
But Devin's looking at me now with a soft expression. My chest tightens and warms at that look.
After dinner, Warren wants to show Devin his room and his toys, books, and the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling.
I follow them down the hallway, watching as Warren points everything out excitedly.
Devin kneels beside the bed and looks up at the stars. "These are class."
“Gran got them for me. They're the real constellations."
"Which one's your favorite?"
"Orion. See? The three stars in a row are his belt."
"That's deadly. I'll have to remember that."
Warren's practically vibrating with excitement. He's never had a man pay attention to him like this. Never had someone care about what he likes without it being twisted into control.
"It's nearly bedtime," I say gently. "Go brush your teeth, yeah?"
Warren groans but obeys, running to the bathroom. Mam’s gone home, wanting to give us some privacy which I love her for doing, so it’s just Warren, Devin, and I here now and it’s been blissful and perfect. Everything I could have thought it would be and then some.
Devin stands and looks at me. "He's a good kid."
"He is. The best."
"He's like you. Smart. Observant. Brave."
"He's five."
"Still brave. After everything he's been through."
The reminder of what Warren's been through hits hard. He shouldn't have memories of Declan. Shouldn't have nightmares. Shouldn't have to ask if his da is coming back.
But he does. And he will. For years probably.
Warren returns, climbs into bed, and looks at me expectantly. "Story?"
"Course. Which one?"
He thinks, then his eyes drift to Devin. "Can Devin read it?"
My breath catches. "You want Devin to read your story?"
"Yeah. If that's okay."
I look at Devin. He looks uncertain, nervous even.
"You don't have to," I say softly.
"I want to. If Warren wants me to."
Warren's already holding out the book. Dragons and Knights. His current favorite.
Devin takes it, sits on the edge of the small bed, and opens to the first page.
I stand in the doorway, just watching. Listening to Devin's rough voice soften as he reads. Watching Warren's eyes go heavy. Watching something new form between them.
Trust. Connection. The beginning of something that could become love.
By the time Devin finishes, Warren's nearly asleep. But he murmurs, "Thanks, Devin."
"Any time, mate."
I move to the bed and kiss Warren's forehead. "Love you."
"Love you too, Mam." His eyes flutter, then he whispers, "Is Da coming back to make you cry?"
Everything stops.
My throat closes. Stomach drops. I can feel Devin go still behind me.
"No, baby," I say quietly, firmly. "Da's not coming back. Ever. You're safe. I'm safe. No one's going to make me cry."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He relaxes as he lets sleep take him. Within minutes, he's out.
I stand slowly, turn off the light, and close the door most of the way, leaving it cracked like he likes, so a slither of light from the hall can be seen.
In the hallway, I lean against the wall and just breathe.
Devin's there, watching me. "You alright?"
"He still has nightmares,” I whisper. “He still asks about Declan. He’s still fearful of him.”
"I know."
"It's not fair. He shouldn't have to live with that."
"No. He shouldn't." Devin moves closer. "But he's got you. And you're making sure he grows up differently. Safe. That's what matters."
"What if it's not enough?"
"It is. I promise."
I want to believe him. I want to trust that Warren will be okay. That we'll be okay.
But doubt lives loud in my head.
We settle on the couch. Devin at one end and me curled into his side. My body's exhausted, emotionally wrung out. But there's peace too. The kind I haven't felt in years.
Then I hear it.
Footsteps in the hallway outside. Heavy. Quick. A door slamming somewhere above us.
Normal sounds. Building sounds. Nothing threatening.
But my body doesn't know that.
Panic hits like a freight train. Immediate. Visceral. No warning.
My chest locks. I can't breathe. Can't think. There’s just terror flooding every nerve.
He's here. He's back. He's coming for us.
"Enya." Devin's voice. Calm. Steady. "Look at me."
I can't. Can't move. Can't breathe.
"Enya. Eyes on me. Right now."
I force my eyes to his. He's right there. Close. Real.
"That was just a neighbor. Just someone upstairs. Nothing else. You're safe."
I know that. Rationally I know that. But my body won't listen.
"Breathe with me," Devin says. "In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. Can you do that?"
I try. Fail. Gasp instead.
He takes my hands in his, holding them firmly. "Again. With me. In..."
He breathes in, slow, deliberate. I try to match him.
"Hold..."
I hold, chest burning.
"Out..."
I exhale shakily.
"Good. Again."
We do it over and over, his hands anchoring me, his voice guiding me, until slowly, painfully, the panic recedes.
I'm left shaking. Exhausted. Ashamed.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"Don't."
"I thought I was past this. Thought I could—"
"Healing's not linear. There are going to be good days and bad days, moments when you're fine and moments when you're not."
"I hate it. I hate that he still has this power over me even though he's gone."
"He doesn't have power. Your body's just protecting you. It'll take time to learn you're safe now."
I press my face against his chest and just breathe him in. "What if I never feel normal?"
"Then we figure out what your new normal is. Together."
"What if I push you away? What if I'm too much?"
He tilts my face up, making me look at him. "You're not too much. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm here for the quiet moments, not just the crises."
Tears slip down my cheeks. "I don't deserve you."
"Yeah, you do. You deserve safety and care and someone who won't leave when things get hard."
I want to believe him. I want to trust that this is real. That he's real.
"I'm scared," I admit.
"I know. But you don't have to be scared alone anymore."
We sit there, just holding each other, letting the fear settle, letting the moment pass.
After a while, Devin says, "You know what Warren asked me earlier?"
"What?"
"If I'd ever seen a real dinosaur."
Despite everything, I laugh. Weak but real. "What'd you tell him?"
"That I hadn't, but I'd keep an eye out just in case."
"He's obsessed with them."
"I noticed. The kid knows more about dinosaurs than I know about bikes."
"He's smart. Too smart sometimes."
"Gets it from his mam."
I shake my head, but I'm smiling now. The panic is fading.
"He likes you," I say quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I can tell. He wouldn't have asked you to read if he didn't trust you."
"Good. Because I like him too. He's a good kid."
"The best."
We're quiet for a moment, then Devin says, deadpan, "Though I've got to say, his dinosaur facts are a bit intense. I didn't need to know how a velociraptor hunted its prey in that much detail."
I laugh, properly laugh. "Welcome to life with Warren. You're going to learn more about dinosaurs than you ever wanted to know."
"Worth it."