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Will You Stay?

Author: Sheridan Hartin
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-07-24 12:50:58

The house has quieted, the warmth of dinner fading into the soft hush of dishes clinking in the sink. I stand at the counter, slowly drying plates with a worn towel as Conner rinses each one beside me. The guys have retreated to their rooms or disappeared to do whatever it is Irish Mafia men do when they’re not acting like a sitcom family but the laughter lingers in the walls. In the scent of garlic still hanging in the air. In the soft hush of Conner’s movements beside me. I place another clean plate in the cabinet, my muscles aching in that bone-deep way, not from violence this time, but from the unraveling of something tight inside me. I didn’t even realize how badly I needed the silence to be this… gentle.

“You don’t have to do this,” Conner murmurs. “I’ve got it.”

“I need to move,” I say. “Helps keep my head quiet.”

He doesn’t argue. Just hands me the next plate. When we’re done, he wipes his hands on a rag and turns to me. His voice is lower now, softer. “You need sleep.”

I nod,
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  • Bound By Blood And Vows.   Will You Stay?

    The house has quieted, the warmth of dinner fading into the soft hush of dishes clinking in the sink. I stand at the counter, slowly drying plates with a worn towel as Conner rinses each one beside me. The guys have retreated to their rooms or disappeared to do whatever it is Irish Mafia men do when they’re not acting like a sitcom family but the laughter lingers in the walls. In the scent of garlic still hanging in the air. In the soft hush of Conner’s movements beside me. I place another clean plate in the cabinet, my muscles aching in that bone-deep way, not from violence this time, but from the unraveling of something tight inside me. I didn’t even realize how badly I needed the silence to be this… gentle.“You don’t have to do this,” Conner murmurs. “I’ve got it.”“I need to move,” I say. “Helps keep my head quiet.”He doesn’t argue. Just hands me the next plate. When we’re done, he wipes his hands on a rag and turns to me. His voice is lower now, softer. “You need sleep.”I nod,

  • Bound By Blood And Vows.   Family.

    Wrapped in soft clothes Conner gave me, an oversized hoodie that smells like cedar and smoke, and clean cotton shorts. I pad barefoot down the hallway. The hardwood creaks softly beneath my feet as warmth and sound draw me forward. Laughter bubbles up from somewhere ahead, deep and unguarded, echoing off the walls like it belongs here. It sounds like safety. Like home. I stop just shy of the kitchen entrance, hand brushing the doorframe as I inhale. The scent hits first. Roasted garlic. Simmering tomatoes. Fresh basil crushed between someone's fingers not long ago. There’s warmth in the air, not just heat from the stove, but something deeper. Rich. Comforting. It smells like someone actually cares. Like effort. Like a memory I didn’t realize I missed until it clutched at something tender in my chest. My feet move of their own accord, carrying me into the glow of the kitchen. Conner stands at the stove, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a wooden spoon in one hand as he stirs a bubbling

  • Bound By Blood And Vows.   Taking Back.

    AvaWarmth. It’s the first thing I register. Soft, slow, unfamiliar warmth cradling my limbs like sunlight through water. I don’t remember falling asleep. I don’t even remember getting here. All I remember is cold, the way it gnawed at my skin like teeth and then arms. Strong ones. Lifting me out of the dark. Now there’s warmth and a heartbeat. Not mine. I crack my eyes open, blinking against a soft, golden light. There’s a steady thrum beneath my cheek, a slow inhale under my fingers. I’m curled against a chest, bare, firm, breathing. My legs are tangled with someone else’s, and I’m wrapped in a blanket that smells like...Cedar. Bourbon and something darker. Something dangerous.“Conner,” I whisper, my throat scraping raw.He shifts instantly, as if he’s been awake the whole time, just pretending to sleep so I could feel safe. His arm tightens around my waist. He doesn’t speak right away, just lowers his head slightly, resting his cheek against the top of mine.“You’re okay,” he says

  • Bound By Blood And Vows.   The Mess I've Made.

    The whiskey burns, but it’s not enough. Nothing is. Not the silence that came after she was carried out. Not the slam of the basement door or the look Conner gave me like I was already dead. Not even the blood on my hands from punching the concrete wall downstairs when I realized...She doesn’t look at me the same. She might never again and I deserve it. I sit slumped in my chair, staring at the liquor in my glass like it might hold answers. It doesn’t. I don't even remember when I poured it. Maybe the third one. Or the fifth. I keep hearing her scream. Not words. Just pain. Raw, primal, animal and it wasn’t the basement that did that to her. It was me. I put her there. I made her think she had no one left. Even as she tried to protect me. I thought I was punishing a traitor. Turns out I was torturing my fucking wife and now she’s gone. Because no woman survives that kind of betrayal and comes back the same. Not for a man like me. Not after this. The glass tips. I pour another. This on

  • Bound By Blood And Vows.   Hollow Thrones.

    NicoThe office reeks of tension, of sweat, blood, and desperation masked with overpriced cologne and spilled bourbon. The overhead light flickers once. The laptop casts a sickly glow over the papers and drives strewn across the desk, across the floor, across the leather couch where I haven’t moved in... I don’t know how long. Ava’s voice echoes in the back of my skull.“Someone’s siphoning from the East accounts. It’s a backdoor.”I’d laughed in her face. Told her to stay in her lane. Turns out the only one running the right direction was her. The logs don’t lie. A transaction rerouted through a shell we dissolved six months ago. A safety protocol overwritten with a passkey only six of us have. My fingers fly across the keyboard again. I reopen the spreadsheet for the hundredth time. My eyes burn, dry from hours of not blinking enough. Of seeing the same trail. The same smoke Ava saw. And realizing too late that she was already burning when she handed me the match. Another offshore a

  • Bound By Blood And Vows.   The Cost Of His Crown.

    AvaThere’s no sound. Not even the hum of electricity. No light. No air movement. No ticking clock. Nothing. Just me. Me, and the dark. I don’t even hear the lock anymore. I don’t know how long it’s been since the door shut behind me. Minutes. Hours. Maybe days. Time doesn’t exist in here, not when you can’t measure it, not when your thoughts loop and stretch until the line between memory and hallucination starts to blur. The first few minutes, I screamed. Cried out, pounded the door with fists and feet and curses so sharp they tore my throat open. I think I threatened to kill him. Begged him. Wept. Raged. All of it and nothing happened. No one came. So I stopped. I lay on the freezing floor for a long time. Curled up, robe clutched tight around me, my bare legs numb against the concrete. I tried to keep my thoughts organized, to recite names, equations, dates from my father’s ledgers. Tried to give myself structure. Anchors. It didn’t work. Because that’s the thing about silence. Eve

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