Page 4 of Steadfast

“You’re good to me,” he replied, leaning down to kiss me.

“Disgusting,” Ronan yelled.

Richie left an hour later so he could see his parents before a short shift at the pizza parlor. He still lived with his parents, which I was actually pretty happy about because we didn’t have any awkward conversations where he asked me to stay the night with him, and I had to remind him that I was basically the single parent of four kids, and there was no way in hell I was going to leave them overnight.

The Lewises were always nice to me, it was just their way, but I wondered how many worried conversations Richie’s parents had when I wasn’t around. I couldn’t imagine that they were happy their baby boy had hooked up with me during his senior year of high school, and we’d been together since. I imagined they probably wanted something more for him. Hell, I wanted something more for him—he deserved the world—but I was too selfish to give him up.

“You doing graduation?” Cian asked me quietly while I made dinner that night.

“Nope.”

“You sure?” he asked, leaning against the counter beside me. “Only happens once.”

“Maybe I’ll go to college,” I replied.

We both burst out laughing.

“Seriously,Eva,” he joked. “You should go. I was lookin’ forward to someone absolutely slaughterin’ your name.”

“It wouldn’t be as funny if people couldn’t sayyourname,” I replied dryly. “I swear, you and Ronan must’ve been the favorites. I don’t know what Dad was thinking.”

“Probably that he was stuck with an American cunt of a wife, and he missed Ireland,” Cian said grimly. “And yes, I was clearly the favorite.”

“She wasn’t bad back then,” I reminded him softly. “You remember how it was.”

“All I remember is him coming home and realizing she was two drinks in already, and he needed to catch up.”

“They were both—” I sighed, not even sure how to explain it. Cian had been nine when Dad died, too young to see any of it clearly. At fourteen, I’d recognized the way they looked at each other, the way they’d seemed pulled together like a couple of magnets. We kids had been an extension of that, proof of their devotion. They’d adored us. They might’ve been a bit…rowdier than other kids’ parents, but we’d been a unit. I would’ve said an unshakable one back then.

Dad would’ve lost his mind if he knew how things would change when he was gone.

“Plus, your name isn’t that hard to say,” Cian groused, snatching some shredded cheese off the plate. “EE-fa. EEEEEE-faaaa. Fuckin’ simple. And you should go to graduation.”

“Don’t have a cap and gown,” I replied, smacking his hand as he reached for the cheese again. “I didn’t want to waste the money.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I get the diploma either way,” I reminded him. “It’s not a big deal. Plus, you can still see them butcher Saoirse’s name.”

Cian was silent, stewing beside me. Whenever he was frustrated or angry, the muscle in his cheek flexed over and over, like he was grinding his molars together. I’d harped on him to stop it before he broke a tooth, but I don’t even think he realized when he was doing it.

Our dad had done the same thing when he was pissed. He didn’t blow up. He didn’t yell. Dad went quiet when he was angry—Cian got that from him.

The rest of the night went by like any other. There wasn’t any homework to do, so the kids roamed the house bickering with each other and generally making their presence known. For once, I was secretly glad about it. Because seniors got out a week earlier than everyone else, I’d finished my classes the Friday before, and spending the day at home in a silent house while the kids were at school had been spectacularly weird and surprisingly lonely.

Mom didn’t come home that night.

By the time I sent Ronan and Aisling to school on the bus the next morning, even I was starting to worry. Mom went on benders every couple of weeks, but she usually never stayed gone more than two days. I wasn’t sure where she stayed, and I never asked—the location probably changed anyway.

After fourteen years with two reasonably normal parents who loved me, I’d spent the last four years wondering how the fuck things could change so much. Mom still loved us, I was sure of that—but she was no longer capable of caring for anyone but herself, and even that was up for debate. She worked, or at least was getting money from somewhere, because we hadn’t lost the house or been without utilities at any point. I’d give her credit for that at least because I knew I couldn’t afford the house on my own.

I’d been working at one of the local grocery stores since I was fifteen, and I’d gradually begun paying for most of our groceries.With my employee discount it wasn’t so bad, and I was actually looking forward to the summer because I’d been promised double my normal hours since I didn’t have school to deal with. My little junker of a car that Richie’s dad had helped me find at a police auction needed new headlights and an oil change that I’d been putting off for months. Even with those expenses and the extra groceries I’d be buying to keep the kids fed during the day, I was still hoping to put a little cash away for a rainy day.

Without Aisling watching me like a hawk, it was easier to skip breakfast. The older kids had been as aware as I was that once I’d graduated I wouldn’t be getting free school food. When I’d gone back to my room the night before, I’d found a smushed but carefully laid out Danish sitting on my nightstand. I wasn’t sure who’d left it, but I was leaning toward Cian. Saoirse wouldn’t have let it get smushed, and Ronan had already given me the apple. Unfortunately, I’d eaten it as a late-night snack, and it was already a memory.

Ignoring the siren call of the fridge, I went to the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the cleaning supplies. If I was going to be home all day, I might as well get some stuff straightened up while there wasn’t anyone there to follow after me messing it up again.

I scrubbed the kitchen until my arms were tired and the entire room smelled like chemical lemons, then moved onto the living room. Our house wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small either. Dad had made pretty good money running a machine shop making some kind of metal parts—I’d never paid much attention—and before Cian was born, Mom had worked, too, so we’d been pretty flush. I still remembered going out to dinner, without fail, every Friday night. One time, Mom had got stuck in a booth because of her huge pregnant belly, and Dad had to practically pry her out of it. I’d been stuck behind her, near the wall, giggling my butt off while they bickered and laughed.

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