Page 82 of Naughty Santa Daddy

Walking into the house that day, I found them sitting in the kitchen. Ma Carpenter was crying, her eyes were so red.She was terribly sick.She told me they couldn’t take care of me anymore and to always remember I was worth loving. Of course, I wanted to believe her, but I knew I wasn’t.

I prayed and prayed for her to get better, to come back and get me. It didn’t happen.

I have no family, and no one from the many foster homes I’ve lived with. I still have absolutely no idea where I come from, not the area, genetics, heritage,nothing. I have lived my life on my own for the last few years, and I’vefinallyfelt some peace in my life. I have a job that helps to pay my bills, not much beyond that, but I’m still doing it on my own.

One day, I want to besomebody.

If I am honest with myself, Massimo has meant more to me than anyone in my life since Ma Carpenter. When he would come into the restaurant every day, I felt as if he was there for me. I did everything I could to get him to smile; I would’ve loved to have gotten him to laugh. It wasn’t until I shot that man and he helped me that I knew Massimo was somehow involved in what is going on.

Laying here, I know I am done with sleep for the night. I wish there was a television up here; I’d watch the weather report if there was. I need to get back to work. I am going to be short for this month’s bills, and I cannot afford to miss work anymore, or I will lose my place. I also want to get Amos a sled for Christmas. I had asked him yesterday while playing with him outside if he had one. He told me that he doesn’t. All little boys deserve a sled.

Thirty minutes later, I make my way out of the shower, walk into the bedroom, and start searching through Massimo’s clothes. I need some of my own. Finally, pulling some out, I dress and head downstairs. The light in the kitchen is on, but when I walk in, I don’t find anyone. I thought for sure Massimo would be down here. There’s coffee, so I head toward the pot, pulling out a cup before I get there. I sit at the bar waiting for what—I don’t know—so I drift off in thought.

“You okay, dear?” Greta asks me.

“Just a bad dream. Woke me up, and I couldn’t go back to sleep,” I reply. I don’t know why I tell her about the dreams, it isn’t like me at all.

“You want to talk about it?” She’s kind enough to care.

“No, not really. They don’t make a lot of sense. Have you seen Massimo this morning?”

“He was called out last night and hasn’t made it back yet,” she shares before turning around from the bar.

“I think I may go watch some television if that would be alright.”

“Of course. You can do what you would like while you’re here. Massimo gave everyone instructions to treat you like this is your home while you are here,” she states, smiling. “You know you’re the first female that’s not family he has ever let be around Amos? He seems to be smitten with you.”

“I don’t know about that, Greta, but he is a good father,” I respond as I walk out of the kitchen.

A few hours later, I wake up again. I must have fallen asleep on the couch earlier. Glancing over, I find Amos sitting next to me, watching cartoons. “Hey, Amos, what are you watching?”

“Cartoons. Greta said I’m not allowed to wake you, so I’m watching them until you get up. You wanna play a game with me?” He’s excited as the question pours out of him.

“I would love to.”

The front door opens, the wind howling from outside as it does, and then Massimo enters the living room foyer.

“Hey, Dad. Where have you been?” Amos asks.

“I had some business to take care of. Have you been watching cartoons all morning with Hadley?”

“No, by myself. She was sleeping, and Greta said I couldn’t wake her up,” he explains.

“Have you done your chores for the day?” His father questions, glancing around.

“No, I will, though. Me and Hadley are going to play a game too.” He grins and bounces on the spot.

“Maybe we can all play a game tonight,” Massimo offers, his dark gaze landing on me.

“That would be fun. Yippee.” Amos cheers as he gets up, jumps in the air, and runs to hug his father. Then he’s running out of the room and up the hallway. We can hear him talking to Greta seconds later, telling her about the games we’re all going to play.

Massimo walks over, sitting on the edge of the couch next to me.

“You look really tired,” I mention, noticing the bags under his eyes. “What time did you leave?” It must’ve been in the middle of the night with how early I found myself counting snowflakes.

“About one. Big John called me with some things I needed to take care of.”

“Oh… So, I really need to get home. I have to go back to work. If I don’t, I won’t be able to pay my bills. If I’m unable to make my rent, I am not going to have a place to live,” I admit. I don’t want to go but I have to be reasonable about this whole situation going on. I also don’t want to make him feel as if he has to take care of me.

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