Page 102 of The Devil's Den

“I don’t know.” My admission is filled with truth. There are feelings in me I can’t even put into words, too great to speak them out loud.

Dom says the house we grew up in is still there. Though they never went back, it was too difficult he said, he still would check on the property.

“Yeah, I get it,” Dom finally says. “I never thought I’d go back to that block ever again. I just—fuck…” He tightens his hand around the wheel. “I can’t even believe you’re in my car right now.” He pauses, his tone edged in the hurt piercing down to my very bones. “You don’t know how much I missed you.”

I draw in a breath, swallowed up by the pain in his voice.

“I hated you all for a long time,” I say. “I didn’t want to believe you guys forgot me, but over time, that’s exactly what I ended up believing.”

His stare on me is hard as we stop at a red light. “Never.” A palm buckles over my shoulder. “I wouldneverabandon my brother.”

“I know that now.”

His hand returns to his thigh as we continue on. “Shit. We’re here.” The car lurches to a stop, and instantly I’m bombarded with the memories. It’s exactly the same, except the fence. It’s taller and white. But the house, it’s as though it’s been picked right out of my mind. Though I was small, I remember the dark brick home, down to the black door.

Dom slowly climbs out of the car. I follow, my other two brothers jumping out of Dante’s vehicle and walking to us. We stand beside one another, eyeing the house from the curb.

“Damn. It’s exactly the same,” Dante says under his breath.

“Should we knock?” Enzo asks. “You think whoever lives there would let us see inside?”

“If they’re even home,” Dom says.

“Remember when we’d play basketball in the front, and the ball would end up at Connor’s next door?” I chuckle.

“We were lucky his mom was so nice.” Dante’s own laughter comes alive. “Do they still live there?” We peer over at what once was our neighbor’s home. Connor was in Dante’s grade, and one of the few kids on our block. We’d sometimes hang out at their house. Our moms were kind of close back then.

“Let’s find out.” Enzo’s already taking steps there.

“Wait,” Dom calls and Enzo turns. “What the hell are we gonna tell them?”

“We’ll figure it out.” He shrugs, continuing toward the door, knocking once.

“Hold on!” a woman yells.

“Shit,” Dom mutters. Together, we wait, my heart pounding, as the door quickly opens and a lady with short black hair, resembling an older version of the woman I kind of recall, appears.

“Ahh…” Her attention bounces to each of us, and the nerves scatter in her gaze. “How can I help you boys?”

“Mrs. Cuzamano. Forget us already?” Enzo grins.

She squints, her face moving closer to my brother before her gaze grows large, then she’s staring at all of us again.

“Oh my God!” She gasps. “Is that really—”

“The Cavaleri brothers in the flesh?” Enzo stretches out his hands.

Her palm hits her mouth, large tears filling her eyes. Fingers flutter past her mouth as she shakes her head incredulously. “I can’t believe this,” she whispers. “I never thought I’d see any of you again.” Her exhale comes rough as she moves aside. “Please, come in. I—ahh—I have something to show you.”

I glimpse over at Dom, who matches my curiosity, and one by one, we shuffle inside.

“Have a seat.” She gestures to the brown leather sectional, and we settle on it, a simple round glass table at the center with a vase full of yellow roses, the walls a cream color.

She stands over us, the shock having not worn off. “I don’t even know what to ask.” There’s wonder in the way she stares at each of us. “The police gave up. They stopped searching for all of you. But deep down, I hoped you were all alive, that you ran from trouble or something.”

“We’re not gonna lie to you,” Dom says. “But we can’t tell you everything either.”

She nods slowly. “And your father? Is he—”

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