Page 25 of The Devil's Den

And what if I can’t? I want to ask.Will you hurt him?My brows bow as I get off the bed, kneeling beside the baby, stroking his soft cheeks, and suddenly he stops crying. Just like that. This poor thing just wants someone’s touch. My heart, it aches.

You shouldn’t be here.

I reach for him, both arms cradling him as I tuck one beneath his tiny head, the other one around his butt, like in one of the books I’ve read, hoping I’m doing it right even as I try not to tremble.

I’ll take care of you, I promise.

“What’s his name?” I ask, unable to rip my gaze from this beautiful boy.

“Robby.”

“Nice to meet you, Robby.” I grin. “I’m your sister, Aida. And I’m gonna love you.”

“My guy is gonna give me his baby’s old crib and some other shit, so I’ll put it in here tomorrow.” I stop listening to him, focused on the new life in my arms.

He turns for the door.

“What if I need something?” I quickly ask. “What if I need help with him?”

“I don’t fucking know,” he spits out, his face twisting with a snarl. “Figure it out with Alison.”

He stalks out, slamming the door behind him, but Robby doesn’t pay him no mind. He falls asleep against my chest like nothing else matters.

* * *

“So you want to use the sponge gently on his head,” Ms. Greco explains the following day, both of us on the floor in the bathroom as she shows me how to give him a bath. Once my father brought the things for the baby, Ms. Greco and I organized it around the house.

“And you never ever touch the baby’s soft spot.” She gently runs a fingertip around it. “Right here.”

“Okay. Could I try washing him now?” I pivot to get more comfortable around the infant tub.

She hands me the sponge, and I go to work, squeezing some bodywash into it before rubbing it on Robby’s hair as he coos, his hands moving robotically.

“That’s great. That’s exactly how you do it. You’re a natural.” She smiles like she’s proud of me, like I’d imagine my mom would look at me if she were alive. Is it bad I wish Ms. Greco was actually my mother? I love her more than my own father.

“Thanks. I can’t even believe this. I have a brother.”

“I can’t believe it either,” she says quietly, sitting up on her knees as she watches me with him. “He seems to really like you.”

“He’s just so adorable. And he has the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“They’re pretty special.” She sighs as I drop the sponge at the corner of the tub.

“I’ll be there to help you in every way I can. You’re not alone in this.” She places a palm over my shoulder. “I’ll sleep over as much as I can when I’m not helping my mom.”

I nod, looking up at her, feeling the relief wash over me. Her mother isn’t well. She has diabetes. “Thanks. I can’t do this alone,” I breathe.

“No one can, especially a child. What he’s doing is wrong,” she whispers. “And I don’t believe for a moment this baby’s mother is in jail.”

My eyes widen. “You think he stole the baby?”

“It’s your father after all.”

My pulse pounds. “Oh my God. That’s awful if it’s true.”

“I know. But knowing him, I don’t expect any different.”

Once we’re done washing Robby, she carefully scoops him up while I grab the towel from the counter.

---