Page 33 of The Devil's Den

She holds my cheek in the softness of her palm. “You can always do that, Matteo.”

So I do.

For as long as she lets me.

CHAPTERTWELVE

AIDA AGE 16

WatchingRobby grow into the funny, sweet, and beautiful one-year-old he is today has been more than I could’ve asked for. And with him, I grew up too. I had to. I had a child to take care of.

Having him and Matteo here with me has kept me sane. My father has only gotten crueler in the past years, and he’s not softened to Robby either. How could anyone not burst with love when that boy giggles?

I feel sorry his mother is in prison, missing him grow up. Sure, she gets her monthly visit, and I hate that Robby has to go to a place like that, but that’s her baby. I’m glad he knows her. I know I had my doubts about his mom being alive, but where else would my father’s men take him every month?

“Where are you, stinky butt?” I call, tiptoeing around as though I can’t hear his laughter under the table. “Oh, boy, when I find you, you’re going to get so many tickles.” That gets him rolling. “Oh, man, what is that noise, I wonder?” I creep around the table, pretending I can’t see his little legs right next to me. “Could it be…” I pop my head down. “There you are!” He giggles. “I got you!” I tug him out by his feet and he instantly jumps into my arms.

“Yav you.”

Yep, my heart just turned to mush. No one has ever loved me, except Ms. Greco. But this is different in a way. He’s actually my brother. My flesh and blood.

“I love you too, baby bro.” I hug him tighter. “We gotta get changed so you can see your mommy, okay?”

“No!” He giggles, running away from me as soon as I drop him down. “Oh, you can run but I’m gonna find you.” Then I’m laughing too, chasing him around, finally snatching him up, taking him to our room so I can change him.

It’s nice when my dad isn’t home. Robby and I can play without him screaming for us to shut up. He hates hearing that boy’s laughter. It’s like he’s allergic to joy. I’d be too if I was a sadistic piece of shit.

Over the past year, Ms. Greco has been my saving grace. She’s helped me with Robby more than anyone in her position would. And it wasn’t because she feared my father. It was because she wanted to. She adores Robby, genuinely. I’m glad he has us, especially while being exposed to my father’s temper.

A month ago, when Robby was coloring on the floor, he yelled so loudly and knocked over the crayons, telling that poor child he’d kill him if he did it again.

Robby didn’t understand the words, but he knew rage. He had to living here. His face broke with the saddest eyes, before he began to cry. It shattered me. I lost it. It was the first time I really stood up to my father.

“Look, Robby, this is a turtle.” I point. He just started saying words, and it’s stinking cute.

“Tootle.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.” I laugh, gliding a hand through his blond hair. Ms. Greco just gave him a little trim, but it’s still so full and beautiful. “How about we color it? What color should we use?” I ask, as I spill the box of crayons into a paper bowl. “What about red?” I wag my brows playfully.

“Wed!” His eyes glisten with innocent joy and I want that. To feel this much for something as simple as coloring with someone I love.

“Do you mean red, silly?”

He giggles, his dimples popping out on both sides. “Wed!”

“Okay, wed turtle it is.”

“Tootle.” He looks all serious as he corrects me.

“Tootle. All right. Let’s color that tootle wed.”

“Yay!” He picks out the red crayon, sticking it into his mouth, sitting there on the floor, while I color the sun purple.

“Don’t eat it, silly!” I tickle his belly and the crayon rolls away. He wobbles to retrieve it.

The main door opens and my father struts in, my uncle Sal with him as I turn. “Hey, Aida,” my uncle greets.

“Hey, Uncle Sal. How are you?”

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