Sempre (Forever Series #1)(120)

Her mama looked at her. “Your angel?”

Haven nodded. “I thought I made her up, but I guess she was real.”

Her mama’s eyes drifted past her shoulder at something, and Haven swung around to see Carmine approach. “Speak of the devil.”

“I thought we said the a**hole in the house was the devil,” Carmine said, shaking his head. “Christ, he’s a dickhead. I thought Corrado was going to kick my ass for saying shit to him.”

She sighed, knowing he had no filter to stop things from springing from his lips. “What did you say?”

“I don’t know. I said a lot. He’s kind of a punk, you know? He’ll f**k with those lesser than him but can’t stand up to his equals.” His eyes widened. “I’m not saying you’re less than him or anything, or that I’m better than you, because I’m not. You’re better than him. Hell, you’re better than me, and I tell—”

Haven covered his mouth so he’d stop rambling, and her mama gasped. Turning to look at her, Haven pulled her hand from Carmine’s mouth as a reflex, but he wrapped his arms around her before she could move away. “You should introduce me, tesoro.”

She smiled. “Mama, this is Carmine. Carmine, this is my mama.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” he said politely, holding out his hand.

Her mama hesitantly took it, staring at him.

Corrado’s voice interrupted then as he stepped out of the house. “The food’s ready. I thought you’d like to know, since Carmine complained earlier he was going to die of starvation.”

Haven rolled her eyes as Carmine chuckled. “What? I haven’t eaten anything today.”

“Go eat if you’re hungry,” she said.

“Are you coming? You haven’t eaten, either.”

Haven stubbornly shook her head. “I’m not eating when she can’t.”

Her mama sighed. “Eat if they’ll let you, Haven. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“No.”

Carmine’s brow furrowed. “Why can’t she eat?”

“Master feeds us at night, but never during the day . . . and definitely not with them.”

“I forgot about that,” Carmine said. “That’s bullshit. You should eat when you wanna eat.”

“It’s fine.”

Carmine let go of Haven and went for the house. “No, it’s not. Wait here. I’ll fix this shit.”

* * *

A few minutes later, the screen door slammed as Carmine stepped outside, heading toward them with two plates. Haven smiled when he approached. “You’re so good to me.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” he said playfully, handing Haven a plate. “Quit stealing my shit.”

He held the other one out to her mama, who made no attempt to take it, so Haven did. She eyed the sandwiches, the bread smashed down with a handprint in the center of it. “Did you make this?”

“Yes,” Carmine said. “I can make a sandwich, you know.”

Smiling proudly, Haven thrust the second plate at her mama. “Eat.”

She took it, her hands shaking. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Carmine said. “You two sit down somewhere and eat.” Haven went to sit right where she was, but Carmine grabbed her arm. “You can’t sit somewhere less dirty?”

Ignoring him, she plopped down. “I’m already dirty.”

Carmine shook his head as a small dust cloud rose into the air. “Now you got me dirty.”

“Unless you plan to do your own laundry, I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

He laughed. “Because it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t complain. Enjoy your sandwiches. It’s the best I could do. You know I can’t cook, but I do love you.”

He kissed her before heading to the house as her mama finally sat down beside Haven. The frailty and exhaustion was still evident in her face, but she appeared at peace.

* * *

Carmine stood at the window, watching Haven out in the yard as time wound down, the sun dipping below the horizon and turning the sky the color of glowing coal.

He could feel Michael’s eyes boring into him from where he sat across the room, puffing on his third cigar. The stench of smoke made Carmine’s stomach turn. Michael wheezed when he breathed, like he was constantly struggling to speak, but not a word had come from him in more than two hours. Fucking coward.

Corrado strolled over to Carmine, both of them taking in the scene outside.

“You have to help her,” Carmine said, the thought of separating them tearing him up inside.

Corrado continued to stare straight ahead. “Do you remember when your grandfather died?”

“Vaguely,” he said. “I was only six.”

“I was outside your grandparents’ house after the funeral, and your mother sat down beside me. Your mother . . . she never liked to come near me, so for her to do it was a big deal.” He paused. “When she gathered the courage to speak, she said those exact words: You have to help her.”

Carmine gaped at him. “Haven?”

Corrado nodded. “I told your mother it wasn’t my place, but I should’ve tried. I owed her that much.”