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Dr. DeMarco sighed. “Are you asking who I think would win in a fight?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
Carmine groaned across the room.
“Well, Tess is good at cheap shots, but the child has a knack for survival. She’s not helpless either, as Squint can attest to. Tess is used to having help, while the girl’s used to trudging through it alone. One on one, I have to say she’d take Tess easily.” Haven’s eyes widened, stunned he would say that. “But don’t tell Tess. She might try to prove me wrong.”
“I wouldn’t tell Tess that if my life depended on it,” Dominic said. “She’d kick my ass.”
“She could probably take you, too,” Dr. DeMarco said. “I know the child could.”
Haven’s cheeks reddened as they looked at her. “Uh, I don’t know about that, sir.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself. I certainly don’t.” Haven stared at him, unsure of what he meant, but he looked away without elaborating. “I have stuff to do, so I probably won’t be home until tomorrow. Have a good night.”
He walked out, an awkward silence lingering in his wake.
“That was fucking weird,” Carmine said before turning to his brother. “And get your damn arm off my girl before I break it.”
Dominic leaned in her direction again. “Told you he was jealous.”
“Whatever,” Carmine said. “And what’s wrong with you? Who would win in a fight? What kinda question is that?”
“It was a good one,” Dominic said. “But why are you mad? He picked your girl, not mine.”
* * *
They were listening to music later that night when Carmine blurted out something that caught Haven off guard: “What do you want for Christmas?”
What did she want? She had never thought about it. “I don’t expect anything.”
“Well, you’re getting something.”
“But I can’t get you a present.”
“You already gave me my present, Haven. You. Best gift ever.”
She sighed as he lay down beside her. “I still wish I could buy you something.”
“I don’t need anything,” he said, “but there will be plenty more holidays in the future for you to spoil me rotten.”
Hope swelled through her. Christmases. Presents. A future. It was all too much to fathom. “Do you guys have big celebrations?”
“We used to when I was young, but now it’s just us. My aunt Celia always comes for a few days. Other than her and her husband, we don’t have any family. My grandfather’s dead, and we don’t see my grandmother. She has dementia or something. I don’t really know.”
“What about your mama’s family?”
He was quiet. She wondered if she had asked the wrong question, but he finally spoke in a soft voice. “I don’t know of any. She immigrated here.”
“Have you thought about finding them?”
“No,” he said. “They never came looking for my mom, never wondered what happened to her, so why should I care about them? Hell, I didn’t know she was born in Ireland until I saw a stack of government papers in my father’s office a few years ago.”
“Does it make you sad that you don’t have a big family?”
He shrugged. “I don’t really think about it. I figure I have enough.”
“I used to dream about having a big family,” Haven said. “I used to pretend like I had one. Mama said I was always having conversations with imaginary people. I used to even talk to an angel.”
