Micah blinked, surprised that the man he’d met earlier – Damon’s old school rival – had bid on and won such an extravagant prize, but he clapped politely with the rest of the crowd (sans Damon) when the spotlight found him.

“And last, but certainly not least, the highest-earning item of the auction – and this one came as a bit of a surprise. With an extremely generous bid of $50,000, the winner of a Mets jersey signed by Tom Seaver himself… Mr. Damon Romano.”

Micah couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d been strapped down to an electric chair (illegal in most states, by the way, including New York). He turned to Damon in disbelief. “You hate the Mets,” he hissed, but he forced a strained smile on his face when the spotlight found Damon and the man pulled him into it along with him.

A worker, carefully carrying the folded jersey, handed it off to Damon. It wasn’t until the spotlight left them and Senator Wilcox began wrapping up his speech, that Damon spoke. “I don’t hate the Mets,” he said. “They aren’t impressive enough to draw such a passionate response from me.” He turned to Micah, holding out the jersey. “But I think we both know it’s not for me, is it?”

Micah shook his head in denial, going so far as to take a step backward. “No way. I can’t… no, you can’t-”

Micah nearly jumped when the music started up again, and Damon had to pull him off the dance floor. “I can’t accept this,” he said after taking a moment to just breathe and gather his thoughts. He tried his best to sound resolved.

“But it’ll just collect dust at my place,” Damon pointed out reasonably.

“So return it,” Micah said, like he was talking about some t-shirt from Walmart, and not a jersey signed by frickin’ Tom Seaver. (Micah offered an internal apology to the deceased man.)

Damon raised an eyebrow. “That’s not how this works.”

“Just say you accidentally added an extra zero or something,” Micah insisted.

“But then the kids will miss out on all that money.”

Fuck. Fuck. Micah knew Damon was just baiting him, using the kids as an excuse to get him to agree to take the jersey, but… it was signed by Tom Seaver. And it wasn’t like the money wasn’t going someplace worthy… shit.

“Fine,” Micah said, all but snatching the jersey from Damon. “But only because it’s for the kids.”

“Of course,” Damon agreed diplomatically.

It suddenly occurred to Micah that he was being an ungrateful ass. Damon had done something obscenely nice for him – completely unsolicited, but that almost made it more sweet – and here he was, mucking it up.

Micah didn’t question the urge.