Micah couldn’t help it – he snickered. He imagined that was the point of the gifts, to make Damon laugh. He didn’t do it nearly often enough. “I wish I had siblings to torment me at Christmas.” The holiday just hadn’t been the same since Micah’s mom had passed. His father had tried, of course – at least the first few years – to make Christmas time as magical as she had – but after a while, they didn’t even bother with a tree, let alone presents beyond gift cards stuffed in old envelopes. “Although I think I’d take a brother over three sisters.”

“They’re awful,” Damon complained, but you’d have to be deaf not to hear the fondness in his voice. “Stone-cold bitches, to be honest – Caprice and Joelle, at least. You’ve seen that firsthand. Sophie, though… she’s a bit sweeter, softer than the others.”

The mention of Damon’s youngest sister roused Micah’s curiosity, which had lingered, but laid dormant inside him since his first meeting with the girl. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” the man pointed out.

Micah huffed. “It’s about Sophie,” he said, “I mean, you obviously don’t share the same birth parents…?” he allowed the half-statement/half-question to trail off when Damon stiffened beside him. “Never mind,” he hurriedly backtracked. “I’m just being nosy.”

After a moment, Damon sighed, but the tension didn’t leave his shoulders. “No, it’s only natural to be curious, I suppose. We’re half-siblings, technically. We don’t share the same biological father.”

Micah blinked. “Oh.”

“My mother didn’t cheat on my father,” he added swiftly (defensively), perhaps misreading the surprise in Micah’s voice as disdain. “She was assaulted by one of my father’s men, someone he trusted. I was ten when it happened. It was the first time my father took me out with him on a job.”

Micah did not like the sounds of that, his stomach twisting in apprehension.

“He told me on the way what the sick son of a bitch had done. When we got to the warehouse, he was already strapped to a chair, his face bloodied and eyes swollen shut. My father handed me a crowbar.”

Micah felt sick, and he didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

“But you know what my mother did when she found out what happened to the man?” Damon asked. “She cried. Maybe it was just relief that he was dead and gone, or maybe it wasn’t… but it always made me wonder.” He shook his head. “Either way, my parents’ marriage was never the same after that. They grew distant. I’m not even sure if they were still talking to each other when they died.”