Page 72 of Sinful Sacrifice

On the drive here, I asked Damien what his gift was.

He said, “Two thousand dollars,” like that’s normal for a five-year-old.

My life has changed drastically in the last month. I stay at Damien’s every night now. I learned Ace sleeps in a tank in one of the five guest rooms. His sleeping setup is better than most people’s.

I’ve also gotten to know some of the men Damien works with. On the days that I work, either Damien or one of them drives me.

Damien and I have found comfort with each other.

I’ve introduced him to my favorite shows and meals.

He’s shared memories of his family. For hours at a time, I sit cross-legged on the couch or cuddled in bed next to him, listening to them. Hearing those stories and spending time with him have become some of my favorite things to do. I love seeing Damien’s face as he recites them, reliving them in his head.

I learned his mother won the city’s best chili four years in a row. That his father once participated in a hot dog eating contest and puked everywhere. Damien shuddered and said he’d never eat a hot dog again in his life. I also learned his sister was only months away from being named valedictorian of her college class.

This man, closed off to the world, is slowly opening himself up to me.

All day, every day, Damien displays the dark side of him. No one, other than Amara and me, are allowed to see any warmth through the cracks. All I want is to provide him a sense of comfort, like he has for me.

Clara swears I have.

Amara claims he smiles more when around me.

My dad is still MIA, and my mom is slowly starting to love herself again. She opens her blinds now and answers my calls. I even convinced her to attend an open studio night with me.

Her biggest problem, now that she’s accepted my father is gone, is that she has nothing coming in without the studio income. I’ve helped as much as I can, but it’s not easy with my Brew Bliss paychecks. She suggested I ask Damien for help, but I refused. He’s done enough for me already.

As we walk closer to the party, Damien leans in to whisper in my ear. “Antonio’s mother, Marsha, insisted on having the party. If Antonio is cranky today, that’s why.”

“A cranky Antonio?” I gasp, faking shock as my sandals flop against the warm concrete. “No way.”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

When we reach the backyard, I take in the party decor. It’s like a unicorn mom vomited all her unicorn babies here. They’re everywhere.

In the pool, on the cutlery, the gift wrap, the bounce house.

I recognize most of the people from the funeral. Damien said it’s close family only—another reason I was shocked I was invited. I frown, noticing there are only two other children. One of them looks a few years older than Amara, and another one is a toddler.

Poor Amara.

As I’ve spent more time with her, I’ve learned she doesn’t have many friends. Clara homeschools her, and she doesn’t do any outside extracurriculars. I understand Antonio is protective, but he also needs to let her have a life.

Not that I’ll suggest that to him.

I’m not about to get drowned in that unicorn-infested pool.

“Happy birthday!” I squeal when we reach Amara and Clara.

Amara jumps up and down, barefoot, in her unicorn swimsuit. “Uncle Damien!” She reaches out for his hand. “Let me show you my bounce house!”

Damien smirks at me before allowing her to drag him toward the bounce house.

No way in hell is he getting in that thing.

I will literally dash over there and record it if he does.

Clara follows them.

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