I sat, silent, absorbing the words that had come out of Damon's mouth, and the calm sincerity with which he'd said them.

"I thought you'd have a freak out just as bad as mine when I told you," I said. "You don't do dating and relationships and sappy feelings."

"I'm doing a lot of things I don't normally do because of you," he said.

"Same." I ducked my head, almost shyly. "I've done things with you…"

"You mean hot, dirty, sexy things?" He winked. "I'm hoping I can get you to do a lot more."

"We've already done sexting and public sex," I said. "What's next? You going to tie me up? Spank me? Dress me up like a school girl? Cover me in chocolate syrup and lick it off me?"

"Now that you mention it…"

"No," I said. "That's unhygienic."

He just smirked.

"So… where does that leave us?" I asked.

Damon shrugged. "It doesn't leave us anywhere. We keep doing what we were doing."

"Dirty things?" I guessed with a snort.

"And fun things," he countered. "You liked going to that carnival, right?"

"I did," I said. "I also remember you fingering me in the tunnel of love. Is that what you consider doing fun things?"

"Well, yeah," he grinned. "Don't you?"

I flushed.

"I like seeing you flustered," he said. "I like seeing you go out of your comfort zone. A person can't be calm and in control all the time."

"We can't all act like kids and do whatever we want," I countered. "Some of us have to be responsible adults."

"Sounds awful."

I went quiet, looking out the window.

"It can be," I agreed softly. "As much as I hate to admit you're right, sometimes it's nice to just act like a kid. I never really got to experience that."

He glanced over at me. Concern lined his brow. "Because your mom passed away?"

"After she died, my dad just kind of withered away." I didn't want to give him my whole sob story, but at least I could help him understand a bit about why I was the way I was. "I had to grow up fast. I had to take care of Hope. Had to make sure our family didn't fall apart. I didn't have an adult to rely on. It was the other way around, really. And even now I can't—"

I pressed my lips together, cutting myself off.

"Even now?" Damon gently prodded.

"My dad's not well," I said reluctantly.

"Is he sick?" Damon looked alarmed. "Ian never told me. Hope never said anything."

"Hope… doesn't know," I said slowly.

Damon's jaw twitched, as if fighting back a million questions. Instead of speaking, he stayed silent and let me continue.

"She doesn't know how bad it is," I said. "He's not sick like you're thinking. He doesn't have cancer or anything. He just needs help."

"What kind of help?" Damon asked with infinite patience.

"He has a bad heart. The doctor told him to stop working. To take care of himself. Light exercise, healthy eating, the kind of thing. But he doesn't. I don't think he can. Or maybe he just doesn't want to."

Damon reached over to take my hand again, squeezing.

"It's hard," I admitted. "On the one hand, I wish I could just turn my back and forget about him. Every time I see him, every time he looks at me with his dead eyes, it just opens all those childhood wounds all over again. He doesn't want me around." Tears pricked the back of my eyes. "But with his heart, I'm afraid if I don't try to take care of him, one day it will just give out. I'll walk into the house and he'll still be sitting in his armchair, TV blaring, but he'll be…"

A tear fell down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand.

"Shit. I'm so sorry, " Damon said. "At least with my dad, I only see his sorry ass once or twice a year. If I had to put up with him every day I'd kill the fucker."

"My dad's not a bad man," I said. "It's just a bad situation."

Damon eyed me. "And Hope doesn't know?"

"No." I shook my head vehemently. "I'm not going to put her through that. The less she sees of our dad, the better. She doesn't deserve that kind of heartache."

"Neither do you," Damon said.

"I'm the oldest, even if it's only by a minute. It's up to me to make sure none of this falls on my sister. You get it, right?"

"I suppose," he said. "The shit I protected Ian from—" He turned his head away, not finishing his sentence.

"I imagine it was worse than just parental neglect and burning resentment?" I said carefully.

"He was an abusive asshole," Damon said with a sharp nod. "Anger issues, raging narcissism, you name it, he had it. At first it was just putting us down, making us feel like shit. He liked to play these fucking mind games, turn me and Ian against each other. Sometimes it worked."

Damon's eyes narrowed darkly. "I tried to always be around though, to make sure my brother and our dad were never alone. I tried to make sure he didn't take it out on Ian. Not physically, at least. The mind fucks, though, that messed my brother up something fierce. When I caught Ian—" Damon shook his head. "Anyway. Eventually I reached a point where I knew we couldn't stay any longer. So we loaded up everything we owed into duffle bags and took off."

Now it was my turn to reach over and place my hand on his. "I'm sorry."

The both of us went quiet.

"I didn't mean for this to get all heavy," Damon said eventually.

"It's okay. It's nice having someone to talk to about all this stuff."

"Yeah." Damon eyed me cautiously. "Normally I would say that you should trust your sister and tell her everything, but I'd be a hypocrite if I did. We're always going to want to protect our younger siblings." Damon cracked a small smile. "Even if they're only younger by a minute."

"It sucks," I said. "Being the oldest, having to be the responsible one, having to grow up too fast."

"It does suck," he said with a sly grin. "That's why I'm making up for lost time."

I chuckled. "That explains why you're always such a handful."

"Pretty much." He glanced over at me. "You should do it more often."

"Do what?"

"Play around," he shrugged. "Act irresponsible. Have fun for the sake of having fun and no other reason."

"That sounds very much like a Damon Drake sort of thing."

"The both of us are kind of similar," he said thoughtfully, "but at the same time we're opposites. You had to grow up too fast and it made you uptight, always fighting to keep your composure."

"You know calling me uptight is insulting, right?" I interjected.

He powered on. "Ian took the pain and turned it inward. I went the other way. I grew up too fast and it just made me wild. I act out." He shrugged. "Guess it's my way of coping. Once I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted, I went fucking crazy with it." He chuckled and shook his head. "At least I'm not as bad as Cam. I don't think that guy's been responsible a moment in his life."

"He's the crazy party animal one, right?"

"That's him."

"I think I can do without that kind of fun."

Damon turned his eyes back to the road. Something caught his attention. "Hm."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Speaking of, why don't we do something fun right now?" he said.

"Like what?" My stomach fluttered at the odd note in his voice when he said the word fun.

He put on the signal light and pulled over into a parking lot.

"I'll be right back," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

I twisted in my seat to see where we were parked.

The sign on the store read Naughty and Nice.

"Are you kidding me," I blurted without meaning to.

I sat impatiently, waiting for Damon to come back. When he slid back into the car with a wicked grin on his face, I put my hand up, stalling any comments.

"Please tell me you did not just go into a sex store and buy handcuffs or silk scarves or whatever."

"Nothing so tame," he said, looking affronted.

I raised an eyebrow. "Tame?"

"It's a present for you. Well," he clarified, "for us."

"Do I even want to ask?"

"Even if you ask, I'm not telling yet," he said. "You'll have to be patient."

"I'm waiting with bated breath," I said, deadpan.

I actually was insanely curious about what Damon had bought, but I wasn't going to let on. He didn't need any more encouragement.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "I know a good French place up the street. It's kind of fancy. Candles, mood music, all that shit you like."

I laughed. "It's not shit. It's romantic. Don't strain yourself trying to be something you're not."

"I'm romantic."

"You just bought me a sex toy."

"Who says a person can't be dirty and romantic at the same time?" he asked. "So. Dinner?"