Page 28 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest
“You had a gift for that.”
“Should being a cop go up in flames, I’ll look into being a florist,” he proclaimed decidedly.
“That’d work, the dandelions were lovely,” I remembered fondly. I’d even put them in a vase at home with a grin from my father.
“Gods I missed you.” The sudden statement came with a note of bitterness.
I stared at him frankly. “I missed you so much too.”
I took his hand, laced my fingers in and squeezed it, and with that squeeze came a hard ball in my chest. This wasn’t the same old Dae I’d known. He was smarter, more evolved. It was odd.A week or two ago I would have considered him public enemy number one but this Damien, the one sitting in my kitchen, had aged. He was a man now but he was still reaching back for me, like he had done as a kid.
When we were younger, I don’t think I considered that he might have been going through some shit, just as I was. I should have. At least age lends perspective. Same stubborn horsey though. He was never the first to let go.
We were ten.I had dragged Damien to the museum over the summer to see my father at his work. I knew he’d take off his apron and give both of us a squeeze, delighted that my friend liked his work. My father loved Damien.
“Oh, Cora, good timing. I’d like you to meet Dr Francis Bedwin. He’s a visiting scholar from a few cities over. He wanted to see our collection!” My father was beaming. His colleague was obviously a bit confused at the extended introduction to a few ten-year-olds.
Glancing down at his watch, my father looked up in surprise. “Cora, could you entertain him for a bit? I have to grab the curator for a moment.”
“Shall I go with you?” asked his guest.
“No, it’ll only be a moment,” my father replied and disappeared.
The good doctor looked at us awkwardly, not knowing how to talk to kids.
“What’s your specialty, Dr?”
He looked a little startled that I was addressing him.
“Oh, um. My thesis was relics post Golden Age. But you probably don’t want to hear about something like that.”
I shook my head. “I’d like to hear more. You’d be focusing on the time period after my father, right?’
He nodded. “Why yes.”
“What did you think about the use of the darker colors, the blues and greens, the greys in the immediate years after?”
His eyes bugged and jumped to Damien who, after all, was also only ten.
“Well, um…the Golden Age of the Fae was obviously a period of productivity. Afterwards they started to use those darker tones to show an uncertainty in the future. While the world had great periods of growth, it also had a lot of the unknown.”
I nodded.
“What’s your opinion on Mather’s pixie paintings?”
He snorted. “A bit derivative, don’t you think?” He hastily looked back at me. “I mean, not if you like them.”
Damien just stood next to me while I asked him everything I could think of. I could see my father behind him, smirking.
CHAPTER 7
Damien wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up in my car with a seventy-five-pound golden retriever in his lap. Just twenty minutes before that, he was puzzled why we were going to my neighbor’s. I seem to have a knack for throwing him curve balls.
“Recon,” I told him cheerfully as I went to go knock on the Millers’ door. Mrs Miller answered the door, looking exhausted with four sprite children jumping around in the background.
“Can I take Peanut for a walk? I’ve missed my fluffy friend.”
She gratefully handed me the leash as the happy titan flounced over. I knelt, letting myself get covered in kisses and golden dog hair. Damien stood back curiously, watching me get steamrolled by the wagging creature’s affection.
