Mark of Damon by Eva Chase Page 0,27
master bedroom to completely recover my breath, and my attention settled on the boxes stacked by the far wall. They held remnants of our time here that we either hadn’t had room or time to bring with us when we’d been kicked out so suddenly. No one had lived in this apartment between our stay and my moving back in, so all our things had remained for my return. My stomach had clenched up at the thought of tossing any of it, but I hadn’t wanted to see Dad’s former possessions on display every time I turned around either, as right as it’d felt taking over the apartment itself.
Maybe holding onto them had been a mistake—like Seth avoiding his own dad, like Jin putting off showing his art farther afield. What good were those old things doing me in boxes? They might as well have been ghosts too, tying Dad to this space even as I tried to make a new life for myself here.
I opened the boxes one by one to take in their contents. Two were full of clothes: the more formal button-up shirts, slacks, and single suit Dad hadn’t bothered bringing with him, sticking to his more usual tees, sweaters, and jeans instead. He’d been narrower in the shoulders and chest than me, and none of these fit me properly.
Another three boxes held the substantial portion of his book collection that he’d abandoned here. Then the remains of our combined CD collection. Finally, some random odds and ends: a bronze figurine of a rearing horse, a tarnished trophy I’d won for some event I couldn’t remember back in elementary school, a few of his mugs. Behind the boxes, a couple of paintings Dad had bought that I’d taken down from the living room leaned against the wall.
Other than the trophy and possibly the CDs, none of this stuff was junk. I didn’t want it, but someone else could put it to use. A hell of a lot more use than any of it was getting right now.
I took some time to dig through the boxes more thoroughly, deciding on a few items I did want to keep. This tie of Dad’s didn’t have strong associations, and there wouldn’t be any issues with fit. A few of these books I might actually want to read at some point. Then I carted the rest down to the ground floor. I couldn’t transport them using the motorcycle, but Rose was due home soon, and she’d always been happy to lend me the Buick when I needed it.
As I stacked the boxes by the garage door in preparation, Damon came sauntering across the front yard. A bit of his usual glowering attitude still showed in his expression, but his stance looked more relaxed than it’d been lately, no outright storm clouds gathering over his head.
That was a relief. I wasn’t going to deny the guy the right to be pissed off about whatever rubbed him the wrong way, even if there were a lot of those things, but I couldn’t imagine it was all that enjoyable for him, let alone the rest of us, when the chip on his shoulder was rankling him. It’d appeared to be rankling him a lot in the past couple of weeks. I’d have tried to get him to open up about why if I hadn’t suspected that would only make him more pissed off with me specifically.
He glanced from me to the boxes with a puzzled expression. “What’s all that? Moving somewhere?”
I laughed at the thought of going anywhere now that I was settled in so comfortably on the estate. I’d left Rose once since I’d returned to town—and not because I’d wanted to, only because I’d thought I needed to so I could buy her an advantage that would overcome our enemies. I’d only been away for a matter of days, and they’d been agony.
“Not likely,” I said. “You all are stuck with me now. I just figured it’s time to clear out most of my dad’s old things. I don’t know why I was hanging on to them anyway. I’ll bring them to the charity shop in town, and then someone who’ll actually get something out of them can use them.”
Something shifted behind Damon’s eyes. His mouth tightened, but I didn’t get the impression he was annoyed by my explanation. If anything, he looked a little regretful, which didn’t make much sense. He and my dad had barely interacted, as far as I