Page 176 of Oleander

I reached for his hand‚ the one Blackwell had broken, and held it up by the wrist. “And what about this? He did this to you, didn’t he? There wasn’t a fall or a fucking tennis match,was there? He did this. He hurt you because he’s a violent, despicable piece of shit.”

He looked down again, muttered, “It was my own fault.”

“You had bruises in Oxford that night, too.” I said. I’d remembered in the taxi on the way here. I’d thought they were mine, and he’d let me believe it. “Older ones. They were his, weren’t they? Not mine. How long has he been hurting you, Cas?”

He tried to pull his hand away. “Stop it, Jude.”

“Stop what? It’s why you came to London, wasn’t it? Because you were afraid of what he might do to you if you stayed. You’re afraid of him. Why are you protecting him?”

I saw his throat move as he glanced around the dark street, frightened eyes wide and panicked. “It’s not what you’re saying; it’s not always like that...”

“It shouldneverbe like that, Caspien.” I gestured to where the bruise around his eye was darkening more every minute we stood there. “What about that? For spilling his fucking wine?”

He looked at me as though I couldn’t possibly be that dense. “No, Jude. Not for that.”

I stiffened. “He knows about us.”

“Turns out, I’m not quite as clever as I think I am…” he said, obliquely.

“So then he knows. That’ll make it easier to leave him.”

Cas shook his head. “No. Jude. Nothing has changed. I chose Xavier, I chose him, and sometimes we have to see things through to the end.”

I’d never heard anything more ridiculous in my bloody life and the look on my face told him so.

“What bloody end? When he hurts you so badly, you end up in the hospital? You can’t play piano, Cas! Because of him. Tellme what the fucking end is. Help me understand what that looks like because I’m struggling to see past the bruise on your face and the broken fingers and the fact he’s a fucking predator.”

“Okay then, I leave him, and then what? In your head, where everyone gets exactly what they want, what exactly is it you have planned for us? Where do we go? Where do we live? Because I won’t ask Gideon for a single penny, and I’ve not a penny to my name until I turn twenty-five, so what is it you see happening here?” He was talking quickly, rashly, saying these things as though they were fantastical and not as though I’d spent years imagining them in very great detail.

“You come to Oxford with me,” I began. “People change schools all the time and they do teach music at Oxford. I’ve got enough from the trust fund to pay for a flat somewhere for us, or we can house share. I’ll work too. Whatever I need to do. I’ll finish this year and then do my honours while you finish, or I can just get a full-time job, and then when you’re done, we can go anywhere you want, do anything you want. I don’t care as long as I’m with you.”

He looked taken aback at the level of detail I’d supplied him with.

Still, he shook his head. “You make it sound like you’d be happy. But you wouldn’t be, not with me. I don’t make anyone happy, Jude. In fact, I’ve a great deal of skill in making people quite miserable, you included. Or had you forgotten?”

“You’re looking at it wrong,” I said. “You make me so fucking happy when we’re together, Cas. You. These last five days with you, I was happier even than I was that summer. You know why? Because you were happy, too. You can deny it, but I know it’s true: you were happy. I could see it. I could fuckingfeelit. We were happy together, and so that proves we can be. Look, I don’tknow what Gideon’s made you believe, but you deserve to be happy. Letting people love you is okay.”

I knew I shouldn’t, not again, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him not knowing I still felt the same.

“I love you, Cas, I always have. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you, I think. Even when I thought I hated you, I loved you. I don’t think I know how not to, so please don’t go back there. Don’t choose that, choose me. Stay with me. We’ll go to Gideon’s, pack our shit, and leave. Together.”

He looked tormented. “You’ve no idea what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, I do. I’m asking you not to go back to someone who fucking hurts you,” I said. “You’re not safe with him.”

“And you’re not safe with me,” he said. “I’m poison, remember? Like that Oleander plant you found that day in the arboretum. Best to rip out at the root.” He gave me a small, bitter, Gideon-like smile.

I shook my head and went to call that nonsense.

“No, you were right,” he said. “Really, it was the most insightful you’ve ever been. It’s true. I am. I ruin everything I touch. Christ, my own mother loathed me. I ruined her and I’ll ruin you as well and I don’t want that. I don’t want to be the one to ruin you, Jude. Not you.”

He was pulling away from me now, physically, emotionally. The rain had stopped, but it started again then, a light patter at first before it became a rushing torrent.

“Please, Cas,” I said to him. “Don’t do this again, please don’t do this.”

“Go back to Oxford and try to be happy, Jude. That’s the only way this goes. I promise you it’s for the best.”

I was shaking my head. He was looking at me the same way he had in the hut that day, except this time it felt worse, a fatal wound I would never heal from. Not again.