Page 21 of The Casualty of Us (Philosophies of the Heart Duet #1)

Chapter Eleven

I wake up on Christmas morning to the incessant buzz of my phone next to me on the bed.

The sound of it forces me to rouse myself from sleep and I blink at it a few times while wondering who the hell is waking me up on Christmas.

I force myself to reach for the phone, sluggishly pulling it closer to see Marley’s name lighting up the screen.

The call ending just long enough for me to catch the multiple notifications waiting for me before her name pops up again.

I swipe my thumb across the screen, putting it on speaker while snuggling back down into my pillow and mumbling drowsily. “You rang?”

“Hey,” she squeaks with something like surprise. “You picked up. Good.”

“What’s going on?” I yawn. “There’s like a million notifications on my phone.”

“Yeah, uh…” she starts hesitantly. “Most of those are probably me, but I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t hear it from anyone else.”

“Hear what?”

“Um.” She pauses, voice quieting. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah.” I yawn again with a scowl quickly following it. “Why?”

“So Kennedy texted me this morning and uh—” She starts and stops quickly, a weak sound leaving her that has my stomach dropping with it.

A dread hitting with the next beat of my heart that has me snapping at her. “What, Marley?”

“Hayes got caught with some girl in the auditorium in the middle of the night.”

The rushed words leave her in a single breath, and the whole world seems to shudder with them as the air leaves my lungs.

A ringing starts up in my ears that has me staring blankly at the phone with what she said echoing in my head.

Every repetition of it shaving away another slice until there’s nothing left to me but that moment crashing through my mind.

Stuck somewhere not quite here and screaming for my brother with my instincts failing me horribly.

Some removed part of my mind is still stuck on something else it can’t make sense of right along with that fact.

That this hurts more than it should.

More than some intrusive thought late at night had me pondering it possibly might if he eventually moved on.

It fucking hurts. All of it fucking—

“Ophelia!”

I blink back at the sound of Marley’s voice to see she’s been on the phone for a couple of minutes. Most of which I’ve been silent during.

“Sorry.” I clear my throat quickly. “It’s fine. Thanks for telling me.”

“Ophelia,” she tries again. “I don’t know what actually happened, apparently they were drinking, but I thought you should know.”

And I can’t take the pity in her voice, can’t stand it actually.

“It’s fine, Marley.” I force the words out. “We weren’t even dating.” A sudden tightness in my throat that makes me spit out quickly, “He can do whatever he wants.”

Not wanting her to hear the wobble I know is coming.

“O.”

“Merry Christmas.”

I quickly end the call before she can reply and close my eyes, clutching the pillow under my head so tightly that it hurts my hands.

Wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep and pretend the past five minutes never happened.

To turn back time to when the thought of the black present underneath the tree downstairs didn’t make me sick.

To block it all out.

I hear my door open another minute later and lay perfectly still, not moving an inch as soft footsteps pad over to my bed, because the last thing I want to do right now is start Christmas.

I haven’t managed to turn back the clock yet.

I haven’t managed to make sense of being so wrong about the guy who spent an entire semester waiting every morning with my perfect tea order.

The guy who wouldn’t even kiss me because he didn’t want to fuck it up—didn’t want to do this .

He wasn’t even supposed to be there.

He was supposed to be in LA.

He wasn’t supposed to—how could I—

The bed dips beside me, and the next thing I know, Ollie is there, smelling like fresh laundry and home and making me swallow past the throbbing in my throat.

Trying to keep the cry trapped there. He wraps an arm around me and slowly pries the hand I have clutching the pillow loose to wind our fingers together.

It’s another couple of minutes, though, before he gives it a squeeze. “Marley called me.”

“She shouldn’t have,” I choke out. “It’s no big deal. I’m—”

“Fine, right,” he scoffs, another squeeze following. “Still going to kick his ass, though.”

And even though I shouldn’t, even though he doesn’t deserve it, I still beg because I need it right now. “Don’t. I just want everything to go back to normal.” I suck in a deep breath to trap another hiccup in my chest. “Please Ollie, please, I just want everything to be normal. I just—”

“Okay, okay.” His arm tightens around me and my fingers do the same to his hand. “Everything will be okay.” He makes a little hushing noise. “Everything will go back to normal. I promise.”

“Okay.” I breathe sharply in relief. “Okay.”

Because it’s what I need right now.

To go back to a time when his stupid flirting and sad rock star baby life hadn’t earned him a spot in my heart yet. To go back to when I didn’t care about him.

“Okay.” Ollie presses a kiss to the back of my head. “It’ll all be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Okay,” I repeat numbly. “Can we go back to bed now?”

“Yeah.” He blows out wearily. “We’ll try Christmas again in a few hours.”

I nod against my pillow and snuggle back closer to him.

My eyes still stubbornly shut and refusing to face anything else that might be waiting on my phone for me.

Trying so damn hard to just slip back into sleep, but that choking in my throat and the tightness in my chest just won’t let up.

Not until the first tear slips silently down my cheek a few more minutes later and Ollie’s arm tightens around me with it.

Somehow knowing that I’m finally accepting the reality of the after.

That the tears are falling even though he can’t see them.

It takes an hour of silent tears and then another of sleep before Ollie convinces me to set the douchebag aside, his words, not mine, and start Christmas.

When we finally appear downstairs, it’s to the curious eyes of both our parents and their lifted brows to each other that are probably having an entire conversation.

Ollie quickly dives into distraction mode after that, though.

Tossing presents around and somehow making a grin rise to my lips even with how my eyes are still aching.

My mom passes around some hot chocolate that’s been waiting around an hour too long as we all lazily start to unwrap gifts.

The fountain pen that I got my dad going over well before Ollie’s face turns bright red when he unwraps the wedding planner in his box.

He shoots me a glare, but I just laugh, telling him that I’m sure he’ll find a use for it and avoiding my mom’s gaze because she definitely knows that something’s left my foundations a little rattled this morning.

I can see it in the careful way her eyes keep straying back to me.

And she knows, that I know, that she knows.

It’s this little thread of tension between us all the way through Christmas present unwrapping.

But I still smile at Ollie affectionately after unwrapping some new fantasy books that I’ve been wanting to read.

Still make the appropriate gushing noises over the black faux leather purse I’ve been eyeing for a few months that my mom got me.

A few more gifts are passed out to us from our parents, and by the time there’s only the gift from me to my mother left to be opened…

I can’t stop looking at it. That stupid black box.

Sitting perfectly innocent underneath the white and red decorations on our Christmas tree. Like it isn’t fucking tainted.

As if it isn’t casting a pall over the warmth of the fireplace and the coziness of my own living room.

“Ophelia?”

My mom’s bright voice finally pulls me away from it, and I look at her with a blink. “Mmm?”

“I said thank you, darling.” She eyes me carefully. “For the gift, it’s lovely.”

“Oh.” I look down to where the vintage Hermès scarf rests in her lap. “Oh, of course, Mama. I’m glad you like it.”

Everyone seems to pause then, and I can practically hear the wheels turning in their heads as our nice little morning grinds to a halt.

The withheld breaths of everyone in the room as they look at the present we’ve all been eyeing for weeks underneath the tree.

I run my eyes over them all before looking back at the present and deciding right then that he doesn’t get to ruin my fucking Christmas.

“Excuse me for a minute.”

I smile at everyone, standing up and walking right over to snatch up the present from under the tree none too carefully.

Continuing purposefully for the door at the back of our living room that leads into the kitchen while Ollie mutters something that I don’t quite catch.

I count out the seven more steps it takes for me to pass into our French-style kitchen and make it to the trash can.

Already tossing the present in by the time my mom makes it to me and shutting the top forcefully on that piece of shit.

“Oh, darling,” she coos, walking over to stand beside me and stare down at the now closed lid too. “It seems such a shame to waste a gift.”

I calm myself with a deep breath before explaining. “It was necessary.”

“Hmm.” She hums under her breath. “Well, I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you,” I look up to find her gaze on my profile. “It’s been a morning.”

Her lips purse as she reaches out and pushes some hair behind my ear. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” I scoff.

“Too bad.” She gives me a small smile, dropping her hand and walking around to the stove. “Come sit, I’ll make you some tea, and you’ll tell me who I have to blame for making you sad.”