Page 23 of The Casualty of Us (Philosophies of the Heart Duet #1)

Chapter Twelve

I’ve always liked lists. They’ve even been my saving grace at times.

Ophelia would probably give me endless shit and try to start buying me books or something if she knew…but they’ve always been a solid strategy for me. Always up there in my head, circulating around based on importance.

Can’t decide between two different brands of sneakers?

List out the pros and cons for both then, make the call.

Can’t figure out what I want to do in life?

Make a list of what I’m good at and another of what I like and see where they overlap.

Can’t figure out how to ask Ellis Marsden to the eighth grade dance? A list will solve that.

Need some goals for my ten-year plan? Cool. Done.

Marry Marley. Get a degree in something passably useful. Become a quarterback for the NFL. Make sure O is okay at all times. Don’t become a lawyer or a fuck boy.

All in no particular order.

Need to stay sane after my sister is kidnapped while I’m knocked out like a useless fucking child? List. List. List.

Never-ending lists for three days straight, actually, and ever since Christmas Day, my new list has consisted of about five things.

Get back to school.

Murder my roommate.

Murder my roommate.

Murder my fucking roommate.

Possibly maim instead of kill because a murder charge would fuck up everything on all my other lists.

It’s a tough call, though, because I haven’t heard shit from the fucker since it all went down and nothing but my earliest memory has been filling my head since then.

I push through the front door of our dorm after having left O at hers, only stopping long enough to drop the duffel from my shoulder as it slams closed behind me.

Some kind of music thrums through the space with a muffled beat and is clearly coming from behind the one closed door.

Holden’s head turns toward me from where he’s chilling on the couch with a bowl of cereal in his hand and the spoon forgotten halfway to his mouth.

“Hey, man,” I toss out with a nod while continuing to the destination of demise. “Have a good Christmas?” He stares back, eyes moving between me and Hayes’s closed door, and I hold up a finger. “Give me just a second, and we’ll catch up.”

I stop in front of the door while giving my shoulders a quick roll before grabbing the handle and tossing it open.

Finding my target where he’s sitting on the edge of his bed as it flies back to hit the wall.

The sound of the impact is muted only by the music blasting through the air about wanting to be sedated.

“Fuck.” His head pops up from where it was resting in his hands. “Ollie.” He stands, lifting a hand. “Hold on, let me—”

“You fucker!” I close my fist while charging the last couple of steps to him and bring it crashing down against his face. “My sister?!” He falls back against the bed at the impact, but I don’t stop. “You really did that to my fucking sister?!”

“Ollie.” He reaches up for the spot where I nailed him on the cheek. “Ollie, hold on let me—”

“Explain?” I scoff an empty laugh. “Yeah, I hope you have an explanation, Flynn.” I cross my arms to stare down at him, “An explanation for chasing after my sister for an entire fucking semester and then messing around with some other girl.”

“I didn’t…” He sits back up on the bed slowly, and I allow it since it’ll be easier to land another punch that way if I need to. “I didn’t…”

“You didn’t…what?” I snort. “Fucking destroy—”

“I didn’t fuck her!” he finally shouts, tossing a hand out before reaching up to pull at his hair. Bringing my attention to it and the general state of him for the first time. “I didn’t do anything, I just—she just—I didn’t fuck her.”

“Right, because that’s so much fucking better,” I snap, not letting the fact he looks like he’s been on a month-long bender deter me from dismantling the little shit.

“It’s really going to make O feel so much better that you didn’t stick your dick in another girl.

” Because he’s the one who fucked up here.

“Something happened, though, didn’t it?”

And his cringe is all the confirmation I need.

“Oh, that’s great! Real fucking great, Flynn. Bang-up job there, man.” I chuckle nastily before pointing a finger at him. “I fucking told you to stay away from her. I told you she was off-limits. I told you not to fuck around with—”

“I know!” He stands suddenly. “I fucking know, Ollie!” Both of his hands go to his hair, eyes turning a little wild as he takes a step.

“I fucked up! I was stupid and alone and I shouldn’t have even gone in there.

I fucked—” He stops suddenly with a gasp, face tensing before his eyes finally still on mine.

“I fucked up.” He swallows around the choked-out words.

“I did what I always do, and I fucked everything up. Fucked it all—I can’t—I can’t—” His chest collapses, hands pulling at his hair.

“I haven’t been able to fucking breathe since I woke—woke—”

Another gasp comes, breaking up his words, and his eyes slam shut with it.

Something that looks a hell of a lot like agony fills his face, and it has my gut churning with sympathy that I immediately try to stifle.

It still has me looking away though, running my eyes over his room and seeing that it reflects the state of its occupant.

From the dirty clothes scattered everywhere to the piles of old dishes on the desk and the half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the nightstand.

It fucking reeks in here too. Reeks like—

“Dude,” I sniff the air. “Have you been fucking smoking in here?”

“What?” I look back to see Hayes open his eyes, staring at me with some kind of desolate confusion that has me waving a hand around.

“Your room smells and looks like what I imagine a month-long bender to be.”

“Oh, uh.” He looks around a little dazedly. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten out much since…”

“Since you screwed my sister over?”

“Yeah.” He flinches, falling back to sit on the bed and burying his head in his hands again. “Yeah, since that.”

Another few seconds pass with nothing but his audible breaths, and the desperation I can feel all over the place in here eases some of the rage I’ve been nursing, whether I want it to or not.

“Ollie.” He finally looks up again, meeting my gaze with a low. “Please.”

I know immediately what he wants. What he’s begging for from me.

It’s the same thing that’s been filling every glance he thinks I don’t catch him sending her way since the day we all met.

But he can fuck right off if he thinks I’m going to let him off that easy.

“Nah,” I scoff. “You can talk to her if you want to know—actually,”

“Ollie, please—”

“New rule.” I narrow my eyes at him and hold up a finger. “You can’t talk to her unless she speaks to you first.”

“She won’t talk to me!” His hands drop from his hair, and he’s suddenly standing again. “Please, Ollie, just tell me she’s okay—”

“She’s not fucking okay, dumbass!” I push at his shoulders, rage sparking at the memory of holding her Christmas morning, but he stands solid against it this time. “She’s not okay. Not that you deserve to—”

“Please, Ollie.” He reaches out, snagging the front of my shirt with that desperation all over his face now. “I just need to fix this. I just need her to talk to me. I need—”

“No, dude.” I smack his hand away. “You fucked it up, so it’s about nothing but what she wants now. You got me?”

He stares at me for a beat, eyes deadening with that lost thing again before he swallows. “And what does she want?”

“Apparently.” I grimace at the disaster in the making but pass it on dutifully. “For everything to go back to the way it was, which is partly why I’m keeping you alive.”

“What?” His face falls. “What do you mean she—”

“Did you know I broke her Barbie Dreamhouse when we were little?”

“What?” He shakes his head in confusion. “What are you—”

“Just shut the fuck up and listen.” I reach out, giving his shoulder a push until he falls to the bed again. “I’m trying to help you, you fucking dumbass—not that you deserve it.”

The confusion doesn’t leave his face, but he gives me a short nod and I’m off again, trusting some pull in my gut and hoping it’s not coming from misplaced sympathy.

“I was messing around with my football in our playroom when we were like eight, right?” I start to pace small circles in front of him, burning off the nerves that still come with the story.

“I was being an idiot, and O kept warning me to stop before I broke something of hers, but of course I didn’t.

The next thing I knew, I’d launched the ball clear across the room, and it went crashing into it.

Completely collapsing the thing and breaking the stupid elevator and everything.

” I turn to check in with him and bring myself to a stop. “You with me?”

He nods slowly. “Not sure why, but yeah.”

“O had begged for that stupid house all year.” I frown. “It was the only thing she wanted for our birthday, and I broke it a week later.”

He winces. “Damn.”

“You have no idea.” I shake my head slowly, brows falling more at the memories.

“I remember the look on her face when it happened, or the lack of one really. She just stared at it for a couple of seconds before saying everything was fine and we’d just go play outside like normal .

” Dragging in a deep breath to damn him with my own wince.

“That everything would just go back to the way it was .”

His eyes widen with a dawning realization. “Fuck.”