Page 36 of The Casualty of Us (Philosophies of the Heart Duet #1)

Chapter Nineteen

“Ophelia.”

“Ollie! Ollie! Please get up! Ollie!”

“O!”

“Ollie! Wake up!”

“What the fuck happened?!”

Crash.

Click. Click. Click.

“Noth–nothing!”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,”

“I don’t know!”

“Just take a breath and go to sleep.”

No, no, no— no take-backs. No take-backs.

“No–no–I don’t know! We were on our way to…”

Please, please, please, you can’t leave me, please—

“I was teasing her! That’s it! I pulled her hair!”

“Just breathe, Ophelia.”

I can’t.

“Ophelia….”

No–no–no–no—

“Ophelia, Ophelia…”

Oh god—I can’t— “Oliver!”

“With eyes so…”

How?

“Oh, sweetheart…”

How? How? How? How?

“I think I might have to…”

“NO!”

“Keep you.”

“I can’t, I can’t—” Air. I’m missing air. “Ollie…”

“Just breathe, Ophelia.”

“Ophelia!”

I choke. “No, no, no, no—”

I don’t want to. He wants me to. I can’t—

“Ophelia…”

“I c–can’t.”

Is that me?

“Ophelia,” he demands. “Fucking breathe.”

No.

“Now.”

I don’t sound like me. He doesn’t sound like him.

Maybe the me is gone and the him is here.

Maybe I slipped away all curled up out there somewhere.

“…are mammals of the order Pholidota.”

Maybe— “Ophelia, Ophelia…”

“Ollie!”

“Ophelia Sage, you fucking take a breath or I will spank you.”

I gasp.

“That’s it,” he rasps in my ear, thumbs sliding down my cheeks. “That’s it, Freckles, breathe for me.”

“I can’t—” I gasp again, lungs hurting from the sudden intrusion. “Oh god—I can’t—I didn’t—”

He doesn’t understand.

“No, no, no,” he hushes, one hand dropping down to wrap around mine and immediately bringing it up against his chest. “Feel that?”

And I do: the rise and fall, the steady thump against my shaking palm.

“Right there, do it with me.”

I take a breath.

“That’s it. That’s my girl.”

Then another, forcing the air past my locked throat and into a chest that still seems to be trying to crush me.

“I’ve got you, baby.”

I blink, coming back enough to recognize the hazel eyes drilling into mine.

“Another,” he orders, waiting a beat for me to choke down another breath before doing it again. “And another.”

It’s only when I force my body through the torturous action a few more times that the panic filling his gaze lessens slightly, though.

“There we go,” he hushes, brows drawn down tight over a face that’s finally starting to come into focus. One that’s definitely too pretty for the pissed-off look on it. “I need to ask you something real quick, okay?”

I try to open my mouth to make something come out, but the only thing that escapes past the ache in my throat is some kind of choked whimper.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” His thumb strokes down my cheek through something wet, and he uses his hold on my other hand to bring me even closer. “Just tell me what happened, that’s all.”

“Ophelia…”

No, no, no —

“I tried to tell you.”

Those hazel eyes break away from mine long enough for him to shout, “Hold on!”

“Calm down!” the other voice shouts back. “We were literally about to go into the library! I pulled on her hair and said something stupid about her always being my sweetheart!”

“Yeah, well, you obviously should’ve not!” Hayes roars, barely giving me time to blink before his gaze finds mine again. “What happened?”

“Ophelia, Ophelia…”

Graham. The library. Fuck.

I was meeting Graham at the library, and then….

It’s a split second of dark and light crashing together.

Of something hazy curled up in a ball all of its own in the dark recesses of my mind crashing against the stark contrast of a smiling boy in the blinding light of day.

The two thrown together break me open completely.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

How did I miss it? How did I— “I forgot,” I croak, reaching right inside to yank it out through the scar tissue.

Fuck. I forgot. Or didn’t…didn’t want to remember—my own mind hiding things from me. I’m not sure which is worse.

Ignorance or cowardice, take your pick, O.

“What’d you forget, Freckles?”

His thumb makes another pass through that wetness on my cheek, and I realize it’s coming from me. I’m crying.

“Graham—” I try again, another crash of pressure against my chest making my breath hitch. “Can go.”

Because I need to limit the witnesses. First order of business.

Hayes’s eyes narrow, and he moves them between mine a couple of times before giving me a tight nod. “Fine.” He turns his head, giving me a view of the boys’ dorm and Graham sitting on the couch with a concerned look on his face. “I’ve got her, Bettencourt.”

How did I get here?

“You kind of checked out.” Graham stands slowly with the answer, making me realize I must have spoken out loud. “You kept asking for Ollie at first, so I brought you here.”

I stare at him with complete and utter mortification setting in as he looks down, my face heating uncomfortably and bringing a fresh wave of tears. “I’m so sorry.”

His head jerks back up at the same time Hayes looks back and bites out, “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Something about the statement has a little whimper trying to escape past my lips, but I press them together.

Fighting off the cries that are still trapped there and nodding my head a couple of times to shut him up for now.

Tracking how Graham’s eyes move between the two of us before coming back to mine with what almost looks like a spark of happiness.

“I’ll see you later, Fitzroy.” He gives me a small smile, starting to walk to where we’re standing halfway to the door. “And he’s right, you have nothing to be sorry about, okay? You told me not to touch your hair.”

I didn’t know why, though.

Apparently I was playing games with myself—hide-and-seek, ready or not, no take-backs—but I can’t tell him that or anything else as he slides by where Hayes is still half holding me up.

Can’t apologize for my trauma like I want to.

I just squeeze my eyes shut and keep my lips pressed together until a click sounds through the air, bringing with it both glorious relief and a renewed panic that has me hiccuping from trying to keep it all contained.

“What do you need?”

The soft rasp has me clutching at the warmth beneath my palm with another gasp. “Ollie.”

“I know.” He clears his throat. “He started two-a-days last week, but I think I yelled at Graham to text him, so hopefully…”

In other words, I’m most likely fucked.

“I can leave and go get him—”

I dig my fingers into his chest. “No.” Opening my eyes to beg, “Don’t leave me. Please d–don’t—”

“I won’t.” He gives me a sharp shake of his head, immediately squeezing my hand.

“I’m right here. I won’t leave you.” The hand on my face slides around to the back of my head, and the next thing I know he’s wrapping his arm around me.

“I promise. I’ve got you. I promise.” He pulls me in, engulfing me in fresh cedar with my next gasp for air.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re right here. I promise.”

I bury my face in his chest, right up against our hands while trying to get it out. “I–I–”

“What?” His voice drops low with the whisper, but the hand on the back of my head holds perfectly still. “Tell me how to make it better, and I’ll do it, O.”

“I–I–” I gasp, wrapping my free arm around him in turn and seeking out more of that warmth while confessing. “I just need to feel safe again.”

His body goes tense against mine, another beat passing before he nods against the top of my head. “Okay, Freckles, I’m going to pick you up for a second, yeah?”

I open my mouth to suck down a deep breath, but it still takes me a second more to mumble against his chest. “Yeah.”

“All right, one second.” His hand squeezes mine once more before he lets go and wraps it around my waist, the other one dropping from my head to join it. “Here we go.”

He lifts me into the air gently, leaving my feet hanging and taking those first steps quickly but smoothly.

It doesn’t matter, though. The movement alone is enough to jostle loose a fresh wave of panic.

Enough to have me pressing my lips together tighter and sucking down more of that cedar scent to drown in.

Something to remind me that I’m here.

“Okay, okay,” he hushes. “Almost there.” Another click sounds through the air. “You hear that, O?”

I dip my chin against him, not even trying to reply beyond that.

“You want to feel safe, yeah?”

Desperately.

To go back to a time when the world made sense again.

“Okay.” I hear what sounds like a door shutting right before he takes a couple more steps and lowers me to the ground. “Here we go.”

His hands stay on my waist, and when he starts to tug me down, I go easily, limbs collapsing down without a fight.

The part of my brain that’s been turning him over like a Rubik’s Cube as he answers every freaking question I throw his way about the books currently checked out.

Only knowing that he’ll get me to the other side of this and that there’s no room for anything else in the mess of my mind right now.

“Ophelia,” he rasps softly, bringing me down on my side against what has to be carpet but keeping me tucked right up against his chest. “I don’t want you to freak out when you open your eyes so I’m letting you know it’s dark in here.

” His arm tightens around me, fingers pressing into my ribs.

“But you said you want to be safe, so there are two locked doors between you and the world right now, and I’m not letting anyone get in here. ”

Goddammit.

I nod against his chest with another quick gasp.

“Or should I open—”

I dig my nails into his chest.

“Okay, okay, got it.”

Not right now.

Which is strange. Ollie was big on everything being open for me right afterward, which made sense. I needed it then. Used to jump anytime someone shut a door for the first couple of weeks.

But this has changed things, hasn’t it?

Ignorance or cowardice, no take-backs.

“Ophelia, Ophelia, with eyes…”

He gives a full-body sigh against mine. “You still there, Freckles?”

I pull back just enough to try and get it out. “I—” But…that’s not right, is it?

Did I forget? Did I make it up?