Page 37 of The Casualty of Us (Philosophies of the Heart Duet #1)

Did two fragmented pieces of memory crash together to create something imaginary?

“I — I’m not sure.”

“Want some help working it out?”

“I…” Not yet. “Tell me where we are.”

Because I need to feel like my head’s not about to break apart first.

He pauses. “My closet.”

I crack my eyes a slit at that and see nothing but darkness at first, the fabric of whatever shirt he’s wearing lost in a sea of nothingness.

It has my heart immediately jumping all over the place and instinct forcing my eyes wide to search out some kind of light even with the warning he gave me.

Sure that I’m about to find a way to start cursing him out regardless of whether I can make words come out or not.

That’s when I find them, though. Smack dab above me in the form of stupid little glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on the ceiling.

I stare at their dull twinkle, managing a couple of breaths and forcing a swallow past the ache in my throat to get out. “Stars?”

“Yep,” he drags out softly. “Brought ’em with me when I came.”

I scowl up at them. “Why?”

“Cause my dad put them up, and I didn’t want to leave them there.”

My scowl sinks deeper at that, making my head throb but— “Tell me.” Because it’s also working too. “T-tell me about when he put them up.”

Something that I’m going to be able to latch onto.

“It was after the, uh…after the fire,” he starts hesitantly, clearing his throat next with a quick vibration of his chest under my head.

“My mom was still in the hospital, and it was the longest he ever stayed with me.” I look away from the stars, moving my gaze down to where I’m guessing his head is at.

“Put those up once the house was fixed and would sing me to bed every night while I stared at them.”

The stars plus the slit of light coming from under the door allow me to just make out his profile, but it’s enough for me to catch the way his head whips my way when I croak out, “Sing it.” How his eyes glint down at me in the darkness, with the whites of them giving away his surprise. “Please.”

His arms tighten around me. “O…”

“Please.” I press my lips together to stop the whimper that wants to accompany the word before gasping. “You said anything.”

And you owe me.

I don’t say it, but it’s there in the split-second pause before he mutters, “Fuck,” the curse full of quiet acceptance and coming right before he takes a deep breath.

His chest rising against mine and staying there for a couple of seconds before he blows it out slowly.

The sound starts up on the heels of it, nothing more than a soft hum at first, before he turns back to the ceiling with that low rasp taking over.

His chest rumbling under my head with those first couple of words tumbling out hesitantly.

“Beautiful dreamer.” He sucks in another breath, “Wake unto me.”

Every part of me seems to go still at the sound, and he pauses before quickly hurrying out, “Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee.” I stare at him, feeling how his chest rises more smoothly against mine this time to regulate the next part.

“Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day.” His voice starts to fill the space completely, and my stomach flips with it.

“Lulled by the moonlight, have all passed away.” His arms go tense around me.

“Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song…” He drags out the note, and my mind decides it’s going to have to make room for whatever the hell I’ve gotten myself into here.

“List while I woo thee, with soft melody.”

Doing exactly what I need him to.

Pulling me back.

Giving me….something. Something messy, yes, but something tangible that I can hold onto. Something just mine.

Something that breaks open a part of me all over again hidden away in the dark with him here.

Something that gives the tears permission to rise without quite so much panic this time.

Something that drowns out the voices in my head enough that it allows me to detach from it all while clinging to him.

A voice that isn’t mine.

Something—no—someone that makes me feel safe.

The ache in my throat slowly starts to loosen its hold, my pulse settling down and the throb in my head fading, but my mind continues to be consumed by the melody of the spell he’s singing.

Stuck on the fact he wouldn’t be able to do that, any of it, unless I tr—no—unless I still have feelings here. Real feelings.

Because regardless of whether I can ever really get over whatever happened…I can’t deny that I didn’t hesitate either. No take-backs.

His voice hitches a little as he starts up the end of the song, and my stomach starts to flip again with it.

Not wanting it to be over but present enough now to not ask again either.

He repeats the last line even more softly, coming to a slow close and still staring at the ceiling.

A silence suddenly descending between us that I immediately don’t like, but—

Fuck.

Of course he can sing…. of course, he can.

Stupid fucking stars and rock star babies. “He loves you.” I let the observation escape instead of the rest. “Your dad.”

“In his own way.” He shrugs, arms moving against me as he does and his voice a touch rougher now. “I guess.”

But it’s the way his fingers are pressing harder into my skin now that has me adding, “You love him enough to keep the stars.”

“Yeah…” he sighs back. “I guess I did.” His head turns back my way with his body slowly starting to relax again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Given the circumstances, I’d say go right ahead.”

“Why don’t you like math?”

My brows fall in confusion. “What?”

“Math.” I watch his mouth move around the word in the dim light. “Why do you not like it so much?”

“Um…” I purse my lips, thrown by his sudden interest in my academics considering the situation but— “Two plus two will always be four.”

“What?”

I suck in a deep breath, trying to make my brain string together an explanation that’s going to make sense.

“Two plus two will always be four, there’s no getting around that.

It will never be five or six. It will always be four.

” He pulls back a little, arms loosening around me, and I have to fight the urge to chase him.

“There’s no room for…interpretation in math.

It just is. I both admire and despise it for that, I think.

” I catch the way he’s squinting at me with confusion and swallow nervously, trying to surmise what’s left in my head.

“I need more freedom than math gives me. It’s too cut and dry.

Two plus two will always be four, and while that’s comforting, it’s also boring. It never surprises me.”

He pauses. “And you like to be surprised?”

Something that’s almost a laugh escapes me at the clear note of doubt in his voice, and it has me admitting, “No, but I also need it…because if two plus two was always four, then the bet would’ve been on the raptor to rule us all.”

He stays silent, and I force myself to slowly start loosening the hand I still have wrapped up in his shirt—knowing that I probably shouldn’t even be here at all—when his voice stops me. “What’s it about a pangolin, Freckles?”

The soft question has my heart picking up pace all over again as I call him out. “You’ve been talking to Ollie.”

Because it’s not a guess, my twin has been sharing secrets.

There’s no other reason he’d ask that.

His arms tense around me instantly, like he’s scared I’m about to run, and he’s not entirely wrong there. “I’ve been…” He clears his throat, gaze still holding mine through the darkness. “Struggling, I pushed him.”

And I’m sure he did. In fact, I have no doubt with the way his eyes still track me constantly, but Ollie knows better too. He’s smarter than that and knows it would piss me off to no end.

Which means…he was following his own motivations there.

Whatever they may be.

“If you want to know something about me, then ask me.” I suck in a quick breath, trying not to slide back into the panic. “Don’t go around my back and whine to—”

“I didn’t whine,” he interrupts quickly. “But you also weren’t leaving me a lot of options.” I open my mouth, wanting something to come out, but it’s silence that greets me instead as another quiet rasp fills the space between us. “You barely talk to me most days.”

“You hurt me.” I gasp finally, laying the truth out there in the dark between us in a way that I’d never be able to in the world beyond the door.

His body goes still, heart suddenly thudding hard against my hand. “I know, O.”

“No, you don’t,” I toss back. “You don’t because you don’t know what it was like in there.

” That knot in my chest gives a twist that has me barely managing to get out, “The constant fear. The panic that Ollie was dead. The way I wanted to cry at every little noise and hated myself for it a little more each time.” Every word is more uneven than the next, and my face pinches up with another quick gasp before I confess to him, “I couldn’t take it. ”

He lifts an arm from my waist, bringing his hand up to cup my cheek. “O…”