Page 50 of The Casualty of Us (Philosophies of the Heart Duet #1)

Chapter Twenty-Five

I stare at the kitchen counter, head in my hands, and try to make it tell me exactly when and where things got so messed up.

Guess that’s pretty obvious, though. It was the second those assholes took my sister.

Everything’s been fucked in one way or another since then.

But even when I was pacing the floors of this home for days on end and praying to a god I didn’t believe in that she would make it back…

I never felt her pull away from me. Not until recently. Not until Hayes.

It’s just made everything that’s been happening that much more difficult to fucking fix.

I can’t fix any of it if she won’t let me close enough to. Have barely been able to keep her from walking herself directly back into the sick fuck’s arms all summer, and every time I try to fix things…it just seems to make it worse.

Makes her slip away more.

It’s pretty much left any semblance of my lists shot to shit.

Her last words to me leaving a pit in my stomach that’s just grown every night since, because I think…I think I might’ve fucked up really bad somewhere.

“Oh, my little duckling.” The sighed nickname draws my gaze to where my mom’s leaning up against the doorway of the kitchen with a silk robe wrapped around her and a small frown on her face that instantly reminds me of O. “Why the long face?”

“You know why.” I drop my hands to the counter, clearing my throat to add stubbornly, “Your daughter is being unreasonable.”

“Your sister ,” she points out purposefully, walking over to sit on the stool next to mine before finishing quietly, “is working her way through quite a lot right now and not under ideal circumstances, which you know.”

“She—” My voice cracks, and I turn back to look down at the counter, embarrassed at how fucking much it hurts but in too much pain not to admit. “I asked her if she would be back for our birthday, and she wouldn’t answer.”

It’s too close now, only tomorrow left until it’s here.

I take a deep breath before looking back up at her and confessing, “I don’t know how to fix this, Mom.”

Because I need help.

I can’t exist without my sister. I know that hell personally, and I can’t go back to that ever again.

“Well.” She gives me a sad smile. “Have you thought maybe she doesn’t want you to fix it?”

I clench my jaw, gut stirring at the expectation of already not liking this, but still force out, “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She sighs, eyes drifting around the kitchen for a moment before coming back to me.

“Your sister has everyone around her trying to fix things, Oliver.” I scowl at the truth of that, and she laughs softly.

“Including herself probably, regardless of what we tell her.” Her hand lifts to my cheek.

“So maybe she just needs you to be there for her? Hmm?”

“But I always fix it, that’s what I do.” My brows fall even farther with the undeniable truth. “I’ve always been able to fix things for her. Always. She’s—she’s my baby sister.” I swallow down some of the anxiety that’s starting to thrum through me before repeating, “She’s my baby sister.”

I mean, she did give birth to us, but apparently it bears mentioning because from the small tilt of her lips and what almost looks like sympathy…she must not be getting it.

“Oh, my sweet boy.” Her eyes crinkle around the edges as she gives my cheek a soft pat before leaning back. “Want to know a secret?”

And her sudden playfulness has me nodding quickly. “Sure.”

“Your sister is brilliant and has her moments, to be sure,” she sighs deeply, expression turning as soft as her voice. “But out of the two of you, you were the one that made me consider having more kids.”

“Really?” I pull back in surprise, not only because O is nearly her clone but also because they’ve never mentioned wanting more kids. “Why didn’t you?”

“Really.” She nods seriously before giving a small shrug. “It just wasn’t in the cards.” Her lips tilt up as she mutters one of her favorite phrases. “You don’t move the mountain.”

My face screws up as I try to imagine what more of us would have been like. “Huh.” Weird.

I don’t think I would’ve liked it.

“Plus, can you imagine two of your sister?” She laughs softly.

“I couldn’t take the chance of unleashing that upon the world.

” I snort at that, and she hums a little under her breath before sighing wistfully.

“But not you, no, you were always my sweet boy.” She lifts her hand back to my cheek.

“The only thing you ever struggled at was learning to share.”

Goddammit.

“Ophelia shared easily, surprisingly, but you…” She pauses, and my brain starts to scream at me to run fast because it’s a trap, but it’s already too late.

“You pushed a boy down once for daring to ask if he could play with you two.” Her delicate brows fall over eyes that we both owe her for giving to us.

“So is this more about your fear of losing her or your fear of losing her to someone else?”

I stare at her for a moment before ducking my head, knowing that she’ll sniff out the truth in a second and that I’d never lie to her anyway, but I still fucking hate admitting it.

“I don’t know, both.” I clear my throat and reach for my phone on the counter, spinning it around for something to take the edge off.

“I jump every time a door shuts at night, panicking over whether she’s still here or not, but on the other hand…

” A deep breath escapes me as my mind walks its ass over to the other side of that road.

“The Flynn boy, yes?” she guesses correctly.

“Yeah,” I drag out, my stomach churning at finally acknowledging it. “I just…”

“What?” She pokes my side. “I thought you liked him?”

“I do.” I lift my head, finding her curious eyes on me and swallowing before trying to explain it. “It’s just—it’s like I help him because it feels like the right thing to do…”

“And?”

“And then when it ends up working or I see them together again, I get pissed that I helped him to begin with.” I shake my head, frustrated with myself and angrier at the entire situation because of it.

“I don’t understand it. I—” Dropping my eyes back down while getting to the heart of what really sets me adrift here.

“She picked him, Mom.” The truth of it that I can’t ignore.

“She picked him. I was confused and mad and—” I try to calm the way my heart is starting to race before finishing quickly, “I was being stupid, but she picked him, and she’s never not taken my side before. ”

“Hmm.” She hums next to me, leaning her arms on the counter and prodding. “Do you think it’s possible that maybe you’ve been fighting your sister so hard this summer because in a way it was like picking something else instead of her too?”

My head jerks back up, and I blink at her, completely caught off guard because that’s not the kind of shit I pull. It might be something O would, but me…

“No.” I shake my head adamantly. “No way. I just want to keep her safe, and I do like Hayes.”

“But…” She stares me down before rolling her hand, clearly telling me out with it .

Fuck.

“But how am I ever supposed to trust anyone with her?”

Especially some guy that’s already fumbled the ball, whether I like him or not, his short track record is not the greatest when it comes to reliability.

“She’s—she’s my baby sister, Mom.” I manage to choke out the phrase that’s one of the core tenets of my existence before adding, “And you know she’s special, that the world needs her even if she doesn’t think it does.

” She gives me a quick nod, and I clench my jaw to stop the way it’s trying to shake before getting out, “How am I ever supposed to trust someone else with that? That part of myself?”

That someone won’t break her.

“You don’t trust them.” She reaches for my hand with a sad smile and gives it a squeeze. “You trust her, just like you always have.” Her face falls a bit. “But if you keep trying to hold onto her while she’s trying to grow, you will either kill her or lose her forever, Oliver.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I flinch at them.

“You are my sweet boy, and you will always be your sister’s protector.” She squeezes my hand even tighter. “But sometimes, we need a little more as we grow too, and you can’t punish her for that.”

Goddammit…why does she have to be—

“Fuck.”

“Language.” She gives a short laugh with the admonishment before letting go of my hand. “Now how about we—”

My phone starts to buzz against the butcher block, clattering loudly through the kitchen and drawing my gaze to the roommate in question’s name on the screen.

I pick up the phone with a frown. “That’s weird.”

“What?”

“Hayes is calling.” I dart my eyes over to her, trying to see if she’ll catch my drift. “He’s in Europe, and it’s almost midnight here, so…”

It’s gotta be what? Five in the morning for him?

Something like that.

I wait another second, but my mom’s suddenly mischievous smile has me rolling my eyes. Knowing she’s not going anywhere and answering the phone before the call ends.

“Hey, man.” I put the call on speaker, completely for her benefit because I am the favorite for a reason here. “How’s it going?”

“What the fuck, Oliver?”

I pause in setting the phone down, eyes moving between my mom’s now predatory gaze and the voice grinding out at me from the other end.

“Uh.” I swallow. “Sorry?”

“Why the fuck is O with Graham Bettencourt?”

Oh, shit. “Uh…”

Fucking Christ.

The one rule of hers I’ve followed perfectly is not to mention anything to him. The one thing I’ve done right in her book this summer, I guess, and now even that’s floundering in the wind because how am I supposed to know how much he knows now? I don’t know what I don’t know.

I clear my throat, confirming quickly, “You talked to her?”

“I don’t know if you could call it a conversation,” he scoffs darkly. “But yeah, she was going on about no hard feelings and options and I don’t fucking—no!” I jerk back at the shout and notice the sudden amusement filling my mom’s face. “That one goes in the yellow cab!”

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah, exactly,” he mutters before the sound of traffic starts to fill the background. “She was drunk and not making a lot of sense, honestly, but she said you two are fighting?”

It comes out more like a question than a statement, but it takes what’s left of my most likely ulcer-ridden stomach and obliterates it. Because she called him.

She needed someone—even if it was just a pissed-off drunk dial from the sound of it—but she called him. Which means my mom’s right.

“Ollie?”

“We–we are,” I finally answer. “It’s been weird this summer.”

He pauses, and the background traffic cuts out as a car door slams. “Weird how?”

“I don’t know…” I frown, wanting to tell him but not wanting to piss her off anymore right now. Trying to shift my perspective for her even if I fucking hate it. “It’s just been weird between us. Tense.”

“Come on, Ollie—”

“Dude,” I snap. “She called you, so leave me out of it.”

Another pause comes through the phone before he clears his throat.

“You’re right.” I hear the rumble of a deep voice in the background before he mutters something back that I can’t quite catch.

Almost giving me whiplash when he comes back in the next instant.

“Can you at least tell me where she is?”

I sigh heavily at that, weighing my options for none too long before telling him. “She’s at Graham Bettencourt’s Hampton house.”

Ha.

And I get my kicks in for all of two seconds before his voice comes through all pissed again. “What the fuck, Ollie? How fucking long has she been there?”

“Dude…” I sigh, knowing he doesn’t get it, but there’s no way for me to explain either.

“It’s been a really weird summer just—” My brows fall, words that were about to escape dying out for a second out of natural instinct.

But then I catch my mom’s eye and swallow down my pride because…

maybe he’s what I need to fix this. Maybe he can even make her see sense.

Convince her to let the guys with the guns handle this and stay safe with—

It hits me then.

How fucking stupid I’ve been.

Because I’d take her safe and happy with him any day of the week over the current spiral.

Fuck. I’d probably even take it even if she never speaks to me again as long as I know she’s okay.

“Do you think you could talk to her?” I pause, silence on the other end greeting me loudly and forcing another truth out. ”I think…I think she misses you.”

Another beat passes before his voice quiets seriously. “What the fuck happened this summer?”

“I’m sure she’ll—" Lie. “Explain when you get ahold of her.”

Hopefully he’s still sharp enough after a summer away from her to see through at least some of the bullshit too.

A sharp exhale comes through the phone. “Well, that’ll probably be about the time the hangover is hitting.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m on my way to the airport,” he explains, frustration in his voice clear. “She’s not getting away with drunk dialing me, saying a bunch of shit that doesn’t make sense, and then just blowing me off.”

“Uh—" I frown at the mental picture. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks.” He pauses again before offering. “And thanks for answering.”

“No problem, man,” I toss back quickly. “Later.”

“Later.”

I reach out and end the call, staring at the phone for a few seconds before my mom muses, “The boy is brave, I’ll give him that.”

“Impulsive though,” I snort, lifting my eyes to find a thoughtful look on her face.

“The two often go hand in hand.” She shrugs. “And Ophelia will need someone that gets her out of her own head, you know that.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, something deep in me adrift from how the ground is shifting too fast for me to keep up right now. “Yeah, I do.”

Her lips lift with another small smile, and she leans in again, wrapping her arms around me.

“Growth is nearly always painful, my dear, but we only prolong the pain by being unwilling to look within ourselves.” I squeeze her back at that, breaking down a little for a second and feeling like a kid in her arms again. “There’s always a reason for it.”

I just hope whenever I figure out what the reason is for this, it’s a good one.

Because my lists need some serious fucking attention.