Page 56 of The Casualty of Us (Philosophies of the Heart Duet #1)

The sound of shouting starts up another couple of seconds later and is accompanied by my mother’s snort of amusement. “I think he’ll fit right in around here.”

Hayes

I’ve been going from heaven to hell in the space between one breath and the next.

All for the past day with her, and now that I finally understand what has her looking so haunted.

Someone has some serious fucking explaining to do about it.

Ophelia…I’ll deal with her little jaunt down the rabbit hole of rebellion later.

That one will require more care.

But right now I’m pissed as fucking hell, and since her parents probably wouldn’t appreciate any of the more creative ways I’d want to work that particular emotion out with her…

option number two it is. I open the third door upstairs and finally find him, lying on a gray-and-white checkered bed with his headphones on and looking generally miserable.

Fucking bastard.

“Wha—” His head whips toward me in surprise and he pulls off his headphones. “Hayes?”

“You’re fucking dead,” I growl, taking another couple of steps toward him as his face fills with a nervous look. “I swear to God, if you weren’t her—

“Oh shit,” he interrupts, sitting up quickly. “She told you?”

“Yeah!” I shout angrily. “She fucking told me, Ollie! What I want to know is why didn’t you?”

“She asked me not to.” His shoulders slump. “We weren’t in a good place and—”

“All. Summer,” I grit out, heart jerking around erratically at the realization that she could have fucking disappeared into thin air and I wouldn’t have even known where to start looking.

“All fucking summer I thought to myself… don’t worry, Ollie’s got her .

” His face falls, and my stomach twists at my own stupidity.

Again. “When she was distant over messages, I told myself to give her space. Reminded myself that O needs time to work things out.” An empty sound leaves me, and I inhale sharply before hitting him the only way that won’t piss her off.

“And when I got that sick feeling in my stomach sometimes, I told myself I was being ridiculous because she was with you.” I pause, seeing it land the way I want it to before adding.

“That she had to be okay because you would tell me if that wasn’t the case. ”

“Hold on.” He stands up with his face tensing. “You can’t put that on me. I’m not your go-betwe—”

“You know how I feel about her.” I shake my head. “You know that I would be—”

“But that’s not my business!” he shouts, frustration filling his face before he grumbles quietly. “I’m trying to make it not my business, dude.” His shoulders fall again in the silence that follows. “You have no idea what she’s been like this summer, so a little less judgment would be nice.”

“I’ll stop judging when you tell me why she looked like no one had fucking held her for months when I got there.”

His mouth falls open at my bleak summarization, and maybe that’s the heart of it—why I’m so pissed, because I trusted him with the person who holds my own and who’s supposed to share his, and he let me down.

“I…” His gaze drifts, hands clenching at his sides before he exhales. “I fucked up.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “How?”

“We were already kind of in a weird place at the end of school.” He looks down quickly. “And then when she got the first note, I just…” His gaze lifts back to mine with fear flitting through it. “Freaked the fuck out.”

That I can understand.

Because every part of me wants nothing more than to never leave her side again but— “I still don’t understand why you two are fighting.”

“She started going there every day.” He pauses, voice coming out in a dead way that lets me know this is not a new topic of conversation. “She fucking runs in the park where they dropped her off, come rain or shine.” A pained sound leaves him. “So yeah, we had a few problems this summer.”

Even with the mental picture that has my heart just about bursting, though, I still manage to guess… “You pushed her to stop.”

“I did.” He nods, brows lowering. “Because I could see she wasn’t going to let it go, and it fucking terrifies me.” The pause that comes next fills the space in between us with both of our fears before he clears his throat. “So I fought her on everything, and it blew up in my face.”

“I could have told you that,” I snap, my stomach twisting harder with the same knowing and repeating his own words back to him. “She’ll never let it go now.”

Thinking through every interaction I’ve had with her over the past twenty-four hours and seeing them through this new shadowy lens.

“You’re going to get one of us killed.”

And the thought of someone taking her from me…

I can’t handle it. Can’t even handle thinking about it.

It’ll be hard enough if she chooses that because I’m just not the person she wants in the end.

But to have someone trying to steal that choice out from under both of us has me wanting nothing more than to wipe the fucker from existence.

Especially after last night.

Every little sound she made for me strung together in a harmony that quickly became my new favorite song, sealing whatever remained of the deal. At least for me.

“He can’t have her.” I lift my gaze back up to his with the warning, not really sure when I dropped it but making it very clear. “He can’t fucking have her, Ollie.”

“I know.” His face fills with what I think is concern, but he still nods. “I know, dude. I got you.”

And my next breath keeps me right in hell this time, the only difference being how I’m contradicting myself. “She won’t stop either.”

She isn’t capable of it. I know that too.

Not after what he’s already done to her, and I can’t blame her for that when it’s one of the things I love most about her. That fierceness. The way she has to solve every problem that piques her interest. She just plain isn’t built that way.

But they’re two trains headed to the same place, set on a collision course.

“We have to manage it,” I mutter, heart stumbling again and barely resisting the urge to yell at him. “And you need to fix your shit.”

Because he still fucked up, and I never want to see her in the state she was when I got there again. Fucking touch-deprived and spiraling and drowning herself trying to make it better.

Not that he needs to know how we fixed that.

“She needs to know she has us.” I narrow my eyes at him. “That she can come to us and it’s not going to blow up in her face.”

“I know that,” he grinds out, crossing his arms with some of that anger flashing again. “I’m working on it, okay?”

“Work faster.”

“Dude,” he huffs. “You were my Hail Mary, so maybe put some of that pressure on yourself.” His eyes dart around by my feet. “Where’s your bag?”

“Downstairs.” I throw him a confused look. “I’m going to go grab it and head to my hotel after checking in with O.”

“Ha!” He laughs suddenly. “My mom is never going to let you stay at a hotel.”

What?

“Go get your shit, you can crash in one of the guest rooms.” He shakes his head, walking to the door behind me before coming to a stop. “Give me a little bit to talk to her, though, okay?”

“Yeah.” I nod, turning my head to catch the serious look on his face when he shifts a little uncomfortably.

“And thanks for…whatever you did to get her back here.”

I somehow manage to keep a straight face, using another nod as an excuse to duck my head and barely getting out, “No problem.”

I know that there was a whole hell of a lot that went into it, but I’m only fucking human, and that’s about as close to heaven as I’ve ever come.

Which is saying a lot considering that I was quite…

popular before coming to Pinecrest. But Ophelia, damn, I could spend years feeling every inch of her skin and still not have had enough.

Every part of her feels like it’s meant for me.

Even the spiral.

My dad tries, I’ll give him that.

After Hayes goes upstairs to talk to Ollie, they both do.

My mother promised to have my favorites for our birthday dinner tonight.

My father promised to lighten the restrictions around the bodyguards as much as they possibly can, even with today’s delivery.

Both of them so happy to have me home but scared at the same time that they’re unusually doting.

Not even mentioning the rock star’s son I dragged in with me.

I beg off pretty quick, though. Too caught up in the latest note and the pump of my blood that’s whispering I need to move faster as it rushes through my ears.

I head upstairs to my room to plug my phone in since I forgot to charge it last night and to find Hayes from there. Ollie too, I guess. Check the vibe and figure out what the plan is for the few hours of the day left before dinner.

Make sure no blood has been spilled since we stopped hearing them shout a while ago.

I walk into my room and come to an immediate stop, freezing as the sense of déjá vu washes over me while staring at where Ollie is sitting on my bed.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Our awkward greetings overlap, and my eyes flick up to the scar on his head, his brown hair messy over it like he hasn’t been keeping up with it. And when my eyes fall back down to find my matching pair, I see the little bit of brokenness there.

“I’m so fucking sorry, O—” His face falls suddenly.

“You’ll never know how sorry I am.” He gasps for a breath, shoulders jerking, and pulls at my heartstrings with the tears I can see him fighting.

“You were right. I quit the team at halftime and left you to play all alone. It’s fucked up, and all I’ve thought ab—”

His words stop when I start to run at him, launching myself at one of my boys for the second time in as many days and another slice of my heart sliding home with it.

I tackle him to the bed while wrapping my arms around his neck, my own eyes immediately starting to burn and leaving me choking out, “I’m so mad at you still.”

“I know.” His arms come around me with a squeeze. “We’ll work it out.”

I turn my head to the side, laying it on his chest and listening to the steady thump there. Anchoring myself for a moment before he rolls us onto our side and leans back with one of his hands reaching for mine.

“I fucked up,” he starts tentatively, lines of his face echoing eyes that are still full of worry. “But Ophelia, you can’t ask me to sit by and watch you get yourself killed.”

I frown, immediately arguing. “I’m not going to—”

“Sure.” He cuts me off with a snort. “You don’t think you’re going to get yourself killed, but…” A deep breath leaves him, fingers squeezing around mine. “Nothing exists in creation that’s infallible, you taught me that, baby sister.”

I pause, a scowl settling into my brow. “You’re not allowed to use my own words against me. It’s not fair.”

“Please, O,” he openly begs. “You’d never sit by and watch me do something stupid enough to get myself killed, so don’t ask me to do that.”

And he’s right. I never would, not in a million years.

I’d walk to the nearest crossroads and summon up hell itself to stop that.

Sign my soul away without a second thought.

But that’s because Ollie deserves it. Even when he’s being an asshole…it’s still innate in him. That sense of consciousness. He got it all while I sucked up whatever mental genes were leftover, I think.

Hayes is the same way to an extent, the only difference being his was warped in the fire a little. Giving that core of goodness a little swirl of smoke and shadows.

But at the end of the day…their pangolins are built in.

It’s not a choice for them.

Mine isn’t.

“Okay,” I sigh deeply. “I’m not saying I’ll let it go, but…” Hating that I’m fixing us like this but not wanting to risk sliding back with him either. Not today. “I’ll try to keep my distance, I guess.”

And it’s not technically a lie.

But his gaze stays on mine, a fear there I’ve seen reflecting in the mirror all too often as he pleads.

“Don’t do that to me, Ophelia.” His voice comes out a little choppy as he pushes.

“I know you’re keeping things from me, but don’t make me live without my baby sister.

Promise me you’ll come to me from now on. ”

I pause, the ache in my eyes reaching for my head and heart at the same time, and I know that I can’t deny him that anymore than I can myself. “Promise.”

Telling myself that I’ll be able to weigh the risks if things progress and do just that. Hoping I’m not lying to both of us now. But the only step up from Jack in my life, as far as targets go, is friends and family, and…I can’t let that happen. Not again.

I choose me even if no one else will.

“Good.” He holds my gaze for another beat like he’s searching for something more before a heavy breath leaves him. “So did you like your birthday gift?”

I frown. “What gift?”

“Hayes.” He lifts his other hand to boop the tip of my nose before propping his head up in it. “Duh.”

“You didn’t gift him to me.” I scowl, some underlying tension I hadn’t even noticed seeping out of me as that synchronicity starts to flow between us again. “I drunk dialed him, and he thought an appropriate reaction to that was to fly halfway across the world.”

“Yeah, but…” His face falls a bit before he clears his throat nervously. “I told him where you were. That I thought you missed him.”

“I know.” I squeeze his hand in thanks, and he pauses before tacking on in a very uncasual way.

“Which I hope I was right about.”

“You were,” I snort, knowing that I don’t sound entirely happy about it but not wanting to hide anything more with him. “I did miss him.”

“Then…what?” he prods gently. “What is it?”

“I can’t let him go.” I whisper the confession with a tear slipping free that has panic igniting in his eyes which is probably matching mine, honestly. “I can’t let him go, Ollie.”

“It’s okay,” He squeezes my hand quickly, dropping his arm to bundle me back up as his voice quiets seriously. “I swear, it’s okay. I don’t care. If you want to be with him then be with him.”

“It’s not that.”

“You don’t want to be with him?”

His question stops me short because I think I do.

In a perfect world, at least. One where…my voice cracks at the reality. “It’s not safe.”

“O—”

“Leave it, Ollie.” I blink up at him, and another tear falls, that sense of coming home hitting me all over again when his face softens. “I’m figuring it out, but just…let me, okay?”

“Okay, baby sister.” He exhales deeply, like Atlas having finally set down the world again. “Okay…but just know I’m here if you need to talk it out.”

And I can’t help but quip in the silence that follows, lips tipping up. “Even if it takes sixty million years?”

“Yeah,” he snorts softly. “Even if it takes sixty million years.”

I squeeze his hand, waiting a couple of seconds until he does it back to whisper, “I’m sorry too, big brother, and I missed you.”