Page 123 of The Casualty of Us
I reach up to run my fingers over the lines of a couple of feathers trailing down his spine, and he goes still. Shoulders tensing as the muscles of his back move under my fingers before he looks back. “Up, Ophelia, because if you keep doing that, we’re never getting out of here.”
And I can’t help but quip at the bit of hopeful doubt on his face that I might not listen. “Yes, sir.”
Adding the spark of warmth I get from the way his eyes flare to everything from last night before wrapping myself up in it. Hoping deep down that it doesn’t soften that edge too much because the sick part of my heart is screaming that I’m going to need it. That it’s going to be as essential as he is when it comes to keeping myself intact.
That I won’t survive what’s about to come next without it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
OPHELIA & HAYES - AUGUST 2013
I cometo a stop outside my front door and swallow, nerves making that sick sense in my heart drop down to my stomach with a plunge. Knowing that I’m about to step fully back into reality and everything that brings with it. Totally unsure where things are about to land because my constants inside are all out of order now, and the one at my back isn’t going to be pleased when he finds out the secrets I’ve been keeping either.
That’s not even getting into the deed I need to complete before heading back to school…fuck.
That’s going to be harder with Hayes around now too.
Speaking of.
I turn back to find him standing at the bottom of our short stoop of stairs with both our bags in his hands. A Doubtful Souls tee stretches across his chest, and he’s wearing some torn-up jeans that meet the boots on his feet with an odd look on his face that I can’t quite place, but it has me prompting, “You ready?”
“Yeah.” His eyes snap to mine. “Of course.” He jogs up the couple of steps and looks down at me. “Are you?”
Yeah…he definitely grew like that final inch.
“Meh.” I shrug, sweatshirt falling off my shoulder a bit with the move. “Ask me again in an hour.”
“Still don’t feel like giving me any kind of heads-up here?”
No. I’d prefer to lock you away in a foreign country behind about twenty armed guards with Ollie and a bottle of tequila until this is done, but—
“I’m good.”
“O.” My letter comes out with a half-amused sound before a little warning threads through his gaze. “You promised.”
“Didn’t promise what time, though,” I quip, reaching for the doorknob before he can demand the answers he’s about to get anyway. My shoulders tense in anticipation as I push the door open and step into the entry of my home. Waiting to see if it feels different than before as Hayes comes in behind me and drops the bags. If that sense of being unable to breathe returns. If the suffocation starts up again with all the pretty mahogany shining around me.
After a second of just…nothing, though, I exhale sharply. So caught up in the momentary fear that I would never be able to feel at home here again that I don’t even realize I’ve been holding my breath until I’m already inhaling the next one.
It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s—
“Hey.” Hayes’s hand goes to my hip, face filling with concern. “Do you need to get out of here?”
“No.” I shake my head quickly, slowing down my next breath. “No, I’m good. I was just wor—"
“Ophelia!”
My mother’s voice has my head snapping to where she’s coming out of the kitchen. Relief and happiness clear on her face as she walks through the living room in a pretty cream-colored ensemble. Right up until her eyes move to the person beside me and her brows lift. Beating us to the punch as her gaze drops to where his hand is resting on my hip a second before he drops it.
Her grin widens, gaze coming back to mine as she continues unrepentantly, “And a very handsome friend.”
“Kill me now.”
She shoots me a chastising look as my father comes out of the kitchen, wearing his work suit and clocking the vibe just as quickly as she did but apparently being a little more dubious about it. At least if the hitch in his step when his eyes land on Hayes is any indication.
Perfect.
My mother comes to a stop in front of me with her hands lifting to cup my cheeks. “Happy birthday, darling.” She leans in, brushing her nose back and forth across mine a couple of times like she used to do when I was little. “You have been so missed.”
