Page 68 of The Casualty of Us
“She said that she would make it better—” He gasps, quickly choking out, “She said that as long as I agreed to keep her house as my address and kept coming to see her during breaks that she would make it go away. That—” His eyes slam closed, and my heart clenches up fully this time, knowing he’s guilty still but unable to pull back either. “That she would fix it. That things would be different.” He opens them back up, nostrils flaring with a breath before finishing. “But to not forget who fixed it.”
It’s a moment of blinding clarity as the seconds tick by with everything about him reordering itself in my head. The space stretching out between his hazel and my blue slightly less fraught with tension and quickly being replaced by something raw I can’t quite put my finger on yet. Because part of him never made it out of there…is still six years old and trapped living in the smoke-clogged fear.
Suffocating while desperately trying to get any kind of attention.
That I can understand.
That I can…accept, if not forgive.
“I’m sorry.” I frown, quickly blurting out to fill the silence, “That’s terrible—I, uh, I—” His brows shoot down at my stuttering, and I try to sort through this need to be careful with him that I don’t know what to do with now before adding nervously, “I’m sorry. About all of it. I understand how something like that can have long-term effects.”
His eyes narrow on mine in the beat that follows, and I dart mine down to avoid the scrutiny there.
“But…” he exhales slowly.
I shake my head quickly, glancing up from under my lashes. “No buts.”
“Just say it, O,” he scoffs softly around my letter with a barely there show of dimples. “You might as well get it off your chest now.”
I blink at him, pursing my lips for a second before giving in. “But…” The breath seems to leave me with the word, and I give him a small shrug. “Terrible things happen to everyone, and people have shitty parents all the time.” His face quickly empties in a way that has me hurrying out, “And yes, I am sorry for you, and yes—” I drop my eyes to where his hands are resting on the table while trying to work it out. “I don’t know what half of that equation is like, but…” My brows fall into the start of a scowl because I know what I want to say, but I’m already thrown right now. Stuck in that space of second-guessing myself based off of the complexities of human beings.
My mother would love that.
I clear my throat and look back up to find him eyeing me intently. “You can’t sit there and not also acknowledge that you’re one of the luckiest people in the world.” His eyes flare with surprise, and I clear my throat again, waving a hand at him impatiently now that I’ve committed to it. “You want to be better, right? That’s what you said? Be a good person?”
He nods slowly. “Yeah…”
“Then don’t let your pain become the crutch you use to excuse your failings.” I lift my eyes to where a few strands of black are falling over his forehead. “Use it instead.” My gaze drops back to his hazel one, and I try to hide the pleading fighting to creep into my own voice while finishing softly. “You are one of the very few people in this world who’s been born into a position to choose your own story, so don’t throw it away.”
I look down with a quick blink when his lips part, grabbing my silverware for something to do as he adds quietly, “I’ll take that under advisement.” Barely a second passes before his voice comes again. “I’d like to add something.”
The silence stretches on this time until I glance up at him from under my lashes, his gaze capturing mine with that intensity filling it again. “I realized something this past week or so.”
I narrow my eyes instinctively. “What’s that?”
“I think you want someone to fight you.” He shakes his head before giving me a quick flash of dimples and finishing a little smugly. “I don’t think you’d ever respect someone who couldn’t stand up to you.”
I hold his gaze for another beat before looking down at my food and starting to cut into things randomly. Trying to buy myself a few more seconds to come to terms with it all now and failing to recategorize him in my head.
Because peace requires sacrifice, and he’s not the only one who owes something here.
“The prince should fear the people too, you know?” I toss out, pushing through the nerves that have my stomach flipping over itself. “They outnumber him a hundred to one, and a sword always cuts both ways, that’s their power.” I finally bring my hands to a stop and blink up to see him staring at me carefully. “I think there’s a mutual respect in that, in knowing that you both either thrive or perish at the hands of the other. It allows for a balance.” I clear my throat, looking back down and moving my food around with another admission. “I also personally believe that people should hold their leaders to a higher moral code than anyone else…even themselves.”
His silence stretches on long enough to have me sneaking a peek back up in time to catch the lift of his brows..
“Which is why I would never be one in any official capacity like that,” I hurry to add. “I’ll make my mark in other ways, but…” My fingers tighten around the silverware. “I can forget sometimes that the means matter.” I give him a small shrug while considering my next words. “It’s a flaw that I’m usuallyself-aware enough to control, but there are moments when it can get away from me.” Needing him to understand but not wanting to risk anything more of myself. “Ollie usually pulls me back.”
And then I look back down, taking my first bite without saying anything more.
“I see, right.” He clears his throat. “Thanks for, uh…whatever that was.”
It’s not until another couple of seconds pass that he pushes casually.
“So what do you say, Freckles? Same time tomorrow?”
I chew my food slowly to escape having to answer, and he sighs loudly.
“Bring me a book you think would be beneficial for me to read while passing my time in exile.”
