Page 8 of The Casualty of Us
“Merci, maman,” I tease back in her native tongue, knowing it’s true.
Because if there’s one thing I inherited from my mother besides the average height and attitude, it’s my mind. That without a doubt came from her.
We’re twisty in all the ways my father and brother are too genuine to understand.
Loyal to a fault to the ones we truly love.
I never understood that before, loyal to a fault. How could loyalty ever be a fault? Even now I’m not sure I do. It’s more of an inkling. That little drip at the back of my mind warning me of a coming realization that I might not like.
But it took weeks for my father to forgive her after the kidnapping for not calling him or notifying the authorities when she got the ransom call. Instead, she handled things herself all while he was out of town and only alerted everyone after I had been recovered. I’ve never seen them fight like they did after that. That I do know. It’s factual in the same way that I knew they would be okay because he needs her like a tree does the rain. Loves her completely.
Twisty bits and all.
I told her thank you.
“There you are.” I grin in triumph, pulling Ollie’s favorite signed Patriots flag from the box and giving it a shake while informing her, “I’m putting Ollie’s prized possessions up for him while he grabs snacks.”
“You’re spoiling him too much lately.” The censure to her words makes me roll my eyes, knowing it’s true but unable tostop myself either. “And his protectiveness of you is growing to levels the world has yet to see, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, pulling the phone away from my ear to put it on speaker and set it on the edge of the bed.
“It’s understandable after everything,” she starts again with a sigh, and I grab the couple thumbtacks I already set out on the bed before climbing on top of it. “I just don’t want you two to allow it to develop into a habit, is all.”
“We’ve always been this way, Mom,” I toss back, walking to the head of the bed and lifting up onto my tiptoes. “You had twins, in case you forgot. I’m pretty sure Ollie has been protective since we were in utero, and I’ve always indulged him, which is why I let him be born first.” Still having to reach high to pin the right corner of the flag up, I blow out an irritated breath. “It’s just part of how we work.”
My defensiveness at any form of criticism of mine and Ollie’s relationship immediately flaring even as the grudging acknowledgment of her wisdom sets in. I mean, he did have an entire application process in place for if anyone even wanted to take me on a date by the time we went to high school.
“I am aware of the children I birthed and let loose upon this world, Ophelia,” she retorts, sarcasm heavy in her voice. “I’m just saying don’t allow him to get away with anything to the point where either one of your feelings is getting shoved to the side. Everyone needs boundaries, even family.”
“Noted.” I huff, finally getting the right corner pinned in place and dropping back down to argue. “But considering it’s only been a few months and that our entire lives have essentially been upended—”
“Ophelia—”
“I’m just saying you could consider giving us a pass,” I cut back in. “I think we’re allowed to be both overprotective and indulgent for the foreseeable future.”
“Attitude, Ophelia,” she chides softly. “I concede your point, though.” Silence comes from the phone then, and I take advantage of her pause, moving over to the left side of the bed and lifting back up to start the whole process over again. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to invalidate either of your feelings or force you to heal before you’re ready. Just be cognizant of it, is all.”
“Got it.”
“So,” she starts again, the lightness of her tone telling me that she’s trying to rally. “What did you think of Sutton? I know it’s been awhile since you’ve seen her.”
“She’s uh.” I lift even higher onto my tiptoes, leaning over the edge of the bed and trying to get the pin in place. “She’s nice, cheery, really happy to see us, I guess.”
“Well, she would be—”
“Please tell me I’m in the right place.”
A shriek leaves me at the unfamiliar male voice, and I jerk around to see who it is, instincts overriding my brain and momentarily making me forget that I’m suspended halfway over the side of the bed right up until my body goes airborne. Toppling over the side with gray and white flitting in my peripheral and landing on the hardwood floor with a loudthwack. My hip and ass battle it out over which will take the brunt of the fall as my hands grasp uselessly at the mattress and another loud clatter fills the air.
“Motherfucker!”
“Ophelia Sage!”
I groan at the dull pain in my hip that won the battle, blinking a couple times to clear it away before looking over at the cause of my fall. My eyes lock with a hazel pair that are glinting down at me with clear amusement and I go still for a split second before quickly moving them to run over the rest of him. Taking in the messy black hair that’s longer on the top and the dimples that frame the grin he’s aiming at me. The white Rolling Stones shirtand gray sweatpants he’s wearing contrast with his deep olive skin that’s all warm undertones, and the laces on his shoes hang undone. All of it adding up to something careless that makes it look like he just rolled out of bed.
I raise my gaze back up to his face and quickly take in the pretty features that most guys can’t pull off, but there’s a strength to his jaw and mouth that battles against it all to create something that’s…
Well.
