Page 114 of The Casualty of Us
A soft sound escapes me with the curse this time, and he looks back as Mia finally shuts the door, just about a split second before something snaps in me and I launch myself at him. Throwing my arms around shoulders that somehow seem a little wider than the last time I saw him and letting my eyes fall closed. Squeezing him hard and just letting myself breathe. Something in me unravels at the contact, practically sighing in relief as the cedar works its way up my nose and his hands immediately go to my waist. Fingers pressing in for a moment before I bury my head in his shoulder and he slides them around to wrap me up fully.
“Missed you too, Freckles.”
The hushed words have a little hiccup escaping even as I mutter into his shirt, “I didn’t say that.”
“Okay.” A puff of laughter tickles the hair against my ear. “Whatever you want to go with.”
“Holy shit,” I breathe for a third time, the ache in my throat making me let go and push him back by the shoulders. Running my eyes over every inch of him and taking in the shift. The hair that’s a bit longer all around than last year and swept back off his head. The grungy black jeans and distressed gray Age of Aquarius shirt that are practically screamingrock star spawn. How his skin is tanner than mine could ever hope to be and how I’m pretty sure he hit that last growth spurt because he just seemsbigger.
More sure of himself, maybe…but there’s a shift.
I can see it plain as day, just like I can see the nick that’s still there through his right eyebrow and the dimples that are cutting deep for me. How the hazel has been tracking the path of the blue and waiting for me to come back to him.
“You’re here.”
He lifts a brow, one hand letting go of my waist to reach off the bed slightly. “Happy early birthday, Ophelia Sage,” he whispers, hand reappearing with his fingers wrapped around the handle of an oversized forest green gift bag that’s bursting with white tissue paper as I stare a little blankly again. “You never mentioned the Christmas one, so I figured I’d go big this time.”
“I never opened it.”
The words pass from my mind to my lips without thought, and he pauses for a split second before clearing his throat. “Should’ve expected that one.”
That’s not what has my attention, though.
It’s the left hand that’s wrapped around the gift.
“What the fuck is that?”
I snatch up his hand, staring down at the black ink covering his middle finger there and wondering if something in the night made me go off the deep end. Because there’s no way—
“Breathe, Ophelia.”
I purse my lips, inhaling sharply through my nose and glancing up at him. “Please tell me this isn’t permanent.”
His eyes flare for a beat before narrowing, and the next thing I know, he’s tackling me down into the covers. The gift bag topples over next to us, spilling its contents across the bed as he lays his upper half completely on top of mine. Giving me just enough room to turn my head and get a peek of a variety of tea boxes in different languages strewn everywhere. He props himself up on an elbow, and I turn my head back to find him staring down at me. His gaze filled with something like…contentment, maybe, but it’s something that I’m not sure I want to look at too long.
“There’s one from every city I went to this summer.” He jerks his head toward where the tea boxes are scattered. “Black, of course, but I wanted you to be able to try them all.”
“Oh.”
“This though.” Something nervous flickers across his face before his now-tattooed hand reappears with a delicate gold necklace hanging from it. “Is apparently made by three sisters who only work under the full moon.” My eyes follow the path of the chain that has pearls dotting it down to where a circular pendant sits, the entirety of it inlaid with a green mosaic and surrounded by more pearls. “It could be total bullshit, but the jeweler made it sound all mystical, and it made me think of you.”
I look back up to where the ink is lying against his skin, struck by the sense of playing catch-up, and staring at the cross running the length of his middle finger. The wordfaithis over the top half of the cross, and using the cross for the letter t, with the bottom havingreligionthere, just using the cross as the l instead.
The things we whispered in the dark right there on his skin, permanently.
He’s really limiting his options here.
“Why’d you get it?” I lift my gaze back up to find him looking me over carefully. “The tattoo.”
Because even hungover and playing catch-up, my brain latches on to that first.
He looks up, lifting his other hand to brush a piece of hair back off my face with a low rasp. “I wanted a reminder to keep my faith pure.” His eyes come back to mine with his fingers moving to smooth out the scowl that’s trying to appear. “To never let the world taint it again.”
“Yes.” I frown, snuggling down a little more with a chill as the hangover sets in and trying to fully accept that he’s actually here. “It’s something I said, though, roughly.”
“Do you not like it?”
His dimples try to twitch back to life, and I squint at him with my mind jerkily making a comeback. “That’s not what I said.”
