Page 177 of The Casualty of Us
“That’s the first time you’ve ever called me your boyfriend.” His brows start to lower before he flinches just a bit, reminding me of myself a couple months ago and making me drop my hand as he clarifies. “Publicly. To someone else.”
“Yeah, well.” I clear my throat at the realization that he’s right, gaze skittering down and seeing the first aid suppliesTalan left out. “It’s not like he’s going to take out a billboard.” I start to collect all the items up in my arms for something to do before glancing back up at him. “I am his paycheck after all.”
“No.” He tips his head at me thoughtfully. “He cares about you,” I start to shift a little uncomfortably at the insinuation and he answers it with a hint of dimples. “Not like that, I can tell, and trust me, I wouldn’t ever leave him alone with you if I thought it was like that but…” His brows drop for a split second with another quick flinch. “He does care. It makes me feel better.”
Something about the words is heavier than usual and makes my heart kick up again as our gazes hold, silence leading to the inevitable as I whisper softly. “What happened?”
He swallows visibly, voice dropping to something tight that has my stomach immediately filling with nerves. “She had her new fiancé come over this morning. Told me they were engaged about two seconds before he showed up and had a fancy brunch all set up.” A sharp scoff leaves him. “He started to go on about his track record in wealth management, but the guy was nothing more than a piece of shit user and I could tell.” His words cut out, face falling and he takes a deep breath to tell me the rest but I can already see where it’s going. “My mom said what a great idea it would be if he took over control of managing my trust when I gain full access to it in a couple of years.” I scowl openly at that, and his next breath brings a short laugh with it. “I told her that would be a hard no.” And the sound is just painful when it comes again before he starts to rattle off emptily, “She said that I should rethink that since I shouldn’t even be getting behind the wheel of a car, and I told her to fuck off.”
“Good.” I step into him, uncaring of the first aid supplies I’m crushing, and a breath of relief leaves me as his arms immediately wrap around my waist. “Good, I’m glad.”
“We were all standing at that point.” His arms tighten around me. “The guy started to yell at me not talk to my mom like thatand I told him to fuck off too.” I press myself harder against him, knowing that I’m interfering now whether he likes or not as he finishes quietly. “He shoved me, so I clocked him, and apparently slimeball hedge fund managers can occasionally hit back.”
“Useful to know,” I murmur, turning my head to press it against his chest and listening to the steady thump there before offering, “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” He clears his throat quickly. “I left while she was still screaming and turned my phone off on the way to the airport.”
His hands squeeze my waist, and I breathe him in, wanting to fix it and ease the pain I know will always be there regardless. “I am happy you’re here, though.”
“Me too, Freckles.” A deep sigh leaves him. “Me too.”
I feel the way his body starts to relax, and it has me immediately teasing, “Want to take care of that cut now or after a shower?” Not only wanting him all wrapped around me right now to ease my own lingering panic but also trying to take some of the pain away for him. “You might be able to convince me to join you if you choose option two.”
“I’d hope so.” He exhales a sudden laugh before pulling back, and I tip my head back to meet his amused gaze. “Want to tell me why you look like the little old woman that lives in the shoe right now?”
Oh fuck.
His brows fall hard when my mouth pops open, part of my brain momentarily cataloging that I never changed out of my pajama set this morning, only threw on a sweatshirt and stuck a pen in my hair to keep it out of the way.
The other part, though…
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
It’s everywhere. Literally—
“Let’s go get you settled in the guest room.”
“What?”
“Yeah, Ollie and my parents will be back tomorrow for Christmas Eve, and we’ll even have eggnog and presents and joy—”
“Ophelia Sage.” His fingers press hard into my waist. “Why the fuck do you look like I’m about to have to start spanking you?”
Oh fuck.
I blink up at him, running the chances of me getting out of this, but as his eyes fall to slits and my stomach gives a flip…
“I’m so sorry.” I drop the collection of first aid supplies and he jumps back in surprise right before I whip around and launch myself into another sprint. Almost tripping at the sound of his quiet laugh that comes a beat later, trailing behind me as I damn my stupid fuzzy socks to hell, and barely getting out of the kitchen before he calls out softly…
“Run fast, baby.”
Some mixture of nerves and anticipation shoots through me at his words, and my heart not only kicks up but starts to fully run away with them. Tingles erupt all over my skin from a burst of adrenaline and I pump my legs hard up the stairs with the pen falling from my hair to land with aclack. My mind unhelpfully supplies that these are not the actions of a person who plans on spilling all their secrets, but that voice though…it was soft, but he meant it, and after the day he’s had to find out all the dirty details of exactly what I’ve been doing—
His feet hit the bottom of the stairs when I’m just about halfway up, making my stomach take a plunge and my ass practically feel like it has a target on it.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I reach for the top of the stairs like it’s going to help me get there faster, clearing them to the sound of him thundering upbehind me and knowing that I am without a doubt so screwed. Some primal instinct is making me run for it anyway, though, arguing that I can at least lessen the initial shock. Maybe get the bookshelf turned around before he gets there so that I can break it all down for him piece by piece and make it seem not quite so scary.
