Page 4 of The Casualty of Us
One of the front doors opens, and a middle-aged woman with black, coiffed hair steps out dressed in an emerald blouse and black pencil skirt, smiling broadly at our car and giving us a little wave as she takes the first step down the stairs.
“Do you remember her at all?”
Ollie’s question pulls my gaze to where he’s staring out the window with his face scrunched up in concentration.
“Aunt Sutton?” The familial moniker feels foreign on my tongue, and I look back to see the woman who is one of my mother’s oldest friends waiting at the bottom of the stairs for us now. Her hands are clasped delicately in front of her skirt and she stands with a small smile while maintaining distance.
A move that I appreciate, as this past summer has left me with the sense of constantly being rushed from one thing to the next while trying to avoid anyone with a camera.
“Not really.” I shrug, searching my memories. “I remember her being around more when we were younger, before she took the dean position here.”
“Same,” he mutters, reaching over to snag his leather backpack from where it sits on the seat beside him.
“She was always nice, though,” I add, grabbing mine from where it’s resting next to my feet with a grin. “Gave great Christmas presents, remember?”
His eyes meet mine, lighting up at the memory. “The drums.”
“The drums,” I echo with a soft laugh, vaguely remembering the grimacing that took place after our “aunt” had given us each a drum set for our eighth birthday. “Think we might’ve missed our calling there.”
“Never too late, O.” He chuckles, pushing open the door and stepping out before standing back to wait for me with a face full of mischief. “The rock star life would suit you.”
“True.” I step out and cock my head to the side while looking up to where he stands a good eight or so inches taller than me these days. “Think of all the hot guys I could bang as an international rock star.”
His face immediately falls. “Not funny.” He turns toward Sutton while muttering under his breath, “No banging will be taking place on my watch.”
I snort a laugh as he takes off, leaving me hurrying to catch up before quipping back, “You too, right?”
Because that was just mean of him.
He comes to a sudden stop, tipping his head back. “Kill me now.”
“Sorry, Ollie.” I reach up to flick his nose while passing him by. “Couldn’t live without my other half.”
“Ophelia!”
Aunt Sutton smiles openly with the greeting and closes the remaining distance between us, quickly wrapping me in a hug that takes me a couple of seconds to return. Awkward at the close contact and obvious warmth from someone I don’t remember all that well. Clearly she isn’t a bubble person, though.
“Look at you.” She steps back with a happy sigh before lifting her fingers to the ends of my brown waves and looking me over as if checking for injuries. “All grown up.”
“Yep,” I drag out, forcing my lips up a bit. “I hear that’s how it happens.”
Not really sure what I’m supposed to say but not wanting to be rude either.
“Yes, yes,” she hurries, finally letting go of my hair and allowing me the space to take a breath again. “Don’t mind me.I’m just so thankful to see you doing well after, well—” Her words come to a stumbling stop, and my mind supplies the rest of it into the empty space.
The kidnapping.
After the kidnapping.
Right.
She turns to Oliver then, quickly regaining her previous smile and holding out her arms again. “And Oliver!”
“Aunt Sutton.” He steps into her hug with much more ease than I did, turning his head to shoot a smug look my way. “So good to see you again.”
I stick my tongue out at him behind her back and hitch my backpack up higher as they break apart, fully ready to get a move on with this now.
“Well.” She looks between the two of us like we’re Christmas morning come to life. “I made sure you both arrived an hour earlier than the next round of students moving in so that I could be available to show you around.”
