Page 42 of The Casualty of Us
“Sorry.” I clear my throat quickly. “It’s fine. Thanks for telling me.”
“Ophelia,” she tries again. “I don’t know what actually happened, apparently they were drinking, but I thought you should know.”
And I can’t take the pity in her voice, can’t stand it actually.
“It’s fine, Marley.” I force the words out. “We weren’t even dating.” A sudden tightness in my throat that makes me spit out quickly, “He can do whatever he wants.”
Not wanting her to hear the wobble I know is coming.
“O.”
“Merry Christmas.”
I quickly end the call before she can reply and close my eyes, clutching the pillow under my head so tightly that it hurts my hands. Wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep and pretend the past five minutes never happened. To turn back time to when the thought of the black present underneath the tree downstairs didn’t make me sick.
To block it all out.
I hear my door open another minute later and lay perfectly still, not moving an inch as soft footsteps pad over to my bed, because the last thing I want to do right now is start Christmas. I haven’t managed to turn back the clock yet. I haven’t managed to make sense of being so wrong about the guy who spent an entire semester waiting every morning with my perfect tea order.
The guy who wouldn’t even kiss me because he didn’t want to fuck it up—didn’t want to dothis.
He wasn’t even supposed to be there.
He was supposed to be in LA.
He wasn’t supposed to—how could I—
The bed dips beside me, and the next thing I know, Ollie is there, smelling like fresh laundry and home and making me swallow past the throbbing in my throat. Trying to keep the cry trapped there. He wraps an arm around me and slowly pries the hand I have clutching the pillow loose to wind our fingers together.
It’s another couple of minutes, though, before he gives it a squeeze. “Marley called me.”
“She shouldn’t have,” I choke out. “It’s no big deal. I’m—”
“Fine, right,” he scoffs, another squeeze following. “Still going to kick his ass, though.”
And even though I shouldn’t, even though he doesn’t deserve it, I still beg becauseIneed it right now. “Don’t. I just want everything to go back to normal.” I suck in a deep breath to trap another hiccup in my chest. “Please Ollie, please, I just want everything to be normal. I just—”
“Okay, okay.” His arm tightens around me and my fingers do the same to his hand. “Everything will be okay.” He makes a little hushing noise. “Everything will go back to normal. I promise.”
“Okay.” I breathe sharply in relief. “Okay.”
Because it’s what I need right now.
To go back to a time when his stupid flirting and sad rock star baby life hadn’t earned him a spot in my heart yet. To go back to when I didn’t care about him.
“Okay.” Ollie presses a kiss to the back of my head. “It’ll all be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Okay,” I repeat numbly. “Can we go back to bed now?”
“Yeah.” He blows out wearily. “We’ll try Christmas again in a few hours.”
I nod against my pillow and snuggle back closer to him. My eyes still stubbornly shut and refusing to face anything else that might be waiting on my phone for me. Trying so damn hard to just slip back into sleep, but that choking in my throat and the tightness in my chest just won’t let up. Not until the first tear slips silently down my cheek a few more minutes later and Ollie’s arm tightens around me with it.
Somehow knowing that I’m finally accepting the reality of the after.
That the tears are falling even though he can’t see them.
It takesan hour of silent tears and then another of sleep before Ollie convinces me to set the douchebag aside, his words, not mine, and start Christmas. When we finally appear downstairs, it’s to the curious eyes of both our parents and their lifted brows to each other that are probably having an entire conversation. Ollie quickly dives into distraction mode after that, though. Tossing presents around and somehow making a grin rise to my lips even with how my eyes are still aching.
