Page 94 of The Casualty of Us
“Your daughter is going running again.”
Ollie’s tense voice fills the air, and I just about throw my mug right then and there.
“Oh?” She lifts a brow at him, coming around the island beside Talan and grabbing a mug from the cabinet there. “Is she no longer your sister?”
He pauses. “Not when she’s gone off the deep end.”
I clench my fingers around the mug tighter, that knot in my chest giving a sharp twist.
My mom sighs wearily. “Oliver—”
“Mom!” His voice fills the room sharply. All that frustration we’re trapped in breaking free for just a second, and God, do I understand that. “You can’t let her keep doing this! She’s going to get herself fucking killed!”
Crash.
The shards of my mug fly through the air before clattering to the ground like the pieces of Ollie’s words in my head, tea spilling down the wall right next to where Talan’s head was a split second ago. Everyone is silent as my chest rises and falls sharply with my breaths echoing through my own ears.
I suck down some more air, trying to center myself, and toss out in the general direction of Talan’s shocked face, “Those reflexes need some work.” Quickly turning to my mother and seeing how she’s studying me carefully. “I’m going for a run.”
Her gaze holds mine, and I know she sees it.
The way I’m dying inside by the second at this point.
She has to because I know she would be too.
It takes her a second, but eventually she gives me a slow nod. “Okay, darling, make sure to eat something for me.”
And this time when I blow out a breath, it’s nothing but pure relief. “Of course.”
“Mom!” Ollie shouts. “You can’t—she’s going to—”
“Oliver.” Her eyes snap to him. “I will talk to you in a minute.”
“She goesthere, Mom, there—”
“Olli—”
The doorbell rings, and everyone goes still with the energy of the room shifting into something anxious as they all look between each other. Naturally excluding me from their little party of concern since I’ve made my views clear.
Because apparently I’m the only one who understands how this game is supposed to work, and he won’t be reaching out for now.
They made sure of that, or, I guess I did, didn’t I?
Either way, though, they should have listened to me.
I told them he wouldn’t want to play with them.
I scoot the stool back from the island, popping the bubble that’s overtaken the room and reminding everyone, “Running. I’m going to get dressed.”
“Of course.” My mother’s brows pinch, and she hums while walking around the island to wrap her arms around me with a hug while whispering. “You don’t move the mountain, darling.”
The same thing she’s been reminding me all summer.
Of will versus reality. To keep in mind what a realistic expectation is here.
To remember that no one who tries to move the mountain wins, and I have…just maybe not in the way she intended.
Immediately jumping to tunnels instead.
