Only Oscar (Wattys 2022 Shortlist!)

Chapter Twenty-Two

She'd done a lot of soul-searching in the dark while she tried not to wake him. For several hours, she was a ghost-like time-traveler through her life, observing each major event. Oscar was there for it all, ever-dependable, ever-loyal, ever-faithful and consistently under-appreciated. She wondered how he'd put up with her, why he hadn't left at least a half-dozen times. Given the choice, she would have slapped her younger self on more than one occasion. 

But while she could have wallowed in the guilt of past sins or used them to renew her vow to make it up to him by being the perfect girlfriend, it was impossible to escape the cold, hard truth. Having surrendered her heart to him without being offered his in return, the emptiness inside her became a gaping black hole. She was being sucked into it and fading away, losing sight of herself. Trying to pretend she was someone she wasn't simply sped up the process and it had to stop before she disappeared.

Falling in love wasn't like she'd thought it would be. It wasn't a constant high which floated her around in a bubble of happiness. It had just as much to do with confronting fears and overcoming self-doubt, admitting she wanted to be loved for who she was and facing up to the fact that might not be enough for the man she was with. 

Talia was wrong about her. Life had knocked off some of her shine. Every time she let someone in, she got hurt. And she hadn't been in love then, not the way she loved Oscar. There were so many times she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, get as close to him as possible, then run away and hide. 

Contradictions, she was full of them. But like most people, she was the sum of a great many things and while not all of them were good, that was okay. She wasn't a bad person or unworthy. It wasn't her fault Oscar didn't feel the way she did. It wasn't his, either. It just was what it was.

Not that knowing that made it hurt any less.

When she ducked her chin down, he smoothed his hand over her hair, his voice a low rumble. "What is it?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"You know I hate when you do that."

"And you know I hate when you push," she warned quietly, her mouth curving into a sad, wistful smile.

When her gaze lifted and she discovered a similar smile on his lips, her chest tightened. Looking at his lean jaw, admiring the way his thick, dark hair fell over his forehead and searching his familiar baby blue eyes for a hint of the feelings she so badly needed to find, she knew she would never love anyone the way she loved him. But if he loved her the same way, he would know by now or at least suspect it and he hadn't said a thing. He hadn't talked about their future or made plans, organizing every little detail and writing lists the way he usually did.

It was a habit which used to drive her crazy and one she did her damnedest to help him break. But she'd never doubted the level of his commitment when he went there. She couldn't keep praying she was wrong or spend her life waiting for something that might never happen.

After they made love, when he looked at her with so much tenderness it turned her inside out, hope blossomed inside her. That's what she missed most during the sex drought. Not the skin to skin contact, the rising spiral of desire or the rapture of release, though those things were magical. It was the hope that one day he might realize he was in love with her. 

She had been clinging to that hope for all she was worth. But hope wasn't the wonderful thing people thought it to be. Hope could be an insidious liar. It built people up so they had further to fall. Hope could be crushed.

Callie learned that early in life, while waiting weekend after weekend for her dad, hoping he would spend time with her, tell her that no matter how many kids he had with the woman who wasn't her mom he would always love her, because she was his firstborn. 

Oscar was there to witness it. He tried to distract her with games and TV Shows and offered his favorite superhero toy to make her feel better. When he pushed her to come out and play instead of wasting her time waiting, she lost it with him and they had their first big fight. Through tears, he'd said he loved her and would never leave her, no matter what, because she was his best friend in the whole wide world. He'd begged her not to send him away. But she hadn't listened. She'd shouted at him, said she didn't love him, that she hated him and never wanted to see him again. She even threw his plastic superhero across the room and broke it against the wall. 

He disappeared for a long while afterwards and was twice as quiet and reserved when he returned, which was saying something, even then. But the only thing that mattered to Callie was that he did come back. He hadn't given up on her.

How could she not love him for that?

When she sent him away this time, she knew he wouldn't come back. This would be it, most likely why she kept putting it off. But while letting him go would destroy her, she couldn't hold him back. She didn't want to be his obstacle. She wanted him to be happy, to find someone he could love. 

Letting him go was the right thing to do. She just had to find the strength to do it.

"Tell me what's wrong," he said softly.

Callie bit her lip and blinked hard to keep the tears from her eyes. It might have been easier if she could get angry at him, if she didn't feel so broken and frayed.

"Talk to me," he said more firmly.

It sounded like a command and immediately put her back up. Had he forgotten everything he'd learned about her in the last twenty years?

"Don't," she said in a sandpaper voice. "Just take the hint and leave it alone."

Wriggling out of his arms, she got off the sofa and headed to the kitchen to pour a tall glass of water. After downing half of it, she looked at him again. He was sitting upright, elbows resting on his knees, head slightly bowed. Her gaze dropped from his slumped shoulders to his dangling hands. She remembered how they felt on her body, wondered if there would ever be a time when she could look at him without yearning for his touch. Then he pushed to his feet and she watched as he reached for the jacket he'd left lying on the back of a chair.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm taking the hint."

Callie stared at the sink. "Are you coming back?"

"Do you want me to?"

She didn't turn around, scared of what she would see if she did, afraid of what she might miss if she didn't. She shouldn't want him to stay. Why prolong the agony? 

But she was weak, so she nodded.

"I'll be late," his voice said. "Don't wait up."

Callie listened to his footsteps as he went down the hall. She heard the door open and, when it closed, sucked in a long, shuddering breath. She should have left things the way they were when they were friends. Except then she would never have known what it was like to be with him and no matter how bad things got, she couldn't regret that. He'd gifted her with some of the most magical moments of her life. They were infinitely precious to her now and she wouldn't trade them, not for anything.

When the first fat tear dropped off her chin into the sink, she swiped a dismissive hand over her damp cheeks. If she was going to get through this, she had to hold it together. Mourning the loss of her best friend could wait. She'd give it the time it deserved when he was gone, but until then she had to focus on gathering the strength she needed to get through what was coming.

So much for happily ever after.

Stupid goddamn Passion Pact. 

What a naive little fool she'd been to suggest it. Why hadn't one of the others smacked some sense into her? Talia immediately came to mind, cos smack-downs were her thing. When Callie tracked her down they were due a long talk. Preferably while getting dirty, stinking drunk.