Page 119 of Mending Hearts


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Thepleaseguts me.

I hit Call before I can talk myself out of it. It rings once. Twice. He answers on the second ring.

“Ollie.” His voice is low and controlled.

“Hey,” I say, and it comes out broken.

There’s a pause, like he’s holding himself back from launching into a thousand things at once.

He lands on: “Talk to me, baby.”

I let out a breath that’s half laugh, half sob. “Fuck. It’s bad.”

“Hey,” he says, steadying. “I’ve got you. Talk to me.”

I close my eyes hard. “I’m so sorry,” I blurt. “I didn’t—this isn’t what I wanted?—”

“Stop.” The word cracks sharp. Not at me. At the situation. At the universe.

I open my eyes, and Cass is watching me with a fury that looks almost protective.

Rafe’s voice drops lower. “This is not on you.”

“It’s my parents,” I whisper.

“I know,” he says, and the anger in those two words makes my stomach flip. “I saw it.”

My words stall. “They outed… our marriage.”

“I know,” he says, and then there’s a beat—his breath changing—like he’s trying not to say something violent.

“Rafe—”

“I’m pissed,” he says, blunt. “I’m so fucking pissed at them, Ollie.”

The relief of hearing that—of hearing him angry on our behalf—hits me so hard I almost sag in my chair.

“I’m jumping on the first flight tomorrow,” he says.

My heart stutters. “You don’t have to?—”

A familiar sound comes through the line, the one I’ve always heard when he’s rolling his eyes without needing to say it.

“Ollie.”

“Rafe, it’s not fair?—”

“It’s not about fair,” he says. “It’s about you being alone in that house with cameras outside and the entire internet dissecting your life.”

“I’m not alone,” I say quickly, because I need him to know it.

Cass lifts a brow likedamn right.

“Cass is here,” I add. “He came over. He brought food. He’s—” I swallow hard. “He’s being Cass.”

Rafe exhales, relief threaded through tension. “That’s good.” They’ve never met before, but I shared some of the texts I received from Cassius over the past few days.

Then, unexpectedly, his voice shifts. Softer. “Cass,” he calls, like he’s speaking toward the room. I switch my phone to loudspeaker.