Page 155 of Mad Girl

“The one on your lip?”

“Yeah. He stroked it like you do. And the one from the stabbing—on my neck?—he put his thumb to that one, too.”

“When?”

Michael stopped to think about it. “Not too long after we met. Why?”

So you’d done all this before you knew he was your brother, then.

“No reason,” I said. “Did it…weird you out?”

He shrugged. “Any other guy, I would’ve shoved back and been like, ‘What the fuck, dude?’ But with him…it didn’t bother me. I’ve always felt more comfortable with Casey than I have any other guy in my life, so I—I don’t know—I can’t describe it, really.”

I can, I wanted to say. He’s your brother.

But I didn’t. Instead, I turned Michael’s face to mine and stroked that scar for myself, trying to imagine the moment you did the same. Were you curious to see what it felt like? To feel that tiny ridge beneath your thumb? Or was it the intimacy behind the gesture that appealed to you? Touching a place on Michael very few people ever got close enough to touch?

Before I could fully register what was happening, Michael pulled my hand from his face and kissed me. I nudged him back. “Michael…”

“He told me what you did.”

“Who?”

“Casey. He said you met with Sienna, told her the earring she found at my apartment was yours, and made it clear I didn’t cheat on her.”

“Well, I couldn’t let her think something awful about you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Michael looked genuinely pained by this.

“I figured she would’ve told you herself.”

“Nope. She used that incident to get her way. She wanted an open relationship, and that’s how she finally talked me into it.”

What a horrible bitch, I thought.

“You were looking out for me,” he said softly. “Like you always do. And you were right—Sienna’s not a good person.”

“Neither am I, Michael.”

He stroked my braid. “You’re one of the best people I know.”

My throat tightened. “That’s not true.”

“Then why I am so in love with you?”

“I think when I stabbed you—and you fell out from the shock—you probably hit your head.”

Michael tossed his head back, laughing so loud I shushed him. “Oh my God,” he said, swiping at the corners of his eyes when he finally stopped shaking from laughter. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Stop saying that.”

“No,” he said, taking my face in his hand. “When I picture my future, you’re all I see. Your hair’s down, you’re wearing this hot black dress that makes you look like a total badass, you’re stroking my lip as you tell me goodbye, and I’m so happy. I’m happy because I know you’ll come back, and we’ll be together, and no matter what’s going on in my life, you’ll make it better.”

“Stop it,” I whispered.

“Why?”

“Since when do I make anything better? What you described is a pipe dream, Michael. It’s a delusion.”