Page 16 of Mad Girl

“Living with us? Why?”

Nic stood and took my arm, leading me to the settee. “Listen,” he said, taking a seat next to me. “I can’t keep leaving you at the Harrises’, and you fought me on the nanny. With Casey here, you’ll have someone to keep you company after school. When I work late, you’ll have someone to eat dinner with, someone to help you with homework. He⁠—”

“Wait. Are you saying you’re letting him live here so he can watch me?”

“He’s not here to watch you,” Nic said. “Think of him more like…a companion.”

“But he’s a total stranger! We don’t even know him that well.”

“Oh, I know all I need to know,” Nic said confidently, and knowing my dad, he’d taken a fine-tooth comb to your life, Casey. Likely interrogated the shit out of you, too. But still.

“You act like I’m not allowed to date until college, yet you plan to leave me here, all alone, with a boy who looks”—I paused here, clearing my throat—“the way he does, and the potential ramifications of that don’t concern you?”

“Not at all,” Nic said. “That won’t be a problem.”

“He’s not gay, Dad. I saw him checking out Tinsley’s mom.”

“Still,” Nic said, unperturbed. “It won’t be a problem. You can trust me on this.”

I reared back—both shocked and, honestly, kind of offended. But I considered this, too: Nic might’ve threatened you.

“Okay,” I said. “Well, what if I don’t want him here? What about that?”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter,” Nic said. “This is final.”

“I’m seventeen. I don’t need a fucking companion.”

“I’m not leaving you here alone, Elliot. You can fight me on this, but you won’t win—not this time. Casey is here to stay, and it would be nice if you could accept that.”

“He’s a stranger!” I cried. “You’re moving a complete stranger into our house—on the floor below mine—and you’re completely disregarding my feelings, Dad! Do you even hear yourself? This is my house, too, and I get no say? None at all? You want me to just sit back and accept it?”

With a sigh, Nic plucked my hand off my lap and squeezed it between both of his. “Everything I do, I do for you. All I’m asking is that you do this one—admittedly big, but very important—thing for me. We’ve been having a rough time lately. We need a change.” In a soft, reassuring voice, he added, “He could be good for us.”

As Nic squeezed my hand, his eyes filled with something I hadn’t seen there maybe ever: hope.

And that didn’t just bother me, Casey—it hurt. It felt like Nic was saying our little family wasn’t complete. That I wasn’t enough for him. That we weren’t doing well because of me—because of the problems I caused—and he needed a change. He needed you there for him. Maybe for his sake the most.

“Good for us?” I repeated, jerking my hand away. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I retreated upstairs, where I stewed for hours, so angry I left little red crescent moons in the palms of my hands.

Do you remember your first night with us, Casey?

I skipped having dinner with you guys, because my dad needed to face facts. I wasn’t accepting shit. I did have a choice. When I skipped dinner for the foreseeable future and stopped talking to him altogether, he’d realize what a giant mistake he’d made by moving you in with us.

Later that night, when I knocked on your bedroom door, you answered wearing those blue-striped pajama pants, a white t-shirt that stretched nicely across your chest, and a pair of jet-black reading glasses.

In a shocking turn of events, the glasses made you even more attractive, the same way every actor who plays Superman also makes one smokin’ hot Clark Kent. For a good thirty seconds, I stood there, frozen, gaping like an idiot, forgetting why I’d knocked on your door in the first place.

With one hand on the doorknob and the other shoved inside the pocket of your pajama pants, you waited a few seconds before saying, “Yes?”

I drew air into my lungs. “Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t want you here. This is my house, and you don’t belong. If you choose to stay, I’ll make your life a living hell, and that’s a promise.”

You sighed. “He warned me you would do this.”

“And I warned you the first time we met—you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Your head cocked to one side. “Well, that’s not actually true, now is it? I have some idea, thanks to the stories you’ve told, and what you haven’t told me, your dad has. I know what you’ve done, Elliot, and I’m not afraid. This act of yours might frighten other people, but it doesn’t frighten me.”

“It’s not an act,” I said through clenched teeth.