Page 203 of Mad Girl

It was Michael’s turn to squirm, the smile wiped clean from his face, his wide-eyed gaze piercing mine from across the table. Neither my dad nor John could look at you guys anymore, so I figured they were just really disappointed in you two. Nic sighed as he picked up his fork to resume eating again.

Outside, on the back patio steps, you plopped down next to me. “Did you enjoy yourself in there? Was that fun?”

I smirked. “It was, actually. You didn’t think I’d completely let you off the hook for not believing me, did you?”

You glared at me. “I wanted to believe you. In fact, I told Michael you sounded as if you were telling the truth over FaceTime. I worried over it for days. I⁠—”

“Was it really awful back home? With your adoptive dad?”

You blinked at the sudden change of topic. “It wasn’t great. But Michael being there…helped. Claire absolutely adored him. She claimed she could see some similarities between us.”

“You are similar,” I agreed, “in some ways.” I paused. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

You dropped your gaze to your hands. Studied your bracelets. Twisted them around your wrist. “I didn’t tell him.”

I sighed. “The longer you put it off, the harder it’ll be.”

“Claire thinks so, too. I tried telling him. I promise I did. I kept thinking, It’ll be okay. I’ll make him understand. But in the end…I couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?”

You hesitated a moment, then finally said, “After Claire showed him all those photos of me as a baby—of my mum, of our whole family together—he asked if I’d been adopted. And he was very hurt when I confessed that I was.”

I leaned back. “You never told him you were adopted?”

“No,” you said, closing your eyes.

“But he’s your best friend. No wonder he was hurt.”

“I know,” you groaned. “I know. And once I saw how upset he got over that, I hated to think of how he might react to the other thing.”

I sighed again—much deeper this time. “This secret of yours is killing my dad, by the way. He hates keeping something this huge from John.”

“You think I don’t realize that? Add this to the long list of reasons I’m indebted—” You paused, eyes narrowed. “Wait. Did Nic tell you that?”

“He knows that I know.”

“What?”

“I slipped and referred to Michael as your brother.”

Wild-eyed, you pushed a hand through your hair. “What if you’d done that in front of John or Libby?”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

You looked doubtful. “Jesus.”

“Oh—and he wants you back in therapy once the summer’s over.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry. I’m going, too. We’ll go back together.”

Panic washed over your face.

I patted your shoulder as I stood to head back inside. “Welcome back, Casey.”

LETTER TWENTY-ONE