Page 251 of Mad Girl

“Are you okay?” you asked, leaning back against the counter with your arms crossed.

“I will be,” I answered honestly. “It’s not like I loved him or anything. I just loved having one normal thing.” How, when I was with him, I could almost delude myself into believing I was normal.

You stared at me a beat too long before turning to the fridge.

“He told me how scary you were when you broke Greer’s hands last year. He said you went to a dark place.”

You froze, knuckles turning white around the fridge door handle. When you eventually turned around, holding my water bottle, you slowly lifted your gaze to mine.

“Do you regret it?” I asked.

“No,” you said quietly, setting the water beside my leg. “He almost took you away from me. If he had, I would definitely have killed him. They couldn’t have stopped me.”

My heart fluttered at the implication behind your words. He almost took you away from me. Like I belonged to you. “You would throw away your entire life—throw away any chance of having a future with your biological family—over that asshole?”

Your brows knit together, like the answer was obvious. “What good is my future if you’re not in it?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Hope exploded in my chest—the kind that’s tender and raw and painful to the touch. Like a fresh bruise. It’s the kind I always felt when I allowed myself to dream of a future with you.

And because my dad had recently become a stranger to me, it made me all the more desperate to dig—deep, deep down—into the darkest recesses of you. “In this future you speak of,” I said, “do I finally get to see the real Casey?”

“This,” you said with a perplexed little smile, “is the real me.”

“I don’t know. You’re still a mystery.”

“How so?” you asked, leaning back, fingertips resting on the edge of the counter, so very close to my barely-covered thighs.

And because I’d recently been rejected, this is the topic I chose.

“Well, for instance, even though I’ve spent the last couple of years counting your condoms⁠—”

“So you are still counting them,” you said, gaze flashing bright.

“—you’re very careful to hide that part of yourself from me.”

“Which part?”

“The part of you that thinks about sex. The part of you that…wants it. Or wants anything, for that matter. Like, what gets you all tingly and hot?” I asked, fisting your jacket with both hands and pulling you closer, trapping your hips between my knees. “What do you crave? What makes you feel like your skin is on fire? And what’s the one thing capable of putting that fire out?”

Your gaze swept over my face, snagging on my mouth. When you licked your lips, heat flickered low in my stomach.

“Sienna, for instance,” I said, slowly dragging the zipper down on your jacket. I slipped my hand inside, sliding my fingers over hard muscle. Your breathing accelerated, your heart beating fast. “She’s seen a secret part of you I’ve never seen. You won’t let me see it.”

“How”—eyes closed, scratching at your forehead—“do you propose I show you this side of myself?”

“Well, see, I’m a girl, and you’re a guy⁠—”

“Oh?” You made a scoffing sound. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

“—and I think we’re attracted to each other⁠—”

“You think?”

“—but we don’t ever talk about it. We barely even flirt. We’ve spent, like, a million hours alone together, and not once have I ever gotten any I’d-like-to-rip-off-your-clothes vibes from you.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”