Page 288 of Mad Girl

“Anyway, I walked in, saw the coffee on the floor, and immediately panicked—I’m not sure why, I just had this strange feeling something wasn’t quite right—so I started calling your name. I noticed the basement door ajar, so I peered down there and saw you kneeling at the bottom of the stairs, clutching the back of your head. I rushed down and helped you up, closed the door down there⁠—”

“I don’t remember that door being open.”

You pulled your hand from my face. “Well, it was. You must’ve opened it for some reason.”

I didn’t think I had. I’d never opened the exterior basement door in my life. But my memories of that whole day were fuzzy and indistinct, like they were covered in gauze, so I decided to drop it. “What else happened?”

“You asked me what I was still doing here. You said I should be in England already, meeting my new baby nephew—which is when I first realized your injury was far more serious than it appeared to be.”

“What else did I say?”

“You kept saying you had a headache, kept asking for your dad, kept telling me I needed to go now or I’d miss my flight. You were stuck on this endless loop, repeating the same things over and over. I grabbed my phone, ready to ring your dad, but then he walked through the door, all agitated, like he already knew something bad had happened.”

My first thought was: How did he know?

“Hal took us to hospital,” you went on, “and you started on a new loop of questions once we got there. Every few minutes, you panicked about being in hospital and asked to go home. When the doctor asked how old you were, you told him you were seventeen. I walked away for a few minutes to take a call from Michael, and you asked me again: ‘What are you doing here, Casey? Shouldn’t you be in England meeting your new baby nephew?’” You stopped and sighed. “It was incredibly frustrating. And it scared the hell out of me.”

I pushed myself up—and the room began to spin, pinpricks of light bursting before my eyes. Bracing my hand against the back of the sofa, I waited for the dizzy spell to pass. You quickly moved to my side, asking if I was okay.

“I’m fine,” I said, opening my eyes. “Sorry I scared you.”

You lifted my hand to your mouth, then pressed your lips to the base of my thumb. “I’ve never been more terrified in my life.” More kisses, sprinkled across my palm. Your other hand, pushing up the sleeve of my sweater, softly stroking my arm. You sprinkled kisses there, too, returning again and again to the inside of my wrist. Each one sent chills racing through my body. “I thought you’d lost it all. Two whole years. Practically our entire history together.” A muscle in your jaw twitched. Something like determination flickered across your face. “I’m sleeping on the other sofa tonight. I’m not leaving your side.”

“Until Wednesday, you mean.”

“Not then, either. I’m staying right here. I’ve already texted Claire to let her know I’m not coming.”

“Casey,” I said, trying to pull my arm back, but your grip tightened. “You need to go home and see your family. It’s Christmas.”

“This is my home now, and I’m not leaving you.”

“But my dad’ll be here. I’ll be fine.”

You shook your head, still cradling my hand to your chest. “No.”

“Casey, you already made plans.”

“I’m staying,” you said, eyes especially blue as they clung to mine. “You don’t get to tell me where I belong at Christmas, Elliot.”

“Okay,” I said, but you continued.

“I’ve already made up my mind,” you said, your tone accusatory. “This is what I want, and nothing you say will change that.”

“Okay,” I repeated softly. “It’s not that I don’t want you here. I just don’t want you missing Christmas with Claire because you feel obligated to stay with me.”

“I don’t feel obligated, alright? You know that chilling thing you said? Right before the accident? About seeing Christmas for the last time? It’s got me all paranoid—because you also said you missed my first Christmas here, and then you bloody went there today. You traveled back in time, for Christ’s sake. You scared me half to death, Elliot, so I’m not leaving you.” Your expression softened, then you lowered your voice. “The only way I can be sure you’re okay is to stay here, right by your side, all cozy by the fire and that”—you cocked your head in Garland’s direction—“creepy Garland guy.”

“But Casey…”

“But what?” you asked, ducking to meet my gaze.

“But nothing. I’m glad we get to spend Christmas together—as long as you’re not bugging me the whole time by trying to take care of me.”

“Of course I’ll be taking care of you. You’ve just had a head injury.”

“Yes, but I’m fine.”

“Head injuries are quite serious, Elliot.”