Page 294 of Mad Girl

“I don’t need an escort to walk upstairs and change.”

“Elliot, you stumbled into a wall this morning, for Christ’s sake,” you said, nudging me in the direction of the stairs.

“I’d just woken up! Cut me a break!”

“Funny,” you said. “I don’t recall you ever stumbling into a wall whilst half-awake prior to having this head injury.”

Halfway up the staircase, I turned on my heels to toss you a look of irritation. “Hey, guess what? When you say whilst, it sounds bloody pretentious! So stop it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You also fell back on the sofa last night when trying to stand up, dropped a glass when helping me unload the dishwasher this morning, and now you’ve got spilt tea on your clothes. So I’ll hover as I please, thank you. You’re having too many dizzy spells for me to feel comfortable letting you on these stairs alone.”

“I don’t care what you feel comfortable with. I’m uncomfortable,” I said, sighing as I entered my room. Inside the closet, I slung my drawer open while you watched from the doorway. “You’re being overly cautious—you and my dad both—and it’s driving me crazy. You tried to force your way into my shower this morning.”

“I simply offered to stand nearby with my back turned to the glass in case you stumbled.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need a bodyguard to shower, either.”

“If we were properly together, you couldn’t have stopped me guarding your body in the shower,” you said, eyeing a creamy lace bra hanging loose from my drawer. You plucked it free, stroking the delicate fabric between your fingers.

I snatched it from your hand. “That’s—well, we’re not—so. Out you go.”

When I emerged from the closet a few minutes later, I found you kicked back on my bed with your phone, scrolling. You had my stuffed bunny, Tessy, nestled in the crook of your arm.

“What are you looking at over there?” I asked, brows lifted. “Hot influencer guys? Big, brawny redheads who love to hike?”

“I’m scrolling blind over here. I haven’t actually seen any of it. There’s just the image of you from twenty minutes ago.” You mimed the presence of not one but two objects in front of your face. “Seared.”

I laughed. “Stop it.”

You laughed, too, then reached out to me. “Come here.”

And because I couldn’t resist you saying that—maybe ever—I moved over to the bed, where you tugged me down, practically pulling me onto your lap.

“I love when you wear this,” you said, stroking the collar of your brown cardigan. “I like to imagine you’re wearing it because you’re mine.”

“Casey…”

“I know,” you said, tossing Tessy aside with a roll of your eyes. “We’re too damaged, and you can’t stop stroking my brother.”

“Oh my God.”

“And now you don’t want him to date Tinsley…”

“He doesn’t want to date Tinsley.”

“You seemed to have more of a problem with it than he did,” you said, and the look you gave me—intense, probing, suspicious—made my gut clench.

“I just—you caught me off guard, that’s all.” I stopped. Swallowed. Squirmed. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me about Michael.”

“I noticed when Tinsley was over yesterday, you cut her off and claimed you were tired,” you said.

“I was tired.”

“But she’s quite excited about this new guy.”