Page 316 of Mad Girl

“But he was born here—in Boston. I’ve seen the paternity test. Your dad is his biological father.” I went on to tell Michael about Eleanor’s letter, how you initially believed Nic was your father, and when it turned out he wasn’t, my dad took DNA samples from him and John and ordered another paternity test without John’s knowledge. When I finished telling him that, I told him about the conversation I’d had with my dad on the beach—the one I’d had with Eleanor on election night—and how they’d both confirmed the whole thing.

Michael sat very still as he absorbed all this information, Casey. He stared at me, barely blinking, never moving a single muscle in his face. The truth had rendered him speechless.

After five whole minutes of silence, I wondered if I’d need to do something—snap my fingers, wave my hand, pinch him real hard—to pull him out of it. “Are you…okay?”

“So much about that trip makes sense now,” he said, jolting back to life. “Him getting shit-faced and insisting I was his brother. Claire hugging me when we first met—she cried. She treated me like some long-lost relative of his, and Casey got onto her for it—more than once. He didn’t want her to show me their photo albums, either, and now I know why. He knew I’d see the resemblance between us when we were kids.” Michael’s jaw hardened. “How could Casey keep this from me?”

“Well, to be fair, he did try to tell you over the summer. It’s just—he was drunk at the time.”

Michael cast me a hard look. Then he sat for a minute, pinching at his lips like you often did. “What are the odds he and I would randomly become friends in the first place? If he thought Nic was his dad because of Eleanor’s letter, then he must’ve known who Nic was before I ever introduced them.” His gaze drifted back to me. “Right?”

I’d really hoped to avoid telling him this part, Casey, but how could I not? “Yeah. About that…”

So I told him: how you’d watched him for weeks at Harvard, how Sienna had helped you get close to our family by asking him out, how befriending him had been part of your plan all along. Part of your plan to meet my dad.

Michael went silent again. “Wow,” he said finally, voice strained as he stared down at his hands. “So it was all a lie? He was just using me?”

“No,” I rushed to say. “That connection you feel with him? That’s never been a lie. That’s always been real.”

When Michael lifted his gaze back to mine, I saw the deep betrayal he felt—exactly the kind you feared—writ large upon his face. “But he tricked me in the beginning—him and Sienna both. Do you know how humiliating that is? To know how easily I fell for their bullshit? I fell for both of them, and I’m usually so careful with people—for this very reason. He charmed his way in, and I never even stopped to question whether he was being sincere or not. That’s how good he was at pretending.”

“You have no idea how horrible he feels. He wishes he could go back and start over—do it all differently. It’s his biggest regret.”

Michael sprang up, hands flexing by his side. “Oh, yeah? I’m about to make him regret it even more.”

He tried slipping past me, and I latched onto his hand with both of mine. “No! Don’t! You can’t confront him.”

“The hell I can’t,” Michael said, glaring down at me.

“You can’t tell him I told you,” I begged, stomach churning with fear. I felt sick. “Oh my God.”

“How can I not tell him?”

“I’m not sure, but he’ll be so pissed at me for telling you.” I sounded close to hysterical.

“I’m pissed at you,” Michael said, jerking his hand free. “How long have you known about this? The whole time?”

I winced. “Over a year now—right after his first summer here.”

He gave me that cold, hard look again. “So he told you, and not me.”

“He didn’t—Michael, he didn’t tell me—I mean, he did—obviously. But only because he and my dad were acting strange, so I snooped around in my dad’s office and found the paternity test for myself. You know me—no boundaries. I thought he was my brother at first. I freaked out.”

“And you kept it from me,” Michael said, his voice coming out soft but strained. He was hurt. “You thought that was best.”

“I wanted to tell you. I swear I did.”

“You listened to the story about him touching my scars—the story about what happened in England—and you never said a word.”

“It wasn’t my place. It wasn’t my secret to tell—and he asked me not to. He wanted to tell you himself.”

“Except months ticked by—a whole year, Elliot—and you still didn’t say anything. You helped him lie”—he jabbed a finger at his chest—“to me.”

I swallowed, guilty as hell. “I know.”

“What about my dad? Nic’s okay keeping something this huge from him? From my mom, too?”

“No. We’ve been trying to get Casey to tell everyone. My dad has him in therapy over it, but Casey’s worried about what it’ll do to your family. He doesn’t want to cause problems—not for you or anyone—because his adoptive dad made him think he’d ruin John’s life by coming over here in the first place.”