Page 358 of Mad Girl

“You will!” I grabbed his hand again and squeezed it hard. He tried yanking it away, but I held on, digging my fingers into his palm. “You’ll do it because you’re a good person. Because your dad deserves to know he has another son. Because John has always been there for you, and Casey deserves that, too. You might be an asshole sometimes, but you’re not that asshole. You’re not someone who would keep two members of your family apart over some petty girl drama shit. You’re so much better than that.”

“Petty,” Michael whispered. “That’s all it is.”

With his hand still caught in mine, he fell back against the couch, completely crushed, and it crushed me, too. I’d just destroyed the version of our story he’d built in his head. The one where he eventually got the girl. Because I chose him.

“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing it would never be enough. “Not just for lying—for letting you believe there was still a chance. And for being too afraid to tell you there wasn’t.”

“You let me think I had a chance more than once,” he reminded me.

“I know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry for that, too. You make me feel safe. You love me despite everything I’ve done, and it’s because you love me so unconditionally that it felt impossible to let you go. But our dads are right—we’re better off as friends. Best friends who need to move on from the past. And that especially goes for me.”

“Right,” he said, still staring ahead, withdrawing his hand from mine.

I hated what I’d done to him, hated how it would change our friendship, hated hurting him at all. Again.

But it had to be done.

I could only hope that someday, at some point in the near future, he’d be able to forgive me for this, too.

“I plan to tell Casey everything soon.” I stood, smoothing my hands down my thighs. “I know you’ll do what’s right, Michael. You always do.”

I’d told Michael the truth.

I needed to tell you next.

But every time I opened my mouth to try, something stopped me.

The timing didn’t feel quite right. Or you were leaving the room. Or Bree had come over to ask for help with her homework. Or you were taking a call from Claire.

Days passed.

Then a week.

And then Nic texted his plans to stay in New York one night. That night. The one that changed everything.

I’d finally gathered the courage to tell you—you could yell all you wanted, but you couldn’t leave the house without Nic there, you were stuck with me—so I’d come downstairs, heart thudding like crazy, ready to bare my soul and beg for your forgiveness. Just like you wanted.

But I stopped short at the sight of Bree, sitting with Garland, curled up with a book in one of the wingbacks.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, hands curling into fists.

Bree flipped a page without glancing up. “Casey says we need to make up. He asked me to stay over until he gets back later tonight.”

“Fuck that,” I said, backing out of the room, my heart sinking at the thought of you leaving. “I’d rather be alone.”

“What if you have another panic attack?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I said over my shoulder as I headed to the kitchen. But just inside the kitchen doorway, I halted again. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Sienna, that conniving bitch, was bent over my counter in a skimpy red dress, tapping away at her phone. She pushed off the marble with a poisonous smirk that made my pulse race. “Nice to see you, too, Elliot.”

“My dad says you aren’t welcome here.”

Sienna made a big show of glancing around. “Well, I don’t see your daddy anywhere. So how’s he going to stop me?” She bit her bottom lip—cherry red, matched perfectly to her dress—and sashayed closer. “Casey and I are going to a party together.”

Together?

“Not like that, sweetie.” She perched a hand on her hip. “Or maybe,” she said, teeth flashing. “He might need someone to comfort him after he sees that picture of you.”