Page 362 of Mad Girl

The laughter and chaos bled into static. All the sharp things I’d spent the week cataloging in my room came rushing back at once.

I didn’t even think—just moved. Shouldered past a guy holding a wine bottle. Dodged an elbow. Stepped around a girl dancing in socks. My heart hammered as I crossed the room.

The second you spotted me, your expression morphed into something flat and lethal. You handed your drink to Sienna and stormed forward, cutting through the crowd. “How did you get here?”

“You think you can run off with Hal, and that’ll be enough to stop me?”

“You’re unbelievable. You are the most maddening…fucking…this is unacceptable.” You grabbed my arm. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you hear me out.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Right. Because now’s the perfect time for a heart-to-heart. In a room full of people.”

“Then take me somewhere else.” I looked up at you, pleading with my eyes.

You glanced around, exasperated, then pulled me down a hallway off the back room, steering me past a couple making out against a dark paneled wall.

At the end of the hall, you opened the door to what looked like an old study—dark wood paneling, heavy curtains drawn shut, a desk cluttered with books, a lone lamp casting a soft amber glow over everything. You stepped in after me but didn’t shut the door all the way, leaving it open just a crack.

The moment felt fragile. Suspended. Thick with tension.

You leaned against the wall, jaw set, black sweater pushed up to your elbows. Cheeks flushed. Hair tousled. Eyes tired and sad.

We could’ve been in my bed, basking in the luxury of an empty house. Free to be loud. To be reckless. To do whatever we wanted to each other.

Instead, we were here, so far apart it hurt like hell to be in the same room with you.

“You have ten minutes,” you said, shoving both hands in your pockets. “Talk.”

I hesitated, intensely aware of my own heartbeat, hands shaking by my sides. “All that horrible stuff I said to you after we—?” I swallowed. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Right,” you said, voice catching as you looked away.

I crossed the room slowly. Placed my hand to your face. Gently pulled your gaze back to mine. I would’ve given anything to keep us there—in that fragile space we still occupied together—where we were still us. Darkness, made softer by the light.

“I’m being honest, Casey. I pushed you away because I was scared to tell you the truth.”

“And what’s the truth?”

How to say it? How to put three years into words? How to tell you that it was so much more than fate?

You arrived right when I needed someone to pay attention the most.

To notice the drowning.

To see the clawing.

To hear me screaming.

And you did. You paid attention to everything.

Take that question you asked Hal when you first moved in: What makes her happy?

You, Casey. You made me happy. In a thousand different ways, both big and small.

That wasn’t fate. That was a choice you made.

And to a girl like me, it felt like salvation.