Page 363 of Mad Girl

“I love being stuck in that dark dungeon of a house with you,” I said. “Before you came along, I was lost in there. That’s why you can’t leave. I need you.”

You pulled my hand from your face, head shaking. “It’s not enough for you to need me, and that’s not a good enough reason for me to stay. Tell me why you called it a mistake.”

You weren’t making it easy on me, and I didn’t blame you.

“It wasn’t a mistake. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced—because it was you. But it wasn’t perfect, either. It couldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve been lying to you.”

“About what?”

“You need to build a relationship with the Harrises. Once you’ve done that—if you still want to be with me—it’ll be different.”

“You’ve lied to me about what, Elliot?”

“You were right about me and him.”

Before you could respond—before I could finish—the door creaked open behind us. “Sorry to interrupt,” came Sienna’s voice, light and casual. “But Casey? I need you to take a look at your phone.”

You glanced over my shoulder, already irritated. “I’m in the middle of something, Sienna.”

“This is really important,” she said. “I promise.”

My whole body tensed. “No,” I said, stepping toward you. “She’s trying to⁠—”

“Right now, Casey,” she said, tapping the screen of her phone. “Take a look.”

“Casey,” I begged, panic flaring hot in my chest. “Just wait a minute, okay?”

You glanced between us. At me, flushed and panicked. At her, cool and collected. With a sigh, you pulled your phone from your back pocket and looked down at the screen. Your shoulders tensed as you pinched the screen to zoom in on my shoulder.

On the bite mark.

Irrefutable proof.

Sienna backed out with a devilish grin.

“When was this taken?” you asked, still staring at the picture.

I forced myself to answer. “Your first summer here. When you went back to England.”

“So this is why you ruined everything.”

“Casey—”

You finally looked at me, a dark storm raging behind your eyes. Anger—but devastation, too. Devastation mainly. “You and him?” you whispered, as if you were trying not to picture it: me and him. Together in his bed. Intimate.

I nodded, eyes stinging. “It’s over. It’s been over.”

But that didn’t undo the damage. And nothing on your face said you believed it ever could.

“Since when?” you croaked.

“Since that week we were all snowed in together.”

“The bite mark,” you said, realization dawning. “On your lip.”