Page 41 of Mad Girl

“He is, yes,” Claire said, dropping the phone until a chunky little baby filled your screen. “Though a bit moody at the moment, I’m afraid.”

“Hello, little guy,” I said with a huge grin, and your nephew gave me the biggest, gummiest grin back.

Claire gasped.“Would you look at that? I believe he likes you, Elliot.”

“I’m hurt,” you said to Rhys’s image, hand pressed to your heart. “She gets a smile, and I don’t?”

I smiled as you gazed at him, a look of pure adoration on your face. It made my throat squeeze.

Claire lifted the phone to her face again. “Tell me the truth, Elliot. Casey’s not being too much trouble, is he?”

“Casey? Trouble?” I let out a short laugh. “Definitely not.”

“So having him there has been helpful, then? You’re alright with it?”

Claire’s concern caught me by surprise—and endeared her to me immediately. She was the first person to ask how I felt about our new living situation, and I appreciated that.

“Totally helpful,” I said. “You know what Casey’s like? He’s like”—I paused, pretending to think—“the dog my dad would never let me have, you know? He does whatever my dad commands. Responds well to praise. Accompanies me on long walks in the park. Follows me literally everywhere.” I rolled my eyes. “Everyone here just loves Casey—even my grandmother. And she doesn’t like anyone!” I smiled as I patted you on the shoulder. “Casey’s no trouble at all. Really.”

Claire laughed, unsure, her gaze dancing between us. The look on her face said, Is she serious?

As for you, Casey, you didn’t seem too thrilled at being compared to a dog—head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed, hand covering your mouth.

I glanced from you to Claire and back again. “I have to say, I’m not seeing the family resemblance at all here. How is it that you two are siblings?”

Claire stumbled over a response as you said, “I’ll ring you later, Claire. I should help Elliot off to school.”

You ended the call before we could say goodbye, then slid out from under my arm, leaving me no choice but to step back. Then you crossed the kitchen, grabbed my water bottle from the fridge, and pressed it into my hand.

“Is one of you adopted or something?” I asked, tucking the stainless steel bottle into my bag.

“You’ll be late if you don’t leave now,” you said, glancing down at your watch. “Off you go.”

“Why’s Claire so worried about you?”

Your eyes flashed. “Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?”

“Why does she want my dad’s number? Why would you self-destruct?”

Your jaw hardened as you placed a hand on my shoulder, nudging me forward, closer to the back door. “That’s none of your business.”

“This is my house. She asked for my dad’s number. What’s going on with you? I’m entitled to know.”

“Oh, you’re entitled alright,” you said, flinging open the back door. You properly scowled at me as you pushed me outside. “Hal’s waiting. Now off you go.”

I stomped down the steps, so angry I asked Hal to help me do breathing exercises the whole way to school. By the time I got home several hours later, you were fine. Back to normal. Like the incident with Claire had never happened.

Normally, I wouldn’t let that shit slide, but the little routine we’d built was nice. For the first time in my life, I didn’t dread coming home from school, and I wanted to keep it that way. So I followed your lead, pretending the incident had never happened, too.

A few weeks later, Willoughby and I paired up to do a history project together. I asked my dad if I could stay after school to work on it, but he immediately shot me down.

“You can have him over to the house,” Nic said, “but you’re to stay in the dining room—the entire time, Elliot—where Casey can see you.”

You were sitting two stools down from me, drinking your coffee over a paperback book, its spine cracked to hell, no bookmark in sight. Typical.

“You hear that, Casey?” Nic asked, tossing a serious look over the counter. “The entire time.”

“Absolutely,” you answered.