“I kissed it and made it all better,” I say.
And it’s quiet until James responds, “Yes, you did.”
• • •
My pulse has mostly calmed when James pulls up next to a grassy hill. He shuts off his car and then reaches into the back to grab a blanket.
“This is it,” he says, sounding pleased. I stare out the window, my heart in my throat. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
“It’s . . .” I try to catch my breath, push away the sadness. “We’re at the river,” I say.
“I know it’s a little cold out, but this place is gorgeous,” he tells me, as if I need convincing. As if this is the first time I’ve been here.
I look over at him, tears in my eyes. “I know,” I say. “Brady used to take me here all the time.”
James’s face falters, and he glances down at the towel in his hands. I can see him searching for the memories and I know the minute he can’t find them. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “We should—”
“No,” I say. “I love this place. Honestly.” And I mean it. If I was ever going to feel close to my brother, it would be here. James seems comforted by this as he climbs out of the car. He waits for me before walking over the grass.
The river is breathtaking. The sun glitters off the surface as tiny ripples wrap around the bigger rocks on the side. “This is even better than I remember,” I say.
“I was hoping you’d like it.”
I look sideways at him. “You thought of me?”
He shrugs and I wonder if he didn’t mean to admit that out loud. We face the slow-moving water, birds chirping above us as the trees close us in, making the area intimate. Private.
I’d spent years in this spot, years watching my brother jump into the river. He loved it here, and the fact that James does too only confirms that they were close. That we’d all spent a lot of time together.
James spreads out the blanket, and then when I’m next to him, we sit quietly, arms resting on our bent knees as we watch the water.
And for a minute, I feel like I’m home. Not my actual house, which is currently strangling me with the lies that I’ve been told. But my true home, here at the river with James, with the memories of Brady. I have the urge to rest my head on James’s shoulder, but I don’t think I should.
James shifts and his body bumps mine, knocking me sideways. He mumbles a halfhearted apology and then lies back, putting his hands behind his head as he stares up at the clouds.
I settle next to him, looking around us, the cool breeze sending goose bumps over my skin. It’s so peaceful here that I don’t think I ever want to leave.
After some time passes, James yawns dramatically. “Hey,” he says. “You want to go swimming?” He looks over at me, squinting his blue eyes against the sun.
“It’s cold. And besides, I don’t know how to swim.”
“Seriously?”
I nod.
James sits up, curling his leg underneath him, an expression of disbelief on his face. “Well that’s just goddamn sad, Sloane. What are you, five? Get undressed. I’m teaching you right now.”
I laugh. “First, no. I’m afraid of water. And second, why am I getting undressed again?”
His lips curve up. “You don’t have to be scared. I won’t let you drown.”
My heart is pounding at the thought of getting in the water, but James isn’t helping to calm me down. “And the clothing option?” I ask.
“That would just be for fun. I promised fun, remember?”
I shove him then, laughing as I do. James stands, towering over me as I lie on my side, staring up at him. “Come on,” he says, seriously. “Come in the water with me. I’ll take my clothes off too.”
“Something tells me you just really want me to see you naked.”
“Maybe you’ll be impressed.”
“Oh my God.” James has a talent for making me forget the world around us, for making it all feel normal. I’m sure that’s why I loved him. Or at least part of why.
Even though it’s barely sixty degrees outside, James pulls his shirt over his head, the muscles corded and strong over his body. He pulls down his shorts and stands in just his boxer briefs, windmilling his arms as he stretches. He glances over at me. “See. You look impressed.”
I smile. “Maybe a little.”
“Do you need help with your shirt?”
“No, I think I’ll keep it on. But I will enjoy watching you freeze your ass off.”
“So impressed,” he says over his shoulder as he walks to the water. He swims out to a small boat dock on the other side of the bank, waving to me once he’s on it. Then he does a flip before splashing into the river below, reminding me of my brother when he does.
His clothes lie in the grass, crumpled up. I consider hiding them, leaving him to drive home in a pair of wet boxer briefs. James is splashing, yelling in a shaky voice that he’s not even cold. I pick up his jeans and fold them over my arm, looking toward the path. But when I start to walk, something falls out of his pocket.
At first I worry that I lost his house key or something important, but then I spy an object a few feet away. When I recognize it, tingles race over my skin. I get down on my knees and crawl over to it. I drop James’s pants and pick up what I’d so nearly lost.
It’s a ring. A pink plastic heart similar to the one I’d found in my mattress. James must have given me the other one, and it must have meant something for me to save it. For a second there’s a hint of a memory, just a flash of me stuffing it into my bed, but I can’t hold on to it. Instead I start to cry. I clutch the ring to my chest and then fold over, my cheek on the grass.
I’m not complete. I’m missing a huge piece of my heart, memories of things I must have said and done, things I can’t have back. I want them, all of them. I want to be myself again.
“Sloane?” James’s voice is frantic. Drips of river water hit me before he kneels down on the grass beside me. His arms wrap around me, his skin cold against mine.
“This ring,” I say, holding it up to him. “Where did you get it?”
“After we texted last night, I went to Denny’s to sulk. I saw it in a gum ball machine there.” He reaches to take it from me, possessive of it. “I felt bad for the things I said to you, and when I saw it . . . I don’t know. I had to get it for you.” He studies my expression. “Is that dumb?”
I shake my head. “No. You’ve . . . I think you’ve given it to me before. A different ring.” I smile, wiping at my cheeks. “But just as cheesy.”
James’s eyebrows pull together as he thinks, looking down at the ring in his hand. Then he takes my finger and slides the ring on. We both sit there, staring at it, trying to decide if it belongs there or not. When James and I look at each other again, we’re both confused, unable to remember why this ring is so important to us.
“Can I do something?” James asks, still holding my hand.
“What?”
“Can . . .” He pauses. “Can I kiss you, Sloane?”
That was so not what I was expecting him to say. I don’t answer at first, and James drops my hand and crawls closer to me, his face near mine as he’s poised almost over me. My heart races as I stare back at him. He’s so beautiful.
“Please?” he whispers. “I really want to.”
Something about the way he watches me—a knowing look that seems to see into my heart. “I don’t know,” I say, my chest tightening as I let my feelings for him spread over me, leaving me unprotected and vulnerable. His expression grows serious, as if I’m refusing him. But then I put my hand on his cheek. The hand that wears his ring.
“Okay, yes,” I say.
James smiles quickly, and then leans forward to press his mouth to mine, laying me back in the grass as he kisses me passionately. His lips are hot, and I dig my fingers into the bare skin of his back, kissing him like I’ve missed him my whole life. They way he moves, tastes—it’s all so familiar, and yet . . . not.
The sun lowers in the s
ky, the temperature dropping further. But it doesn’t make us stop. Every second lasting both forever and not long enough. And when we’re thoroughly exhausted, still dressed, James collapses next to me, laughing out loud.
“This is the first time in almost three months that I’ve felt anything at all,” he says.
“Was it good?”
“Oh, yes. That was all sorts of good.”
I slap his chest. “I meant the feelings. Were they good?”
James moves then, rolling so that I’m under him. He brushes my hair away from my face. He’s tender and defenseless, as if every part of him is exposed. He’s not the asshole I thought he was, not even close. What I see is someone broken and fierce. Someone loyal and hardened. Someone who could belong to me completely, and me to him.
James smiles as he traces his finger over my mouth. “I think . . .” He stops and looks into my eyes, his stare arresting, pinning me in place. “I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers. “Is that crazy?”
His words strike my heart, and the ache that’s been a constant in my chest goes away completely. I lick my lips and smile. “So crazy.”
“Then I guess I love you madly.” And then he leans down and kisses me again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AS WE HEAD BACK TO TOWN WE’RE QUIET, BUT NOT uncomfortably so. James keeps my hand in his lap, playing with my fingers. His every touch is gentle, yet possessive. I’m sure he feels the same way I do. As if we’ve done this before.
I think about telling him about our past, but decide against it. I’m not sure how to say it without sounding like I made this happen somehow. Manipulated him. I don’t want him to think that. I want this all to be real.
“What do we do now?” I ask him, because I know one of us has to ruin the moment. “My parents will never let me date, and definitely not you. And then there’s The Program. I may not have a handler anymore, but Kevin was pretty adamant that I stay away from—”
James’s jaw tightens, but then he shakes his head. “I don’t care what they think. I don’t care what anyone thinks.”
“They can send you away again.”
“I’m not scared.”
Worry pulses though me, and I lean over, putting my chin on his shoulder. “What if I’m scared for you?”
James looks sideways at me. “Aw . . . look at you being all sweet. Told you you’d be impressed.” He kisses me quickly and then goes back to the road, as if that’s the end of the conversation.
“James,” I say, feeling tension starting to settle in my shoulders. We’ve been gone most of the day. It was reckless. I’d pushed the idea away until now, enjoying the freedom of being with James instead. But now I know how stupid it was.
I check my phone and see that I’ve missed four calls from my house and one from a private number. “My parents have been looking for me,” I say.
Something in the tone of my voice makes him turn. I watch as his sun-kissed skin pales, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “What do you think they’ll do?” he asks.
And then I know it, feel it inside. “James,” I say, choking up as the realization slides over me. “My parents are the ones who sent me to The Program in the first place. I think . . .” And the idea is horrible. The fact that they betrayed me like that. “I think my mother is the one who did this to me.”
I can still see her face when I’d told her off the morning Kevin was waiting at the front door. And I know I’ve seen it before, that look of stubborn love that makes her think she’s doing the right thing. Kevin took me to The Program from my own house, which means my parents had to be in on it.
James’s expression is pained and he chews on his lip. “Call home,” he says. “Call home and put it on speaker.”
“What? Why?”
“So I can listen.”
I’m terrified of what will happen. I check the clock and see that it’s nearly six. My fingers shake as I dial. James glides the car into the empty lot of an abandoned farm, and parks.
I blow out an unsteady breath, clicking on the speaker just as it starts to ring. My mother answers immediately, and I almost hang up.
“Hi,” I say.
“Sloane! Where are you? We’ve been so worried.” In the background there is a rustling, making me think she’s covering up the receiver. I swallow hard.
“I’m okay,” I tell my mother. “It was such a beautiful day; I thought I’d go swimming.”
“I need you to come home, honey,” my mother says calmly. She doesn’t acknowledge the fact that I can’t swim. My breath is caught in my throat.
“Hang up,” James says then. “Hang up the phone.”
“Who is that?” my mother shouts quickly. “Sloane, who are you with?”
I click END, and then lower the phone to my lap. “She wasn’t alone, was she?” I ask, too devastated to look up.
“No. I don’t think so.”
I let the realization hit me. I know my mother loves me; I’m sure I’ve always know that. And in her heart, she believes in The Program. And because of that . . . I can never trust her again.
“Sloane,” James says. “It’s going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I meet his eyes. “Promise.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think you promised that before?” I want to tell him then, tell him about us. But he seems hurt that I asked him about before, like I’ve accused him of something.
“If I’d promised you, Sloane, then they wouldn’t have taken you to The Program. I would have died trying to protect you. I wouldn’t have let you down. I’d hate myself if I did.” He shakes his head as if he can get rid of the thought. “No, I’m promising it now—even if it means running away. Hiding out for the rest of our lives. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. Can you trust that?” James’s face is scared.
And I don’t know what happened to land us in The Program, but the truth is, we did let each other down one way or another. We didn’t make it. But I have James back, here and now, as mine.
I grab him by the collar of his shirt, letting the phone fall to the floor. I pull James to me, kissing him hard. His hand is in my hair as he kisses me back. The sky is darkening from the setting sun, but we climb into the backseat, yanking at each other’s clothes, tongues tangling in a heat that I know I could never have with anyone else. This could be the last time I see him. This could be the end.
• • •
“I think I broke my femur,” James says, as he lies underneath me. “On the console when you were attacking me? I think I broke it.”
I laugh. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t mind, though,” he says conversationally. “Like when you bit my shoulder. It was—”
I reach up and put my hand over his mouth, not moving it even after he licks my fingers. “Shut. Up.” As if agreeing, he pulls me closer, resting his cheek on the top of my head. When it’s quiet, I move my palm and rest it on his chest.
“It was nice,” he whispers, but not jokingly. “It wasn’t weird, either. And that’s . . . kind of weird.”
I close my eyes. “It’s like we’ve been here before,” I say quietly, wondering if he knows the truth.
He doesn’t answer and I put my elbow in the corner of the seat, rising up to stare down at him. He smiles when I do, looking completely and utterly in love with me. “You brought protection,” I say. “Expecting this?”
“No,” he says. “But it’s good to be prepared.”
“You expected this.”
“I hoped, maybe.”
“James!”
“What? I got you a ring!”
I’m still laughing as I lower my head to his neck, resting it there and letting the night fall around us. We’ve probably set off every red flag there is, and yet, I’m not sure I’d change any of it. Being here with James is just—
“You’re right, you know,” he says. “You’re just right for me. And I’d bet my life that we’ve done this before. Because
I can’t imagine I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you the first time.”
I smile, looking at the pink ring on my finger, at the fading scar on my wrist, and I think that we’ve been through a lot to get here. And I’m never going back.
• • •
Once we’re dressed and driving again, James stops at the gas station to get us snacks, our improvised dinner. I called Lacey, but when she didn’t pick up I tried her house. Her mother said she was out on a date. I’m just hanging up when James returns with a paper bag filled with beef jerky and a map of local campsites.
This is dangerous. We’ve screwed up pretty big, and yet we’re not trying to change course. Clearly we’ve both lost our minds. My thoughts turn to my parents. Even though I’m angry, I can imagine my father sitting on my bed, staring out my window and wondering if I’m okay, or if I’ve killed myself. My mother is probably on the phone with The Program, begging for them to save me.
I’ve let them down, and obviously not for the first time. After all, they had thought the only course of action was The Program. They let them change me.
“Hey,” James says quietly. I look at him and see the way he watches me, filled with worry. “You’re wasting perfectly good protein.” He motions to the Slim Jim in my hand and smiles, but it’s forced. It’s his way of calming me, I think.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I jump, startled. “It’s from a private number,” I say when I look at it. “Maybe it’s Realm?”
“That would be awesome,” James murmurs, and opens his PowerBar to take a bite as we sit in the parking lot of the gas station.
I don’t respond, feeling guilty for not telling James about what happened, or almost happened, at Realm’s house. I open the message.
I NEED TO SEE YOU IMMEDIATELY.
When I repeat it to James, he scoffs. “Of course he does.”
Realm knows about me and James—our past—so I don’t think this is a social call. He must know that my parents are looking for me. Or The Program found out that he helped me and tracked him down. I’m suddenly scared for him.
The Program Page 28
