The Complication (The Program #6)(112)

“And then what happened?” he asks Foster, totally invested in the conversation. His dimples flash, and I watch him—enjoying his curiosity. When the story’s done, Wes turns to me and looks me up and down.

“Hi,” he says simply.

“Hi,” I respond, fighting back a smile. And then, in a swift movement, he wraps his arms around me and tips me back into the shrubbery, kissing me passionately. I laugh, hand on his cheek, and let him help me back up.

“Disgusting,” Nathan says under his breath, and Wes blows him a kiss.

We all have lunch together, and it’s the purest thing I can remember. After years of being scared all the time, of living in constant fear and worry—we’ve all found our peace, much like Wes.

He is the love of my life, but he’s not my life. I have that back now—no more threats, no more secrets. A bit of research proved I had no biological family left, but I have my name—Cynthia Wilds.

I’ve never used it. I let her rest with her mother and father. She was someone in another life, but she died the day I was created.

Wes slips his hand around mine, leaning in to murmur that he loves me because I’m so fucking cute, and I smile to myself. It’s all so simple now that it’s shocking sometimes.

But I accept our fate, accept this new world. I know we deserve it.

Because we’re all better people now.





EPILOGUE


SLOANE BARSTOW LIES ON THE bank of the river, her forearm over her face to block the summer sun. It was getting too hot, and James promised to take her somewhere to escape the weekend heat. Realm and Dallas were off on another secret mission, so they were out of town.

But even though Sloane’s at the river, the same river where her brother died, she still doesn’t entirely love swimming. She opted to roast on the blanket instead.

As if she conjured him up, she hears James approach from where he’s been in the river. Sloane lowers her arm and looks at him, one eye squinted against the sun. James stands at the edge of the blanket, staring at the water as he drags a towel over his bare chest, his hair golden in the sunlight. He senses her watching him, and he glances down at her with those arresting blue eyes.

“You checking me out, Sloane?” he asks, exactly the same way he asked her years before when she first realized she liked him.

“No,” she replies easily, trying not to smile.

James nods like he believes her and goes back to watching the water. He tosses the towel aside and lowers himself onto the blanket next to her.

Sloane’s face is turned in his direction, waiting. She can feel the coolness coming off his skin from the river water. James looks sideways at her, his eyes impossibly blue, as he runs his gaze over her swimsuit.

They’re quiet for a long moment, Sloane’s heart speeding up, a smile creeping over her lips.

James curses at his lack of self-control and turns to wrap his leg over Sloane’s hip, rolling her against him and making her laugh.

“It’s so wet,” she says with a quick shiver from his damp suit on her skin.

James snorts a laugh, and Sloane smacks his leg. “Not what I meant,” she says, laughing anyway.

They both chuckle for a few moments, and then they settle on the blanket. James stays wrapped around her, their faces close as they watch each other.

Sloane can’t stand to look at him sometimes, especially this close up. It seems ridiculous . . . but she loves him too much. She loves everything about him, and she knows he feels exactly the same way. They’re both helpless in that love. She leans in and kisses him softly.

James hums out his approval, his hand sliding up her back and under her hair, resting on her neck as his tongue glides against hers. He moves his leg to bring it between hers, and the kissing leads to more, his fingers under her swimsuit, her hand inside his.

“Car or tent?” James murmurs at Sloane’s lips. “I don’t want sand getting—”

“Car,” Sloane says, but doesn’t stop. James breaks the kiss, burying his face in her hair as she brings him close, and then, when she’s finished, he stays against her, once again helpless in his love.

“Still car?” he asks, out of breath. Sloane laughs.

“No, I’d prefer the tent,” she says. She isn’t in such a hurry to get naked, though; she just likes being near him. She almost lost him this time. She never wants to feel that again.

“Now?” James asks, getting up on one elbow, his eyes heavy lidded. He looks so sweet and happy that Sloane sits up to give him a quick kiss before tossing him the towel.

“Later,” she says, looking at the river to check the current. “And for a lot longer.”

“Don’t you worry,” he says, and smiles broadly.

“I never have to,” she replies. That certainly is never one of their problems.

“But I was thinking,” he adds, reaching to trace his finger down her back as she stares at the water. “Now that things are normal, or at least normal for now . . . I have ideas.”

“Yikes,” Sloane says jokingly, flashing him a smile.

“I know, right? But anyway, these ideas . . .” He pauses, and his expression grows serious. “They’re not in Oregon,” he finishes.

Sloane turns around on the blanket and sits cross-legged, facing him. “What are these ideas?” she asks.