The Complication (The Program #6)(15)

The school parking lot is full as we pull in, and I quickly scan for Wes’s motorcycle. I don’t see it. The students are back in the building now, but I’m not going to join them. My grandfather pulls up in front of my Jeep and parks.

The day has only gotten more humid, and the air in my Jeep is practically steam when I climb inside. My grandfather walks around, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to mop the sweat that’s gathered on his brow. He tells me to fire up the engine, and when it doesn’t start, he tells me to turn it off.

I do, and then get out of the Jeep while he props up the hood and looks around.

Even though we’re only a few feet apart, it feels like miles. I’m suddenly struck with the most intense loneliness I’ve ever known—like I’m lost. Adrift at sea. My earlier anger begins to feel like desperation.

“Pop,” I say, and take a gulp of air. He raises his head from the other side of the hood and looks at me. His gaze is steady, his expression unreadable. I hesitate, afraid to confront him. Afraid of what he might say. I lower my eyes.

“Have you checked the battery?” I ask instead. I hate myself for not challenging him here and now. I’m a coward.

Pop furrows his brow and looks at the battery. “Let’s try and jump it, but we’ll definitely want to replace it tonight,” he adds. “Even if we get it started, it won’t last too much longer.”

“Good idea,” I say.

Pop gets jumper cables out of his trunk, and I help him set them up. I go back to the Jeep, and when I get inside, trickles of sweat slide down my back. I turn the ignition, and although the engine takes a minute to catch, it starts. I give my pop a thumbs-up, and he tells me to keep her running.

He walks around, drying his brow again, and opens the passenger door to heave himself onto the seat. He adjusts the air vent to blow on his face and asks me to rev the engine while he leans over to fiddle with the loose knob on my gearshift. I stare at the side of his face.

“Who told you to come home, Pop?” I ask suddenly. My grandfather pauses but doesn’t look up.

“Someone saw you leaving with Wes,” he replies. “They were concerned. They asked me to check.”

“Who?” I ask, my heart pounding. Pop turns to me.

“Someone who works for Dr. McKee,” he admits. “The doctor was concerned you’d trigger a crashback in Wes. Undo the work he’d done to save him. The doctor asked you to stay away from him, Tatum. It appears you don’t intend to listen. Think about what happened last time. You both landed in the Adjustment, and that didn’t end well for either of you.” His voice hitches on this last statement, and he turns to look out the window, hiding his face.

He’s hurting me, and part of it is because he’s right. But he’s also misrepresenting what happened. My grandfather knows I went into The Program, and yet he still doesn’t say it. Doesn’t acknowledge the effect it had on me, on my memories. He lets me think this is entirely my fault for not letting go. And it really pisses me off.

“It was just a ride home,” I say. The lie is obvious, but the truth is evading us both, it seems.

“It was unethical,” Pop says. “And I expected better from you.” He opens the passenger door to climb out. His words are a slap in the face, and I physically recoil from them.

“The Jeep is running now,” he adds. “I’ll pick up a new battery and swap it out when you get home. You going back in?” he asks, motioning toward the building.

I look in that direction and then shake my head. “No,” I say, my jaw tight. “I decided I still have a headache.”

He watches me. “I can have your grandmother call in a prescription,” he offers.

Yeah, right. Last time she gave me meds they nearly put me in a coma. “I think I’ll just take some Tylenol,” I say, my voice a little bitter. “Maybe a nap.”

“Okay,” he agrees, and presses his lips into a smile. I wonder if he regrets how he talked to me, so in return, he’s rolling over on this. “Let me know if you need anything,” he adds.

I nod that I will, and he closes the door. I’m angry that he hurt me, lied to me. I’m angry that I was a coward and didn’t ask him about The Program. His loyalty should be with me—not Dr. McKee.

And the minute my grandfather pulls out of the parking lot, I shift gears and head toward the Adjustment office.





CHAPTER SEVEN


AS I SPEED TOWARD THE Adjustment office, my anger ticks up. Dr. McKee called my grandfather to warn him that I left school with Wes. But Dr. McKee isn’t my doctor; he isn’t treating Wes anymore. So what gives him the right to contact my family? Clearly, Michael Realm was there to watch us, after all. Bastard.

I check my phone at the stoplight and see I’ve missed a message from Nathan. He’s another story, one I can’t deal with just yet, so I turn off the power on my phone and drop it into the cup holder.

I pull into the strip mall parking lot where the Adjustment office is located. There is a FOR LEASE sign unceremoniously taped to the frosted-glass door, like it had just been some pizza shop and not an experimental treatment center that resulted in multiple deaths.

It makes me ill to be this close again. Ever since I met the doctors of the Adjustment, my life has been steadily falling apart. Headaches and nosebleeds, long-held secrets and scandals coming out. Losing Wes to a reset.