The Complication (The Program #6)(16)

I regret ever coming here. And the more I try to fix that mistake, the deeper my problems get. At what point do I walk away and cut my losses? Which losses are acceptable to take? I don’t think I know the answer to that yet.

The door to the nearby deli opens, and I’m surprised to see Dr. Marie Devoroux walk out with a brown paper bag, two ends of subs poking out. Her presence shocks me, even though I was coming here to see her. She looks different.

Her dark skin has dulled, her hair cropped close to the scalp. She is stunningly beautiful—her red lipstick flawless—but her presence has diminished slightly. She’s troubled. I swallow hard and climb out of my Jeep.

When I close the door, Marie looks over and stops dead when she realizes it’s me. She hugs the bag closer to her chest and forces a smile.

“Tatum,” she says, glancing around the empty lot. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” I say. I can’t even pretend to not be angry.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she responds curtly. Although her voice is steady, always professional, her posture gives way to concern. “Dr. McKee said—”

“Did you know I was in The Program?” I interrupt. Her lips part, and she falters a moment with her answer.

“I don’t—where did you hear that?” she asks. “That’s outrageous. Not to mention dangerous thinking, especially with everything that’s happened to—”

“You’re going to lie?” I ask, incredulous. “Stand there and lie to my face?”

“Why would I lie?” Marie responds convincingly. “Isn’t it more likely that whoever told you was lying? Or mistaken?”

Even though I don’t believe that, her tone is earnest. Honest. Is it possible she didn’t know? It only takes me a second to decide it’s not. Marie tilts her head, inspecting me. She takes a step closer and holds out her hand to me in a comforting gesture. When I don’t take it, she sighs.

“I’m worried about you, Tatum,” Marie says, her tone motherly. “You were part of the Adjustment. You’ve been through a lot. I’d hoped after everything that happened, you’d want to take care of yourself. Please, go home and rest.”

I shake my head, enraged that she won’t be honest with me. “And my grandfather?” I ask. “Dr. McKee called him. Why?”

Marie blinks quickly, and I’m guessing she didn’t think my grandfather would pass along that information to me. She shifts the brown bag in her arms, and looks impatiently at the Adjustment office door.

“That was for Weston’s benefit, not yours.” Her words are cold, cutting, and I think she intended them to hurt me.

“I don’t believe you,” I say. “In fact, I don’t believe anything you’ve said.”

Marie straightens her back, pulling herself up to her full height. “Rest,” Marie says again, this time more forcefully. “Weston’s return was surely a shock to your system. But please, don’t repeat past mistakes. Just . . . let it go.” She says it emphatically, as if she wants nothing more. I bet.

Marie doesn’t wait for my reply. She walks over to the Adjustment door and rings the bell on the side. The lock clicks, and she pulls the door open and slips inside.

I’m furious; my hands are actually shaking. Marie lied to me about The Program—I’m sure of it. And she fully intended to leave out the fact that Dr. McKee called my grandfather, but I caught her. It proves that if I’m going to make accusations going forward, I’ll need proof. Something to force them to tell the truth. And that includes my grandparents.

I stomp toward my Jeep and yank open the door to get in. Just as I start the engine, the passenger door suddenly opens and Michael Realm climbs inside. He closes the door and turns to me.

“We need to talk,” he says calmly.

My eyes widen, and I press my shoulder against my door, ready to bolt. “What the hell are you doing?” I demand, my voice high pitched with shock.

“I’m not supposed to make contact,” he says, holding up his hands apologetically, “but I want to help you.”

I stare at him. “Help me with what?” I ask, slowly easing myself off the door. Despite my barely knowing who he is, there is something familiar about him now that he’s up close. Something I don’t immediately distrust—although I obviously should.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his eyebrows pulled together with worry. “I’m not sure if you remember me. My name’s Michael Realm.”

“I met you in the Adjustment office, right?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He smiles, seeming relieved.

“Great,” I reply. “Now, why are you following me? Why are you in my Jeep, Michael?”

“Please, call me Realm,” he says, like his first name is too formal. “And I was at the school because I knew Wes would be back today. I wanted . . . I wanted to make sure he was okay.” He pauses. “Make sure you were okay.”

“And what business is it of yours?” I ask.

Realm lowers his eyes. “None, I suppose. But I was concerned anyway.”

I watch him a moment, trying to figure out his game. I’m honestly baffled. “Wes doesn’t remember me, if that’s what you were checking for,” I say. “I haven’t told him anything about our past, so you can stop spying on us.”