The Complication (The Program #6)(25)

“That’s enough, Dorothy,” he says in a hushed tone.

Wes’s mom yanks from his grip and glares at him. “Get ahold of your granddaughter, Charles, or I swear I’ll get a restraining order.”

He tilts his head, demonstrating that she’s being irrational. “The boy came to her,” he says. “Have the discussion with him.”

“You know I can’t,” she says. “The doctor advised against it.” She leans past him to look at me again. “Leave him alone, Tatum. He needs to get his life back—one without you. One he deserves.”

She makes it sound like I’m the problem of his life. Like it wasn’t The Program or even the epidemic. Well, fuck her.

“You don’t know anything about us, Dorothy,” I say simply.

She narrows her eyes. “I know that you’re a danger to both him and yourself. Stay away from us.” And with that, she turns on her heels and sees herself to the door, slamming it shut after she walks out.

My grandfather and I are left in the living room with the echo of her anger. After a moment, he looks over at me. “You okay?” he asks.

“I guess,” I say. Her threat did its job; I’m shaking. “Not sure why Wes decided to tell her about me,” I add. “But it must mean I made an impression on him.”

My grandfather smiles softly. “I’m sure you did. The two of you have always had a connection.” He pauses. “Dorothy isn’t wrong, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But she doesn’t have to be such a bitch about it.” I shrug an apology for my language.

“You’d be surprised how far a parent would go to protect their child,” he murmurs, and darts his eyes away from me.

And as I watch, still trembling, my grandfather walks past me toward the laundry room to finish loading the washer.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


WHEN I GET BACK TO my room, I call next door with unsteady fingers. I bring the phone to my ear. “Hey,” I say when it clicks.

“Should I keep apologizing?” Nathan asks sincerely. “Because I’m an idiot for not—”

“You don’t have to apologize anymore,” I say, relieved that I still have him on my side. It hits me now how alone I felt without him today, even if it was only for an afternoon.

Nathan hadn’t intended to hurt me when he told me about The Program; rationally, I know that. Nathan has always tried to be the best friend he could. And when Wes was in the hospital, nearly dying because of the Adjustment, Nathan was there for me. We promised to never lie to each other again. It’s part of why he told me about The Program in the first place. He wanted everything out in the open, even if it was something he’d promised my grandparents he’d never talk about.

I can’t hold it against him. I won’t. If anything, I need to know more.

“Wes’s mom just left,” I say. “She was . . . cruel.”

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. But I’m ready. I want you to tell me everything,” I say. “I can’t stand not knowing. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I’ve already lost my grandparents.”

“I’m not telling you how to feel,” Nathan says, “but please keep in mind that it’s Pop and Gram you’re talking about. They love you. Whatever has happened, there’s an explanation. You know that.” He pauses. “You know that, right?”

I’m pretty sure I do. But right now, it doesn’t entirely feel that way. “Will you come over?” I ask. “It . . . it’s too weird right now. I need you.”

Nathan must hear in my voice how scared I am—he doesn’t hesitate. “I’m on my way,” he replies.

I hang up and head downstairs. When I get into the living room, Pop walks in from the kitchen.

“Want to help me get dinner ready?” he asks. His voice is tight, but he’s acting like it’s any other day. Like we can just make meatloaf together.

“Sure,” I tell him. Behind me there’s a sharp knock on the front door. My grandfather glances at it, and I quickly go answer it before Pop can ask why Nathan didn’t just walk in.

Nathan looks nervous, and I elbow him in his side to let him know he needs to pull himself together. He scowls at me but then notices my grandfather.

“Nathan?” Pop says, sounding surprised. “Didn’t you just leave?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replies, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “But then I saw Weston’s mom storm out of here like she’d committed double homicide, so I figured I should check on it. Seems you both survived.”

“Barely,” my grandfather says. “Are you going to stay for dinner, then?” he asks.

“Yep,” I answer for him, and Nathan looks down at me. He doesn’t argue, though.

“Great. Could use the extra hands,” Pop says, and walks into the kitchen. He starts banging around pots, closing cabinets, and Nathan sighs.

“She was awful?” he asks sympathetically. “Wes’s mom?”

“Beyond,” I say, and tell him what she said. Nathan rolls his eyes a few times and groans when I mention her threat of a restraining order.

“What about Pop?” Nathan continues. “Did he stick up for you?”