The Complication (The Program #6)(35)

Once inside the Jeep, I pump the heat, shivering all over. When I start toward home, I go over the memory in my head, tears dripping onto my cheeks as I see the girl I used to be. See that version of me so broken. It’s horrific—humiliating, devastating, and ugly. My thoughts were so skewed, my emotions twisted. I don’t even know her. And I don’t ever want to be her again.

I turn up the radio to drown out my thoughts. I know what I have to do, but I allow myself one more moment with him.

I can still smell his sheets. Feel his warmth.

Wes said he didn’t want to be alone, and I get that. Lately, I feel more alone than ever. Part of me wishes we could just pack up and run away from all of this. Start over where no one knows us, or our pasts. No one to judge or warn us.

No one to protect us.

I click off the Jeep’s lights as I pull into the driveway of my house. The street is completely desolate, and none of the houses are lit up. I’m careful with how loudly I close my door now that the rain has stopped, and then I make my way inside the kitchen, half expecting my grandparents to jump out and scare me.

The house is soundless. I slip off my wet shoes and walk through the living room and up the stairs toward the bedrooms, carefully avoiding the creaky floorboards.

When I go past my grandparents’ room, I pause and listen. It’s silent, and I know I’ve gotten away with it. I should feel guilty, but instead it feels kind of justified. Like it was meant to happen. I was meant to remember the truth of what happened with me and Wes. Why I ended up in The Program.

I get into my room, close the door, strip off my clothes, and put on an old T-shirt. And after I climb into bed, I stare up at the ceiling in the dark.

“I’ve always loved you,” I whisper in the dark.

And then I take out my phone, click his name, and send Wes one last text. Knowing that I mean it this time.

Good-bye.





PART II


THE COMPLICATION





CHAPTER ONE


I WAKE TO THE SMELL of bacon frying, and when I go downstairs, I find my grandparents in the kitchen. Gram is scraping eggs onto three plates, strips of bacon lined up along the side. She’s already dressed for work, but my grandfather is still wearing his pajamas. He tells me he’s going in later today.

“Did the storm keep you up last night?” Gram asks, giving me a morning kiss on the head as she sets a plate in front of me. “You look exhausted.”

“It was fine,” I say, the first hint of guilt attacking my conscience. I quickly change the subject. “I have an appointment with Dr. Warren after school today,” I add.

My grandparents exchange a glance, and something about it catches on my consciousness.

“Oh?” Pop asks, pretending (badly) that he didn’t know.

“Yep,” I say, stabbing some scrambled eggs. “And she already told me you called her, so maybe just give me a heads-up next time.”

“Sorry, honey,” Pop says. “I was just—”

“Worried,” I finish for him. “I know. Well, I’m going to see her, and we’ll talk about Wes and whatever else it is you’ve been stressing about.” I smile at my grandparents; part of my graciousness is because I snuck out last night and have my own shit to feel bad about.

Even so, they’ve given me yet another reason not to trust them.

“Thanks for letting us know,” Gram says pleasantly, and takes a sip of her coffee.

We continue eating breakfast, completely normal in every way, and after I clean my plate, I grab my bag and head to school.

? ? ?

Nathan is waiting with coffees when I arrive at school, begrudgingly fulfilling his portion of our coffee-fetching arrangement. Jana doesn’t take part, typically. Most days she arrives at school late. Nathan says she’s late to everything they do, although it doesn’t bother him that much.

I stop at the top of the stone staircase at the entrance of the building, surveying the front yard of the school, and hold out my hand. Nathan places a vanilla latte in it.

“Did you see Miller Ave. was flooded?” he asks casually. “Because I nearly died.”

I look sideways at him. “I noticed it last night,” I say.

“I wondered where you were going,” he says, taking a sip of his steaming coffee. He meets my eyes, acknowledging that he knows I snuck out. “Probably wasn’t wise to go out into a thunderstorm,” he adds.

“It definitely wasn’t,” I agree. “But you know me, queen of bad decisions.” I blow on my latte, testing a sip.

“I’m assuming it had to do with Wes?”

“You assume correctly. We watched a few movies together.”

“Sounds sweet. Was it a date? Did you tell him that you used to date?” Nathan questions me like it’s any other conversation, even though we both know it’s not. I was stupid. But at least I’m acknowledging it, which I’m sure comforts him.

“No,” I say. “We agreed to be friends. Besides, Dr. McKee warned me not to get involved romantically, remember? I’m sure he has my best interests in mind.” We exchange a pointed look, and a cool breeze blows open my jacket. I pull it closed around me.

Nathan takes his time as he drinks his coffee. “In theory,” he says, “I support the doctor’s decision, but, in actuality, he either didn’t know or didn’t tell you about your time in The Program. One makes him incompetent. The other makes him a monster.”