The Complication (The Program #6)(70)

XOXO

—Mommy

“I had a mother,” I whisper, and the words, once out of my mouth, are a sudden wrecking ball to my heart. “I had a mother,” I repeat a little louder.

She must have loved me once, but something happened to her. Was she alive still? Did she give me away, or did they take me? Does she still wonder where I am?

You’re not the only replacement, Marie had told Nicole. Marie and Dr. McKee have destroyed lives. Changed them. Rewritten them.

I’m the replacement for a girl who died, and in that moment, I died too—whoever C was. My family was gone. Now I have this new life, still battling my past. And it hurts to feel like an imposter.

I take the stuffed dog, and I curl up on my bed and cry. And after a while, my thoughts turn to Wes, and how he said the past has the power to destroy us. I think he could be right, but only if we give it power. Only if we let it.

So I sit up, clearing the tears from my cheeks. I neatly fold the dress and place it back in the box, breaking down a few times. I lay my stuffed dog on top. I stand and bring the tiny bracelet—too small to wear—and set it on my dresser. I gaze at it an extra second, wishing I knew my mother. I put the lid on the box and place it on the floor of my closet.

I don’t want any more lies. I don’t want to pretend for another second about anything. Being honest with my grandparents, and having them be honest in return, has lightened my soul. Keeping secrets is a heavy burden, and I’m ready to let it all go.

It’s time I find Wes and tell him about our past. No matter what, he needs to know. I can’t be the one keeping it from him. And maybe he’ll say that he loves me again. That he always knew that we’d find our way back together. It’s a na?ve viewpoint, I know. But I can’t help imagining the best-case scenario.

I can’t help but allow in just a little bit of hope.





PART III


LOVE HIM MADLY





CHAPTER ONE


I TELL MY GRANDPARENTS THAT I’m going to school to find Wes. They seem a bit stunned by the comment but don’t argue. Just like they promised, they stand by my decision. Pop tells me to call if I need him.

I text Nathan before I pull out of the driveway, and he asks if he should come with me, but this is something I have to do on my own. He says he’ll be home when I get back.

It’s almost last hour, and I wonder if Wes will be in the library, catching up on his assignments. I consider texting him to ask where he is, but I don’t have the nerve. This way, if he’s not in the library, I’ll have time to rethink and regroup. It’s not brave, but I’m driving to school on a whim. Racing ahead without too much thought to slow me down. I know I’ll find Wes eventually; I won’t give up until I do. But it’s also good to have some options.

The bell for seventh hour rings as I stand in the office, signing the student book. When the attendance clerk asks where I’m heading, I tell her the library, and she writes out the pass.

I glance at Dr. Wyatt’s office door, thankful that it’s closed. I wonder if she’s out in the classrooms or talking with a student. Interrogating them, like she did with Wes. I’m relieved that she doesn’t seem to be part of The Program, but I still don’t trust her. And I still don’t want anything to do with her brand of sanctimonious bullying.

“Thanks,” I tell the clerk, and then head toward the library. I didn’t even bring my backpack with me, and I realize that should have seemed strange. Then again, I did show up only for seventh hour—that alone was weird.

There aren’t many students in the library when I walk in. Just a few people scattered around the tables. The librarian says hello to me, and I walk over and hand her my pass to let her know it’s okay that I’m here. She glances at it and then goes back to checking in a stack of books.

Maybe Wes isn’t here. Part of me hopes he’s not because it will give me time to think of just the right words—formulate an argument for why he needs to know everything. I’m currently a storm of emotions, wild and unruly.

And it’s then, of course, that I see Wes sitting at a table in the back of the library, reading a novel. I can’t help it—I smile and even sigh a little. The vision of him reading is something I’ve always enjoyed. Have always been drawn to.

I slowly make my way toward him, studying him as I do. My nerves buzz over my skin. I’m scared. I’m excited. I’m a mess.

When I get to his table, he looks up with a sharp intake of breath. “Tate,” he says. “I didn’t think you were at school today.” He looks me over, taking stock of my condition, but doesn’t ask how I am.

“Mind if I sit with you?” I ask.

He glances around, not immediately welcoming me, and my heart dips. I almost say never mind, but I won’t back down this time.

Wes motions to the chair next to him and tells me to go ahead.

I sit down, and he studies me for a moment. I’m sure he noticed I don’t have any books with me—it’s obvious that I’m here for him—but rather than ask about it, he sits back in his chair, relaxed, and opens his novel to continue reading.

I can’t see the title because he folds the spine. He seems relaxed with me next to him, even though we’re not talking. Even though we have stuff we absolutely need to talk about. We belong by each other’s side, even though we’re not together.