The Complication (The Program #6)(85)

“Weston,” a voice calls, shrill and angry. The knocking becomes banging.

My eyes open, and I stare up at the ceiling. “Well, fuck,” I murmur.

“Probably not now,” Wes says, and I snort a laugh.

We sit up, and I quickly get out of his bed, smooth his sheets, and reset the pillows. I slip on my shoes, and go to stand in the doorway to the living room, poised there to give Wes’s mom the chance to adjust to my presence.

“Weston?” she calls again, and the wind howls against the windows.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m terrified of Dorothy Ambrose. She doesn’t deserve all the blame in making me feel that way, but for the past year, she has been more than a thorn in my side. She has eroded my confidence, made me question my self-worth on every basic level. She’s managed to make me feel like the lowest person on the planet, and although I know she did it to protect her son, I have to wonder if that excuses the fact that she’s been awful to me.

I want to forgive her, though. Not for her, but for me. It doesn’t mean I’m not scared of her. I wrap my arms around myself and nod for Wes to open the door. He waits a beat, watching me. Although I’ve told him everything, he didn’t see any of the exchanges firsthand. My expression must give away my fear, because his softness fades, and he strands straighter as he pulls open the door.

“Yes, Mother?” he asks. She scoffs, and her hand darts out to grab the edge of the door to push it open wider.

“Where—?” She stops dead when she sees me. Her hair is wet with rain, and the storm crackles behind her. She looks deranged, her own storm as she bounds into the room. Wes closes the door but waits there like he’s hoping she’ll walk right back out.

“How dare you?” Dorothy says to me with contempt. “How fucking dare you?”

I flinch back, surprised she’d swear at me, and I quickly lower my eyes, my bravery stumbling. Maybe I should have hidden my Jeep up the road.

“Hey,” Wes says immediately. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“Stay out of this, Weston,” his mother says, not looking back at him. Wes laughs bitterly.

“Yeah, I think not,” he says. “She told me everything, Mom.”

Dorothy’s eyes widen into saucers, and she spins quickly, rushing over to him and putting her hand on his cheek, his upper arm. He shrugs her off and takes a step back.

“Are you okay?” she asks, frantic with worry.

“It wasn’t true,” I announce, finding my voice. “What Dr. McKee said about the truth hurting him—it was a lie meant to protect me.”

Dorothy looks at me, and I shrink back. She intimidates me, which I guess is her point. I consider leaving, but that would mean walking past her. So instead, I try to make myself as small as possible.

“You called The Program on her,” Wes says to his mother, his voice thick with betrayal. “You could have called her grandparents and got her help, but instead you called The Program. Instead you did the worst thing possible.”

Dorothy looks at him, shaking her head that it’s not true. “The Program was the only answer,” she says. “And you can’t take her word for it.” She motions to me. “You didn’t see how erratic she was acting.”

“But I did see,” he says. “I must have known what was happening to her, but I didn’t help her either, not in any real way. When it came down to it, though, I didn’t want her in The Program. I wouldn’t have fucking erased her. I wouldn’t have stolen her life. I would have saved her.”

Dorothy tightens her jaw, the first indication that she knew full well the impact of her action. “You don’t understand what those times were like,” she says. “She was out of control, Wes.”

“Like I said, why didn’t you call her grandparents, then? Why was your first call to The Program?”

Dorothy stands perfectly still for a moment, and I realize that I want to know that answer too. She could have called my pop—he would have gotten me help. It all could have gone down differently. But he never got the chance.

I hold my breath, waiting for her response.

“Because I wanted her out of your life,” Dorothy says with finality. “And I didn’t want her to come back.”

I put my hand to my chest, a sudden pain striking me. It is the cruelest thing she’s said about me yet. She knew what she was doing. She knew what The Program would do to me. She used it to break up a relationship, not because she was worried—but because she wanted me gone. A literal character assassination.

My eyes well up, and when I blink, tears drip onto my cheeks. I’ve never felt weaker, the idea that an adult I trusted could hate me so completely. I sniffle, and tears keep flowing.

“Why?” I choke out, and she turns her head slightly, not daring to look at me.

“Because Wes deserved better than you,” she says. “He deserved someone from a good family, someone who made him a better person. And that wasn’t you, Tatum. All you would have done was take him away.”

I sway, hurt. I had no idea her contempt went so deep. I’m in shock, but Wes is breathing heavily, his face going red.

“I hated you,” Wes says to his mother with sudden realization. “I hated you, didn’t I?”

Dorothy watches him like she’s waiting for him to calm down before she answers. She must decide that’s not going to happen, because she starts talking.