The Complication (The Program #6)(89)

“I don’t regret it,” he says. “If you’re thinking I’m regretting getting involved with you again, I don’t.”

“That’s because you’re fucking insane,” I say, making him laugh. “You should run far away.”

“I’ll never run. Not unless it’s with you.”

I smile to myself. “You’re being really sweet,” I say, watching the building, getting lost in the feeling of his fingers stroking mine.

“You can be sweet too,” he replies playfully. “If you wanted to . . . I don’t know, distract me from the parts of my body that are now separated from each other.”

I lift my head and look at the side of his face. He’s got his eyes closed, a soft smile on his lips. His entire expression relaxed. He’s such an idiot, and I love him for it.

It would be completely inappropriate to hook up in the car while his arm is in a sling. After we were attacked. While on our way to more disaster. But I’ll be honest, the more reasons I think of not to, the more I want to.

Wes bites on his lower lip in anticipation, and I’m helpless in how badly I want him. How I want to take up his entire world, and him mine.

“We could just try it,” he whispers. “Or I can do all the work. I don’t mind.”

To be honest, he’s pretty good at what he does, but not tonight.

I lower myself toward his lap, and his breath catches in his chest—a little surprised. He slides his good hand into my hair, gently brushing it aside. And then he murmurs in a serious voice, “If I get erased tonight and end up forgetting this, I’m going to be so pissed.”

And then we both crack up laughing.

? ? ?

“Now, I’m not a doctor,” Wes says a little later, blinking like he’s trying to clear his head. “But we probably could have skipped the drugs and gone straight to that.”

“Something to keep in mind for next time,” I reply like he’s making sense, and check my reflection before flipping up the mirror. It’s ten minutes past the time when Realm was supposed to arrive, and I’m beginning to get worried. Although Wes isn’t currently in any pain, and, I would daresay, he’s in a spectacular mood considering our situation, this state of euphoria won’t last forever. He needs to rest.

“Should we do this?” I ask, motioning toward the restaurant.

“Probably not,” he says. “But it’s not like I’m going home tonight. At least in there I can have a slice of pie.” He reaches out his hand to me, and I squeeze it before we both get out of the car.

Wes adjusts his sling several times, but he still manages to beat me to the door. He pulls it open, a set of bells jingling, and he holds it for me to walk in first.

I’m immediately smacked with the smell of grease and syrup, the air warm and a little sticky. I sweep my eyes around the empty restaurant, and my heart sinks when Michael Realm is nowhere in sight.





CHAPTER NINE


“HOW YOU DOING TONIGHT, DOLL?” a woman’s voice calls. I glance over the counter to where there is a large rectangular hole leading into the kitchen and find an older woman smiling. “Go ahead and sit wherever you want,” she adds.

A cook appears next to her, wearing a white hat, and the woman comes through the swinging door to pause behind the counter. She’s wearing an old-fashioned pink uniform with apron, and she has bleached hair and orange lipstick.

“Two coffees?” she asks, as Wes slides into a booth at the side of the room.

“Yes, please,” I tell her. “And a slice of apple pie if you have it.”

“You got it,” she says with a smile, and then goes to the stack of coffee cups behind the counter.

I get to the booth, and Wes is all the way in, his right shoulder next to the partition, looking even more swollen from the swath of bandages under his shirt. I’m about to get in on the other side of the booth, but he shakes his head.

“Next to me,” he says. “I’d love to say it’s to protect you, but it’s actually to protect me.” He smiles. “I’m not much muscle right now. Maybe we should call for backup.”

“We won’t need muscle,” I say, sliding in next to him. We’re facing the door, and I stare at it, willing it to open. I’m suddenly terrified that Realm won’t show. That this will all end with handlers rushing into a diner off the highway, one town over, and dragging me out. That I’ll disappear, and no one will ever find me again. It’s a terrifying thought.

The server comes over and drops off two cups, filling them with steaming coffee. It smells strong, and Wes practically dives for it when she’s done. She smiles at him, putting the slice of pie where he can reach it. Opening his napkin for him and handing him the fork. His sling is garnering him some extra attention, and he definitely doesn’t mind.

“Did you want whipped cream, honey?” she asks him. “Or some ice cream? How about some ice cream on the house?”

“That is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, Mable,” Wes says with a grin, reading her name tag. The woman practically melts at his adorableness and tells him she’ll be right back.

I look sideways at him, my eyebrow hitched up. “Uh . . .” I say. “Ten minutes ago?”

Wes stabs his fork into his pie and then holds the piece out to me. Reluctantly I lean forward and take the bite off the fork. He smiles, setting the utensil down, and slides his hand onto my leg.