The Complication (The Program #6)(90)

“No,” he says in explanation. “What you did was the hottest thing anyone’s ever done for me. There’s a difference.”

I slap his hand off my knee, making him laugh.

There is the jingle at the door, and Wes and I immediately straighten and look in that direction. My heart skips when Michael Realm stands there, finding us immediately.

He looks like shit, although admittedly, Wes and I aren’t in great shape either. Realm lowers his eyes to the patterned tiles and heads toward us.

“Hi, doll,” the server calls to him. Michael nods to her, asks for coffee, and she tells him it’s coming right up.

“You were right,” Wes says under his breath. “He is fairly cute.”

I sniff a laugh just as Realm reaches our table. He sits down across from us, and his eyes skate past me, at once apologetic and suspicious. He has a folder in his hands, and he puts it on the seat next to him. I’m shocked by how awful he looks up close. He’s pale and tired, his T-shirt helplessly wrinkled. His eyes are bloodshot, rimmed in red.

The server drops off a bowl of ice cream for Wes and pours Realm a cup of coffee. She asks if we want anything else, but I tell her we’re fine. When she’s gone, I lean into the table toward Realm.

“Are you okay?” I ask him, a flash of worry in my voice. Realm finally meets my gaze, holding it a moment with a soft smile on his lips. Without answering, he turns to Wes and extends his hand.

“Michael Realm,” he says, introducing himself. Wes doesn’t hesitate with any macho crap. He shakes Realm’s hand and tells him it’s nice to finally meet him.

Realm sits back and begins to stir too much sugar into his coffee. “I’m glad you’re here together,” he says. “For the record.”

“Noted,” Wes replies, narrowing his eyes, trying to figure Realm out. Good luck with that. Realm’s secrets have secrets.

Realm takes a sip of his coffee and hums out that it’s good. He takes another gulp and then pushes his cup aside and folds his hands in front of him.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Derek,” Realm says, making me wilt with the mention of his name. A cold chill down my spine. “He wasn’t always terrible. He used to be one of the good guys.”

“Yeah, I’m going to call bullshit on that,” I say bitterly. “I remember him from The Program—he was always a creep. But what about you, Michael Realm?” I ask. “I need to know if you’re one of the good guys.”

The question must hit Realm hard, because he furrows his brow deeply. “I try to be,” he says earnestly. “I really do.” He waits a beat. “What else do you remember, Tatum?”

“Not much,” I admit. “Meeting you, I guess. Knowing that you were all pretending to be patients. That’s what was going on, right?”

Realm nods that it was, but I see the instant of disappointment in his expression. He thought I had remembered more.

“Well,” he says in a heavy breath. “Let’s start with this.” He sets the manila folder on the table, staring down at the closed cover, measuring his breaths. Finally, he looks up, miserable.

“I was your handler,” he whispers. “In The Program—I was your handler. Both of you.”

Wes sits back against the seat, retracting from the words, and groans when he hits his shoulder. He hadn’t thought to research his own time in The Program; he’d been too worried about me.

And although I already knew Realm was my handler, I still feel betrayed. Hurt. He dealt out my info in small doses, deciding what I got to learn. He could have fixed this months ago. He could have prevented all of it if he had stood up to The Program sooner.

“You erased me,” I say, my voice low and monotone. “You stole our lives.”

Realm has shadows under his eyes, his chin tilted up like he’s ready to take the abuse. “I know you’re upset,” he says in the understatement of the year. “But I’m here to help, believe it or not.”

“Not,” Wes says immediately. Realm nods that he has a right to that opinion. He slides the folder in Wes’s direction, but Wes doesn’t touch it. He stares at it tentatively.

“What is this?” Wes asks.

“It’s yours,” Realm says. “It’s your file.” He looks at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, Tatum,” he adds, “but I don’t have yours. I think it was lost.”

“Of course,” I murmur. I look at Wes, scared of what’s in his file. What it will say about him, about us.

“It’s pretty thorough,” Realm says, motioning to the file. “I mean, it’s not everything—you lie as well as your girlfriend—but there’s still a lot there. Your sister’s in there.”

Wes pulls the folder into his lap and quickly opens it. He sifts through the papers, the pictures. He finds one of Cheyenne and immediately turns to me.

“This is her,” he says breathlessly. He touches her face, and his eyes well up. “This is my sister.”

Wes was close with his sister; she was his only real connection to his family. They were a team. And even though he doesn’t remember that, I can see that his heart still feels it. I blink away my own tears, happy he’ll get this piece of himself back.

When I look across the table, I find Realm watching me. He presses his lips together sadly. “Your file is kind of useless anyway,” he says like it’s a good thing. “You lied to me.”