The Complication (The Program #6)(98)

He smiles, waiting for my permission.

“Those damn dimples,” I murmur, running my finger over one. He leans in and kisses me, smiles, and then kisses me again.

When he straightens, I see him flinch at the pain, but he walks over to Marie. “For clarification,” he says. “The stuff we’re picking up—is it heavy? I’m at a bit of a disadvantage.”

“No,” Marie says. “Dr. Wyatt has already confiscated the big equipment. What’s left is travel size.”

“Lucky me,” Wes offers. He casts one more glance in my direction, and then Marie tells us they’ll return as soon as possible.

Marie and Wes leave, and the moment the door closes, Realm doubles over in the chair, clutching his stomach. He moans like he’s been holding it in this entire time; he gasps for breath. I rush to his side, and Sloane is there too.

“Fucking hurts,” Realm growls through clenched teeth, not looking at either of us.

“Let’s get you to a room,” Sloane says, helping him to his feet. “You should lie down.”

James watches, following Sloane with his eyes, waiting to see if she needs help. But there’s something else there, something beyond his worry. He softens slightly at the way she’s helping Realm.

Sloane and I walk Realm into the back of the apartment, where we find a bed with a bright-patterned quilt tucked neatly inside a small room. We ease him onto the bed, and he turns away from us on his side. He coughs out a sound, half between a cry and a moan, and we wait. Realm waves us off, and Sloane goes into the living room to be with James. I hesitate.

“I want to be alone,” Realm says. “Unless you can find something to stop the liquefaction of my organs.”

“What?” I ask, covering my mouth.

Realm turns slightly to look at me and then rolls his eyes. “I’m kidding. All the organs are still here. They just hurt a whole bunch. Now, if you don’t mind, Tatum—can I please writhe in pain in private for a minute?”

I nod that he can, but I’m horrified by his condition. Absolutely floored by it. He turns away from me again, and I exit the room, leaving the door ajar. I stop in the kitchen, taking in the space that’s mostly barren. A few pieces of furniture. No art. No antiques. No sign of any real life.

This is temporary housing. It’s symbolic of where we’re all at right now. And alone in the quiet of the room, I see that we have multiple problems but only one long-shot solution. And I don’t know if it’ll be enough to save any of us.

? ? ?

Realm is asleep, or at least he stopped moaning, so I go into the living room and sit in the chair. Sloane stands at the couch, looking down at James, who’s spread out on the cushions.

“How are you?” she asks him, betraying no emotion. At least not to me.

James stares up at her, the dark circles under his eyes hauntingly deep. “I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you were closer,” he says, his voice raspy.

Without hesitation, Sloane leans down and brushes her fingers through his hair, their eyes locked, her lips on his. She kisses him once, softly, and his hand touches the small of her back to keep her close.

Sloane moves onto the couch and lies with him, her head tucked under his chin. If I’m understanding correctly, James is on the same path as Realm. How long before he’s writhing in pain too? A couple of hours? Days? How long before Sloane crashes back—she’s a returner too. Maybe she doesn’t care, not when the more immediate threat is losing James.

“Tell me a story,” Sloane says quietly.

James narrows his eyes as if deciding what she’d like to hear. Although the moment is intimate, they don’t seem to mind that I’m in the room. They’re lost in their own little world.

“Miller?” James asks.

Sloane smiles at the name, but then she grows thoughtful. “Tell me a story about Brady,” she says almost in a whisper. “Tell me about my brother.”

James’s mood shifts, a bit melancholy, and he tightens his arms around her.

At first, I’m confused. Then it occurs to me that Sloane went through The Program. She doesn’t remember her past, and that includes some of her family history. She’s asking James because he took the Treatment pill. He has the same gift (curse?) as Realm. James remembers everything.

James rests his cheek on Sloane’s hair and stares across the room with glassy blue eyes, like he’s looking directly into the memory. I can’t help but listen, vanishing into the story right alongside them.

“You were about fourteen,” James starts, “and your parents rented this cabin up in Bend—a real shithole. Your mom just about died when we arrived, and she made your father drive her to Home Depot for heavy-duty cleaning supplies.”

Sloane laughs and places her hand on James’s forearm, tracing her nails lovingly over his skin.

“The minute they left, Brady started searching the house,” James continues. “Told us he was looking for dead bodies. Instead, he found a baseball bat, glove, and ball. Asked if we wanted to play. To be honest, I just wanted to sit on the couch and flirt with you. That was my favorite pastime,” he whispers, making Sloane laugh. “But Brady was super not into that idea.”

“I bet,” Sloane says, making James grin.

I take a moment away from the story to look around Marie’s apartment, thinking about the purity of our memories. Why would The Program take this particular one from Sloane? Why make us scared of our pasts when they aren’t all bad? Maybe The Program wasn’t just removing what they thought were triggers; they removed the good stuff too. That would ensure control. Because both our good and bad memories influence us, and they wanted to decide our direction.