The Program (The Program #1)(14)

Glancing around the room to figure out what to do next, James walks to the fireplace mantel and picks up the latest family photo. “Man,” he says, looking at Miller. “Your mom is smokin’ hot in this picture.”

“Go to hell,” Miller says, biting his thumbnail again as he hovers in the doorway. They have this same conversation every time James sees Miller’s mom, who is indeed very pretty. She’s single, raising Miller by herself. She has blond hair and wears short skirts, and has a possible crush on my obnoxious boyfriend who she says is going to be a “heartbreaker” when he gets older. Uh, yeah. Not if I can help it.

“I’m just saying,” James adds, walking back over to the couch and dropping down next to me. “If I didn’t have this one”—he hikes his thumb at me—“I might be your new stepdad.”

I laugh, slapping his thigh. “Hey!”

James winks at me and turns back to Miller. “I can teach you how to play catch in the backyard, okay, slugger?”

“Fine by me,” Miller says, his normally amused expression at the joke gone. “I’ll take Sloane in exchange. I need a new girlfriend anyway.”

Both James and I pause in our laughing, Miller adding a new twist to the routine. Only . . . he doesn’t say it like he’s joking. He glares at James, at me, and then turns away. “I’m going to make a sandwich,” he adds, and heads into the kitchen.

James’s mouth opens slightly as he stares after Miller, a bit of pink high on his cheeks. “I think he was serious,” he says, sounding confused. “Why would he say something like that?” James glances at me, his brow furrowed. “Does he like you?”

I shake my head, my stomach knotting. “No,” I say honestly. And the reason it’s so alarming is that we know it’s out of character, that it’s a break in Miller’s personality. It’s a sign we were taught to watch out for. “Should we talk to him about it?” I ask.

James puts his hand over his mouth, rubbing it as he thinks. “No,” he says finally. “I don’t want to upset him any more.” We’re quiet for a long minute, the sound of the refrigerator opening and closing in the background. James looks at me. “And by the way, you’re not allowed to hook up with Miller.”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll make you a deal. You don’t hook up with him, and I won’t hook up with his mom.”

“James!” I go to hit him again, but he captures my hand and then pulls me onto his lap, making it impossible for me to get up. James is so good at making everything normal that I start laughing, trying to twist out of his grip. When Miller walks back in, a sandwich in his hand, he pauses in the doorway—no emotion on his face.

I stop squirming, but James doesn’t let me go. He nods his chin at Miller. “We’re clear that Sloane’s mine, right?” he asks, not sounding combative, just curious. “That I love her and won’t let her go, not even to you. You know that?” I wonder what happened to the “let’s not upset him” argument.

Miller takes a bite of his turkey on rye and shrugs. “Maybe,” he says. “But we all know that things change. Whether we want them to or not.” And without betraying any emotion, Miller backs off and leaves, walking slowly up the stairs to his room.

James releases me and I sit next to him, stunned. Miller doesn’t have feelings for me, I know that. He’s just acting out. We’ve seen it before, how someone will piss off their friends or start sleeping around when depression takes hold. My brother acted out, but we denied it. We pretended not to see it. With that thought I turn to James, my face tight with worry. “Should I—”

“No,” James says, holding up his hand. “I will.” He kisses the top of my head before walking to the stairs that lead to Miller’s room. He’s going to try a peer intervention, something we’ve been taught since the seventh grade. “This might take a while,” he says to me.

I nod, and then watch as James goes up to try to bring Miller back.

• • •

In Miller’s small, rooster-themed kitchen, I make some chicken noodle soup and eat it with crackers before washing out the pot. When I get tired of waiting, I move to sit on the stairs, listening for any sounds above as I rest my head against the wall.

It’s forty-five minutes later when James appears on the landing. He smiles at me, a look that’s to tell me everything worked out. Miller walks past him, and I back up into the foyer and watch him as he comes to pause in front of me.

“James says you’d never go for me because he’s a better kisser than I am,” Miller starts. “I told him we should put it to the test, and he punched me in the gut so hard I almost puked.”

I dart an alarmed look at my boyfriend and he shrugs.

“It’s okay,” Miller says, touching my arm. “I deserved it. I was being a dick, and I’m sorry.” His mouth quirks up in a smile. “I’m not really attracted to you, Sloane. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

I roll my eyes and look back at James as he drops slowly down each stair. “Did you really hit him?”

“That’s my idea of intervention. Worked, right?”

James is always thinking like that, that if he can distract us long enough we’ll forget how messed up everything is. He’s right. It does work. But will it always? Will he always be able to make us laugh through our tears? I stare at him then, knowing how much I depend on him, on how he makes me feel. His smile fades as if he’s reading the serious expression on my face. Rather than make a joke, he looks at the wooden floor.