The Program (The Program #1)(85)

“He was just sick. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Then why did they take the memory?”

Realm closes his eyes. “I can’t talk about this right now, sweetness. I’ve messed up huge. I need . . . I need to think. You shouldn’t have found that picture.”

“Yes,” I tell him. “I should have.”

“I want you to be happy,” he says. “I swear it’s all I want.” He throws a cautious glance toward the car where James has his head against the steering wheel as if he’s tired of waiting. Realm exhales. “You should go for now, okay?” Then he leans forward and kisses my cheek, pausing there for a long moment.

“What if I don’t want to go?” I ask, hoping he’ll tell me more about my brother, my past.

Realm seems to consider my question. “There are so many things you can’t understand right now,” he says. “But I need you to know that all I’ve ever wanted was for you to get better. Do you believe that?”

I nod. “I do.”

“I just . . . I love you,” he whispers, not able to look at me.

“I know.” And I don’t have anything else to say back. Right now I’m completely grief-stricken, feeling like I’ve just lost Brady, even though he’s been gone for years. But here’s Realm, so ready to love me. Take care of me. Fill up the empty spaces in my heart.

I get on my tiptoes and press my lips firmly to his. Realm responds immediately, surprising me by backing me against the wall, his tongue eagerly finding mine as if he’s been waiting to do this since I got here.

My heart pounds, but the emotion is guilt, as if I’m being completely unfair. To him. To myself. I turn away then, breaking the kiss to hug him instead. Realm lets out a soft laugh, clinging to me tightly.

“You don’t love me back,” he says.

“Not like that. But maybe—”

“Maybe someday?” he finishes for me. Realm looks tired. Maybe a little buzzed. “You should go,” he says again, and walks me onto the porch, keeping his eyes trained on the floorboards there. Then, without another word, he goes back into the house and bolts his door shut.

I stand there, still stunned by the revelation about my brother. I look at the car, and James is watching me. He nods his chin as if asking if I’m okay, but I don’t respond. I’m not okay.

I’m so not okay.

CHAPTER TEN

WE’RE HALFWAY BACK TO TOWN, PASSING DARKENED fields, when James looks sideways at me. “That was some kiss,” he says.

A blush rises on my cheeks. “I was saying good-bye.”

“With your tongue.”

“What do you care?” I ask, ashamed that he saw, even though I’m not entirely sure why. “You couldn’t even stand to hug me in my room that day.”

“I took that hug like a trooper,” he says with a smirk. “And I don’t care who you make out with. I just think he’s hiding something, so I’m surprised you’d be so naive. Thought you were smarter than that.”

“And I thought you weren’t going to be obnoxious.”

“Never said I wouldn’t be obnoxious,” James says. “I try not to make promises I can’t keep.”

We’re silent for a few miles, and I start thinking again about my brother. Brady had an accident—that’s what my mother told me. She said he’d been rafting, but she never said I was there. She never said he killed himself.

I sniffle, and it’s then that I realize I’m crying. “Hey,” James says softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be—”

“It’s not you,” I say, waving off his concern. James glides the car to the side of the road and parks. “I’m thinking about my brother,” I tell him. “I don’t remember him dying. But we were there, James. Me and you. What if we helped him kill himself ?”

“Maybe we did.” His voice is empty. Sad. He looks away, as if he’s searching his own memories. When he lowers his head, I know he’s found nothing. We have nothing.

“What if he said good-bye?” I whisper. “What if he said good-bye and I don’t remember it?” Something inside of me breaks then, and I start to sob, picturing Brady’s smile, hearing his laugh. We were so close. How long had he been sick? And how could I not have noticed?

James puts his hand on my shoulder, and I lean into him. He’s stiff at first but then rearranges himself in the seat to let me rest against his chest.

“You know,” he says softly, brushing back my hair as he talks, “I can’t remember what happened to my mother. I know that one day she was there, and then she was gone. I don’t know if my parents fought, if she had a reason for leaving. When I asked my father, he told me that she had moved away for a job and then decided to stay. But that we were fine on our own.” He pauses. “Ten bucks says his hand is bullshit.”

I stop and wipe at my face, sitting up, but staying close to him. He looks at me wide-eyed. “What?” he asks.

“We played Bullshit in The Program. Did you?”

He laughs. “Uh, no. I was in isolation most of the time, or at least, that’s what they told me. Seriously? You got to play cards?”

“James,” I say. “I used to play Bullshit all the time with my brother.”