The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(43)

“You,” he breathes out.

The rain has soaked through my clothes, chilled my body. It’s almost impossible for me to flip back; I’ve been out of character for too long now. But before I answer him, I mentally review the file. Scan all the pictures and videos. Remind myself of an entire life. When I speak to Isaac, my voice has changed.

“She needs help,” I say. “I was leaving and saw her sit down on the sidewalk. No one came out after her. . . .” I trail off, caught up in the disbelieving way Isaac is staring at me. I bury my hands in the pockets of my sweater, feeling exposed.

“I heard she threw her drink on you,” he says after a long silence.

“Technically it wasn’t her drink,” I respond, darting a look at my sister. She’s not paying attention. Her head hangs as she sits with her knees up, her pose signifying that she might barf at any second. When I look back at Isaac, there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I hadn’t heard that part. Seems like I owe someone a cocktail,” he says.

“Well, not her.” I point to Angie and she murmurs something unintelligible. Isaac turns to talk to her, quietly brushing her hair back from her face. I take the moment to observe him. His brown hair is matted down from the rain, and every so often he slides his fingers through it to keep the water from running down his face. His salmon-colored T-shirt is soaked through, nearly red now as it clings to his body. He looks at me, catching me staring, and I smile politely trying to play it off.

“We should take her home,” he says, standing. “Let’s get her on her feet.”

I’m surprised by how easily he’s talking to me, and I jump at the chance to participate. I get on the other side of my sister, careful not to say too much now that I’m back on assignment. I don’t want her to freak again, point out to Isaac how untrue this all is. The minute I put my hand on her arm, she rips it away, dashing any hopes I had of her going quietly.

“Don’t touch me,” she says.

“Calm down,” Isaac soothes. “We’re just getting you out of here before the cops pick you up.” He reaches his arm around her waist and props her unsteady body against his hip. “Where’s your car?” he asks me. I freeze, wanting to look at the lot but afraid of drawing attention to Deacon.

“I took a cab,” I lie. Isaac swears to himself, and then glances around.

“Well,” he says. “You’re going for a ride, Angela.” He dips down and puts his arm behind her knees and then lifts her easily, resting her head against his chest. “I’m parked down the block,” he says, starting down the sidewalk.

I watch after them, noting the bits of behavior I’ve seen throughout the night. But then Isaac stops and looks back at me. “Come on,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’ll give you a ride too.”

My mouth opens in surprise, but at first nothing comes out. Then, just: “You will?”

“I’m not going to leave you in the rain,” he says. Uncertainty flips through his eyes, but then he starts walking again, expecting that I’ll follow. I turn back to where Deacon is waiting in my car.

He stares at me, but now the car is running, warmed up for me. I could walk to him, walk away from everything: that’s exactly what his expression is asking me to do. I don’t know if it’s fear of failure, desire to do the right thing, or terror at the thought of falling back in love with Deacon—but I motion down the street toward Isaac and my sister.

Deacon waits a beat and then mouths Okay in a simple surrender. My conscience hurts for a moment, but I turn and jog after my sister and my boyfriend, unsure of where this night will lead.

CHAPTER FIVE

ISAAC STOPS IN FRONT OF a white Ford F-150 with the extended cab for a backseat. He tries to balance Angie while getting out his keys, and at one point when he looks at me, there’s an awkward moment where I think he’s going to ask me to fish them out for him. He doesn’t. He finally gets them in his hand and clicks the locks, nodding for me to open the doors.

Getting my sister’s rag-doll body into the back proves difficult, and eventually I have to climb in first to help drag her onto the seat. When she’s propped up, she stares at me for a moment like she wants to call me Catalina. But then, without talking, she moves to lie down, and I climb over into the passenger seat.

Isaac gets behind the wheel and turns to me, the interior of the cab bright from the overhead light. His eyes travel over me, taking stock of my entire person. Each second that passes seems to hurt him more, and just before I tell him he shouldn’t look too closely, he licks his lips to talk.

“You’re not her,” he says in a quiet voice. “Not up close.”

His comment doesn’t warrant a response, so I sit there under his scrutiny as he tilts his head, memorizing my face. “You have freckles,” he says. “A different mouth. When I look at you, I know you’re not her.” He turns away, sadness darkening his mood, and he starts the engine. “No matter how much I want you to be.”

Music blasts through the radio, left on from the last time he was in the truck. I jump, startled from the melancholy moment, and Isaac reaches quickly to turn off the radio. He pulls into the road and I look back to where Deacon is parked, but the car is lost from this angle. I hate that I just ditched him, but what choice did I have? Tell Isaac I was here with my ex-boyfriend? A closer? That might not have been very effective in getting him to trust me. Still . . . Deacon is going to be pissed. I’ll have to apologize to him later.