The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(77)

I close my eyes, reminded of our every moment, our every feeling. And it isn’t until later, when we’re pressed together on this small, cushioned space, that he holds himself above me, breathless and shaky.

“What are we doing, Quinn?” he asks.

“Being more than friends,” I tell him.

He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t say anything else. Instead he looks down at me, completely and utterly defenseless. He’s mine, I think.

I reach for him, let him consume me. We block out the entire world, and we’re left with just us. There’s no more pretending or protecting—I give in. We both do. And this time we try to give each other what we’ve both always wanted most: love, the kind we don’t have to say.

* * *

I slept in Deacon’s bed last night, not in Catalina’s, where her parents have probably been up waiting. Maybe they’ve called Marie, called my father. Instead of worrying about it, I snuggle against Deacon, my thigh over his while he plays with my hair. He was here when I woke up late this morning, long past my internal alarm. He was with me all night. He’s different now—I can feel it. He’s no longer scared of getting too close to me.

With my fingernail, I trace a heart shape into his skin just above where his heart would be. I draw a little arrow stabbing through it, and hear him laugh.

“That’s you,” he says. “The arrow in my heart.”

“So I’m a wound?”

“Definitely. Deep one too. Lots of scar tissue.”

I slap his chest, and he rolls me over, pinning me beneath him. He kisses me on the nose, and then stares down at me. He looks thoughtful for a moment, and then uses his thumb to scrub my cheek, like he’s rubbing off makeup. He smiles, does it again to the other side. “There you are,” he whispers. He leans down to kiss my lips and then smiles at me again. “Missed this face,” he says. “Missed kissing it.”

I laugh and push him off, but like magnets we’re snuggling close again. The room is warm, and outside, a bit of light filters in through the gauzy curtains. Shining right on us. My headache is gone; my heart is contented. I told Deacon everything about my time as Catalina Barnes, even the parts where I totally screwed up.

“Still can’t believe that girl sucker punched you,” Deacon says, not even the slightest bit amused. “What a bitch.”

I exhale, relieved it didn’t bruise beyond a slight red mark. “She was grieving,” I say, although I shouldn’t make an excuse for her violence. But in truth, I understand it. Isaac and I were living in a fantasy world—we needed to be stopped.

“I think I’ve made things worse for that entire family,” I tell Deacon. He shifts beneath me, and I know he doesn’t really want to talk about it. Mentioning that I thought I might love Isaac was a bit of a dagger, I’m sure, especially after how hurt Deacon had looked at the batting cages. Of course, I understand now that I really didn’t love Isaac. I mean, yes, I was attracted to him, but more than anything, I liked the way he felt about Catalina. I liked having a normal life where we could be together and do normal couple things. I liked how easy it was with him. At least for a while.

“What should I do?” I ask Deacon.

He’s quiet, thinking it over. “We leave,” he says. “I’ll get us tickets to wherever you want to go. We don’t tell Marie or Aaron. We definitely don’t tell your dad.” He tightens his arms around me. “We just go.”

I sit up and look at him, my eyebrows pulled together. “And leave that family to suffer?” I ask, incredulous. “I made them worse, Deacon. How can I live with that?”

“It’s not your fault,” he says, adjusting the blanket as he moves to rest against the headboard. “This is all on your father.”

“Stop,” I say, exhausted with him always heaping the blame on my dad. Yes, my father shouldn’t have sent me, but I’m the one who failed.

Deacon sighs and stares up at the ceiling, trying to compose himself. “Fine,” he concedes. “Do you want help finding another closer to go in and finish it?”

I lower my eyes, a small twinge of jealousy hitting me at the idea of another person taking my place, even if it’s my place as a replacement. I begin to chew on my thumbnail, trying to imagine how I could adjust the family’s therapy, redirect them in time for the party on Friday. I shake my head, looking at Deacon and knowing he’s not going to like my answer. “It has to be me,” I tell him.

He tightens his jaw. “You almost lost yourself,” he says in a controlled voice. “You can’t go back there. No.”

“I have to,” I say. “I owe it to her parents. And to Isaac.”

“You don’t,” he disagrees. “You really don’t owe anyone anything, Quinn. You can walk away. We can walk away.”

“I have to put this right. After that, I’ll talk to my dad. See what can be done about the contract. But I won’t turn my back on the Barnes family. It’s not right.”

Deacon stares at me like he can’t believe what I’m saying. “What else do I need to do?” he asks. “I’ll give you anything, Quinn. But what else can I possibly do to make you stay?”

“This isn’t about us.”

“It is to me!” he says, raising his voice. “I made a mistake eight months ago, I know that. It killed me to see what I’d done to you, how I’d hurt you. I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again. I promise it every time. And then you came here last night. I was defenseless. I was completely open to you. So what, Quinn? You let me back in so that you could leave me? Tear out my heart and punish me?”