The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(88)

He smiles. “I know,” he says. “But I got it for you.”

Butterflies tickle my stomach, and I feel a blush rise to my cheeks. “Me?” I ask.

“I bought it a few days ago,” he says. “It made me think of you.” When he sees how flattered I am, he grins and jumps up. “Wait right here,” he says. I watch as he darts down the hall and disappears.

I put my hand over my heart, thinking that maybe this assignment was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That it’s shown me love and compassion. This is what I should strive for. This level of normalcy.

When Isaac returns, he’s carrying a rectangular jewelry box. He sits on the coffee table, facing me, and holds it out. He seems nervous as he waits for my reaction.

“You shouldn’t have,” I say, but he motions for me to open it. I click open the box and find a thin silver bracelet—delicate and beautiful. Modest and romantic. “It’s lovely,” I say, running my finger over it. I’ve never been given jewelry before, I realize. Closers don’t typically own any of their own.

“Do you like it?” he asks impatiently. I lift my eyes to his and smile.

“I love it,” I tell him. “I really love it.” My voice is threatening tears, and I quickly have to look away. I miss him. I miss Isaac already. “Will you help me put it on?” I ask in a choked voice.

He takes the box from my hand and unhooks the bracelet before laying it over my wrist. His fingers are gentle on my skin, maybe lingering a little longer than necessary, but I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all.

When it’s clasped, I hold out my arm to admire the bracelet. I bite down on my lip, making eye contact with Isaac. And I can see that he’s going to be okay. No, he’ll never really get over Catalina. But he was carrying the guilt of her suicide with him. It wasn’t his to bear.

A few minutes later, Isaac walks me to the door. We pause for a long moment, and I think we both consider leaning in for one last kiss. But that would be unethical. And I won’t lead him on again. So I smile, and tell him good-bye, and wish him the best life possible.

* * *

I park the Jetta at the Barnes residence twenty minutes later. Sitting in the front seat, I grab an old receipt and a pen from the console and tearfully scribble out a good-bye note. When I’m done, I climb out of the car. The rain has stopped completely, and I slip the key into the mail slot, along with the note. Angie will be home soon, and together the family can continue to heal. A family I wanted to be a part of. I pause, looking over the house. Maybe I did—for a little while, maybe I did belong to them. The idea of it is agony and comfort at the same time, and I hold it to my heart and walk away.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I SIT ON THE OUTSIDE patio of the coffee shop, my hood popped up so people in town don’t immediately recognize me. I used my own money last night to crash at a motel, unwilling to intrude on the Barnes family anymore, but not ready to return home, either. When I called Aaron for extraction, he sounded better than he has in a while. I guess it really was the assignment that was bringing him down.

There’s still ten minutes before Aaron is supposed to arrive, so I take the time to observe. A mother sits with a little girl in a stroller next to her. The mom is talking on her phone, while the toddler stares up at her, waiting for any sign that she’s paying attention. My eyes shift to an older couple, the man in a wheelchair, and a server stops to take their order, impatient as they ask questions. Toward the outer edge, near the railing, is a young guy, his laptop open, his expression faraway while he stares out at the street, his fingers poised on the keys. Daydreamer.

A girl around my age walks in, takes stock of the place, and then goes to sit in the corner. She’s impatient, glancing around for the server. Her eyes fall on me and I quickly look away. When I notice the server leave the old couple and head in her direction, I glance up again. The girl has long brown hair and deep-set dark eyes. She points her finger at the menu, asking a question. Without thinking, I mimic the movement, tilting my head and tightening my jaw. The server nods after taking her order and quickly closes the menu, fanning the girl’s hair.

“Casing someone?”

I jump, and turn to find Aaron standing at my table. I quickly get up and hug him, smiling ear to ear. He’s wearing too much cologne, but I don’t care. He holds me tight as if saying that we’ve been through some shit here in Lake Oswego. Before I can start tearing up with relief at seeing him, I pull back. Hide those emotions because I’m a closer and I shouldn’t be so easy to read.

We sit down at the table, and Aaron reaches for my water, drinks it until he drains the glass empty. I laugh, missing his selfish charms. Still, I notice that he’s different, even though I can’t quite place what’s changed about him.

Aaron sets down the glass with a clink and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He leans toward me, his elbows on the table. “So what’s with that girl?” he asks, nodding his head at the other table.

“Nothing,” I say. “Just killing time.”

“You were mimicking her,” he says, clicking his tongue. “That’s weird.”

I press my lips into a smile. “Yeah,” I say. “I know.”

“So long as you know,” he sings out. He studies me, taking inventory of my mental state, and when he’s sure I’m me again, he flashes me that all-knowing smile and whistles low under his breath. “That poor bastard,” he says.