The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(89)

I roll my eyes and sit back in the seat, folding my arms over my chest. Of course our conversation would turn immediately to Deacon. “He told you?” I ask.

Aaron raises his hands in a What did you expect? motion. “Deacon’s my boy. And damn, girl. You blew his mind.”

“Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not. It’s about time. I thought the sexual tension would last forever.”

“Shut up.” But I laugh again and take back my glass as punishment, even though it’s empty. Aaron looks elated, like he has something to do with my and Deacon’s rekindling relationship. Obviously, Deacon didn’t tell him the entire story, though. I didn’t go to him blinded by passion and lust. I’d lost my mind, myself. He brought me back. And then I left him sitting on his staircase.

“How is he?” I ask, lowering my eyes to the table. “I . . . haven’t talked to him since yesterday morning.”

“You mean before you went back to your fake boyfriend?” he says conversationally. I shoot him a dirty look, but he continues. “Uh . . . I wouldn’t say he took that well,” Aaron adds. “But you know Deacon. He hates the system, but he’ll eventually understand. You had to finish the job.”

I pull my hands into my lap, picking at my fingers in order to look casual. “Have you seen him?”

“Yeah. He came over this morning, asking about you. Myra called him out immediately, and Deacon broke down and told us about your night together. I mean, he was vague on the details, but knowing the two of you it was pretty obvious what happened. Myra wasn’t pleased, mostly because Deacon looked miserable. But after talking for a bit we realized he was probably just worried.” He smiles at me thoughtfully. “He didn’t want you to leave.”

“Yeah,” I say with a touch of regret. “He made that part clear.”

“You should give him another chance.”

“How many?” I ask. “He’s already broken my heart twice. How many tries does he get?”

“You’re the one who left this time,” he points out. “And I understand. I do. But Deacon’s changed, Quinn. He’s always loved you—everyone could see that. I think this assignment made him realize it too.”

I don’t answer, turning over the words in my head. My heart. “It’s almost funny,” I say after a moment. “I make a living sorting out other people’s lives when I have no handle on my own.”

Aaron smiles. “That’s why you’re such a good-ass closer,” he says. “You’re too kindhearted. You give your clients everything.” Only this time he says it as a compliment and not as a criticism he’d point out to Marie.

“I am pretty awesome, huh?” I say, grinning. “Like, the best . . . ever?”

“Relax over there, egomaniac.” He laughs, and then pushes back his chair to get up from the table. “It’s late,” he says. “We should head home. You ready?”

I take a moment, looking around the restaurant patio, around at the trees. The air is crisp but comfortable. Wind is blowing and swaying the trees. I’ll miss Lake Oswego. I’ll miss a lot of things. I say my final good-bye before nodding to Aaron, and follow him to the Cadillac.

* * *

In the quiet of the car, my thoughts turn back to my assignment. I check my phone and see there are no messages or missed calls. Nothing from Isaac or the Barnes family. For a moment nostalgia takes over, and I wonder if I really could have stepped into Catalina’s shoes and lived her life forever. Run off to college with Isaac.

Tears sting my eyes, and one drips onto my cheek. I’m jolted back into reality and quickly turn toward the window to discreetly wipe it away before Aaron notices.

I know better, of course. It wouldn’t have worked. But the buildup of grief can be overwhelming this soon after an assignment. That’s what Marie’s going to help alleviate.

Aaron checks his phone, and his posture stiffens. He clicks off the screen and stares at the road, seeming troubled. “Can we take a detour?” he suggests, his voice deepened.

“Now?” I ask.

“Marie hasn’t returned my calls,” he says, tossing his phone into the center console. “I’ll keep trying her, but I don’t know where she’s at. She set up the extraction, so she knows we’re on the way.” His expression clouds over, and then he looks at me, realizing how much of himself he’s revealing. “It’s nothing,” he says with a quick smile. “Let’s stop off at Deacon’s until I get ahold of her.”

“Aaron,” I say, shaking my head. “Is that was this is about? Getting me back with Deacon? Because—”

“No,” he says so seriously that I know he’s telling the truth. “But it’s a safe place,” he adds, turning away from me to face the road. The words hang in the air between us, cold and haunting. The assertion being that the other places we’d go, like home . . . may not be safe anymore.

* * *

We pull into Deacon’s driveway a half hour later, and Aaron cuts the engine. He picks up his phone, checking it again, and nods toward the house. “You go ahead,” he says. “I want to call Myra and let her know we’ll be back soon.”

I curl my lip, letting him know that he’s acting crazy. “Seriously?” I ask.