The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(90)

He exhales impatiently, pursing his lips as if I’m the one being difficult. “I’m pretty sure you and Deacon have drama to sort out,” he says. “All I want is a few minutes to let my girlfriend know that we’re running late and that I’m okay.” He pauses, maybe realizing his rude tone. “Go kiss and make up with him,” he says with the hint of a smile.

Although I love the optimism, I don’t share it. Instead there’s a wave of sickness, regret, and I get out of the car and start toward Deacon’s front porch. We haven’t spoken; he hasn’t tried to call. I’m suddenly devastated at the thought. Maybe he thinks he made a mistake. That I’m his biggest mistake.

My heart thumps against my ribs, and I pause at the steps, unable to move forward, until I notice the shadow move in the window and I know Deacon has seen me. I can’t stand in front of his house like a stalker. I have to talk to him.

I climb the stairs with a mix of dread and longing. I shoot a panicked look back at Aaron, but he has the phone to his ear, talking. He doesn’t notice me. By the time I get to the top step, the front door opens and Deacon’s there, waiting.

Although I’m not sure Deacon can ever look bad, this is easily the most disheveled I’ve ever seen him. He’s wearing shorts and a faded T-shirt that he won at the Oregon State Fair two years ago. His expression is completely unreadable as he watches me approach, his eyes studying me in that careful way.

I pause at the door, staring back at him, and when I can think of nothing to say, I lift one shoulder in a shrug. Deacon rolls his gaze to the sky like it’s painful to see me; his jaw tightens as he tries to keep control of his appearance. A downfall of being around closers so much, I guess. We’re always conscious of being read.

“I saw how happy you were there,” he says, “that day at the batting cages. So when you walked out my door, I didn’t think you’d ever come back.” This time when he looks at me, it’s an arrow through both of our hearts. A sharp, piercing pain, a fatal wound. I screwed it up—even if it was morally right, I screwed us up. “I asked you not to leave,” he says. “I f*cking begged.”

“It’s not just about us, though,” I tell him, even though I’m not sure he can understand. “I couldn’t abandon them, Deacon. Not even for you.”

“Him,” he corrects. “You couldn’t abandon him.”

“No.” I shake my head and take a step closer. “Them.” Deacon’s posture weakens, his resolve to be angry with me already fading. I’m his only insecurity, the only person who could ever hurt him. Maybe that’s the real reason he’s kept his distance.

Deacon stills, vulnerability painting his features. “And is it over?” he asks.

I nod. But I hate the thought of Catalina’s life being over. I hate how it ended, who she left behind. There’s so much that still hurts, and I don’t know where I fit into the world. But I look around, and I’m sure it’s not here. Not anymore.

Deacon lowers his eyes, unable to hold my gaze any longer. He pinches his lower lip with his fingers, like he’s thinking. “And if I . . . if I told you I was sorry?” he asks, darting a look up at me. “If I say that I’m a total shithead for not believing you earlier, would that matter?”

I know he’s sorry. He’s always sorry when he shuts me out. But deep down I know he’ll do it again. He’ll break my heart every time.

My body is worn down from the past few weeks, and my feelings are too jumbled to sort out right now. There’s a wave of exhaustion, the start of another headache, and I close my eyes and rub my temples. For the first time in probably forever, I’m looking forward to a debriefing.

Deacon asks if I’m okay, and there’s a light touch on my arm as he reaches for me. Just as everything comes back into focus, Aaron calls my name from the car. “Quinn, we gotta go,” he yells, holding up his phone to signal he’s talked to Marie. He shifts his glance to Deacon. “Sorry, man.” Obviously, he can tell from our stances that this reunion isn’t what he’d hoped it would be.

When I turn back, Deacon’s watching me with a solemn expression, and I wonder if he’s come to the same sad conclusion that I have. That this is terrible—the thought of not being together feels . . . terrible. But it’s right.

Deacon lifts his chin; the light reflects the film of tears in his eyes. “I’ll see you around,” he says quietly. He doesn’t move, as if he’s waiting for me to stop him from going back inside. I could. I see that Aaron is right—Deacon’s changed. With a word I could have him. Even if he’s bad for me. But mostly because I’m bad for him.

“Yeah,” I say, instead of the million other thoughts racing through my head. I turn and walk numbly down the stairs back toward the car; Aaron’s staring at me with his mouth open. His disbelief doesn’t fade when I get in, but he doesn’t press me for details. He doesn’t ask why.

Instead he backs out into the road and drives us toward Marie’s apartment.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AARON PARKS MY FATHER’S CADILLAC at the curb in front of Marie’s building instead of using the lot. He doesn’t turn off the engine. When I look at him, his fingers are tightly wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles white. My heartbeat kicks up, and Aaron blows out an unsteady breath before he turns to me.