The Treatment (The Program #2)(12)

It looks childish next to the very grown-up clothes I’m wearing, so I slip it off and set it on the dresser. James lifts one eyebrow, questioning my motives.

“It’s too sweet,” I say with a smile. James scans my clothes once again, and with a heavy sigh, he agrees. I’m someone else tonight.

In the front room I find everyone gathered, the scene so out of place I’m starting to think it’s just a hallucination. Dallas stands there, a gothic vision in black and red. Cas is next to her, his long hair wild along his face, black liner around his eyes. Everyone looks like they just walked off some trashy version of The Addams Family, and that includes me.

“I’m underdressed,” James says.

“No,” Dallas says with a smile. “You’re perfect. I was hoping you’d drive us tonight. We need someone normal-looking behind the wheel. Not that you could ever be average.” I roll my eyes and turn away. It seems petty to tell her not to notice my boyfriend and I like to believe I’m above that. But if she does it again, I might just scratch her eyes out.

“Where is this place?” James asks.

“The club’s on Kelsey, about twenty minutes away. I’ll navigate.”

James nods, but then something catches his eye. I follow his gaze to where Lacey is standing in the doorway. She’s not dressed for the Suicide Club. Instead she’s wearing baggy sweats and an oversized sweatshirt that reads Oregon Ducks.

“I’m not feeling well,” she says, her makeup-free skin startling in a room of painted faces. “I’ll go next time.” Cas immediately crosses to Lacey and touches her arm.

He leans in to whisper in her ear, and after a moment Lacey pulls back to stare at him before she nods slowly. I want to know what Cas said, what he knows about Lacey that I don’t.

She’s my friend—he’s just the guy whose nose she broke. Cas puts his arm across her shoulders and begins to lead her out, but I’m quick to jog after them into the hallway.

“Lacey,” I call to her. She glances back at me, her eyes weary.

“Please don’t worry about me, Sloane,” she says. “It’s not good for you or James. I just need a little sleep, that’s all. Go have fun—we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“I’m going to stay with her,” Cas says. “I’ve been to the Suicide Club enough times. Dallas can do without me for one night.” He turns to smile gently at Lacey, but she doesn’t return it. Instead her eyes drift toward her room like she wants nothing more than sleep. Solitude.

“I don’t think I should leave you.” I start toward her, but Lacey’s posture straightens with agitation.

“Sloane,” she says, “I love you, but please, it’s nothing personal. I promise. I’m just tired, and I haven’t been alone since leaving Oregon. I want some space.” She turns to Cas, shrugging his arm off her shoulders. “And that includes you, Casanova. I don’t need you hovering over me or trying to get into my pants.” Cas laughs loudly and then bites back his smile. I’m not sure if he really was going to hit on her or if Lacey just knew how to embarrass him so he’d back off. He holds up his hands in a show of surrender, and Lacey thanks him. She starts toward her room, disappearing around the corner before I hear the click of her door shutting.

I’m still for a moment, unsure of what to do. Other than the nosebleed and wanting to be alone, Lacey doesn’t seem to be falling apart. There are no signs of real depression—dark eyes, spirals, erratic behavior. After all, she’s been cured. She lost Kevin— Kevin—and maybe she needs a little more time to come to terms with that. We all do.

Cas walks back into the main room, and I decide to let Lacey have a night of peace, vowing to harass her tomorrow.

She’ll have to talk eventually. We’ll get through this together. I reenter the room and scan the area for James. I find him sitting on the table with Dallas standing close-by, talking animatedly.

James says something I can’t hear, and she laughs, leaning in to casually touch his knee. The tingling burn of jealousy spreads through my chest.

Dallas glances up, sensing my presence, and then lets her hand fall from James. She faces the room. “Well,” she announces with a loud clap. “Now that we’re all back, it’s time for a little fun.” She motions to the stairwell and quickly, the room starts to empty. James turns and finds me, taking in my outfit like he’s just remembered how scandalously I’m dressed. He bites his lip as he approaches, and my earlier jealousy fades when he takes my hand.

Cas appears next to us and Dallas starts in our direction.

“I think I’m going to stay behind,” Cas says, exchanging a look with Dallas. “Keep an eye on things here.”

“If this is about Lacey, I don’t think she wants you to bother her,” I say quickly.

“What’s wrong with Lacey?” James demands.

I shrug. “She wants some space.” James tries to discern any hidden meaning in my words, but there is none. “I think she’s just tired,” I say seriously.

“Is that your diagnosis, doctor?” Dallas asks. I clench my teeth and turn to her. “Even if you’re right,” she adds, “we don’t leave people at our safe houses alone—depressed or not. They can inadvertently set us up, or maybe even on purpose. The suicidal aren’t at all predictable.”