The Treatment (The Program #2)(49)

And then there was me. I wasn’t exactly the best boyfriend.”

“I think you’re underestimating her.”

“You didn’t see her. I’m the reason Dallas went into The Program. I was suicidal, vicious, angry. I said horrible things.

I wanted her sad—I made her sad. And then . . .” He stops, turning to look at the lawn as he puts his palm over his mouth, coughing a cry into it before he can compose himself.

“What did you do?” I whisper.

“I called The Program and told them to take her.” My eyes widen, and then I’m a flurry of motion, slapping whatever part of him I can hit. “You son of a bitch!” I scream, trying to wound him. He takes it all, but soon my hands begin to hurt and my arms tire. “How could you?” I whimper, heartbroken for a girl who has been through too much. More than anyone ever should. He’s kept all this from her. It makes me wonder exactly what Realm is capable of. I drop down to sit on the bridge, overcome.

Realm looks at me, a small scratch—raised and red—on his cheek. “When I got my memories back,” he says, “finding Dallas was my first priority. And when I saw she was okay, I was so relieved. I’d been worried she didn’t survive. Believe me, I hate myself for what I did. Right away she and I fell back into a relationship of sorts. She’s vulnerable, especially to me.

“And then she told me about Roger, about what he’d done to her. And I had such guilt.” He closes his eyes. “You don’t understand how that kind of guilt can feel. Again I found myself taking it out on her. I can’t not hurt her, Sloane. I want to protect her, but I can’t even protect her from me.”

“Then just leave her alone,” I say. “Isn’t that the best thing you can do for her? She still cares about you, Realm.”

“And I’m in love with you.”

My stomach twists, sickened by the words. I’m not to blame for how he’s mistreated Dallas. “Don’t turn this on me. You should have never told her that, knowing your past together.

Knowing how she feels about you. It was cruel.” He smiles, sad and lonely. “Isn’t that what you do to me when it comes to James?” he asks. “Aren’t we in the same exact position?”

His words shock me, and I jump to my feet. Have I done that? Am I that cruel? I take a step back, and Realm shakes his head and reaches for my arm.

“Sloane, wait,” he says. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I get it—that’s what I’m trying to say here. I understand about you and James—you’ll always choose him.

I’m just saying that, on the same token, I’ll always choose you.” Realm is the one who’s unwell. Has he always been this way, or is he spiraling into a depression? I step backward toward the house, yanking my arm from his. “You’re crazy,” I say. “Stay away from me, Realm. Stay away from Dallas.” Realm starts to follow me, but something in my expression makes him stop. Instead he leans the side of his body against the railing and watches me leave. I’m suddenly desperate to find James. I can’t tell Dallas about Realm; I’m not sure I can inflict that kind of trauma on her. But I’ll ask for her help in locating James. And then I’ll get us the hell out of here. I start to run toward the house, running away from Realm. Always running back to James.

When I get to the house, it’s quiet. The pan Cas used earlier is soaking in the sink, and there’s a bowl filled with ramen noodles on the table. I can’t eat anyway, not after what I just learned.

Dallas isn’t in the living room, but I have to find her. We have to find James and then get out of here. I head upstairs to grab my stuff, guessing that Dallas is still asleep. I climb the creaky stairs, and when I open my bedroom door, my breath catches in my throat.

James is standing at the window, staring out over the yard. I see his shoulders tense when I enter, but he doesn’t turn around right away. He seems different, even though it’s been only a few days. I want to see his face, but at the same time, I’m scared of what his expression will say. Is he still mad about Realm? Does he think I abandoned him?

“I saw you on the bridge just now,” he says quietly. “The land’s beautiful here. A lot like Oregon. A lot like home.” I’m about to completely break down, but I sniffle hard and pull myself together. “You found us,” I say, thinking back on Realm’s words. He said if James loved me, he’d find me. I’m hoping that’s true.

James turns, his bright-blue eyes arresting as he looks me over. “Did you think I wouldn’t?” he asks. “You know me too well to think I’d give up on you. I left so I wouldn’t murder your friend, but something came up. I’m just glad Dallas left a breadcrumb trail.”

The moment is heavy, overflowing with emotion. My fingers are shaking so badly that I clasp them in front of me. “I was worried about you,” I say.

James nods and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the Baggie. “I should give this back to you,” he says quietly. “I thought about taking it, but I couldn’t. See, I hesitated.”

“I’m glad,” I say. “I have so much to tell you, and to be honest, I doubt either of us will be taking The Treatment anytime soon.” James casts a confused glance at the pill before sliding it back in his pocket. But rather than asking me, he lowers his eyes, his shoulders slumping. My stomach sinks.