The Program

CHAPTER TWELVE




“SEE YOU HAVE YOUR DAD’S CAR AGAIN,” I SAY AS we drive.

“Stole it. He doesn’t like me to take it anymore. Something tells me that he never did, but he was trying to be nice after I got back from The Program.”

I twist my hands in my lap, not sure if I should bring up our past relationship. I notice as he drives that James has the string from my shirt still around his pinky. “Where are we going?” I ask.

“There’s this spot I found the other day. It’s . . . beautiful. I wanted to show someone, but, well. I don’t really have any friends.”

“Maybe it’s your sparkling personality.”

He laughs. “Come on, Sloane. I’m not that bad, am I?”

“You’re awful.”

His smile fades as he seems to think, taking us past fields and pastures. “I don’t like getting hurt,” he says. “I remember that, even from being a kid. I think it has to do with my mother leaving—even if I don’t know why or how—but I like to keep everything at a distance. That way it can’t destroy me.”

“You must have let Brady in,” I say quietly. He must have let me in once too.

James nods. “And now that relationship is gone and it kind of hurts. Knowing that I had something that isn’t there anymore. It’s like a hole in my chest. Sometimes I think that pain might kill me.”

I understand what he means. This emptiness that doesn’t seem to have a reason. Something that can’t be filled in. I know now what Realm meant when he said keeping one or two memories could drive you mad.

James exhales heavily and then goes to turn on the radio. “You’re ruining the fun, Sloane. This was supposed to cheer us up.”

“You’re right.” I settle back in the seat and watch him for a minute, liking the easy, calm expression on his face, especially when I know there’s something darker underneath. And that maybe the other side of that darkness is fierce love.

A love he had for me.

James turns onto a two-lane street, and I notice his arm again, the white scars that are there. Absently I reach out and run my index finger over them, and he takes in a quick breath.

“Sorry,” I say, dropping my hand. “I’m just wondering what they’re from.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “When I got back I asked my dad about them. He said I had had an ugly tattoo, and The Program removed it. Strange, right? That they’d just take ink off my body. If I’d known they were going to do that, I might have gotten a special message for them tattooed on my ass.”

“Graphic.”

He laughs. “Sorry.” James looks at me, his eyes traveling over me like he’s trying to figure me out. “It felt nice,” he says quietly. “When you touched me like that.”

Butterflies flutter in my stomach, but James goes back to watching the road. I reach out again, my fingers trembling slightly as I run them carefully over his scars. Tracing the patterns there.

I watch as his shoulders relax and his mouth softens into a smile. His skin is so warm, and I think that I must have liked touching him before. I lean forward and press a gentle kiss onto his scars. And then I straighten and look out the passenger window, desire filling my entire body.

“I kissed it and made it all better,” I say.

And it’s quiet until James responds, “Yes, you did.”

• • •

My pulse has mostly calmed when James pulls up next to a grassy hill. He shuts off his car and then reaches into the back to grab a blanket.

“This is it,” he says, sounding pleased. I stare out the window, my heart in my throat. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“It’s . . .” I try to catch my breath, push away the sadness. “We’re at the river,” I say.

“I know it’s a little cold out, but this place is gorgeous,” he tells me, as if I need convincing. As if this is the first time I’ve been here.

I look over at him, tears in my eyes. “I know,” I say. “Brady used to take me here all the time.”

James’s face falters, and he glances down at the towel in his hands. I can see him searching for the memories and I know the minute he can’t find them. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “We should—”

“No,” I say. “I love this place. Honestly.” And I mean it. If I was ever going to feel close to my brother, it would be here. James seems comforted by this as he climbs out of the car. He waits for me before walking over the grass.

The river is breathtaking. The sun glitters off the surface as tiny ripples wrap around the bigger rocks on the side. “This is even better than I remember,” I say.

“I was hoping you’d like it.”

I look sideways at him. “You thought of me?”

He shrugs and I wonder if he didn’t mean to admit that out loud. We face the slow-moving water, birds chirping above us as the trees close us in, making the area intimate. Private.

I’d spent years in this spot, years watching my brother jump into the river. He loved it here, and the fact that James does too only confirms that they were close. That we’d all spent a lot of time together.

James spreads out the blanket, and then when I’m next to him, we sit quietly, arms resting on our bent knees as we watch the water.

And for a minute, I feel like I’m home. Not my actual house, which is currently strangling me with the lies that I’ve been told. But my true home, here at the river with James, with the memories of Brady. I have the urge to rest my head on James’s shoulder, but I don’t think I should.

James shifts and his body bumps mine, knocking me sideways. He mumbles a halfhearted apology and then lies back, putting his hands behind his head as he stares up at the clouds.

I settle next to him, looking around us, the cool breeze sending goose bumps over my skin. It’s so peaceful here that I don’t think I ever want to leave.

After some time passes, James yawns dramatically. “Hey,” he says. “You want to go swimming?” He looks over at me, squinting his blue eyes against the sun.

“It’s cold. And besides, I don’t know how to swim.”

“Seriously?”

I nod.

James sits up, curling his leg underneath him, an expression of disbelief on his face. “Well that’s just goddamn sad, Sloane. What are you, five? Get undressed. I’m teaching you right now.”

I laugh. “First, no. I’m afraid of water. And second, why am I getting undressed again?”

His lips curve up. “You don’t have to be scared. I won’t let you drown.”

My heart is pounding at the thought of getting in the water, but James isn’t helping to calm me down. “And the clothing option?” I ask.

“That would just be for fun. I promised fun, remember?”

I shove him then, laughing as I do. James stands, towering over me as I lie on my side, staring up at him. “Come on,” he says, seriously. “Come in the water with me. I’ll take my clothes off too.”

“Something tells me you just really want me to see you naked.”

“Maybe you’ll be impressed.”

“Oh my God.” James has a talent for making me forget the world around us, for making it all feel normal. I’m sure that’s why I loved him. Or at least part of why.

Even though it’s barely sixty degrees outside, James pulls his shirt over his head, the muscles corded and strong over his body. He pulls down his shorts and stands in just his boxer briefs, windmilling his arms as he stretches. He glances over at me. “See. You look impressed.”

I smile. “Maybe a little.”

“Do you need help with your shirt?”

“No, I think I’ll keep it on. But I will enjoy watching you freeze your ass off.”

“So impressed,” he says over his shoulder as he walks to the water. He swims out to a small boat dock on the other side of the bank, waving to me once he’s on it. Then he does a flip before splashing into the river below, reminding me of my brother when he does.

His clothes lie in the grass, crumpled up. I consider hiding them, leaving him to drive home in a pair of wet boxer briefs. James is splashing, yelling in a shaky voice that he’s not even cold. I pick up his jeans and fold them over my arm, looking toward the path. But when I start to walk, something falls out of his pocket.

At first I worry that I lost his house key or something important, but then I spy an object a few feet away. When I recognize it, tingles race over my skin. I get down on my knees and crawl over to it. I drop James’s pants and pick up what I’d so nearly lost.

It’s a ring. A pink plastic heart similar to the one I’d found in my mattress. James must have given me the other one, and it must have meant something for me to save it. For a second there’s a hint of a memory, just a flash of me stuffing it into my bed, but I can’t hold on to it. Instead I start to cry. I clutch the ring to my chest and then fold over, my cheek on the grass.

I’m not complete. I’m missing a huge piece of my heart, memories of things I must have said and done, things I can’t have back. I want them, all of them. I want to be myself again.

“Sloane?” James’s voice is frantic. Drips of river water hit me before he kneels down on the grass beside me. His arms wrap around me, his skin cold against mine.

“This ring,” I say, holding it up to him. “Where did you get it?”

“After we texted last night, I went to Denny’s to sulk. I saw it in a gum ball machine there.” He reaches to take it from me, possessive of it. “I felt bad for the things I said to you, and when I saw it . . . I don’t know. I had to get it for you.” He studies my expression. “Is that dumb?”

I shake my head. “No. You’ve . . . I think you’ve given it to me before. A different ring.” I smile, wiping at my cheeks. “But just as cheesy.”

James’s eyebrows pull together as he thinks, looking down at the ring in his hand. Then he takes my finger and slides the ring on. We both sit there, staring at it, trying to decide if it belongs there or not. When James and I look at each other again, we’re both confused, unable to remember why this ring is so important to us.

“Can I do something?” James asks, still holding my hand.

“What?”

“Can . . .” He pauses. “Can I kiss you, Sloane?”

That was so not what I was expecting him to say. I don’t answer at first, and James drops my hand and crawls closer to me, his face near mine as he’s poised almost over me. My heart races as I stare back at him. He’s so beautiful.

“Please?” he whispers. “I really want to.”

Something about the way he watches me—a knowing look that seems to see into my heart. “I don’t know,” I say, my chest tightening as I let my feelings for him spread over me, leaving me unprotected and vulnerable. His expression grows serious, as if I’m refusing him. But then I put my hand on his cheek. The hand that wears his ring.

“Okay, yes,” I say.

James smiles quickly, and then leans forward to press his mouth to mine, laying me back in the grass as he kisses me passionately. His lips are hot, and I dig my fingers into the bare skin of his back, kissing him like I’ve missed him my whole life. They way he moves, tastes—it’s all so familiar, and yet . . . not.

The sun lowers in the sky, the temperature dropping further. But it doesn’t make us stop. Every second lasting both forever and not long enough. And when we’re thoroughly exhausted, still dressed, James collapses next to me, laughing out loud.

“This is the first time in almost three months that I’ve felt anything at all,” he says.

“Was it good?”

“Oh, yes. That was all sorts of good.”

I slap his chest. “I meant the feelings. Were they good?”

James moves then, rolling so that I’m under him. He brushes my hair away from my face. He’s tender and defenseless, as if every part of him is exposed. He’s not the a*shole I thought he was, not even close. What I see is someone broken and fierce. Someone loyal and hardened. Someone who could belong to me completely, and me to him.

James smiles as he traces his finger over my mouth. “I think . . .” He stops and looks into my eyes, his stare arresting, pinning me in place. “I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers. “Is that crazy?”

His words strike my heart, and the ache that’s been a constant in my chest goes away completely. I lick my lips and smile. “So crazy.”

“Then I guess I love you madly.” And then he leans down and kisses me again.