CHAPTER Eleven
BREAKFAST IS ALL SORTS OF AWKWARD AS I SIT
across from Realm, James next to me with his body turned slightly away. I would have figured James more of the possessive type, somehow claiming me in front of Realm while crunching on his Frosted Flakes. But instead he has only a small smirk that I notice between spoonfuls.
“You’re happy today,” Realm says, eying him as he drinks black coffee from a Styrofoam cup. Dallas glances over from where she sits on the counter, studying James’s expression until she understands, and then turns away.
“I am so very happy,” James replies to Realm, not looking up.
“It won’t last,” Realm snaps. “You know that.” James smiles broadly, finally meeting Realm’s suspicious gaze. “You have no idea how long I can last,” James says with a little laugh. He pushes back from the table, grabbing his bowl.
He kisses the top of my head before walking to the sink, pats Dallas’s leg, and then leaves the room—smiling the entire time.
Realm’s dark stare flicks to me; the quiet guy who showed up yesterday is gone. “See the two of you made up,” he says.
I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. The first time I introduced Realm to James, they nearly killed each other, because Realm was being a dick to me. Right now this is feeling pretty familiar.
“When were James and I fighting?”
“Before you left Oregon. When you came to my house and kissed me. Unless you forgot about that.” There’s the clink of a bowl before Dallas hops down from the counter. “That would be my cue to exit,” she says. “Realm, I’ll catch up with you at the site later.” Realm reaches for her as she starts past him, touching her hand. There’s a slight twinge in my stomach. “Just give me a few minutes, Dal,” he says kindly. She considers, but then after an annoyed look in my direction, she nods and walks out The weight of an impending argument floods the room—
even though I’m not entirely sure what Realm and I have to fight about. Yes, I kissed him, but that was because of The Program.
They tried to erase James, but I still loved him. Even Realm saw that.
“If you’re going to be a jerk,” I start. “Then—”
“What did you expect, Sloane?” Realm puts his elbows on the table, leaning forward like he’s ready to pounce. “I told you to stay away from James—that he’d make you sick again.
And yet here you are on the run because of him, because you were being reckless and The Program was called. Do you think I should applaud that? What the hell do you want from me?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “For you to go back to the way you were in The Program.”
“You mean the way you want me to be.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“It doesn’t work like that. You don’t get to dictate how I act, how I feel.”
“I’m not trying—”
“You’re not?” he shouts, and I straighten up, alarmed by his harsh tone. “Why didn’t you take the pill, Sloane? Why can’t you remember?” I immediately look toward the door, afraid someone might have overheard. Realm’s mouth opens, a knowing expression on his face. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?” he demands. “You didn’t take it because of James.”
“It was an impossible choice! There was only one pill—how could I choose?”
“Easy. I gave it to you.”
I shake my head. “And what about the danger? How was I supposed to take that leap of faith while people are going crazy from their memories? That’s what happened to Lacey!”
“The pill isn’t like recall. It’s not a stress fracture. It brings back what The Program locked away, and sure, it hurts, but it wouldn’t have killed you.”
I lean toward him, trying to keep my voice hushed, but I’m failing. “Oh, that’s very comforting. But this wasn’t just about James. Your sister told me I might not like what I found in my past. I don’t know who I was, Realm. But I know who I am now. What’s wrong with wanting to live in the now?” Realm’s expression softens, and he stretches his hand in my direction, just short of touching mine. “There’s nothing wrong with it,” he says. “Was that all Anna told you?”
“She said I might not forgive you. Why? What have you kept from me?” I don’t remember much of my time in The Program. There are fragments, bits where I was playing cards or laughing with Realm. But my past is gone, as are the pasts of others. Somehow Realm held on to my history. He didn’t tell me right away, not until I demanded it. I can feel he has more secrets; his sister all but confirmed that he does. Yet . . . I still trust him. I trust him even though I know he’s lying to me.
“Anna never wanted me to remember. She said the past would be too painful. And to be honest, I can understand where she’s coming from. But I’ve told you everything I can, Sloane,” Realm says, clearly frustrated. “That has to be enough.
If you take the pill, you’ll know the truth.”
“And if I don’t take it? If I give it to James, what will he remember?”
Realm’s eyes narrow at the thought of me giving his gift to James instead. “Maybe he’ll realize you don’t belong together.” I try to retract my hand, but Realm grabs it. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry, sweetness. Don’t leave.”
“Like you left me?” The words hit me, and the grief and worry I felt about Realm’s sudden disappearance crashes down. “You gave me a stupid pill and then you left me,” I whisper.
Realm winces and brings my hand to his lips. “I know,” he murmurs into my skin. “But I love you so much.” He kisses my knuckles. “I wanted you to have a chance to remember.” My wrist. His touch radiates over my skin, twisting me up, confus-ing me. “Tell me that you missed me too.” My breathing deepens as Realm kisses my inner forearm.
He’s inside my head—I know it. But I can’t deny I missed him.
I did. I really, really did.
“I missed you,” I whisper as his hand slides up my arm, cupping my shoulder to pull me close enough to kiss. In front of me, Realm’s deep brown eyes are earnest but dark. Dark and tortured. It brings me back to my senses, and Realm must read it in my expression because his jaw hardens.
“James doesn’t love you,” he says slowly, his breath warm across my lips. “If he did, he would have made you take that pill.” There’s a sound, and both Realm and I turn to see James standing in the doorway. He’s still, his expression unreadable.
I push Realm’s hand away and jump back from the table, but I know it’s too late. James saw—heard—all of that. He doesn’t look at me again, only continues to stare at where I was sitting.
And then, without a word, James turns and leaves.
The walk to the bedroom seems endless. My heart thuds, my mouth is dry. James heard my and Realm’s conversation, saw Realm close enough to kiss me. How could I have let that happen?
“James?” I call softly as I push open the door to our room.
The closet door is ajar, the chain for the light still swaying.
“Do you think he’s right?”
I spin and find James in the far corner of the room. He doesn’t sneer, or anything even remotely hateful. He just looks heartbroken, unable to meet my eyes. In his fist he clutches the plastic Baggie.
“About the pill?” I ask, wanting nothing more than to fix the damage I’ve inflicted. James would have never let another girl get that close to him, and Dallas sure tried.
James looks up, his blue eyes rimmed in red. “About me,” he says. “Do you think I should have made you take the pill?” I start to say no, but James has already made up his mind.
Realm’s words have shaken him, made him doubt everything.
It’s as if Realm knows exactly how to hurt us.
James holds out the wrapped pill, but I can’t even look at it, so he shoves it into his back pocket. “James—” I start.
“No more lies,” he interrupts. “Right now, with Realm, what was that? Christ, Sloane. Did you sleep with him?”
“Of course not!”
“I heard you. You missed him.” His lips pull apart in anguish, his eyes weaken. “You nearly kissed him. I . . . I saw all of it, and not once”—he jabs his finger in my direction—“did you tell him to stop.”
Tears drip onto my cheeks, but there’s nothing I can say. I have no excuse. I did miss Realm; I didn’t lie about that. There’s an unspoken bond between us that doesn’t seem connected to any specific memory. I trust Realm with my life. And sometimes he uses that against me.
“I don’t know you right now,” James says. “Because to me”—he motions toward the hall—“it looks like he’s your boyfriend. And I’m jealous! God, I’m a f*cking jealous a*shole and I hate it!” He groans, tugging roughly at his hair. “I thought it was me and you, Sloane. It was me and you forever or not at all.”
“I want forever too.”
“He gave you a pill,” James says. “He gave you a way to bring back all your memories. I don’t have that power, and who the hell knows how I would react if I did. Maybe he’s right.
Maybe I should have made you take it.”
There’s a sound, and James and I both look over to see Dallas standing in the doorway, holding a can of Coke. “What pill?” she asks, not even trying to pretend she wasn’t listening to our conversation. Her dark eyes flick to James, but he only seems annoyed at her interruption. When I don’t respond, Dallas steps into the room. The click of her boots is loud in the small space as she sets her soda on the dresser. “What pill?”
“Ease off,” Realm says. My gut sinks when Realm walks in behind her, shooting a cautious glance at James before address-ing Dallas. “I gave it to her.”
Dallas spins on him, but before she can react, James is moving. He crashes into Realm and the two slam into the bare white wall. Realm gets in the first punch, his closed fist connecting high on James’s cheek with a loud thwack. I scream, rushing forward, but then they’re on the ground, a flurry of movement I can’t untangle.
“Stop!” I scream, reaching to grab James’s arm as he pulls back to punch Realm, but he only shakes me off before getting hit again and knocked sideways. Realm scrambles on top of him, but James blasts him in the face, blood spurting instantly from Realm’s nose. Dallas exhales, finally coming over to help.
I’m yelling for both guys to stop, but they seem bent on killing each other. Blood is pouring over Realm’s lips as he sputters out random bits of rage; James is swinging at whatever he can hit.
Realm falls to the side and James gets to his knees, fist raised to smash down on Realm’s face, until Dallas pulls something out of her pocket. The switchblade flashes, and then she’s got the knife to James’s throat, stopping him cold. My eyes are wide as Dallas has her arm twisted around James’s neck, the blade biting into his skin. He lifts his eyes to where she is, his chest heaving and a trickle of blood coming from the cut on his cheekbone.
“I can’t let you kill him,” she says. “Sorry, James.” For a moment we’re all quiet, and then Dallas lowers her knife, and James—watching her the entire time—climbs to his feet. He glances in my direction before walking out. I want to check that he’s okay, but I decide to give him some time to cool off.
Realm sits up, resting his elbows on his bent knees as he lets the blood continue to run down his face. Drops tap on the wood floor. Dallas looks between us, her expression darkening before she goes over to grab her drink, taking a long swig.
I’m in shock, unable to utter a word, until Dallas throws her half-filled soda at Realm, hitting him in the shoulder before the can falls to the ground, sending out a sticky spray of Coke. I yelp and step back, staring at her as soda foams from the mouth of the can.
“So you got a hold of The Treatment,” she snarls at Realm,
“and you gave it to her?” Dallas glares in my direction and I shrink away with immediate guilt.
“Not the time, Dallas,” Realm says. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“Don’t dismiss me. I swear to God, I’ll—” Realm jumps to his feet, the bottom half of his face still awash with blood. He looks insane, and for the first time I can remember, I’m scared of him. Realm balls his hands into fists, but Dallas doesn’t back away.
“Get out,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Not until you tell me how you got it. Not until you tell me why her!” Dallas is coming undone, her lips quivering like she might cry. I expect Realm to reach for her, call her sweetness, and sooth away her anger. But he doesn’t.
“You don’t matter, Dallas,” he says seriously. “You don’t matter the way she does and you know it. I love her. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.”
A terrible silence falls over the room, and Dallas lowers her eyes, injured by Realm’s words. In them I feel betrayal, and the emotion strikes me as familiar—even though I can’t place where it’s from.
“I hate both of you,” Dallas murmurs, not lifting her head as she leaves.
I don’t care if Dallas hates me—the feeling is mutual. But when Realm’s posture sags, I know there’s more to their relationship than friends with benefits. And yet he was so quick to send her away, crush her. Is that how he cares? When I no longer matter, will he dismiss me, too?
Neither Realm nor I make a move to clean the mess of soda Dallas left behind. My body is still shaking with adrenalin, but underneath I’m drowning in the deep darkness, aching everywhere.
“What’s going on, Realm?” I ask. “What is The Treatment?” He drags his forearm over his chin to clean off some of the blood. “That little orange pill you’ve been hiding,” he says, “is the cure for The Program—they call it The Treatment. There were only a few prototypes, but after The Program found out about them, they destroyed the laboratory. They destroyed the scientist who made them too. But there was one pill left.” I don’t deserve this, not when Dallas or James or probably a hundred others would give anything to take it. “Why did you give it to me?”
“Because you needed it,” he says simply. “You went off the grid, broke their rules. The Program wants you back, Sloane.
And this was the only way I could protect what’s left of you.”
“But how—”
“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Cas stands in the doorway, his hair pulled into a ponytail and his chin unshaven. He darts an uneasy look around the trashed bedroom. “We have a visitor,” he adds.
Realm’s hand immediately grips my elbow, pulling me to stand behind him. “Who is it?” he asks quickly. “And how did they find us?”
“Looks like Dallas got ahold of the doctor, after all.” Realm curses under his breath, but I’m freaking out, terrified of the word doctor.
“Has he said anything?” Realm asks, wiping his bloody hands on the bottom of his T-shirt as if it’ll be enough to make him presentable.
“Just that he’s here to talk. He asked for them,” Cas says, motioning to me.
I take in a sharp breath. “No,” I say. “Realm, are they going to take me?”
“No, sweetness,” he says. “Dallas has been searching for this man for a while—against my objections.” He shakes his head, a mix of annoyance and anger. “I don’t think he’s a threat. He’s not with The Program.” Realm and Cas exchange a look before Realm starts for the door, muttering under his breath: “At least not anymore.”
I’m a total mess as I walk downstairs, fearful of the doctor, guilty for what I’ve put James through; ashamed I’ve taken Realm’s gift for granted—Dallas’s reaction proves it. I walk into the living room and Dallas’s scowl from the couch radiates white-hot hatred. I move to the other side of the room.
Realm stopped to wash his face, and then he meets me in the room. Cas walks past us toward the kitchen, where I assume the doctor is waiting.
I expect James to come in, but the minutes tick by without him. I shoot a few cautious looks in Dallas’s direction, but she seems unconcerned with his absence. I, however, am beginning to freak out.
“Where’s James?” I murmur to Realm. He shrugs, annoyed I’d even pose the question to him. I’m about to call to Dallas, when there’s movement from the hallway and I startle as a man strides into the room, not waiting for Cas to introduce him.
The man is tall and thin underneath his charcoal suit. He has a gray beard and mustache. He looks like someone’s rich old grandpa, but when he speaks, his voice is crisp as it cuts through the quiet room.
“You’re completely vulnerable here,” he says. He searches until he finds Dallas. “What if I was a handler?”
“Then you’d be wearing white.”
He doesn’t crack a smile. “You know that’s not what I mean, Miss Stone. All of you,” he motions around the room,
“are accessories. One slipup will land you in jail, or worse, in The Program. I suggest you keep your guard up. I won’t be able to save you if you’re caught.”
Dallas’s hard exterior wanes and she begins to chew on her thumbnail, averting his eyes. Everyone else is calm as this man stands in front of us like he’s in charge. James is missing and I’m suddenly alone.
“Who are you?” I ask the man finally.
The doctor slides his hands into the pockets of his suit and presses his lips together in apology. “I’m sorry it’s taken us so long to be introduced,” he says somberly. “I’ve been following your case for some time, Miss Barstow.” He takes a step toward me and extends his palm. “I’m Dr. Arthur Pritchard, and I’m the creator of The Program.”