The Treatment (The Program #2)(36)
Author: Suzanne Young

“It was nice,” Realm says. “Holding you.” I close my eyes, squeezing them tight, as if I can block out how I’ve missed him. Once upon a time Realm was everything to me. It hurts to remember that—because now I’m not sure if that was the real Realm. “It was nice,” I say softly.

“If you . . .” He pauses, and I hear his throat click as he swallows. “If you wanted to sleep here with me, I wouldn’t mind. I won’t try anything either.”

“I can’t,” I say simply. Even if I didn’t know about Realm and The Treatment, I still wouldn’t run to him now. I learned my lesson at his house that stormy night. I love James. It’s not fair to pretend otherwise.

“The offer stands, Sloane,” Realm says. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Chapter Five

IT’S THE NEXT DAY WHEN WE ARRIVE AT A SMALL

farmhouse outside of Lake Tahoe—and like Dallas said, it’s in the middle of nowhere. It’s also beautiful. Trees encase the entire property, and the small, shabby farmhouse has a charm all its own. From the peeling white siding to the enormous and invit-ing wrap-around porch—it makes me think of a life I would have liked to have with James. Just us in the country, maybe some dogs running around. But I’m here with a group of rebels instead. Things don’t always work out the way we plan.

I don’t have much to carry as I make my way inside. It’s a little dusty, and I cough the minute Cas pushes the door open.

But I like it. I like how peaceful it is.

“This belonged to the grandparents of another rebel,” Dallas says, and then lowers her eyes. “But she was taken back to The Program a few months ago. Haven’t seen her since. So it’s ours now.” She drops her bag at her feet. “We shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“It’s a nice place,” I say, pausing to look at the framed pictures on the wall. There’s an older couple, very 1970s with pais-ley and butterfly collars. I touch the image, reminded of my own grandparents, who passed away when I was little. Their picture hung on my wall at home.

My home. I may never see it again. I shake off the impending grief and instead walk around to explore the place, needing the distraction. I find a small room, no bigger than a walk in closet with a twin bed and nothing else. I decide that I like it. The window looks out over the expansive yard, a small creek cutting through the grass. I can imagine that in the mornings there might be a deer, or even bunnies, frolicking.

I smile to myself and sit on the mattress, bouncing to make the springs creak.

“Hey.” Cas peeks his head in my room. He looks pretty wrecked after driving all this way, and I’m sure I don’t look much better. His longish hair is in tangles, dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t shaved since we left. I wonder how long Cas has been this ragged, threadbare. Maybe I was too busy to notice.

“I called dibs on the shower,” he says, “but if you want it first, I’ll give you this one chivalrous pass.” I grin. “No, you clearly need it more than I do.” He puts his hand over his heart.

“Ouch. Well, don’t plan on having any hot water.”

“Such a gentleman.” Cas winks, playful and flirtatious in the same way he is with Dallas. And although it should make me feel included, it only makes me feel lonelier.

I get under the covers of the bedsheets in an attempt to sleep off some of the exhaustion, listening as the shower turns on down the hall. But the emptiness of my small room becomes too much, and I go downstairs in search of life instead. I find Dallas sitting on the couch, her feet propped up on the arm as she scrolls through the screen of her phone. She glances at me.

“Did you need something?” she asks. “You have that needy expression.”

I stand over her for a minute, the never-ending tension between us suffocating me. I could offer a snide comment and walk away like I usually do, but then we’ll never settle this. I roll my eyes and sit cross-legged on the floor next to the couch. This piques her interest, and Dallas slips her phone into her pocket.

“I’m sorry,” I say, staring at the faded rust-colored carpet.

“I’m sorry I got between you and Realm—it wasn’t my intention.” I hear Dallas snort behind me.

“Oh, well. Society is built on good intentions, Sloane. And look how far it’s gotten us.” Her tone is almost harsh enough to make me leave, but I hold out. There aren’t many of us left.

It could be worth it to try and have a girlfriend—one person I can trust.

“If it’s any consolation,” I say, “I don’t think he meant the hurtful things he said.” I’m not trying to make excuses for him; Realm was a total ass**le. But there was something about his posture after, the way he still looks at her now, that makes me think he cares more than he’ll say. I turn to Dallas, see her watching the ceiling with her jaw clenched, her bottom lip jut-ting out. She flicks her eyes to mine.

“That’s our entire relationship,” she says. “And yeah, I don’t think he means to do it either, but he always does. He always has.” Dallas readjusts her position on the couch, settling back with a far-off expression. “I met Realm after I ran away from home. I was in a bad place, worse than I am now. I’d been through The Program, through Roger, through my father’s abuse. I packed a bag and took off on my own. There wasn’t a national story behind it, not like you and James. I just disappeared, spent my nights in abandoned buildings on my way to Salt Lake. I’d heard stories of a resistance there.

“I was timid then. I’m not sure what my life was like just before I was taken, but in junior high, before the epidemic, I’d been a cheerleader.” She laughs. “Can you imagine?” I smile. “No.”

She quiets for a moment and wraps her arms around herself.

“Then Roger happened,” she says. “When I got home, I couldn’t assimilate, but I learned to fake it to get through therapy. The first chance I got, I took off. I met the rebels and they took me in.

One day Michael Realm showed up. The way he acted . . . It felt like he was there for me. The way he spoke, the way he looked at me. I was scared then, but he made it better. For a while.” Listening to Dallas, I’m reminded that maybe I don’t know Realm at all. This was before I knew him. Was it before he’d been in The Program the first time? Was it before the second time? “What happened after that?” I ask Dallas, leaning my elbow on the couch.