“I’m sorry about what happened with Derek,” Realm says, making me wilt with the mention of his name. A cold chill down my spine. “He wasn’t always terrible. He used to be one of the good guys.”
“Yeah, I’m going to call bullshit on that,” I say bitterly. “I remember him from The Program—he was always a creep. But what about you, Michael Realm?” I ask. “I need to know if you’re one of the good guys.”
The question must hit Realm hard, because he furrows his brow deeply. “I try to be,” he says earnestly. “I really do.” He waits a beat. “What else do you remember, Tatum?”
“Not much,” I admit. “Meeting you, I guess. Knowing that you were all pretending to be patients. That’s what was going on, right?”
Realm nods that it was, but I see the instant of disappointment in his expression. He thought I had remembered more.
“Well,” he says in a heavy breath. “Let’s start with this.” He sets the manila folder on the table, staring down at the closed cover, measuring his breaths. Finally, he looks up, miserable.
“I was your handler,” he whispers. “In The Program—I was your handler. Both of you.”
Wes sits back against the seat, retracting from the words, and groans when he hits his shoulder. He hadn’t thought to research his own time in The Program; he’d been too worried about me.
And although I already knew Realm was my handler, I still feel betrayed. Hurt. He dealt out my info in small doses, deciding what I got to learn. He could have fixed this months ago. He could have preventedall of itif he had stood up to The Program sooner.
“You erased me,” I say, my voice low and monotone. “You stole our lives.”
Realm has shadows under his eyes, his chin tilted up like he’s ready to take the abuse. “I know you’re upset,” he says in the understatement of the year. “But I’m here to help, believe it or not.”
“Not,” Wes says immediately. Realm nods that he has a right to that opinion. He slides the folder in Wes’s direction, but Wes doesn’t touch it. He stares at it tentatively.
“What is this?” Wes asks.
“It’s yours,” Realm says. “It’s your file.” He looks at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, Tatum,” he adds, “but I don’t have yours. I think it was lost.”
“Of course,” I murmur. I look at Wes, scared of what’s in his file. What it will say about him, about us.
“It’s pretty thorough,” Realm says, motioning to the file. “I mean, it’s not everything—you lie as well as your girlfriend—but there’s still a lot there. Your sister’s in there.”
Wes pulls the folder into his lap and quickly opens it. He sifts through the papers, the pictures. He finds one of Cheyenne and immediately turns to me.
“This is her,” he says breathlessly. He touches her face, and his eyes well up. “This is my sister.”
Wes was close with his sister; she was his only real connection to his family. They were a team. And even though he doesn’t remember that, I can see that his heart still feels it. I blink away my own tears, happy he’ll get this piece of himself back.
When I look across the table, I find Realm watching me. He presses his lips together sadly. “Your file is kind of useless anyway,” he says like it’s a good thing. “You lied to me.”
“When?” I ask. “Because you seem to be the master of incomplete truths here.”
“In The Program,” Realm clarifies. “You agreed to tell me everything, but instead you lied to me. You lied to yourself. You have a pretty strong will, Tatum. I’m glad they never broke it.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Realm looks down at his hands again. “The other day,” he says, “you asked why I care what happens to you when we don’t even know each other. But the truth is, we were close. We kept each other close.”
And I’m not sure if it’s because he gave Wes back his sister, or if I still feel that closeness, but I find some affection toward Michael Realm. Some sense of connection.
“How did I get out of The Program?” I ask. Even though it’s not the most important question right now, I have to know.
Realm picks up his coffee, stalling with a long sip.
“I’m guessing it has something to do with this,” Wes says, taking a paper out of his file and setting it on the table. I lean over to read it and see it’s a patient intake form.
I don’t get what he means at first, but toward the bottom, I see the checked box. My stomach sinks, and I cast an accusatory glance at Realm.
“Voluntary,” Wes says. “It says I voluntarily turned myself in to The Program. Now, why the fuck would I do something like that?”
