I brush my hair away from my face, still trying to get my bearings. “Sure,” I say. “And I...” I’m about to tell him about the memory but figure it would be better in person. “See you in twenty minutes?” I ask instead.
“Deal,” Nathan responds, and hangs up.
I climb out of bed, the memory set aside, and suddenly the events of yesterday come flooding back. I fall to sit on the mattress. Dr. McKee isdead. My grandparents had my memory erased when I was a kid and then lied about everything. They let me get adjusted. No, theyhadme adjusted.
I’m overwhelmed, my heart racing, sweat gathering in my hairline. My skin prickles.
I switch to my default, the only way to have any normalcy. I have to block it all out, every confusing thought. Every question. Every returned memory. I push it aside and force myself to my feet. To the shower. To the kitchen.
It’s no way to exist, this empty way I’m going through the motions. But it will help me to live. For now. Wes was right—the past is a dangerous place to be.
“Have a nice day, honey,” my grandmother calls as I grab my keys from the kitchen. And for one fleeting moment, she stares at me as if she really sees me—like she can tell everything that’s happened. But all I do is smile and tell her I hope she has a nice day too.
Nathan is sitting on his front porch, his posture sagging, and his elbows on his knees. He looks up from his spot on the stairs when I get to my Jeep. I wave him over, and he grabs his backpack and heads my way. He climbs inside, and I motion toward his bag.
“Thought we were skipping?” I ask.
“Prop,” he says. His voice is tired and raspy. It makes me think he’s been crying, and I decide it’s not the time to talk about my past with Wes. It’s over anyway. Nathan’s pain is right now. I have to deal with one problem at a time.
“Didn’t feel like telling my mother about skipping,” he adds. “I couldn’t even bring myself to tell her about Melody.” He spits her name like it’s a curse.
“And Foster?” I ask.
“He’s going to meet us at Lulu’s.”
I pull out of the driveway and head toward the pancake house. “How much does he know?” I ask.
Nathan sniffs a laugh and rests his head back against the seat, staring vacantly out the windshield. “Enough to prove him right, which is going to be super annoying.”
I smile and press down on the accelerator, speeding us toward our friend.
CHAPTER TEN
FOSTER TAKES A BITE OFpancake, wipes his mouth, and then looks across the table at Nathan. “So your ex-girlfriend was a spy for the Adjustment and kept tabs on all of us?”
“I guess,” Nathan says with a shrug. I sip from my coffee. “Although mostly it was Tatum.”
“She said she loved you?” Foster asks him. He bites off a piece of bacon, calm about all of this. “Did you love her? Is that what she used to manipulate you?”
Nathan sighs, lifting his head to glare at Foster. Foster nods that he doesn’t have to answer, before biting another piece of bacon. And I can’t stand that the first girl Nathan loved did this to him. He’ll never get over it; how could he?
“She also got a job at Rockstar Pizza a few weeks ago,” I add, trying to lighten the moment. Lift his pain. “So she manipulated him with pizza, too.”
Nathan sniffs a laugh like he hates me. “Now I can never eat there again,” he says, pushing his food around on his plate. “She took my favorite restaurant from me. It’s unforgivable.”
“You’ll learn to love again,” I tell him wistfully. “Maybe it won’t be Rockstar, but I know there’s a special pie out there for you.” Nathan laughs.
“So just to make sure...,” Foster starts, scrunching up his nose. “Jana is Melody, who is a closer—a person who impersonates someone who died. Am I right so far?”
Nathan nods.
“Cool. She’s also a handler, and Vanessa was a patient she monitored in The Program. I’m still good?”
“Yes, Foster,” Nathan says, wanting him to get to the point he’s sure he’s trying to make.
“And then Melody watches Vanessa until she kills her—inadvertently,” he adds quickly for Nathan’s benefit. “But then she starts hooking up with you to keep an eye on Tatum?”
“That’s what I’ve got,” Nathan says. His skin is pale, and when he glances over at me, his hazel eyes are glassy with embarrassment.
