Suzanne Young - The Treatment

“And I’m in love with you.”

My stomach twists, sickened by the words. I’m not to blame for how he’s mistreated Dallas. “Don’t turn this on me. You should never have told her that, knowing your past together. Knowing how she feels about you. It was cruel.”

He smiles, sad and lonely. “Isn’t that what you do to me when it comes to James?” he asks. “Aren’t we in the same exact position?”

His words shock me, and I jump to my feet. Have I done that? Am I that cruel? I take a step back, and Realm shakes his head and reaches for my arm.

“Sloane, wait,” he says. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I get it—that’s what I’m trying to say here. I understand about you and James—you’ll always choose him. I’m just saying that, on the same token, I’ll always choose you.”

Realm is the one who’s unwell. Has he always been this way, or is he spiraling into a depression? I step backward toward the house, yanking my arm from his. “You’re crazy,” I say. “Stay away from me, Realm. Stay away from Dallas.”

Realm starts to follow me, but something in my expression makes him stop. Instead he leans the side of his body against the railing and watches me leave. I’m suddenly desperate to find James. I can’t tell Dallas about Realm; I’m not sure I can inflict that kind of trauma on her. But I’ll ask for her help in locating James. And then I’ll get us the hell out of here. I start to run toward the house, running away from Realm. Always running back to James.

When I get to the house, it’s quiet. The pan Cas used earlier is soaking in the sink, and there’s a bowl filled with ramen noodles on the table. I can’t eat anyway, not after what I just learned. Dallas isn’t in the living room, but I have to find her. We have to find James and then get out of here. I head upstairs to grab my stuff, guessing that Dallas is still asleep. I climb the creaky stairs, and when I open my bedroom door, my breath catches in my throat.

James is standing at the window, staring out over the yard. I see his shoulders tense when I enter, but he doesn’t turn around right away. He seems different, even though it’s been only a few days. I want to see his face, but at the same time, I’m scared of what his expression will say. Is he still mad about Realm? Does he think I abandoned him?

“I saw you on the bridge just now,” he says quietly. “The land’s beautiful here. A lot like Oregon. A lot like home.”

I’m about to completely break down, but I sniffle hard and pull myself together. “You found us,” I say, thinking back on Realm’s words. He said if James loved me, he’d find me. I’m hoping that’s true.

James turns, his bright-blue eyes arresting as he looks me over. “Did you think I wouldn’t?” he asks. “You know me too well to think I’d give up on you. I left so I wouldn’t murder your friend, but something came up. I’m just glad Dallas left a breadcrumb trail.”

The moment is heavy, overflowing with emotion. My fingers are shaking so badly that I clasp them in front of me. “I was worried about you,” I say.

James nods and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the Baggie. “I should give this back to you,” he says quietly. “I thought about taking it, but I couldn’t. See, I hesitated.”

“I’m glad,” I say. “I have so much to tell you, and to be honest, I doubt either of us will be taking The Treatment anytime soon.” James casts a confused glance at the pill before sliding it back into his pocket. But rather than asking me, he lowers his eyes, his shoulders slumping. My stomach sinks.

“What’s happened?”

James lifts his gaze. “My dad died.”

I gasp, shocked beyond words. I rush forward, not caring if he wants me to or not, and wrap my arms around him. He’d already lost his mother, and now . . . his father. James is an orphan. He’s truly alone in the world now. His arms are weak as they rest around my waist. I get on my tiptoes, whispering close to his ear.

“I’m so sorry, James.”

James’s grip tightens, and soon he’s holding me, swaying with whatever grief he was holding back. I should have been with him, but instead I let Realm manipulate me. I broke James’s trust. We could have faced everything together, but it’s too late to take it back now.

After a moment James hitches in a few unsteady breaths. He rubs his reddened eyes and then takes in my appearance. “You look too thin,” he says, sounding miserable.

“I’ve been a little stressed.”

He nods like he can understand. Absently, he reaches to take a curly strand of my hair and twist it around his finger. “When I left,” he says quietly, “I planned to cool off for a few hours, come back, and take you away from him. Away from Realm. At one point I looked up and realized I was driving back to Oregon. I just wanted to go home. I wanted our lives back. I stopped at a gas station and asked to use the phone. I called my dad.”

The tears gather in James’s eyes and his grief is contagious. Even though his father blamed me for James running away, he was still James’s father. I murmur again how sorry I am, but James doesn’t seem to hear.

“Dad didn’t answer the phone,” he continues. “And I got a bad feeling. So . . . I called your house.”

“My house?”

James nods, letting my hair slip out of his hand. “I’m not even sure why. I did it without thinking—I just . . . knew the number. I talked to your father.”

“My dad?” I squeak out. I miss my parents. Despite everything, I miss them, and knowing that James lost his dad makes me only more desperate to have mine back.

“He told me my father died last week. There wasn’t a service because there was no family left to bury him. Instead the State took his body. I . . .” James starts to break but fights hard to keep his composure. “I abandoned my dad, Sloane. He died all alone.”

I cover my lips with my fingers, trying not to cry. This is why James seemed different when I walked in. He’s no longer cocky or confident. Over the past few days, he’s lost his old life. He’s had to grow up completely. His life is irrevocably changed.

“Your father asked about you,” James says. “I told him you were okay, that you weren’t sick. And that someday we’d come home again.” I squeeze my eyes shut, tears spilling onto my cheeks. “He said he hoped so,” James continued. “He asked me to take care of you until then.”

I look at James again, my heart aching. “You promised that you would?”

He smiles softly. “Yeah. I told him I’d do anything to keep you safe. And I meant it, Sloane. After I talked with him, I turned the car around because I knew I could never leave you. You’re all the family I have left.”

The words escape me—the perfect phrases that would prove to James how much I love him. We are family. “Do you really think we’ll go home someday?”

“I’m gonna try like hell,” he says, shifting closer to me. He slides his palm over my neck, his thumb stroking my jaw. I ache for him to kiss me, but he’s holding back.

“How did you find us?” I ask. “How did Dallas get to you?”

“I have to say”—he laughs—“she’s pretty damn good. She must have had people out looking for the Escalade. First I got a note leading me to a seedy motel. I was a few days behind you. The proprietor was nice enough to tell me you shared a room with a tall, dark-haired guy with a nasty scar on his neck.” James lowers his arm.

There’s a rush of guilt, but I’m quick to try to explain it away. “It wasn’t like that.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I thought it was,” James says. “You’re tangled up with him. I have to deal with it.” James gets quiet, slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants. “At the motel,” James continues, “Dallas left behind a guidebook of Lake Tahoe. From there, it was a matter of tracking the van.