“You know, don’t you?” I say, suddenly sure. I cross the room to stop in front of him. “You know something about my past.”
He grabs another beer out of the fridge, starting in on it before leveling his stare on mine. “Maybe. But I wish I didn’t. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Dude,” James says likes he’s ready to fight. “I swear—”
Realm reaches out then, running his fingers lovingly through my hair. His look is far away, and I’m suddenly embarrassed, like we’re sharing an intimate moment. Realm and I were never together. Not like that. But the familiarity of his movement shuts James up.
“You talked in The Program,” Realm says. “We would talk about our lives sometimes when we were in bed.”
It’s like a slap in the face, the way Realm makes it sound like there was something going on between us. The coldness with which he says it.
“And you said I’m a dick?” James asks, laughing. “Not really an appropriate topic for company, do you think, Michael?”
“It’s Realm.”
“Yeah, well. I’ll call you what I want. And I think you should apologize because Sloane doesn’t strike me as the kiss-and-tell type.” He straightens. “Or maybe I should just beat your ass right now.”
“No,” I say, swallowing hard. “I don’t want any fighting.” I look at James. “It’s fine. I promise it’s fine.”
James nods and sits back down, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I didn’t mean that,” Realm says. “And we weren’t sleeping together,” he tosses to James, although it’s obvious that he doesn’t want to clear that part up. “We were . . . just friends.”
“Who share a bed,” James mutters. “I’m sure.”
“Realm,” I say, ignoring James’s comment. “What did I tell you? And how do you remember? I don’t recall anything personal about anybody.”
Realm leans against the counter and drains at least half of his beer as I wait. “You have to understand something, sweetness. Your head”—he taps lightly at my temple—“is a very delicate place right now. The pieces were fit back together like fine china. One crack, like that picture, can shatter the whole thing. I don’t want to hurt you. I really don’t. If we just give it some time . . .”
I lean into him, putting my hands on his chest as I stare up at him. “Please.”
Realm looks defeated, and finally nods. “Your brother didn’t die in a rafting accident, Sloane. That was something The Program made up. Brady killed himself. And you—both you and his best friend, James—were there when he did.”
I gasp, Brady’s image filling my mind. “No,” I say, staggering back. “My brother didn’t . . . My parents said it was an accident. Why would they lie? Why would . . . ?” I feel like I might hyperventilate, and then there’s an arm over my shoulder. James walks me to the couch, helping me sit down. “No,” I say again.
The room is quiet for a while as I try to gather myself. I search my memory, looking for anything about Brady that could have led to this. But all I can see is my brother happy and smiling. What could have happened to him?
James uses his thumbs to swipe under my eyes. “It’s going to be okay, Sloane,” he says firmly. And the way he says it, so absolute, fills me with a sort of security. I turn back to Realm.
“You shouldn’t have kept that from me,” I tell him, feeling betrayed.
Realm sets his empty bottle on the counter, looking at the fridge like he means to get another. “This can make you sick again. I’m risking your life telling you this and . . . God. What am I doing? It’s too soon. Please, Sloane, this doesn’t change anything. You have to move on. You’re safe. I need you to be safe.”
I feel James tense next to me.
“What else?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. “What else do you know, Realm? You have to tell me.”
Realm stares at me, his face pained. And then he shakes his head. “That’s all I have. I’m sorry.”
“Realm—”
“I think you should go now.” He pushes away from the counter and strides over to the door. He unlocks it and pulls it open, not looking back at us.
“What?” I say. “No, you—”
“Sloane.” His tone is final as he glances at me. “I want you to leave.”
“This is bullshit,” James says, getting up. He takes my hand. I watch Realm’s eyes flash as James holds my fingers in his, but he looks away.
Knowing I can’t leave like this, I pull my hand from James’s. “I’ll meet you outside in a sec,” I say. James narrows his blue gaze on mine, a look so full of suspicion that I almost step away from it. Then he nods and leaves, shoulder-bumping Realm on the way.
Realm laughs bitterly. “Lovely meeting you, Mr. Murphy.”
When we’re alone, I walk over to Realm. He stares at me, his jaw set in a challenge, but his eyes are almost desperate. And suddenly, I hug him. He chokes out what sounds like a cry as he holds me tight to him.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. “I’ve tried to keep you safe, Sloane. And then I’m the one who hurt you. I shouldn’t have told you about Brady.”
I pull back. “I want to know all of it,” I say. “You have to tell me everything. I don’t understand why my brother would kill himself.” The tears threaten to come again, and Realm puts his palm on my cheek.
“He was just sick. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Then why did they take the memory?”
Realm closes his eyes. “I can’t talk about this right now, sweetness. I’ve messed up huge. I need . . . I need to think. You shouldn’t have found that picture.”
“Yes,” I tell him. “I should have.”
“I want you to be happy,” he says. “I swear it’s all I want.” He throws a cautious glance toward the car where James has his head against the steering wheel as if he’s tired of waiting. Realm exhales. “You should go for now, okay?” Then he leans forward and kisses my cheek, pausing there for a long moment.
“What if I don’t want to go?” I ask, hoping he’ll tell me more about my brother, my past.
Realm seems to consider my question. “There are so many things you can’t understand right now,” he says. “But I need you to know that all I’ve ever wanted was for you to get better. Do you believe that?”