Wes takes the bottle from Tag. “I don’t see what this has to do with me.”
“Chill out. I’m getting there. Now it’s just Nikki and Little J, but it wasn’t always like that. They had a brother. He was about thirteen when they left home. I guess now he’d be sixteen, if he’s still alive. One day they were out, trying to score some food. He ran ahead of them, turned a corner, and then he was gone. Disappeared without a trace, and they never saw him again. Just like you.”
“I’m sitting right here, Tag. I didn’t disappear.”
“Yeah, but you’re different. You’re not street anymore. Something changed you.”
“Kids disappear out here. You know that. Murders, drugs, juvie. It happens.”
“All that stuff is messy. Court dates, blood. Not nothing.” He sits back and watches Wes carefully. “There are rumors. About these men dressed in black snatching up kids. I want to know if that’s what happened to you. I want to know if that’s where Chris is.”
“Chris?”
“Nikki’s brother. She keeps searching, keeps believing that he’s still out there. And now that I see you sitting across from me, I’m starting to wonder if he is.”
Wes pushes away from the table and stands up. “Men in black? Vans? That’s ridiculous. Stories people tell their kids to get them to behave.”
“Wes.” Tag stands too. He’s so much shorter than Wes, but there’s something about the way he carries himself that exudes confidence. “Tell me what you’re hiding.”
“Look, Tag. There’s nothing going on. But . . .” He hesitates, and I feel his gaze fall on me, a heavy weight. “If I am keeping something from you, it’s for your own safety. Trust me on that.”
Tag opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but Wes cuts him off. “Tell Nikki her brother’s dead. He might as well be.”
Wes lies down on the floor next to the couch.
I close my eyes and listen as Tag shuts off the lamp and disappears into his bedroom.
Wes’s breathing slows. I try to fall back asleep, but I can’t.
The Montauk Project preys on orphans and street kids because they think no one will care about what happens to them. But Tag cared about losing Wes. Nikki and LJ cared about their brother, just like I care about my grandfather.
I flip over onto my back and stare up at the darkened ceiling. Grandpa was the one person in my life who was there whenever I needed him. When my parents were too busy with their own lives, he would make me dinner, help me with my homework, pick me up from school. And in five days, he’ll disappear in this time line forever, another victim of the Montauk Project.
“What’s wrong?” The whisper comes from the floor and I turn on my side. Wes is watching me. His face is in shadow, but I can see the dark shine of his eyes.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“Your thinking woke me up.”
“Funny.”
I hear a rustling noise as he lifts up onto his elbow. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I sigh. “I can’t stop thinking about my grandfather.”
“You want to help him.”
“Whenever I close my eyes, I see him lying in the hospital bed screaming.” My voice is hoarse, from sleep or grief, I don’t know. “He’s my grandfather. I can’t leave him like that. I can’t let them take him.”
“I know you can’t.”
“I’ve been so afraid of messing up the time line again, but maybe that’s the only way to make things right. Because this time line sucks, Wes.”
He laughs shortly, a surprised sound. “Maybe it does. Changing time isn’t always a bad thing, Lydia. The Project has stopped countless tragedies from happening over the years. It didn’t work out for you in nineteen forty-four, but it could now.” He waits a beat. “It’s a gamble, though.”
“I think it’s worth taking. I won’t let the Montauk Project have him.” I shift until I’m almost hanging off the edge of the couch. “But what does that mean for you?”
“For the mission? As long as they can’t trace any changes in the time line to me, I’ll be okay.”
“I don’t want them to hurt you,” I whisper.
“They won’t. We’ll be careful.” He stares at me, unblinking. “I want to help you, Lydia. I don’t want to send you back to a future you hate.”
Send me back?
“What . . . what are you saying? I thought we were trying to get you out.”
He is quiet for so long, I wonder if he fell asleep. When he finally speaks, his voice is lower. “What do you want, Lydia?”
I push my face into my elbow, and my hair falls thickly across my cheek. “I want a world where my grandfather is safe. Where I can have all the people I love in one place. Like my parents and Hannah and Mary, and . . .” I hesitate, but I’m tired of being so careful around him. “And you. I want to be with you.”
“That’s impossible,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because those people exist in different times. In different time lines, even. Especially me.”
I sit up fully and clasp my arms around my knees, squeezing tight. “I came here to find a way for us to be together. I thought it was what you wanted, too.”
He sits up. “And have you? What’s the secret solution to getting me free?”
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.
“Exactly.” His voice is a slash in the darkness. “Because there is no solution. You should forget about me, Lydia. Take me off the list of people you care about.”
“But—”
He lies back down and turns
