“Please do.” Norcut’s pale eyes follow us. “I’m always happy to help.”
And what a help she was. It’s almost enough to make me grin. But even if Norcut helped me with my Bay problem . . . I sneak a sideways look at Bren and my stomach squeezes.
She’s breathing light and hard through her mouth, eyes fixed straight ahead. Yeah, I now have a new problem, and Bren won’t be easy.
The elevator must have ten people waiting on it so we take the stairs, saying nothing until Bren pushes through the glass double doors and we’re out in the parking lot.
Bren spins around on me, her hand reaching for pearls she isn’t wearing. “What were you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“What were you doing, Wick?”
“Checking my email.” I study my Chucks like I’m too embarrassed to meet her eyes, which I’m not of course. I’m not.
I am having a hard time looking at her though.
“On someone else’s personal computer?”
“Sorry.”
“I don’t understand,” Bren continues. “First the boys at school, now this.”
There’s a pause. The longer it continues, the more I realize I’m supposed to fill it with some logical explanation: I’m depressed, I’m angry, I’m having flashbacks.
Because all those things are fixable and if I’m not fixable . . .
I slide my hand into my pocket, grip the jump drive in my palm. “I didn’t think about it like that.”
Another pause. “Why don’t I believe you?”
Is that a rhetorical question? Now I do glance up, try to gauge her mood and realize I can’t.
This isn’t a Bren I’ve seen before. She isn’t staring at me like I’m broken. She’s watching me like I’m dangerous.
29
As promised, I turn in everything I found to Carson and I’m surprised to realize it’s kind of weird for me to operate like this. When I ran my own investigations, I put together an entire profile for customers: finances, job histories, online interests. By the time I was done, I knew my target inside and out.
Working like this is totally different. I give pieces of the person to Carson and he does . . . what? I probably don’t want to know. It gets him off my case though. Carson hasn’t bothered me for almost a week, letting me pretend he doesn’t exist and my life is back to normal.
Lab project? Done.
Homework? Done.
Sleeping? Sort of.
My life is normal, or as normal as it can be now that Griff’s no longer in it.
Now that I have the Mini again, I roll into school as late as possible, careful to avoid him in the halls. This is easier than expected since I never see him anymore. Well, that’s not entirely true. I see glimpses. His dark head moving through the crowded hallways, his bottle-green eyes slashing away, his smile cutting through the afternoon dark.
God, Griff’s smile.
My smile.
Only it isn’t mine anymore.
It’s easier to smother those thoughts when I stay busy though so I end up riding around with Lauren a lot over the next few days. After being gone for almost two weeks, she’s back and wound tighter than ever. We haven’t talked about her mom—she doesn’t want to—but I’m helping her catch up on homework, waiting for her to finish cheer practice and gym classes. I get home later, but I don’t mind.
Actually, considering the way Bren’s watching me, it’s kind of a relief.
“Wick!” Lauren bounces up behind me and locks one arm around my neck, dragging me toward the parking lot.
“Jesus!” I laugh and press my shirt against my nose and mouth. “You reek! What did you do in there?”
“Kickboxing.” Lauren does a one-two punch into the air and spins into a roundhouse kick narrowly missing someone’s Jeep.
“I thought you were doing spin classes.”
“Nope, I like this stuff better.” She shakes her sodden dark hair out of its ponytail. “Turns out, I really enjoy kicking things. You should try it sometime.”
“I probably should.”
Lauren’s gaze hitches on my face. “Everything okay?”
No. “Yeah . . . no.”
Lauren studies her car keys as we walk. “I talked to Griff this morning.”
My chest seizes up. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, he said you guys broke up because you were working again.”
I spend a few seconds picking at my nails. Interesting that he said it was my work, not that there was another boy. I wish Griff hadn’t told Lauren about Carson. . . . Then again, it’s almost easier now that he has. Almost.
“Yeah, Carson offered me another job.” And after I gave him Norcut’s files on Kyle, he disappeared. “It’s not just the work. I found some information on my mom too.”
“Like what?”