Norcut goes quiet, considering this. Or maybe just considering why Michael would stick around. It’s not a smart play. He has to need someone. Or something.
“I think Michael’s looking for you,” Norcut says at last. “Why not find him first?”
“I’m sorry . . . what?”
“We could help you. We have aligned interests, Wick. We want our money and your father has it. You want your freedom and your father stands in the way. Why not finish this? Michael could have killed you in that accident and we both know he’ll try to take you again.”
She pauses, waiting for my answer, and I can’t give her one. There’s a droning in my ears now, a whine I can’t shake.
“We both know you don’t flinch from eliminating problems, Wick.”
Problems like Joe Bender. Problems like Todd. I’m nodding now, but my stomach’s still clenched.
Norcut’s eyes inch across my face. “Your family, your future—they’re all within your grasp if we eliminate the one thing that stands in your way. We want our money and you want your freedom. Will you help us?”
I start to ask if I have a choice and stop. There’s always a choice. That’s what I didn’t get before. By reacting or not reacting to Todd and Joe and Michael, I was still making a decision.
Sometimes you make the choice and sometimes the choice makes you and everything I chose until this point has made me. I caught Joe and Todd before they could hurt me. I could catch Michael too.
I smile, smile wider. “I’m in.”
15
Just like that first day, I leave Norcut’s office with instructions. She wants whatever computer equipment we can recover from Joe’s, so I’m to go as soon as she can coordinate security. Hart will take me. Milo will come help.
I agree to everything. Maybe that’s why Norcut smiles and smiles. “Do you like him?” she asks as I stand to leave.
“Who?” I know who—what—she’s talking about, but I’m stalling and we both know it. Milo. “Yeah, I do like him. A lot.”
“He’s a good match for you.”
“‘Match’? You do arranged marriages too?”
“Hardly, but for someone of your talents, you could do worse.”
“Wow. What a glowing recommendation.”
More smiling. “He understands you.”
Does he? Milo gets what I can do, but I don’t know if he gets who I want to be. Then again, I’m not sure I know who I want to be. There’s who Looking Glass wants me to be. There’s who Bren wants me to be. So why don’t I know who I want to be?
Norcut’s still staring at me. “Love is for other people, Wick. Lesser people. From now on, everything you do is about power—who has it, who doesn’t. Do you understand?”
I nod. “Are we done?”
“Yes.”
I’m almost to the door when she clears her throat. I stop. “Yeah?”
“Keep this to yourself, okay? Obviously, Milo will know and you’ll have to tell Alex you’re leaving Looking Glass but there’s no need for the other boys to know what we have planned for you.”
I close the door and shuffle up the hallway, Norcut’s question on loop in my head: What’s the one thing that stands in the way of becoming who you want to be?
Is it only Michael?
“There you are.”
My feet stutter. Milo.
“Hey. I didn’t see you.” I lean into him and he kisses the top of my head. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“Probably. I wanted to check on you. Everything okay?”
“Yeah . . . yeah . . .” I can’t stop staring at the windows. The sky’s gone dark and the overhead lights have brightened. They’re on timers, I guess. I’m not sure I like it, turns the windows into shadowy mirrors. I’m staring at myself, staring at Milo, who’s supposed to be such a good match and understands me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Sorry. Yeah. My dad’s out. Norcut wanted to tell me.” It’s so matter-of-fact it might as well be someone else’s life I’m talking about, someone else’s problems. “She thinks he’s trying to contact me.”
Milo tilts his head. “What’s the plan?”
“Norcut wants me to catch him. She’s going to have you and Hart help.”
Milo tugs me around to face him. “Are you going to do it?”
“Of course.”
“Good. You can hurt him before he can hurt you. Think of the look on Kent’s face when he hears too.”
“I’m not supposed to say anything yet.”
“When you do, you’ll rule this place.” Milo tugs me forward and I refuse to move.
I tip my head back to look at him. “Why does it matter so much to you that I fit in, that I make it here?” The question surfaces too quickly, like it’s been holding its breath the whole time, like it’s been waiting.
“Because this is where you belong. You’re not made for the stuff out there. It was wasting your talent. And . . .” Milo pauses. “Because you matter to me.”