I turn back to him. I expect to see the cold, arrogant Will I’ve known so many years, and I startle when I realize he’s not there. In fact, I don’t think he’s been there for some time. If I’m honest, years maybe. I think I’ve been seeing Will as he was in the past and not letting myself see him with fresh eyes. I guess that’s the hard part about knowing someone so long and making judgments about them. You don’t let them grow or change. In my mind, Will solidified as a villain at age eight and I never let him grow beyond that. But people change.

I look at Will.

His too-long hair falls across his forehead. He holds out his hand, his long fingers reach toward me. He looks like a mournful angel, beautiful, powerful, but unsure of whether or not he’ll get what he’s lost.

I wonder what he’s lost.

I don’t know. But I do know one thing, that maybe I’m finally seeing him in a new light. And I’m not so sure he’s a villain. At least, I can give him the chance to begin again. Because the worst thing you can do to a person is freeze them in time and not let them move forward and grow.

“Yes?” I ask.

He drops his hand and steps towards me.

“Do you want to sit?” He gestures at the smooth short grass at the base of a mountain maple tree. I study him. Funny thing, if I don’t assume that he has ulterior motives, I can almost believe that he’s…thoughtful.

I sit in the grass and cross my legs. Will stretches out next to me.

“When I was nine, my dad realized that I was a mathematical prodigy.”

I turn to look at him. I knew this, sort of. Everyone in Romeo heard about how Will was running the family’s international accounting offices by age 14.

“He was proud?”

Will shakes his head no. “He hated it. I just wanted to play. Run around outside, climb trees, swim in the river, wrestle with my dog.”

“You had a dog? I didn’t think you liked dogs.”

Will gives me a strange look. I try to imagine him with the puppy.

“My dad said he’d be damned if he’d stand by and watch me waste my talent. That he’d rather I’d never been born than to see me fritter away something he would’ve killed to have.”

“What happened?” A cloud covers the sun and I feel cold. Will swallows and I catch him glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.

“He made certain I didn’t waste my talent.”

Something in his voice makes my heart crack. I think about the difference in him from age eight to age twelve. In four years he became so cold, so…