“Do you need to use the facilities?” she asks.
“Yes.”
She sets the tray down and my stomach grumbles.
“I asked to see the doctor,” I say.
Her eyes dart left to right. She’s nervous. Why?
“The doctor is busy today,” she says, not looking at me.
“Where is the other nurse?”
“It’s her day off,” she says. I can smell the food. I am so hungry.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I say. “Can you take me?”
She nods her head, but she looks afraid of me. I follow her out of the little room and into the small hallway. What kind of hospital has the toilets in a separate area from their patients’ rooms? She stands off to the side while I use the restroom, wringing her hands and turning an awful shade of pink.
When I’m finished, she makes the mistake of turning toward the door. When she opens it, I pull the piece of pipe from my hospital gown and hold it toward her neck.
She faces me again and her beady eyes grow wide with fear.
“Drop the keys and back up slowly,” I say. “Or I’ll stick this straight in your throat.”
She nods. The keys clank against the ground, and I advance toward her, my weapon extended toward her neck. I push her backward, into the room, and shove her down on the bed. She falls back and cries out.
Then I’m out the door, taking the keys with me. I pull the door shut as she flies toward it, her mouth open in a scream. We struggle for a moment, her trying to yank it open while I get the key into the lock and hear the metal click.
My hands are shaking as I sort through the keys, trying to find the right one to open the next door. I don’t really know what to expect when I step through. A hospital hallway, nurses and doctors? Will someone be there to drag me back to that tiny room?
No.
There’s no way I’m going back. I’ll hurt anyone who tries to stop me from getting out of here.
I don’t see a hospital or staff or anyone else when I open the door. What I see instead is a very impressive wine cellar. Dusty bottles sit in hundreds of little holes. It smells of ferment and dirt. A staircase runs up one side of the cellar. There is a door at the top.
I run for the stairs, stubbing my toe hard on the concrete and feeling the wet blood run over my foot. I almost slip on it, but I catch onto the railing in time.
The top of the stairs opens to a kitchen, a single light illuminating the counters and floors. I don’t pause to look around. I need to find…a door! I grab the handle, and this time it’s not locked. I cry out in triumph as it flies open. The night air hits me in the face. I breathe it in gratefully.
Then I run.
“You can’t trespass, Silas!” Landon yells.
I’m trying to scale the gate, but my foot keeps slipping. “Help me over,” I yell down to him.
He walks up to me and offers his hands, palms up, despite the fact that he’s still verbally trying to stop me from climbing over. I step into his hands and he hoists me higher, allowing me to grab the bars toward the top of the gate.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes. I just want to check out the property.” I know he doesn’t believe a word I’ve said today, so I leave out the fact that I think this Cora girl knows something. If she’s inside that house, I’m going to force her to talk to me.
I finally make it to the top and down the other side. When my feet hit the dirt, I stand up. “Don’t leave until I get back.”
I turn and take a look at the house. It’s about two hundred yards away, hidden behind rows of Weeping Willow trees. They look like long arms, swaying toward the front door, coercing me to move forward.
I slowly make my way down the path that leads to the porch. It’s a beautiful house. I can see why Charlie missed it so much. I look up at the windows. Two of them are lit up on the top floor, but the bottom floor is completely dark.
I’m almost to the porch that extends across the entire front of the house. My heart is racing in my chest so fast that I can actually hear it. Other than the occasional insect noise and the pounding of my pulse, it’s completely quiet out here.
Until it’s not.
The bark is so loud and so close, it rumbles in my stomach and vibrates through my chest. I can’t see where it’s coming from.
I freeze in my tracks, careful not to make any sudden movements.
A deep growl rolls through the air like thunder. I slowly look over my shoulder without turning my body.
The dog is standing behind me, lips pulled back in a snarl, teeth so white and sharp they look like they’re glowing.
He rears back on his hind legs, and before I can run or look around for something to fight him off, he’s in the air, lunging toward me.
Straight for my throat.
I can feel his teeth pierce the skin on the back of my hand, and I know if I hadn’t covered my throat, those teeth would be in my jugular right now. The massive strength of this animal knocks me to the ground. I can feel the flesh give way on my hand as he thrashes his head from side to side and I try to fight him off.
But then something slams into it or on top of it—a whimper and then a thud.
And then silence.
It’s too dark to see what just happened. I take a deep breath and try to stand.
I look down at the dog, and a sharp piece of metal is protruding from his neck. Blood is pooling around his head, tinting the grass the color of midnight.
And then a strong scent of flowers…lilies…surrounds me in a rush of wind.
“It’s you.”
I recognize her voice immediately, even though it comes out in a whisper. She’s standing to the right of me, her face illuminated by the moonlight. Tears are streaking their way down her cheeks, and her hand is cupped over her mouth. She’s wide-eyed, staring at me in shock.
She’s here.
She’s alive.
I want to take her in my arms and hug her and tell her it’s okay, that we’re going to figure this out. But she more than likely has no idea who I am.
“Charlie?”
She slowly lowers her hand away from her mouth. “My name is Charlie?” she asks.
I nod. The terrified expression on her face slowly transforms into relief. She steps forward and throws her arms around my neck, pressing her face against my chest. Sobs begin to rack her body now.
“We need to leave,” she says through her tears. “We have to get out of here before they find me.”
Find her?
I wrap my arms around her long enough to hug her, and then I take her hand and we run toward the gate. When Landon sees Charlie, he rushes to the gate and begins to shake the locks. He tries to find a way to get us out so she doesn’t have to climb over, but he can’t.
“Use my car,” I tell him. “Bend the gate. We have to hurry.”
He looks back at my car and then again at me. “You want me to break open the gate? Silas, that car is your baby.”
“I don’t give a shit about the car!” I yell. “We need out!”
He acts fast, running straight to the car. As he climbs inside, he yells, “Get out of the way!” He puts the car in reverse and backs up, then slams on the gas.
The sound of iron on metal isn’t nearly as loud as the sound my heart makes seeing the car being torn to shreds. At least I wasn’t that attached to it. I’ve only known it less than two days.
He has to back up and drive forward two more times to bend the iron enough for Charlie and me to slip through. Once we’re on the other side of the gate, I open the back door to Landon’s car and help her inside.
“Just leave my car here,” I tell him. “We can worry about it later.”
When we’re all in the car and finally heading away from the house, Landon picks up his cell phone. “I’ll call Dad and tell him you found her so he can notify the police.”
I grab the cell phone from his hands. “No. No police.”
He slams his hand against the steering wheel in
frustration. “Silas, you have to tell them she’s okay! This is ridiculous. You’re both being completely ridiculous with this.”
I turn in my seat and stare at him pointedly. “Landon, you have to believe me. Charlie and I are going to forget everything we know in a little over twelve hours from now. I have to get her to a hotel so I can explain everything to her, and then I need time to make notes. If we notify the police, they might split us up for questioning. I need to be with her when this happens again. I don’t care if you don’t believe me, but you’re my brother and I need you to do this for me.”
He doesn’t respond to my request. We’re at the end of the road now, and I can see the roll of his throat as he swallows, trying to decide whether to turn left or right.
“Please,” I ask him. “I just need until tomorrow.”
He releases a pent-up breath and then turns right—the opposite direction from our homes. I breathe a sigh of relief. “I owe you one.”
“More like a million,” he mutters.
I look in the back seat at Charlie, and she’s staring at me, obviously terrified by what she’s hearing.
“What do you mean this will happen again tomorrow?” she asks, her voice trembling.
I crawl into the back seat with her and pull her to me. She melts against my chest, and I can feel her heart racing against mine. “I’ll explain everything at the hotel.”
She nods, and then, “Did he call you Silas? Is that your name?”
Her voice is raspy, like she’s screamed herself hoarse. I don’t even want to think about what she’s been through since yesterday.
“Yeah,” I tell her, rubbing my hand up and down her arm. “Silas Nash.”
“Silas,” she says softly. “I’ve been wondering what your name was since yesterday.”
I immediately stiffen and look down at her. “What do you mean you’ve been wondering? How do you remember me?”
“I dreamt about you.”
She dreamt about me.
I pull my short list of notes from my pocket and ask Landon for a pen. He pulls one out of his console and hands it to me. I make a note about the dreams and how Charlie knew me without having memory of me. I also note that my own dream about her felt more like a memory. Could our dreams be clues to our past?
Charlie watches me as I write down everything that has transpired in the last hour. She never questions me, though. I fold the paper up and slide it back into my pocket.
“So what’s the deal with us?” she asks. “Are we like…in love and shit?”
I laugh out loud for the first time since yesterday morning. “Yeah,” I say, still laughing. “Apparently I’ve been in love and shit with you for eighteen years now.”
I told Landon to come to our hotel room at eleven thirty tomorrow morning. If this happens again, we’ll need time to adjust and read the notes to get acclimated to our situation. He was hesitant, but he finally agreed. He said he would tell Dad he’s been out looking for us all day with no luck.
I feel bad for making people worry until tomorrow, but I’m not about to put myself in a situation where I let her out of my sight again. Hell, I wouldn’t even let her shut the door when she said she wanted to take a shower. A warm shower, she clarified.
When we got to the hotel, I told her everything I knew. Which, once I laid it all out, didn’t seem like much.
She told me what had happened to her since yesterday morning. I’m relieved it was nothing too serious, but disturbed that they were holding her in the basement. Why would The Shrimp and her mother be keeping Charlie against her will? The woman was obviously trying to mislead me yesterday when she told said, “The answers to your questions lie with someone who is very close to you.”
Yeah, I’d say. The person with answers was very close to me. A mere two feet away.
I feel like this information is one of the best leads we’ve gotten in the past week, but I have no idea why they were holding her captive. That’s the first thing I want us to figure out tomorrow. Which is why I’m ensuring our notes are detailed and precise, so we can get an even better head start.
I’ve already made a note for Charlie to go to the police station and ask for all her belongings to be returned to her. They can’t keep them now that she’s no longer missing, and we desperately need those letters and journals. The key to everything could be written in there somewhere, and until it’s all back in our possession, we’re completely stuck.
The bathroom door opens wider, and I hear her walking toward the bed. I’m sitting at the desk, still writing notes. I glance up at her as she sits on the mattress, her feet dangling off the edge of the bed as she watches me.
I expected after her ordeal that she’d be more shaken up, but she’s tough. She listened intently when I explained everything I knew, and she never once doubted me. She even threw out a few theories herself.
“Knowing me, I’ll probably try to run tomorrow if I wake up in a hotel room with a guy I’ve never met,” she says. “I should probably write myself a note and stick it over the door handle, telling myself to wait until at least noon before I hightail it out of here.”
See? Tough and smart.
I hand her a piece of paper and a pen, and she writes herself a note and then walks it to the hotel room door.
“We should try to get some sleep,” I tell her. “If this does happen again, we need to be well rested.”
She nods in agreement and climbs onto the bed. I didn’t even bother asking for two beds. I don’t know why. Not that I have any ideas about how the night’s going to play out. I think I’m just extremely protective of her. The thought of not knowing she’s right next to me makes me too uncomfortable, even if it would have been a different bed just two feet away.
I set the alarm for ten thirty in the morning. That’ll give us time to wake up and prepare, while hopefully giving us a good six hours of sleep. I turn out the lights and crawl into bed beside her.
She’s on her side and I’m on mine, and I’m doing everything I can to not scoot over and spoon her, or at least put my arm around her. I don’t want to freak her out, though, but it also somehow feels natural for me to do those things.
I fluff my pillow and turn it over so the colder side is against my cheek. I face the wall and keep my back to her to make sure she doesn’t feel uncomfortable having to share a bed with me.
“Silas?” she whispers.
I like her voice. It’s comforting yet electric. “Yeah?”
I can feel her roll over to face me, but my back is still to her. “I don’t know why, but I feel like we’ll both sleep better if you have your arms around me. Not touching you seems more awkward than touching you.”
Even though it’s dark in the room, I try to fight my smile. I immediately roll over, and she scoots back against my chest. I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer—her body curving perfectly into mine—her feet locking around my feet.
This.
This must have been why I felt an unwavering need to find her. Because until this very second, I didn’t know Charlie wasn’t the only one missing. When she disappeared, part of me must have disappeared right along with her. Because this is the first time I feel like me—like Silas Nash—since the second I woke up yesterday.
She finds my hand in the dark and slides her fingers through mine. “Are you scared, Silas?”
I sigh, hating that she’s falling asleep thinking about it. “I’m worried,” I tell her. “I don’t want it to happen again. But I’m not scared, because this time I know where you are.”
If it were possible to hear a smile, hers would be a love song.
“Goodnight, Silas,” she says quietly.
Her shoulders rise and fall when she lets out a deep sigh. Her breathing begins to taper off after only a few minutes, and I know she’s asleep.
Before I close my eyes, she readjusts her position slightly and I catch a glimpse of her tattoo. The silhouette of trees is peeking out of the top of the back of her shirt.
&
nbsp; I wish there was a letter that would have described the night we got these tattoos. I would give anything to have that memory back—to see what it was like between us when we loved each other enough to believe it was forever.
Maybe I’ll dream about that night if I fall asleep thinking about it.
I close my eyes, knowing this is exactly how it’s supposed to be.
Charlie and Silas.
Together.
I don’t know why we ever started drifting apart, but I’m certain of one thing: I’ll never allow it to happen again.
I press a soft kiss into her hair. Something I’ve probably done a million times, but the drunken, one-winged moths fluttering around in my stomach make it feel like the very first time.
“Goodnight, Charlie baby.”
I wake up to sunlight.
It’s streaming through the window and warming my face. I roll over to look for Silas, but his pillow is empty.
For a moment, I’m afraid that he’s left me, or that someone has taken him. But then I hear the clink of a cup and the sound of him moving. I squeeze my eyes shut gratefully. I can smell food. I roll over.
“Breakfast,” he says. I crawl out of bed feeling self-conscious about the way I must look. I comb my fingers through my hair and wipe the sleep from my eyes. Silas is sitting at the desk, sipping on coffee and writing something down on paper.
I pull up a chair and seat myself across from him and grab a croissant, tucking my hair behind my ears. I don’t want to eat, but I do anyway. He wants us to be well rested and fed before the clock strikes 11:00 am. But my stomach is full of nerves, thinking about how it felt waking up with no memory two days ago. I don’t want that to happen again. I didn’t like it then, and I won’t like it this time.
Every few seconds, he glances up at me and our eyes lock before he goes back to work. He looks nervous too.
After the croissant, I eat bacon, then the eggs, then a bagel. I finish off Silas’s coffee, drink my orange juice, and push my chair back from the table. He smiles and taps the side of his mouth. I reach up and dust the crumbs off my face, feeling warmth rise to my cheeks. He’s not laughing at me though. I know that.
Never Never: Part Two (Never Never #2) Page 8