Chapter 15: Silas

“I can’t believe you got away with that,” I say to her. I drop my hands to her waist, pushing her until her back is against her bedroom door. She places her palms against my chest and looks up at me with an innocent grin.

“Got away with what?”

I laugh and press my lips against her neck. “It’s an homage to family history?” I laugh, moving my lips up her neck, drawing closer to her mouth. “What are you going to do if you ever want to break up with me? You’ll be stuck living in a house that was named after the phrase you use with your ex-boyfriend.”

She shakes her head and pushes against me so she can walk past me. “If I ever want to break up with you, I’ll just have Daddy change the name of our house.”

“He would never do that, Char. He thought the b.s. meaning you gave him was genius.”

She shrugs. “Then I’ll burn it to the ground.” She sits on the edge of her mattress, and I take a seat next to her, pushing her onto her back. She giggles as I lean over her and cage her in with my hands. She’s so beautiful.

I’ve always known she was beautiful, but this year has been really good to her. Really good. I look down at her chest. I can’t help it. They’ve just gotten so…perfect this year.

“Do you think your boobs are finished growing?” I ask her.

She laughs and slaps me on the shoulder. “You’re disgusting.”

I bring my fingers up to where her t-shirt scoops down at her neck. I trail my fingers across her chest until I meet the dip in her shirt. “When do you think you’ll let me see them?”

“Jamais, Jamais,” she says with a laugh.

I groan. “Come on, Charlie baby. I’ve loved you for fourteen years now. That should earn me something—a quick peek, a hand up the shirt.”

“We’re fourteen, Silas. Ask me again when we’re fifteen.”

I smile. “That’s only two months away for me.” I press my lips to hers and can feel her chest rise against mine with her quick intake of breath. God, the torture.

Her tongue slips inside my mouth as her hand cradles the back of my head, pulling me closer. The sweet, sweet torture.

I lower my hand to her waist, inching her shirt up little by little until my fingers have access to her skin. I splay my hand out across her waist, feeling the heat from her body against my palm.

I continue to kiss her as my hand explores more of her, inch by inch, until one of my fingertips meets the fabric of her bra.

I want to keep going—to feel the softness beneath my fingertips. I want to—

“Silas!”

Charlie sinks into the mattress. Her entire body is absorbed by the sheets, and I’m left palming her empty pillow.

What the hell? Where did she go? People don’t just disappear into thin air.

“Silas, open the door!”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Charlie? Where are you?”

“Wake up!”

I open my eyes and I’m no longer in Charlie’s bed.

I’m no longer a fourteen-year-old boy about to touch a boob for the first time.

I’m…Silas. Lost and confused and sleeping in a damn car.

A fist pounds against my driver-side window. I allow my eyes a few more seconds to adjust to the sunlight pouring into my car before I look up.

Landon is standing at my door. I immediately sit up and turn around, looking behind me, to the sides of me.

It’s only Landon. No one else is with him.

I reach for the handle on the door and wait for him to step aside before I swing it open. “Did you find her?” I ask, stepping out of my car.

He shakes his head. “No, they’re still looking.” He squeezes the back of his neck, just like I do when I’m nervous or stressed.

I open my mouth to ask him how he knew where to find me. But then I close my mouth after remembering I asked him about this house right before I hung up on him. Of course he would look here.

“You need to help them find her, Silas. You have to tell them everything you know.”

I laugh. Everything I know. I lean against my car and fold my arms across my chest. I stop smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation, and I lock eyes with my little brother. “I don’t know anything, Landon. I don’t even know you. And as far as my memory is concerned, I’ve never even met Charlize Wynwood. How am I supposed to tell the police that?”

Landon’s head is tilted. He’s staring at me…silent and curious. He thinks I’ve gone crazy; I can see it in his eyes.

He might be right.

“Get in the car,” I tell him. “I have a lot to tell you. Let’s go for a drive.”

I open my door and climb back inside. He waits several seconds, but then he walks to the car parked in the ditch. He locks it and then makes his way to my passenger door.

“Let me get this straight,” he says, leaning forward in the booth. “You and Charlie have both been losing your memories for over a week now. You’ve both been writing yourselves letters. Those letters were in the backpack Janette found and turned in to the police. The only person who knows about this is some random tarot reader. It happens at the same time of day, every forty-eight hours, and you claim to have no recollection of what happened the day before she went missing?”

I nod.

Landon laughs and falls back against his seat. He shakes his head and picks up his drink, sticking the straw in his mouth. He takes a long sip and then sighs heavily as he returns his glass to the table.