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.
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.”
Chapter 18: Charlie
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.