Never Never: Part Three (Never Never #3) (10 page)

I can’t hear their entire conversation. Silas is explaining to him that he hid them to protect me. He’s apologizing. His father is quiet. And then…

“Charlie? Can you come in here, please?”

His father scares me. Not in the way my father scared me. Clark Nash is intimidating, but he doesn’t seem evil. Not like Brett Wynwood.

I walk into his office and he motions for me to take a seat next to Silas. I do. He paces the length of his desk a few times and then stops. When he faces us, he’s looking directly at me.

“I owe you an apology.”

I’m sure he can see the shock in my expression. “You do?”

He nods. “I’ve been harsh on you. What your father did to me—to our company—that had nothing to do with you. Yet I blamed you when the files went missing, because I knew how fiercely you stood by him.” He glances back at Silas and says, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed in you, Silas. Interfering with a federal investigation…”

“I was sixteen, Dad. I didn’t know what I was doing. But I do now, and Charlie and I both want to make things right.”

Clark Nash nods and then walks around his desk to take a seat. “So does this mean we’ll be seeing you around more often, Charlie?”

I glance at Silas and then back at his father. “Yes, sir.”

He smiles a little bit, and his smile looks just like Silas’s smile. Clark should smile more often.

“Very well, then,” he says.

Silas and I both take that as our cue to leave. As we’re walking up the stairs, Silas pretend-falls, sinking down on the top stair as he clutches his chest. “Christ, that man is terrifying,” he says.

I laugh and pull him back to his feet.

At least if things don’t work out in our favor tomorrow, we’ll have done one good deed.

“Charlie, you were a good sport today,” Silas says, tossing me a t-shirt. I’m sitting cross-legged on his floor. I catch it and shake it out to see what’s on the front. It’s a camp t-shirt. He doesn’t offer pants.

“Is that your way of flirting with me?” I ask. “Bringing sport into your compliments?”

Silas makes a face. “Look around this room. Do you see anything sports related?”

It’s true. He seems to be more into photography than anything else. “’You’re on the football team,” I say.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be.”

“Charlie says quit the football team,” I tell him.

“Maybe I will,” he says. With that, he swings open his bedroom door. I can hear him rushing down the stairs two at a time. I wait a moment to see what he’s up to, and then shortly thereafter, he’s running back up the stairs. His door swings back open and he smiles. “I just told my father I quit the football team,” he says proudly.

“What did he say?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I must be scared of him, because I ran back upstairs as soon as I told him.” He winks at me. “And what are
you
quitting, Charlize?”

“My dad.” My answer comes easy. “Charlie needs to walk away from things that stunt her emotional growth.”

Silas stops what he’s doing to look at me. It’s a weird look. One I’m not familiar with.

“What?”
I suddenly feel defensive.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. It was a good thought, that’s all.”

I hug my knees and stare at the carpet. Why was it that when he complimented me my entire body went into overdrive? Surely his opinions couldn’t matter that much to Charlie. To
me.
Surely I would remember if they did. Whose opinions were really supposed to matter in life, anyway? Your parents?
Mine were screwed up
. Your boyfriend’s?
If you weren’t dating a saint like Silas Nash, that could go very wrong
. I think about what I would tell Janette if she were asking this question.

“Trust your gut,” I say out loud.

“What are you talking about?” Silas asks. He’s digging around in a box he found in his closet, but he leans back on his haunches to look at me.

“Trust your gut. Not your heart, because it’s a people pleaser, and not your brain, because it relies too heavily on logic.”

He nods slowly, never taking his eyes off of me. “Charlize, it’s really sexy when you get deep and say stuff like that. So unless you want to play another round of Silas Says, you might want to lay off the deep thinking.”

I put down the t-shirt and stare at him. I think about today. I think about our kiss and how I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t hoping he would kiss me like that again tonight. This time in private, without a dozen eyes on us. I reach down and tug at a piece of the carpet. I can feel my face grow warm.

“What if I
do
want to play another round of Silas says?” I ask.

“Charlie…” he starts, almost as if my name is a warning.

“What would Silas say?”

He stands up and so do I. I watch him run a hand across the back of his neck, my heart pounding like it’s trying to break free and run out of the room before Silas can get to it.

“Are you sure you want to play?” he asks, raking over me with his eyes.

I nod.
Because why not?
According to our letters, it won’t be the first time we’ve done this. And chances are, we probably won’t even remember it tomorrow. “I’m positive,” I say, attempting to come off way more confident than I feel right now. “It’s my favorite thing to do.”

He suddenly looks firm, more planted in his own skin. It’s thrilling to watch.

“Silas says…take off your shirt.”

I raise my eyebrows, but do as I’m told, lifting the hem of my shirt over my head. I hear his intake of breath, but I can’t seem to meet his eyes. The strap of my bra slips down my shoulder.

“Silas says…lower the other bra strap.”

My hand shakes a little as I do. He takes a slow step toward me, staring down to where my arm is still crossed over my chest. His eyes flicker up to mine. His mouth turns up at the corner. He thinks I’m about to quit playing this game. I can tell.

“Silas says…open the clasp.”

It’s a front clasp. I keep my eyes locked with his as I unlatch it. His Adam’s apple bobs as I shrug off my bra and hold it on the tip of my finger. The cold air and his eyes make me want to turn away. His gaze follows my bra as it falls to the floor. When he makes eye contact with me again, he’s smiling. But he’s not. I don’t know he does that—looks so happy and so serious at the same time.

“Silas says come here.”

I’m not able to turn away when he looks at me like that. I walk toward him, and when I’m near enough, he reaches for me. He puts his hand behind my head and threads his fingers through my hair.

“Silas says—”

“Shut up, Silas,” I interrupt. “Just kiss me.”

His head dips and he catches my lips in a deep kiss that tilts my head up to meet him. He presses his mouth against mine in a soft kiss, once, twice, three times before parting my lips with his tongue. Kissing Silas feels rhythmic, like we’ve had more than just this afternoon to figure it out. His hand tightly gripping my hair at the scalp makes me weak in the knees. I am out of breath and my eyes are glazed.

Do I trust him?

I trust him.

“Charlie says take your shirt off,” I say against his mouth.

“This game is called
Silas says
.”

I run my hands up the warm flesh of his stomach. “Not anymore.”

“Charlie Baby,” I whisper, sliding an arm over her. I press my lips against the curve of her shoulder. She rustles, then pulls the covers over her head. “Charlie, it’s time to wake up.”

She rolls over to face me but stays under the blanket. I lift it over my head until we’re both covered. She opens her eyes and frowns. “You smell good,” she says. “No fair.”

“I took a shower.”

“And brushed your teeth?”

I nod, and her brow furrows.

“That’s not fair. I want to brush my teeth.”

I lift the covers from her head and she puts a hand over her eyes and groans. “Then hurry up and brush your teeth so you can come back and kiss me.”

She crawls out of the bed and makes her way to the bathroom. I hear the sink begin to run, but that’s quickly drowned out by the noises that come from downstairs. Pots and pans clanking together, cabinet doors slamming. It sounds like someone is cleaning. I look at the clock and it’s almost 9:00 a.m.

Two more hours.

My bathroom door opens and Charlie runs across the room and hops on the bed, quickly pulling the covers over herself. “It’s cold out there,” she says, her lips quivering. I pull her to me and press my mouth to hers. “Better,” she mumbles.

And this is what we do while I try my best to lose track of time. We make out.

“Silas,” she whispers as I’m working my way up her neck. “What time is it?”

I reach over to the nightstand and look at my phone. “Nine fifteen.”

She sighs, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. I’m thinking it too.

“I don’t want to forget this part,” she says, looking at me through eyes that look like two broken hearts.

“Me neither,” I whisper.

She kisses me again, softly. I can feel her heart racing through her chest, and I know it isn’t because we’re kissing under my covers. It’s because she’s scared. And I wish I could make it to where she isn’t scared anymore, but I can’t. I just pull her to me and hold her. I would hold her here forever, but I know there are things we need to be doing right now.

“We can hope for the best, but I think we should prepare for the worst,” I tell her.

She nods against my chest. “I know. Five more minutes, okay? Let’s just stay under the blanket for five more minutes and pretend we’re in love like we used to be.”

I sigh. “Pretending isn’t necessary for me at this point, Charlie.”

She grins and presses her lips to my chest.

I give her fifteen minutes. Five isn’t enough.

When our time is up, I crawl out of bed and pull her up. “We need to eat breakfast. That way if 11:00 a.m. hits and we freak out again, it’ll be a few hours before we have to worry about food.”

We get dressed and head downstairs. Ezra looks like she’s cleaning up breakfast when we walk into the kitchen. She sees Charlie rubbing sleep out of her eyes and she raises an eyebrow in my direction. She thinks I’m pushing my luck having Charlie in this house.

“Don’t worry, Ezra. Dad says I’m allowed to love her now.” Ezra returns my smile.

“You two hungry?” she asks.

I nod. “Yeah, but we can make our own food.”

Ezra waves a hand in the air. “Nonsense,” she says. “I’ll make your favorite.”

“Thanks, Ezra,” Charlie says with a smile. A mild look of surprise passes over Ezra’s face before she walks to the pantry.

“My god,” Charlie says under her breath. “Do you think I really used to be that awful? That it was shocking to ever hear me say thank you?”

About that time, my mother walks into the kitchen. She stops short when she sees Charlie. “Did you spend the night here?” My mother doesn’t seem very pleased.

“No.” I lie for Charlie. “I just picked her up this morning.”

My mother’s eyes narrow. I don’t have to have memory of her to know she’s suspicious. “Why aren’t you two at school right now?”

We’re both quiet for a moment, but then Charlie blurts out, “It’s a flex day.”

My mother nods without question. She walks to the pantry and begins speaking to Ezra.

“What’s a flex day?” I whisper.

Charlie shrugs. “I have no idea, but it sounded good.” She laughs and then whispers, “What’s your mother’s name?”

I open my mouth to respond, but I draw a complete blank. “I have no idea. I’m not sure I ever wrote it in any notes.”

My mother peeks her head out of the pantry. “Charlie, will you be joining us for dinner tonight?”

Charlie looks at me, and then at my mother. “Yes, ma’am. If I can remember.”

I laugh and Charlie smiles, and for a split second, I forget what we’re about to go through again.

I catch Charlie staring at the clock on the oven. I can see the worry, not only in her eyes, but in every single part of her. I grab her hand and squeeze it. “Don’t think about that,” I whisper. “Not for another hour.”