Never Never: The Complete Series

by Colleen Hoover

  I could still see her face when I woke up, but it wasn’t a real-life image, it was a photo. The one he took. A ragged mother with knotted hair, staring down at her infant, his tiny mouth open in a scream, their backdrop the chipped paint of a bright blue door.

  When the dream was over, I wasn’t sad like last time. I wanted to meet the boy who documented suffering in such vivid color.

  I lie awake most of what I assume is the night. She returns with breakfast.

  “You again,” I say. “Never a day off…or an hour.”

  “Yup,” she says. “We’re understaffed, so I’m working doubles. Eat.”

  “Not hungry.”

  She offers me the cup of pills. I don’t take them.

  “I want to see a doctor,” I say.

  “The doctor is very busy today. I can make an appointment for you. He can probably see you sometime next week.”

  “No. I want to see a doctor today. I want to know what medication you’re giving me and I want to know why I’m here.”

  It’s the first time I’ve seen anything but bored friendliness on her face. She leans forward, and I can smell the coffee on her breath. “Don’t be a brat,” she hisses. “You don’t get to make demands here, do you understand me?” She shoves the pills at me.

  “I’m not taking those until a doctor tells me why I am,” I say, nodding toward the cup. “Do you understand me?”

  I think she’s going to hit me. My hand feels for the piece of pipe under my pillow. The muscles in my shoulders and back tense, the balls of my feet press down on the tile. I am ready to spring if I need to. But the nurse turns, inserts her key into the door, and is gone. I hear the click of the lock, and then I’m alone again.

  “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.

  “If this is your way of trying to get away with her murder, you’re going to need a much stronger alibi than a damn voodoo curse.”

  “She’s not dead.”

  He raises a questioning eyebrow. I can’t blame him. If the tables were turned, there’s no way in hell I would believe everything that just came out of my mouth.

  “Landon, I don’t expect you to believe me. I really don’t. It’s ridiculous. But for the sake of shits and giggles, will you just humor me for a few hours? Just pretend you believe me and answer questions for me, even if you think I already know the answers. Then tomorrow you can turn me in to the police if you still think I’m crazy.”

  He shakes his head and looks disappointed. “Even if I thought you were crazy, I would never turn you in to the police, Silas. You’re my brother.” He motions
for the waiter to come over and refill his drink. He takes a sip and then gets comfortable. “Okay. Fire away.”

  I smile. I knew I liked him for a reason.

  “What happened between Brett and our father?”

  Landon laughs under his breath. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters. “You know more about that than I do.” But then he leans forward and begins to answer my question. “An investigation was launched a couple of years ago due to an external audit. A lot of people lost a lot of money. Dad was cleared and Brett was charged with fraud.”

  “Is Dad really innocent?”

  Landon shrugs. “I’d like to think he is. His name was dragged through the mud and he lost the majority of his business after what happened. He’s been trying to rebuild it, but no one trusts him with their money now. But I guess we can’t complain. We still fared better than Charlie’s family did.”

  “Dad accused Charlie of taking some files from his office. What was he talking about?”

  “They couldn’t figure out where the money went, so they assumed Brett or Dad was hiding it in offshore accounts. There was a stretch before the trial where Dad didn’t sleep for three days. He went through every detail of every transaction and every receipt recorded for the past ten years. One night he came out of his office holding a file. He said he found it—found where Brett was keeping the money. He finally had the information he needed to hold Brett responsible for the entire thing. He called his lawyer and told him he would deliver the evidence as soon as he got a couple hours of sleep. The next day…he couldn’t find the files. He blew up on you, assuming you had warned Charlie about it. He believes to this day that Charlie took those files. She denied it. You denied it. And without the evidence he claimed to have, they could never charge Brett on all counts. He’ll probably be out of jail in five years with good behavior, but from what Dad says, those files would have put him away for life.”

  Jesus. This is a lot to remember.

  I hold up a finger. “I’ll be right back.” I slip out of the booth and run out of the restaurant, straight to my car. I search for more paper to take notes on. Landon is still at the booth when I return. I don’t ask another question until I write everything down he just told me. And then I feed him a tidbit of information just to see how he responds.

  “I’m the one who took those files,” I say to Landon. I look up at him and his eyes are narrowed.

  “I thought you said you can’t remember anything.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t. But I made a note about some files I found that I was hiding. Why do you think I would take them if they would have proved Dad’s innocence?”

  Landon ponders my question for a moment then shakes his head. “I don’t know. Whoever took them never did anything with them. So the only reason you would have hid them is to protect Charlie’s father.”

  “Why would I want to protect Brett Wynwood?”

  “Maybe you weren’t protecting him for his own sake. Maybe you were doing it for Charlie.”

  I drop the pen. That’s it. The only reason I would have taken those files is if I were doing it to protect Charlie.

  “Was she close to her father?”

  Landon laughs. “Very. She was a daddy’s girl through and through. In all honesty, I think the only person she loved more than you was her father.”

  This feels like I’m unraveling a piece of a puzzle, even if it’s not the puzzle I should be unraveling. Knowing the old Silas, he would have done anything to make Charlie happy. Which includes protecting her from knowing the truth about her father.

  “What happened with me and Charlie after that? I mean…if she loved her father that much, you would think my father putting him behind bars would have made her never want to speak to me again.”

  Landon shakes his head. “You were all she had,” he says. “You stuck by her side through it all, and nothing pissed Dad off more than knowing you didn’t stand by his side 100%.”

  “Did I think Dad was innocent?”

  “Yeah,” Landon says. “You just made it a point not to take sides when it came to him and Charlie. Unfortunately, to Dad that meant you were taking their side. The two of you haven’t been on the best terms for the past year or two. The only time he speaks to you is when he’s yelling at you from the stands at Friday night games.”

  “Why is he so obsessed with me playing football?”

  Landon laughs again. “He’s been obsessed with his sons attending his Alma matter since before he knew he was having sons. He’s shoved football down our throats since we could walk. I don’t mind it, but you always hated it. And that makes him resent you even more, because you have a talent for it. It’s in your blood. But you’ve never wanted anything more than to just be able to walk away from it.” He smiles. “God, you should have seen him when he showed up last night and you weren’t out on that field. He actually tried to have the game stopped until we could find you, but the officials wouldn’t allow it.”

  I make a note of this. “You know…I can’t remember how to play football.”

  A smirk plays on Landon’s lips. “Now that’s the first thing you’ve said today that I actually believe. The other day when we were in a huddle, you seemed lost. ‘You. Do that thing.’” He laughs out loud. “So add that to your list. You forgot how to play football. How convenient.”

  I add it to the list.

  Remember song lyrics.

  Forgot people we know.

  Remember people we don’t know.

  Remember how to use a camera.

  Hate football, but I’m forced to play.

  Forgot how to play football.

  I stare at the list. I’m sure I had a lot more stuff written down on my old list, but I can hardly remember any of it.

  “Let me see that,” Landon says. He scrolls over the notes I’ve already taken. “Shit. You’re really taking this seriously.” He stares at it for a few seconds and then hands it back to me. “It seems like you can remember things you wanted to learn yourself, like song lyrics and your camera. But anything else you were taught, you forgot.”

  I pull the list in front of me and look at it. He might have a point, other than the fact that I can’t remember people. I make a note of that and then continue with my questions.

  “How long has Charlie been seeing Brian? Were we broken up?”

  He runs his hand through his hair and takes a sip of his soda. He pulls his feet up and leans against the wall, stretching his legs out on the seat. “We’re gonna be here all day, aren’t we.”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “Brian’s always had a thing for Charlie and everyone knows it. You and Brian have never gotten along because of it, but you make it work for the sake of the football team. Charlie started to change after her father went to prison. She wasn’t as nice…not that she’s ever been the nicest. But lately, she’s actually turned into somewhat of a bully. The two of you do nothing but fight now. I honestly think she hasn’t been seeing him for that long. It started with her just giving him attention when you were around, so she could piss you off. I guess for her to continue that, she had to keep up appearances with him when they were alone. I don’t buy it that she likes him, though. She’s a hell of a lot smarter than he is, and if anyone was being used, it was Brian.”

  I’m writing everything down, but I’m also nodding my head. I had a feeling she wasn’t really into the guy. It seems like my relationship with Charlie was stretched as thin as air, and she was just doing what she could to test our strength.

  “What are Charlie’s religious beliefs? Was she known to be into voodoo or spells or anything like that?”

  “Not that I know of,” he says. “We were all raised Catholic. We don’t really practice unless it’s a significant holiday.”

  I make note of that and try to think of another question. I still have so many, and I don’t know what to go with next. “Is there anything else? Anything out of the ordinary that happened last week?”

  I can im
mediately tell he’s hiding something by the change in his facial expression and the way he shifts in his seat.

  “What is it?”

  He pulls his feet off the seat and leans forward, lowering his voice. “The police…they were at the house today. I heard them questioning Ezra about finding anything unusual. At first she denied it, but I think her guilt got the best of her. She mentioned finding sheets in your room. She said there was blood on them.”

  I lean back against my booth and stare up at the ceiling. This isn’t good.

  “Wait,” I say, leaning forward again. “That was last week. Before Charlie went missing. It can’t be tied to her if that’s what they’re thinking.”

  “No, I know that. Ezra told them that too. That it was last week and she saw Charlie that day. But still, Silas. What the hell were you doing? Why was there blood on your sheets? The way police think, they’re probably assuming you beat Charlie or something, and that it finally went too far.”

  “I’d never hurt her,” I say defensively. “I love that girl.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, I shake my head, not understanding why I even said them. I’ve never even met her. I’ve never even spoken to her.

  But I’ll be damned. I just said I love her, and I meant it straight to my core.

  “How can you love her? You claim you can’t remember her.”

  “I may not remember her, but I sure as hell still feel her.” I stand up. “And that’s why we need to find her. Starting with her father.”

  Landon tries to calm me down, but he has no idea how frustrating it is to lose eight entire hours when you only have forty-eight hours total.

  It’s after eight o’clock at night already, and we’ve officially wasted the entire day. As soon as we left the restaurant, we headed toward the prison to pay Brett Wynwood a visit. A prison that’s almost three hours away. Couple that with a two-hour wait, only to be told we aren’t on the visitor list and there’s nothing we can do today to change it…I’m more than pissed.