The address that Noah gave me sits coldly in my pocket. I've been waiting outside of this coffee shop for almost twenty minutes and he's still a no show. My head is telling me that he stood me up, but my heart, or whatever internal organ, claims otherwise.

Silas' note lies in my other pocket, along with a trusty pocket-knife that I decided to bring along today. Since I apparently have to meet him later tonight, I might as well bring along a defensive tool. Despite the absence of reassurance about tonight, my mind is fixed on this moment, and what exactly I'll find out regarding Noah's depart two years ago.                                    

Cars of all types drive down the newly paved roads. I watch as people go about their daily activities, whether it's just going for a walk or getting something to eat. I actually ordered a cup of coffee not too long ago, but I finished it in a matter of minutes. It's the same coffee shop my friend and I go to. I almost forgot that Noah and I used to come here too.

My back straightens when I see a figure jogging toward me; Noah. He has a surprised look on his face when he reaches my bench. "You came," he says.

"You sound surprised," I reply.

"Can you blame me? You were never exactly the easiest person to convince." He takes a seat beside me and a slide over an inch, putting some space between the two of us. "What, do I have the plague or something?"

I chuckle. "No, but what you do have is some explaining to do." I dismiss his bad attempt of amusing me. "A good place to start would be explaining why you're so late."

An apologetic look appears in his eyes. "Yeah, sorry about that. I had some... stuff to take care of."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Just some extra errands," Noah replies. "Which reminds me, I got you something." His arm perks up and picks up a brown, paper bag, handing it to me. I hesitate to take it from him. "C'mon, Nyc. Just take it." Taking the bag from him, the scent of chocolate and coffee fills the air. Holy shit, he didn't...

My wish is granted when I pull out a chocolate-glazed donut, my all-time favorite food. As much as I want to inhale every last bite, I know what he's trying to do, and it's not going to work.

"Alright, what's wrong?" asks Noah.

"It's nothing," I say, putting the donut back into the bag.

"Rowen, you were looking at the donut like it's poison, and we both know that you would happily eat that thing is one bite. So what's up?"

Frustrated, I pull the note from Noah from my pocket and slap it down on the bench. He looks deflated when he eyes it, but it's not look he's never seen it before. He is the one who wrote it. "Why the hell am I here, Noah?"

His eyes meet mine again, slightly agitated. "You said you wanted answers."

"And so far, all I'm getting is freaking donuts!" I raise my voice, growing more annoyed. Noah hand touches mine on the bench, but I pull away quickly. "You didn't invite me here to answer my questions, did you? You came here to try to fix things with me," I claim.

"No, I came here to explain myself."

"And yet you're trying to woo me with donuts and hand-holding? Well here's a news flash for you, Noah: it's never going to happen. You left me, remember?"

He switches positions so he's fully facing me. "I know what I did was wrong, and Nyc, I am so, so sorry."

There's a deep pause and no one speaks. I gently shake my head and look deep into the forest in his eyes, wanting to set each tree on fire. "I've outgrown your apologies, Noah," I say with cruelty and get up to leave.

I hear Noah get to his feet and start to follow me. But this time, I won't be stopping. "Even if I can explain why I'm here?" My lips pull into a thin line. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I whip back around, a desperate look appearing on Noah's face. It obvious he would say anything at this point to prevent me from walking away. But there are still questions that I need answered, and he's the only one who can give me the answers. Even though he broke my heart, I still need to know why.

Pacing back over to him, I look him dead in the eye and say, "You've got two minutes. Two minutes, and then we never see one another again."

He frowns, but slowly nods his head in agreement. "Where would you like me to start?"

"Start with why you left," I order, taking a seat back on the bench.

Noah sits next to me, his fingers interlaced on his lap. "That's a bit of a long and complicated story."

"Than uncomplicate it," I say more distraughtly, fighting to keep eye contact with him as he's gazing down. "You know that I deserve an explanation."

He unleashes a strong sigh as his lips part, his eyes still refusing to look up. "Okay."

Two years ago...

It's been a week since Noah and his family moved in next door. Since then, the two of us have been spending a lot of time together. Mom kept on insisting that we help them unpack, which I didn't mind doing at all. It gave me the chance to spend more time with Noah, as well as get to know more about him. Caleb and Dylan have been getting along well with him as well. When we all went over to help with the unpacking, Mom and Dad spent the whole time talking with Noah's parents while the three of us hung around Noah. He really didn't have much to unpack, other than some books and his large movie collection that we all spent hours organizing by title.
Eventually, my brothers got bored and went home, but I stayed.

Noah and I are studying outside on the campus grounds, both of us working on the same book report for a teacher that both of us hate in a class that we both can't stand. It's funny how we have so much in common after only meeting a week ago.

"Your birthday is coming up, right?" He asks me.

"Yeah, in like three months." I adjust my glasses on my face, looking into his earthly eyes. "What does that have to do with To Kill a Mockingbird, exactly?"

He chuckles. "Absolutely nothing. But I figured since you'll be sixteen soon, I need a list of ideas on what to get you."

"You really don't have to get me anything," I say, sitting up from the grass. "Besides, I'm a pretty difficult person to shop for."

"I find that very hard to believe. You're pretty much an open book."

"If I'm such an open book, then how come you need a list to know what I want for my birthday?" I ask, a gust of him almost taking away more loose papers.

"Touche." Noah closes his laptop and smiles. "But I've only known you for like, what, a week? And all of the sudden, you think that I know everything?" He jokes. "An open book isn't always the easiest book to read, Nyc."

I laugh, now in a kneeling position. "That's kinda the definition of an open book, idiot." I playfully nudge him, almost knocking him over.

"Whatever. The point is, you are going to give me a very long and detailed list of things Rowen Clearwater has always wanted. Five page minimum!" Noah almost shouts, but I give him a second slap on the shoulder to shut him up.

My glasses almost slide off the rim of my nose and I frustratedly push them back up. "Dude, my Christmas lists were never even that long!"

He looks at me like I've gone insane. "Seriously? You're telling me that young Rowen Clearwater never asked the fat guy for a pony? Or Barbie dolls? Or even a lifetime supply of ice-cream?!"

"Yeah, maybe when I was five! Once I turned six, Dylan told me that the more I asked for, the less of a chance I had at getting it. So from then on, I kept it at a minimum of one page," I explain.

Noah runs his hands through his hair and groans loudly. "That's pretty fucked up, Nyc. I'm gonna have to have a strongly-worded conversation with your brother about this. No one has the right to crush a little girl's dreams of wanting a freaking pony. I mean, that's just barbaric."

A large smile pulls at my cheeks, now reddened from all the happiness. "He didn't exactly crush my dreams. He did that when I was eight when he told me that Santa wasn't real, and neither was the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy," I almost mumble.

"What?! You were only eight when you found out?!"

"Guilty," I laugh. "How old were you when your parents told you?"

"Actually, I found out when I was twelve and I came home with a bloody nose," he replies. I almost laugh, but I let him continue. "Brody Parkinson had a thing for throwing punches at kids who haven't yet experienced the loss of magic.But when I came home that day, my parents broke the news, and that was my innocence down the drain."

Looking at him now, I feel like I can tell him anything. I know I've only known him for a week, but it's like I can trust him with anything. Maybe even...

No, no I can't do that. I can't tell him that. I can't tell him what happened that night. Not yet.

I'm snapped back into reality at the raising of Noah's voice. "But stop trying to change the subject! Now, are you gonna come quietly and give me a list, or are we gonna have to do things the hard way. "

I roll my eyes and smile widely. "Oh please, what can you possibly do?"

"I, for one, happen to know a lot of dangerous people that can make you disappear off of the face of the earth. Don't push me, Nyc," Noah sarcastically states. "If not a list, just say the first thing that comes to mind. The very first thing."

Biting my bottom lip, I search the list in my thoughts for the one thing that I have always wanted. When I locate one, I immediately share it for Noah. "A telescope."

He raises an eyebrow. "A telescope?"

"Yeah. It's something that I've been wanting for a long time. I've just never been able to save up enough money for it," I exclaim to him. "Now can we please get back to doing this report?"

Another groan excapes his mouth. "Fine. I will work on this report for this god-awful book. But only because your birthday is coming up and I am going to make your dreams come true." He again opens his laptop and resumes his work on the report. I do the same a return to my handwritten notes.

Suddenly, my stomach feels as if it's being vigorously squeezed, and I begin to shiver, even though the atmosphere around me is warm. My hand clings to my stomach while the other shields my mouth. I think I'm about to me sick. Noah looks over to me, and his heartwarming smile transfers over to a more concerned expression. "Nyc, are you okay?" He asks, his hand now sitting on my shoulder. I'm not given the chance to respond since I'm already darting into the direction of the bathrooms, unsure if Noah is following behind.

~~~~~

Driving home from my meeting with Noah, leftover tears still sting my eyes. I ended up breaking down as he was reciting his explanation for leaving me at a dire time. He tried to comfort me, but I wouldn't let him. I was already walking away at that point. I thought I was ready to hear his story, to finally get some sort of closure, but I was wrong. I thought that I could be strong and let the dead bury the dead. I thought that I could handle the ghosts of my past appearing to me once more. Again, I was so wrong.

Apparently, when I was speaking with Noah, I had managed to misplace the note with Silas' address on it. Fortunately, I remember it after glaring at it so many times.

I've been quivering in my skin all freaking day, trying to think about what he may have in store for me. Even though we made a deal and he wasn't going to make me do anything crazy, it's still hard to trust him. I'm even beginning to feel conflicted about our damn deal. He said he'd help me open up more - that he can get me to come out of my shell. I've been watching to do that for so long but I never could. Silas could've found out about that weak spot and used it to his advantage.

After hearing the rumors about him, I can't help but think that I might be in more danger than I realize. For all I know, I'm probably already digging my own grave. God, I can already feel the air shocking my lungs as I gasp for breaths within a coffin. No one would know where to look for me. No would would know who to suspect. My case is already cold, I quickly realize. Than I begin to think that this could all just be my mind trying to create more hostility then there already is. It's official. I have no idea what to think anymore.

I soon pull up to a long drive-way, my
headlights sending streaks of light flooding across the dark pavement. Looking out my window, I spot a mailbox with the address taped to it.

28 Cyclone Rd.

At least I know that I'm at the right place.

Five minutes later, I'm already growing more nervous. Thankfully, I remembered to bring along my small, pocket-knife, just in case there's any complications. When I feel for it in my pocket, I begin to panic when I can't find it. Luckily, I'm just an idiot, and I feel it in my other pocket. I mentally slap myself in the face.

My stomach shifts uneasily and my nails pinch into the flesh on my hands as they hold together tightly. I need some sort of reassuring squeeze to keep my mind at ease, or someone to tell me that everything is going to be alright. My pulse pounds within my temples and my mind is lost in a maze of possible scenarios.

Like hale colliding with glass, three loud taps echo through my car, unleashing a scream that scampers quickly off of the roof of my mouth, and I violently jump in my seat. Looking over, a figure stands outside my window, looking at me with eyes draped in silver armor; Silas.

A/N

What is Rowen hiding???
What did Noah tell her??
Is Silas gonna draw blood???

AHHHHHH!! SO MANY QUESTIONS THAT MUST BE ANSWERED!!!

Share your theories about what's going to happen right now in the beautiful comments page, and maybe you'll get answers... 😉😏

Yippee!!! Another chapter is up!!! So I'd just like to thank everyone who has been so generous with reads, votes, and feedback for this vote. So I have decided that from now on, I will be posting a chapter dedicated to all you lovely supporters of mine every five chapters of this book! You all deserve it, trust meh.

Anyways, don't forget to vote on this chapter!! Can we possibly make it to 200 votes??

XOXO