Flying with Wendy carefully tucked against his chest, Peter struggled with the thought of letting her go. He couldn’t take her straight home, not without endangering her life. But Neverwood, despite its offering of an army of protectors for her, was not an option either—not yet. Not while her memories of him and Neverwood were locked away. She could end up resenting or even hating him if she learned that he still had her brother locked up, that when had she panned, he had abandoned her. That he hadn’t saved her years ago on the rooftop when they were kids. There were a million reasons she could resent him. She would need to come willingly, to choose him.

And Peter wasn’t patient. But an idea had occurred to him, and he was desperate for her remember.

Wendy shifted in his arms, her head nuzzled gently into his neck, and he was almost undone. He hoped for the strength and wisdom to do the right thing.

Peter flew to the heavily wooded area of the park, where he had found her weeks ago, and landed amongst cover. He carefully carried her to the same bench where she’d fended off the shadows with a pocket knife. The setting was different. It was still early evening, with kids and families lounging and picnicking. The whole atmosphere was safe and welcoming. Peter slipped his jacket off and tucked it under her head and waited for her to wake up. The clock in the park struck six and began to chime loudly.

“Wendy?”

---

The chimes cut through the darkness, waking her. Then, she heard it—a familiar voice that kept calling her name. She fought off the fogginess and searched for the voice. Forcing her eyes open, she was blinded by the setting sun, and her limbs were dead weight.

The sunlight made it difficult to focus, but then she saw him—the stranger from her dreams. His soft smile and the reassuring twinkle in his eye made her breath catch in her throat. He was real.

“Hi,” he whispered.

Butterflies filled her stomach at the sound of his voice; there was a twinge of recognition.

A cry from a young toddler startled her, and she took stock of her surroundings.

A park? What was she doing? Where was she? What happened?

“Where am I?” She tried to sit up. Everything that was harmless moments ago had become threatening and forbidding.

“I remember John . . . only it wasn’t my brother. He changed and then I was taken, and . . .” Her breathing became ragged, and her hand flew to her throat, where she could feel the raised bump and slight pain.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the handsome boy said reassuringly, touching her hand. “I’ve got you. Listen to me, I know that you’ve been through a lot, but understand that right at this very moment, you are safe. We saved you. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“How did I get away? Why don’t I remember?”

“You were unconscious. My friend Slightly and I followed the van and were able to force it to stop and we um . . .” He laughed. “We stole you from the kidnappers. I wanted to give you time to understand what happened before we take you home.”

She could tell there was more to the story, but she believed him. She could hear the confidence in his voice. She took a few moments to calm herself and take note of where they were. A very public place, surrounded by people. There were worse places she could have awoken in. He promised to take her home; he hadn’t made any untoward advances. So, she was still relatively safe. “How did you know I was in trouble?”

“Your friends and your brother told me,” Peter answered.

Someone from school could have seen what had happened. The answer was plausible, but it got her mind turning, thinking as she tried to remember.

“I know you?” Wendy fought against the emptiness and the cobwebs in her mind. “You’re . . . you’re . . .”

His face brightened; so, she knew they knew each other. It was her first real inkling. Another memory, something about a football game, a blur of shadows and monsters.

“On the football team?” she guessed.

His smile fell. She was wrong.

“From school?” she said, trying again.

“Well, I’m from a different school, not yours, but you do know me. I’m your guardian angel, per se. If you don’t believe me, listen to your heart,” he said, holding her hand the whole time, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

A thrill raced through her at the feeling of his hand over hers, but he was a stranger. She knew nothing about him, and that thrill quickly turned to fear. She dropped his hand and stood up, subconsciously wiping her palm on her pants.

“You never answered my question,” she said firmly, backing away from him.

“What question?” He sounded hurt from her rejection of his touch.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Peter.”

“Peter,” she repeated, letting his name resonate on her lips.

“Do you trust me?” he asked and held out his hand to her, waiting, hoping she would take it.

Déjà vu sent a tingle of anticipation down Wendy’s spine. The opened hand, the words of trust—it was so familiar. Why was it familiar?

She swallowed, looking into his dreamy green eyes. She knew there had to be a hidden meaning behind his question. And she wanted to know the answer.

Her hand reached instinctively for his. “Yes, I trust you.”

“Then, come with me. Let’s walk.”

Wendy stood up, pins and needles racing down her legs and feet as feeling came back to them. She walked through the pain and the park, holding on to his arm, partly because she didn’t want to let go and partly because she had no clue where she was.

“Why are we here?” she asked, uncertainty plaguing her. His hand gently rubbed her back, soothing her.

“Because I’m hungry, are you hungry?” he answered, stopping at a hot dog vendor and pulling out his wallet. “Everyone loves hotdogs.”

Wendy relaxed somewhat as she glanced at the friendly smile of the hot dog vendor.

“Hey, Louie,” Peter said, pulling some bills from his wallet.

Louie offered Peter a smile and a nod, and then turned to Wendy. “Why, it’s our little Miss Wendy looking so grown up these days! Here, I’ve got your favorite.”

He handed her two hot dogs wrapped in foil, and she held out her palm, taking the hot dogs instinctively, though the part of her responding to his smile and the warmth of his voice warred with the knowledge that she didn’t know that man any more than she knew the boy beside her.

“Is two too many?” Louie asked, his smile falling as he took in her expression.

“I—” She shook her head, feeling overwhelmed. It was all too much, nothing seemed familiar. Others knew who she was, but she didn’t know them at all. And then, there was a boy who made her heart melt into a puddle, and she couldn’t remember him at all, no more than she could remember the smiling face of the hot dog vendor who knew what she wanted better than she did.

Wendy continued to stare at him wordlessly, and Louie glanced at Peter with uncertainty. Peter slipped him a five and took the hot dogs from him, then whispered softly to the man.

Louie gave Wendy a small smile and nodded. “I understand. Well, you get better, and come see me soon.”

Get better? Wendy looked to Peter for some reassurance that she’d misunderstood Louie’s comment, but the guilty look on his face only confirmed her suspicions, and she took off in the opposite direction.

Peter jogged to catch up with her. “Slow down.”

“I’m not sick,” she spat out between clenched teeth, seething. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” That he had even put that idea into a stranger’s mind made her writhe with anger. Sick meant hospital, and hospital suggested a psych ward. She had read her diary. She knew what had happened to her during the summer her parents sent her away. The thought of returning to a place like Wonderland again frightened her.

“No, no. I know you’re not sick, Wendy.” Peter reached for her hand and pulled her toward a block of shops along the main road.

When passing by a toy store, her gaze fell on a teddy bear in the window. She didn’t move. He pulled on her arm, and she dug in her heels. Her breath was coming in shallow; why couldn’t she breathe? Air—she needed air. That stuffed animal was causing her a lot of anxiety, and she couldn’t comprehend why.

An elderly man with graying hair and spectacles stepped out of the bookstore next door, a Saint Bernard at his heels.

“Why, Wendy, Nana’s missed you.” The dog pulled on her leash and leaped up, pressing her giant paws into Wendy’s shoulders, almost knocking her over.

“I’m sorry, but I think you have the wrong person.” Wendy staggered back, frightened, keeping a considerable distance between herself, the dog, and the old man. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her chest seemed to be compressing. “I can’t . . . I don’t—”

Peter reached for her, but she held up her hand.

“Stop, stay away from me. Whatever game you’re playing with me isn’t funny anymore.”

“No, it’s not funny,” Peter said. “I would never do that to someone I care about.”

She paused. “Is this some sick joke?”

“No. I know it’s a lot to take in, but believe me when I say that you are unique.”

Wendy couldn’t help the bubble of laughter welling up. “I’m so unique that someone tried to kidnap me.”

“Exactly,” he said firmly.

Wendy’s lip trembled. She couldn’t make eye contact with him without feeling as if she was falling down a rabbit hole, but he persisted with his explanation.

“You have powers. Like me. That’s why those people tried to kidnap you and will stop at nothing until they have you. You just can’t remember. I need you to try and remember, Wendy.”

“Powers? You have powers? And I—no, no. I don’t believe you.” She shook her head. “I can’t. Please just take me home. I need to go back.”

“I know you don’t believe me, Wendy, but I promise you it’s true. You know me . . . Can’t you feel it?” Peter took a few slow steps toward her and held out his hand.

She slipped her palm into his, as if transfixed, and he drew her into a nearby alley. Slowly, he pulled her close to him, and she moved in, willingly, longingly.

“You know me,” he said softly. “And I know you.”

Her heart raced at their closeness, her hands splayed against his chest. She blushed as his face leaned in, and she expected a kiss, closing her eyes as a whisper of air brushed against her cheek.

“Open your eyes,” he murmured into her ear.

Her eyes fluttered open, then widened as she glanced down to see the buildings and ground disappearing below them.

“Do you believe me now?” Peter asked.

She buried her head into his chest as she cried out, grasping him for dear life. He laughed and only held her tighter as they passed through a cloud.

Moisture flecked across her skin and face, and she shivered. Peter didn’t speak, just held her as he moved through the air with her, her feet dancing across the clouds.

“I can’t believe you can fly. Can I?”

“You are,” he chuckled.

“No, can I fly?”

“I don’t know. It wouldn’t surprise me if you could. You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You probably could, from sheer stubbornness.”

Feeling invincible, Wendy shifted in Peter’s arms. A look of concern crossed his face, and she laughed devilishly. “I guess there’s one way to find out.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked.

With a hard thrust, Wendy launched herself away from Peter and out of his grasp, and she went plummeting toward the ground. His face went white and a look of terror filled his eyes, his hands clawing the air after her.

She leaned back and relaxed. After all, it was only an illusion. She had convinced herself that’s all it was as soon as her feet had left the ground. It had to be—why else would the guy from her dreams be there? She wasn’t fearful because she couldn’t die in a dream. She knew she would either fly or wake up.

Strong arms gripped her around the waist and jerked her up as Peter pulled her close to him before she was anywhere near the ground.

“Don’t do that again,” he threatened, his voice furious.

Wendy was surprised by Peter’s reaction but was able to read the fear behind his gaze. Fear because of her reckless behavior.

“It’s okay,” Wendy teased, looking into his worried green eyes. “It’s just a dream.”

He released his pent-up breath and pressed his forehead to hers. “If only this were a dream . . . But I need you to wake up. I’m sorry, Wendy.”

“For what?” She grinned coyly.

“For this,” Peter whispered as his lips claimed hers.

It was the desperation that surprised her first, as if he was making up for lost time, but the kiss softened, his lips teasing hers, waiting, asking for permission. Why not? It was a dream she thought, and she met his desire with her own. She wrapped her hands around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. Time stood still, and she refused to wake up.

He breathed her name and pulled away, but the action pained him.

Wendy squealed as he flew close to the tree lines and rooftops so that they wouldn’t be visible to anyone below.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?”

“No,” he answered, not breaking away from her gaze.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Wendy said, her shoulders drooping, trying not to despair. She became quiet, and Peter kept giving her curious looks.

“Do people not see you?” she asked as they passed over someone walking their dog.

He grinned. “People never look up.”

Within minutes, they were at her house, and he touched down in her backyard. She could tell from the lack of lights inside that no one was home, but she still couldn’t disentangle herself from his embrace to go inside; she didn’t trust her feet to hold her weight.

“Thank you!” she gushed, unsure if she was referring to their kiss or the flying. “This was like a dream.”

“It’s not a dream. It’s real. I’ve tried to give you space and let you live a normal teenage life, but you can’t have that.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe that. If you hadn’t come to me in my dreams, then all of this—”

“Still would have happened. They’ve found you twice now. The Red Skulls, they’re a part of Neverland Corporation and they’re the reason you don’t have your memories of your childhood. They are bad news and they will keep coming for you Wendy. They’ve come to your house before, but we put a guard outside and took care of them.”

“Why were you guarding me?”

“Because I care about you.”

His sudden declaration was pushing her over the edge, making her question his motives.

“How can you when you don’t even know me?” she said with disbelief, even though moments ago he had shown her he cared with a marvelous kiss.

Peter reached for her hand and brushed the top of her knuckles. “I know you, Wendy. No matter how many times I lose you, my feelings have always stayed the same, and I know that if you listened right now . . . to what your heart is saying, you’d know I speak the truth.”

It was impossible to make sense of her heart at the moment. She felt it fluttering faster than a hummingbird’s wings, telling her he was right, though her brain was running on overdrive, refusing to listen.

“This is so messed up,” she breathed out and moved away from him, wiping her eyes when he caught up to her. “I feel so broken.”

“No, you are wrong.” He stepped in front of her and motioned to the town. “The whole world out there is messed up. Yes, as individuals we are broken, but you and me together—we’re whole . . . I’m your past, Wendy. Please don’t run from me.” He pulled her into a hug, and she surrendered, relaxing against him instinctively. “But I want more than anything to be in your future,” he whispered into her soft hair.

She could tell that he had forced himself to loosen his grip, making it gentle enough so that she could pull away if she wanted to. If she had the choice, she’d stay in his embrace for all eternity.

She shuddered, and he mistook its meaning.

“Please, don’t get upset. You can ask anything, and I’ll tell you the truth. But you need to understand that once you learn the truth, you cannot go back.”

This time, it was almost painful as he stepped away, never breaking eye contact. She was swept up in those endless pools of green so filled with pain that mirrored her own.

“It wasn’t my intention to hurt you. I lost you once, and I don’t want to lose you again,” Peter said. “You need to remember, Wendy. Only then can we ensure you’re safe from Neverland.”

Neverland. That word was like an arrow of paralyzing fear piercing her heart, causing her to stumble. Peter caught her and helped her to the back porch.

“Neverland?” She’d barely breathed the word out and knew that she didn’t want to continue any further with that discussion. She wanted to be safe, and somehow, she knew that Neverland was the opposite of safe. “No. Stop. I don’t want to know.” Her movements became harried as she fumbled to unlock the back door and step inside. She needed to put a barrier between her and Peter, who wanted to thrust her dangerous past upon her.

The house keys fell from her clumsy fingers, clattering loudly on the wooden porch. Peter scooped them up and held them away from her.

“Give them to me,” Wendy demanded.

Peter brought the keys to his lips, mumbling under his breath, “I’m sorry, Wendy.”

“What?” Fear was riding down her spine at his whispered words.

His eyes snapped open, and he swallowed, staring intently into her eyes. Wendy was becoming undone by looking into his.

“You have a brother,” he said, holding the keys out to her.

She snatched the keys and found the one that unlocked the door.

“My brother? You mean John?”

“No, not your stepbrother, your real brother. Michael,” he said, his voice softening, and he leaned on the door frame.

“I don’t have . . .” Her chin lifted in defiance. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Think about it. Ask yourself who you are, and when you’re ready for the answers, I’ll be there.” He brushed his fingers against her palm, slipping a thimble inside it.

She didn’t know why, but the sight of the thimble made her well up with emotion. She closed her eyes as silent tears slide down her cheeks. Something cried out for Peter, and she didn’t know how to answer that yearning. She didn’t want to be the meek confused girl. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and kiss him again, and she had a feeling that she was going to embarrass herself and do just that when she felt a draft against her cheek, like a kiss.

Opening her eyes, she discovered she was alone.