Page 47 of Whispers on the Water

Tommy’s anger fades a bit as he lets out a heavy sigh. “Well, yeah. Among other things.”

I watch silently as Tilly guides him to the bar, handing him a cold beer. He takes a long sip as she explains my actions and how I tried to throw the FBI off Sam’s trail. Once she finishes, he doesn’t seem any more content. It’s unusual to see him looking so downtrodden, especially for a guy who usually wears a smile as often as pants. “How did things get so fucked so quick?” Tommy asks.

But Tilly only laughs. “I don’t think they were supposed to fall in love.” My heart leaps at the thought, only to sink again. If she loved me back, she wouldn’t have left.

“I guess not,” Tommy says, a half grin teasing at the corner of his mouth. “At least she’s safe for now. I made sure she had a place to stay and some money.” A twinge of jealousy hit me; he was the one who helped her when she needed it most, not me. Sam called Tommy to fix the problem. The fucking problem I caused.

“Why’d you drive her?” I ask, unable to hide my envy.

“She called and said she needed help. I don’t need the details, but she told me the whole story,” Tommy says, then looks down as his red fist. “I’m sorry I hit you, man.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be. I deserved it.” My gaze shifts to Tilly, who’s gently massaging Tommy’s shoulders. The move surprises me. Last I knew, the two weren’t speaking. Maybe a little good might come out of the situation after all. But almost the moment I think it, Tilly stops her gentle touches, a bit of embarrassment showing on her pink cheeks.

I watch her take a seat. “So, what’d Benito say?”

Tilly grabs herself some water and takes a sip before turning in my direction. “Nothing, really. He did ask how long I’ve known Sam, and I told him the truth. He asked about you, and I said you were just hired a few days ago. I did tell him you seemed very interested in Sam, but that’s it.”

Her efforts to protect me, to keep me out of trouble, are unexpected. “Erm, thanks. You didn’t have to do that. I’m 100% willing to take the fall for this.”

“You can’t win her back from jail,” Tilly says, her words carrying more weight than she might realize. Despite everything, the possibility of trying to win Sam back fills me with hope.

“I can if we’re both in jail,” I try to joke, but the gravity of our situation is too heavy for laughter.

Tommy’s hand on my shoulder brings me back to the moment. “Listen, she promised to call if she needed anything. We should probably get to sleep and try… try to forget this shitty day.”

As we all stand to leave, I try not to let my disappointment show. I don’t want to be alone, especially not in the apartment where Sam and I have spent so much of our time together.

“You wanna stay over?” Tilly asks. The thought of being surrounded by Sam’s belongings, by reminders of her, is almost too much.

I run my hand through my hair. “I don’t know if I can be around her stuff right now.”

But Tilly laughs and links her arm to mine. “Greg, your apartment probably has more of her stuff in it than mine. Come sleep on the couch.”

Reluctantly, I agree to stay. Still, the night ahead promises little rest as I grapple with my feelings and the consequences of my actions.

Chapter thirty

Sam

Ibalance on a rented surfboard, an ugly brown thing that favors right turns, the best I could find on such short notice. The waves here in Nicaragua, long, slow, and almost green to the shoreline, don’t disappoint, even if the dark, ominous black sand beneath is a stark contrast to what I’m used to. It’s something about a nearby volcano, but honestly, I find it unsettling, especially underwater. I miss Costa Rica, and more than anything, I miss my friends.

But I can’t bring myself to call Tilly. I know I’m not yet strong enough to resist the pull if she asks me to come home. I need to stay away a little longer until I’m sure of myself. Once I’m settled, I might risk it.

And then there’s Greg. The ache for him has only grown stronger since I left, but I’ve convinced myself there’s no going back. My thoughts wander to a place I’d rather they didn’t, nights and mornings spent wrapped around him, laughing at some tourist, or surfing with him. It’s those kinds of memories that I’m trying to forget while I surf, but instead, they’re dragging my focus away from the ocean. Surfing is supposed to be my escape, not a time to dwell on a past filled with mistakes.

Trying to shake off the gloom, I catch the next wave, but my heart isn’t in it. The board flips, and I tumble into the foam, the darkness of the black sand below enveloping me. I stay under until my lungs burn for air, then reluctantly kick to the surface. It’s clear that I’ve lost the magic of the ocean along with my peace of mind.

Pulling myself out of the water, I walk back across the street, searching for a phone booth, but there aren’t any. I’ll have to wait a few more days before I can muster the strength to check in on my sister and Tommy despite promising him I’d call.

After returning the surfboard, I meander through the tourist town, noting its attempt to mimic the allure of places like Jaco with its restaurants and souvenir shops. It’s easy to blend in here. My hotel is cheap but decent, though I’m aware my savings won’t last long at this rate. I need a job, and I needed it yesterday.

Entering the first busy restaurant I see, I ask the hostess if they’re hiring. She’s unsure but goes to check. The owner, who gives me a hungry look, speaks with me briefly. But I can hardly pay attention. The guy keeps licking his lips. Ugh, gross dude. Quit drooling. Nothing says ‘job opportunity’ quite like being looked at like I’m about to be on the menu. Despite his inappropriate gaze, I land a shift for the night. A sort of tryout for a permanent spot.

I hurry back to the hotel to prepare. The moment I’m inside my own temporary space, I close my eyes. Worn out brown carpet, faded yellow paint, and a bed with what can only be described as questionably clean bedding does not feel like home. I’m suddenly certain that this room has seen more bad decisions than a Vegas chapel.

Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and walk into the bathroom. The tiles are chipped, and the water in the shower is never quite hot, but I can’t go into my new job with salt in my hair. As I rinse away the ocean water, my mind again turns to Greg, of our many showers together in his small bathroom. Rinsing off with him, the water wasn’t the only thing steaming. God, I miss that. He had a way of washing my ass that…well shit, it made me all sorts of turned on.

But, it wasn’t just the sex that was fantastic. Greg also had a way of making me feel seen, desired, and loved.

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