Page 57 of Whispers on the Water

However, when he jangles the cuffs, I snatch them from his hands. “Fine,” I concede. It takes a half minute for him to expertly secure them over my wrists in front of my body.

As we walk through the airport, everyone is glaring at me. But Tilly has a plan of her own and drapes her sweater over the cuffs. I’m almost tearing up at the small gesture. Deep down, I know this is hurting her. She can’t watch me being treated like this much less than I could if our situation was reversed. Frustration seeps out of her every pore, and she glowers at everyone who dares look my way.

For some reason, I want to reassure her. So I bump her shoulder. “Hey, remember when we spent the night in the drunk tank?”

Her eyes brighten, and she laughs. “Is that what it’s called when Costa Rican police hold you in a dark room until you bribe them?”

“Well, this isn’t that bad, right? I mean, Greg’s got my back.”

She purses her lips, her brows dipping. “Mmm.”

Yeah. Even I know it’s a lame attempt to make her feel better. We keep walking, and no one offers more words of comfort. It is what it is, and right now, I guess being content is a moot point.

Greg has to explain our situation at the security checkpoint, flashing his badge and a letter to the security staff. Once cleared, there are no more barriers. I am headed home, under arrest, on my way to face charges for a crime that twists my stomach into knots to even think about.

Seated on the plane, the stale air and the cramped space feel suffocating, but Greg’s reassuring arm around my shoulder provided a sliver of comfort. “It’s gonna be okay, Sam. Remember why you’re doing this.”

“Will I go straight to jail?” He nods, but the confirmation does little to ease my anxiety.

“Hey,” he takes my cuffed hands in his. “It won’t be for long. They’ll slap on the ankle monitor, and you’ll go stay at Penny’s house.”

Looking out the window at the bustling activity on the tarmac, I see small golf carts and fuel trucks speeding around, preparing to take me home.

“Have you spoken with Penny?”

“Many times. The day after you left, I was calling her, begging to know how you were. She’s ride or die for sure,” he says with a laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t give me anything. Said you guys haven’t spoken in years at first. It took a lot to get her on team Greg. She’s excited to see you.”

I jerk my head back. “Wait, why?”

His smile spreads ear to ear. “Babe, you’re kinda riding in to save the day.”

That’s ridiculous. I’m flying home to be tossed in jail for murder. “It’s not like that.”

Tilly, who is in the aisle seat, scoffs. “Of course it is. Don’t be dumb. I’ve spoken to her too. Someone had to vouch for this turd.” She points her thumb at Greg. “And she absolutely adores you. You’re saving Clark’s life.”

My legs shift beneath my seat, feeling uncomfortable with this hero complex everyone is giving me. Tilly digs around in her bag and hands something over. “Here.” It’s her headphones, and I take them before giving her a long hug. “I love you, Til.”

She shoves me back, a wetness in her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up and listen to your music.” I do as I’m told, letting the sounds of 60’s surf rock drown out the world. I catch a glimpse of her exchanging words with Greg, a conversation I can’t hear but feel their worries radiating deeply. Choosing to focus on the music instead, I let the melody carry me away.

Chapter thirty-six

Greg

As the plane touched down, my gaze was immediately drawn to the cluster of reporters visible through the terminal windows, their cameras poised like vultures. Despite anticipating this, a part of me still recoils at the reality. Tilly’s curse under her breath confirms she’s sharing my sentiments, though Sam, still lost in her music while sleeping, remained oblivious for the moment.

“Yeah, this is gonna be rough,” I say.

“Put the cuffs on me,” Tilly suddenly suggests. My head snaps her way, but I’m met with a serious look in her eyes.

“Til, no.”

She reaches across Sam’s lap and grabs onto my arm. “She doesn’t need this, Greg.” Her eyes are begging. “And we both know she’s not going to run.”

“Fuck,” I mutter. The airplane seems so small, with too many people around. I can’t protect her here, not from wandering eyes and judgment. But Tilly can. I run a hand through my hair, half wanting to pull it out before giving Tilly a nod.

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