Chapter 14
jett
I despise awkward silence and how it makes my skin crawl as if there’s an army of ants skittering right beneath the surface.
This morning has been nothing but chunks of awkward silence between Sofía and me, broken up only by necessary questions or chitchat with Doug and Molly.
Sitting beside each other on the plane from Hervey Bay to Airlie Beach? Silence.
Taxi from the small airport to our hotel? Even more silence.
Now, as we walk to the parking lot where we’re going to shuttle to the helicopter? Excruciating, gouge-my-eyeballs-out silence.
I haven’t found the words to apologize for raising my voice last night, mostly because I didn’t know what else would convince her stubborn ass that she doesn’t need to freeze to death or suffer in silence.
I’ve always admired Sofía’s ability to stand on her own, to accomplish anything she sets her mind to, but she uses it as a crutch to avoid letting anyone else help her or take responsibility. It’s not a sustainable way to live.
My sister used to do the exact same thing, and she burned herself out. Didn’t know how to take a break or let someone step in without shame or guilt. She would have flunked out of law school if she hadn’t finally admitted she was struggling and needed help.
Haley was always the one who took care of me growing up. The older sister. The mentor. My only friend during the three long years our parents homeschooled us before giving up and sending us to public school.
Looking back, she carried far more responsibility than any teenager should have. Part of me thinks it’s the same for Sofía, and now she doesn’t know there’s another way. I know the signs of hyperindependence, and Sofía’s are bright neon.
“Sofía, are you afraid of heights?” Doug asks.
“Uh, no. I don’t think so.” Her nose twitches. “Should I be?”
He chuckles. “No, but if you’re uncomfortable or uneasy, let us know.”
I know with certainty that if she was freaked out, she wouldn’t say a thing.
“It’s going to be great,” Molly reassures her. “It’s safe, and we’ll get an incredible view of the reef.”
Sofía straightens her shoulders, readjusting her large bag and her tight grip on the straps. I take hold of her free hand and tug her back, out of earshot of other people.
“How are you truly feeling about the flight?”
Her mouth opens on instinct, but she pauses, contemplates, and then admits, “A little nervous.”
“That’s normal.”
I clamp down on the excitement swelling inside me that she trusted me with her thoughts and didn’t toss out another “I’m fine.”
Mateo was right. Women say that all the time, and they mean it zero percent of the time.
“Say the word, and we’ll land it. No questions asked.”
Her footsteps pause, and she blinks up at me. “But you need the footage.”
“That’s not the most important thing.” I hold her gaze until she relents. “Promise me.”
An adorable crinkle forms between her brows. “You don’t believe me?”
“Not really,” I answer honestly. “I think you bite your tongue when you’re uncomfortable because you think you’ll become a hassle or too high maintenance.” Her face slackens. “Did I get that right?”
She huffs. “I promise.”
I know she won’t admit I’m right, but we both know I am. “About last night,” I say, voice low, “I hope we’re okay…”
“Okay?” she squeaks. “Why wouldn’t we be? Were you freaked out because you had to spoon me for warmth? I was trying to avoid that, you know.”
Damn, I thought I was spiraling, but if I’m a whirlpool, then she’s a stunning tornado.
“Uh, no. I meant when I raised my voice at you. I want you to be able to tell me things. To trust me. I’m sorry if raising my voice impacted that.”
Her mouth parts, then closes, and I fight the urge to fidget.
The lines between us are not as cut and dry as I thought they would be.
Maybe it’s my fault for hiring someone so different personality-wise, then agreeing to a PR relationship scheme where she holds my hand and touches my jaw like it means something, when I know it means nothing at all.
“I’ve had men raise their voices at me before,” she admits. “That was not raising your voice. The fact you think so speaks volumes.”
There’s no opportunity to respond, to ask what she means about before, because she walks forward to meet the helicopter pilots and the tour company manager. Doug gestures to the camera gear, and Sofía pulls a small notebook from her bag.
The pilots nod along, pointing at whatever’s on her paper, and I stand back.
What does she mean men have raised their voices at her before? Was it her family or a significant other? The lack of clarity eats at my insides, as does the kernel of trepidation that it was someone who she believed loved her.
Molly appears at my side. “How was the tent? I haven’t had time to ask how that went.”
“About as well as you could expect.”
“So you two got freaky with it?”
I choke. “Molly,” I hiss. “That’s not appropriate.”
She shrugs. “Doug and I did, in case you were curious.”
“You know I don’t want to know that information. Ever.”
“But it’s so fun making you blush,” she teases. “Oh, would you look at that, your bunkmate is calling us over.”
I snap my head to Sofía, who is waving to get our attention. Molly kicks it into high gear, smiling wildly as she leaps into the helicopter in the seat beside Doug. She wraps an arm around his bicep, and he places a kiss on the crown of her head.
“Hi, baby,” he mutters, the endearment always turning her cheeks a soft pink.
The pilot extends a hand to help Sofía up, and jealousy rips through me, making me double my pace. “I got it,” I say, placing a hand on the small of her back to help her up.
An odd look crosses her face, and I shuffle in behind her, trying to wrangle the green beast that magically appeared in my chest. I don’t get jealous—I’ve never had a reason to—but I’m not fond of the idea of someone else helping Sofía. Not when I’ve only just convinced her to let me.
Her bag sits between us as she buckles in. I give her a thumbs-up, and she gives me a wobbly one in response. The helicopter rotor whirls, and after a jerk, we’re airborne.
Sofía’s hand flies out, patting around until she finds mine and clamps down on it with impressive strength. “I lied,” she screams, “this is terrifying!”
Her eyelids screw shut, and I have to stifle a laugh. “Open your eyes and look out the window.”
“No, thanks.” Brown hair whips around when she shakes her head. “I’m quite happy with the darkness.”
“Trust me. Open your eyes. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
Hesitantly, she parts her eyelashes, revealing the fear swirling in her irises. I jerk my chin at the window, and when she turns, she lets out a small gasp, releasing my hand to move closer to the glass.
Turquoise water sparkles below us, melting into a darker navy at the horizon line. The white sand swirls where the shore meets the ocean, and from this height, stunning, verdant greens make up the forest surrounding Airlie Beach.
It’s a once-in-a-lifetime view.
The pilot maneuvers right, and we coast along the shoreline. Doug unpacks the equipment, handing me my camera and a long-range lens before assembling his own. He shifts in his seat to get a better angle and films without need for direction.
We grab a few minutes of film where the footage dissects down the middle: one side the alluring ocean, the other the expansive forest.
“If you look north,” the pilot says through the mic piece, “there are two humpback whales.”
Sofía plasters her face to the window. “I don’t see them,” she shrieks.
I tip her chin in the other direction. Two black dots glide through the water on the far edge of the reef, and Sofía squeals, smacking my bicep.
“Look at them!”
I resume recording, alternating between the view and Sofía’s reaction.
Patches of coral form swirling tan shapes, stark against the contrast of the teal and turquoise water.
We arc farther out to sea, and I set the camera aside to appreciate the view before we reach the heart-shaped coral, one of the iconic spots on the reef.
It was the reason we booked this helicopter flight.
We pass the Whitsundays, Doug filming the unique sand swirls, a different pattern every day, depending on the shifting tides. Sofía snaps a few photos of her own, and the tension in her shoulders fades with each minute.
“How you doin’, Sofía?” Doug asks, pointing the camera at her face.
Her smile steals my breath away.
She gives him two thumbs-up, jerking them around with enthusiasm. Doug pans to me, and I mimic Sofía. Molly throws up a rock-and-roll sign, tongue hanging out.
The awkward silence chasing us this morning is gone, and by the time we reach the heart coral, the air between us feels different, like there’s a level of trust that wasn’t there before. She leans into my shoulder, something in her bag digging into my side with the added pressure.
I push a hand against it, but it doesn’t budge. “What’s in this thing?”
The contact ends, and I regret asking.
“Oh, everything we could possibly need.”
She pulls apart the opening, and I peek inside. It’s like a Russian doll. Inside her large bag are a series of smaller ones. I’m afraid if I choose one, it will unzip to reveal an even smaller bag.
I point at one, a checkered red. She pulls it out. “First aid.”
Next I choose a massive green one. She rips the zipper open with pizzazz. “Snacks!”
Granola bars, candy, crackers, and half a dozen other options are packed tight. It’s not lost on me that they’re all options I enjoy.
“That one?” This time I select a tiny pouch with an embroidered seashell.
“Oh, um, let’s not talk about that one.”
“Why not?”
“If I said it crosses professional boundaries, would you let it go?”
I raise a brow, and she sighs.
“I didn’t think so. This has condoms.”
I make an incoherent noise, and a low snicker sounds from in front of me. I kick the back of Molly’s seat.
“Right. Safe sex. Super important.” I’m bobbing my head. Why am I doing that? And why can’t I stop? “Oh, look, it’s the heart coral.”
Her focus flies back to the window, and I take a deep breath.