35. Sam
The morning rushed by as we hastily checked out of the hotel and made our way to the airport. The place is busy. Tourists and travelers are scurrying all around us. Everyone else is there to get from one place to another. Not a single other person could possibly be heading to their untimely arrest. As a child runs across our path, followed by a scowling mother, I'm struck by how strange my situation is.
I don't have time to dwell on it because once we're at the first security checkpoint, Greg stops. His expression turns into one of reluctant duty. "You're supposed to wear these," he said, revealing a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. His face holds an apologetic look. "But we can wait until landing, if you want."
"You're arresting me?" I can't hide the shock in my voice. Yes, okay. I knew this was coming, but still. Seeing the metal in his hands and knowing what has to be done so soon is unnerving.
"No. The United States government is, and you already agreed to this." I glance toward Tilly, who offers a half-hearted shrug. "I mean, you could just think of it as some sort of kinky thing?" she asks. Greg laughs at the suggestion, but I am far from amused, crossing my arms in frustration.
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.