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 thatallthe time, and they mean itzeropercent 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.”
