Page 65 of These Tears

Because the space next to the lavatory is empty. Not a single member of the crew. No one looking through the curtain.

My head lashes towards the forward galley. A member of the cabin crew stands there with her back to me, sorting something in the cabinet.

My gaze slides to Elias’ head, still tipped against the headrest, the crown of his black hair still visible.

Before courage can rot into panic, I dip into the lavatory and lock the door.

My hands start shaking hard enough that I miss the edge of the sink the first time I reach for it. When they finally palm the metal frame, I lift my chin and stare at my reflection in the mirror, forcing the air in.

Slow.

In.

Out.

Breathe.

The stewardess is only at the other end. A few rows from Elias. I only need to be brave enough to open the door, walk past him, and keep walking until someone official is close enough.

Easing back into the aisle, every nerve pulled tight enough to snap, I take that first step along the path.

Then his voice comes back to me.

I’m taking down the plane and everyone in it.

My gaze catches on the row ahead, where a mother rocks a toddler against her shoulder. Her hand is cupped protectively over the child’s small head. The little girl’s cheek is smushed against her jumper, lashes fluttering as sleep wins over her stubbornness.

And my breastbone caves in.

My fear is one thing.

My stupidity another.

I know one face of Elias Crane – the hand that writes wonderful letters, the smile he had as he read through the teasing lines of a book – but not the other. Not the one that belongs behind bars, as he once put it.

I don’t know what part of him is bluffing. I don’t know what part of him never bluffs at all.

I don’t know what stage of desperation he’s in.

I cannot take one step that might keep that little girl from ever reaching the ground.

My feet slow to a halt, eyes burning as I glance left at him.

And I swallow my fear.

I slide back beside him as if returning to a cage of my own choosing.

Before I can begin the humiliating climb over his frame again, his knees shift aside. Just enough room for me to pass.

‘Good call,’ he purrs quietly.

The words punch straight through me.

My gaze snaps to his face. His eyes are still closed, a soft smile twitching before it’s gone.

No relief loosens his voice. No surprise.

The back of my throat closes as he finally gives me a sidelong glance.