The Traitor ✓ (Book Six)

Chapter Forty Five

I wake up in the tiny cot, Maria and I pressed so close together I can feel her breath on my nose. I want to lay here forever but she'd kill me for letting her sleep in. If I've learned anything about her it's this:

She likes to wake up early so she can go to sleep as early as humanly possible. I watched her pass out at five once after she was done with court, in the car. She didn't even wait until I drove her home.

I lightly nudge her shoulder. At first she just grunts, but then her eyes flutter open. At first she looks at me like she's going to kill me, something else I've also dealt with a few times when she didn't get to go to bed before 7pm. Then she registers that it's me, and a smile spreads across her face.

It makes me smile back. My face doesn't invoke that reaction in people very often. When it does, I try to savor the moment.

"It's eight thirty. If we want to grab coffee before the boat docks we should get up."

"Why would we get coffee on the boat-"She furrows her eyebrows. "When we could just her overpriced shit at the cafe less than ten yards away from the dock?"

Can't argue with rich people logic.

Still, she shoots up like she's late to something. I do the same just because I wanna get the next few days over with and get back to Costa Rica as soon as possible. When she's done with the sink, it's my turn. I hear her getting dressed behind me, shuffling through her bag. I make it a point not to creep, though it's not like we haven't seen each other naked.

I slip into more comfortable shorts and a tank top. You know the world's gone to shit when it's fucking hot in Canada. I mean seriously- what the fuck?

Our tiny room seems to have heated overnight, though that could just be attributed to the lack of ac on the boat.

I slip on the shoes I brought to walk in. We both grab and zip up our bags, swinging them over our shoulders.

Then, because neither of us can remember which direction to go to reach the deck, we stand there until a crew member exist their room.

"Excuse me-" Maria jumps out, placing a hand on his shoulder. When he looks at her face, it's like he's seen a ghost- because he knows how quickly she could make a call to her dad and end them all. "Could you show us where the deck is? We're a little lost."

  "A little's a bit of an understatement." I shrug.

He gulps, and then smiles- gesturing for us to follow him. After weaving through the same pattern of hallways as last night, we do end up on the deck. And yes, far, far in the distance- there's Canada( more specifically, Nova Scotia).

  "Ya know, I never thought I'd feel so nervous just leaving the country."

  "We'll be fine." She tries to assure me.

  "But you don't know that." I say. "Nobody can. With the exception of Americans.... Canadians know the most about the 2023 incident. Hell, I might as well stand on top of the House of Parliament and scream 'Come and get me! I'm right here! The most hated terrorist of all time-"

  "Quiet." She interrupts, slapping my arm. She cocks her head to the side. A single crew member has stopped his work to look at us. "If we act normal, don't bother anybody or cause any trouble- we should be fine. You're the only one making this harder than it needs to be."

  "We haven't even landed yet." I lower my voice to a whisper. "How have I- you know what, no. I promised myself and you that we would never fight."

  "And how is that realistic?" She rolls her eyes. "Fighting is just part of a healthy relationship, as long as it's not physical or verbal abuse. Look, I love you but-"

  "Love you too." I bat my eyes.

"You have a past that you can't just run from." She sighs. "This is the only way you can repent.... Even a little bit."

"I mean I could donate all of my money to international therapy funds for victims of similar situations but if you think me risking your life by bring you here is repentance then fine, I'll go with it."

  The boat suddenly jolts, and so much that Maria falls over. I forget the small fight we just had and reach down to pull her up.

  "You okay?" She nods.

  "Well either way, it's too late to turn back now. Might as well do what we came here for."

  She is right. This would be a complete waste of a trip if we just sat on the boat until it returned.

  We do need to get back somehow but.... We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

  Some crew members begin lowering the bridge thingy that'll connect it to the port so we can all leave. It takes about ten minutes, and then the ones who will unload supplies are the first off. They have cranes for the heaviest things, their hands for the smallest.

  Maria and I leave with them.

  Then, when we've just reached Canadian soil, Maria  drags me towards the coffee shop.

  She's right- it is less than ten yards away from where we were standing.

  A bell above the door rings.

  "Welcome to-" the employee currently working starts to welcome us. Then, she recognizes my face. I want to tell Maria 'I told you do'. "Wow, you look exactly like James García. It's almost creepy."

  "I get that a lot." I repeat for what feels like the millionth time.

  "You sound like him too-"

  "Unfortunate, isn't it? I'd like a... vanilla espresso shot please. And... Maria?"

  She tells the lady her order as I try to ignore the dozen or so eyes on me.