Chapter 1
Chapter one
Tom
It’s been raining nonstop for days now. The streets of Amsterdam are flooded, blending into the canals seamlessly. It’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Will they ever overflow?
For five days straight I’ve been staring at this sad autumn scene from my apartment’s window, waiting for this perfect landscape to snap, for it all to break apart, just like me. The cold bites harder than it should for this time of year.
I tug my black turtleneck higher over my face. My breath fogs up the window, the tea in my hands feeling damp and awkward.
Tea instead of whisky, my way of keeping the Scottish blood in me somewhat happy. Perfectly fine to cleanse the liver as well.
Cheryl takes a careful sip of her own tea, her eyes darting to Jay like they always do.
Jay is our big brother and the leader of our family. He takes care of everything, and most of all, everyone.
See, the McKennas aren’t just a family. We are a pack, and Jay is our alpha. Making a business deal? Call Jay. Bailing your ass out of jail? Call Jay. Want to turn your life around? Call Jay. For approval.
Yeah, he’s that kind of person in my life, pulling the strings so all of us can thrive and stay safe. I mean, someone’s got to lead the pack, right? It sure isn’t me, because I’ve always been the fuck-up at the back.
“Tom, it’s enough. You nearly died. You’re going to that retreat whether you like it or not. It’s time for you to get your shit together.” Jay’s giving me a look that says he’s done with me. Abso-fucking-lutely done.
“I’m not an addict!’ I snap back, the words leaving my mouth bitter.
My hands ball into fists. I’m not like our father, I’m… not… like… him.
Joan stands up from the sofa. My niece, my best friend. She’s the one who always understood me because she thrives in the same storm, having been through some serious stuff as well. She just gets it.
The warmth of her mug radiates against my back as she wraps her arms around me. Something in the way she holds me calms me.
“We know, sweetheart. No one’s saying you’re an addict,” she murmurs. “But wouldn’t it be better to, you know, get a few things sorted out? You could write new music and spend time with Calvin on this Caribbean island! I mean, I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”
She pauses, her lips twitching. “I didn’t mean that.”
I scoff. Right. Because how do I even argue with that when my mind feels like it’s betraying me?
The burns left by the defibrillator pads are healing, but the maddening, suffocating memory of nearly dying keeps haunting me, and that terrifying hallucination… I don’t want to recall it.
Jay lets out a sigh before he shares a look with our sister, who’s already checking her phone.
I guess they scheduled ‘sending Tom to rehab’ somewhere in between their oh-so-important meetings. But it doesn’t matter. I’m more than happy to walk them out.
“Just so you know,” Jay says, “your flight leaves tomorrow. Pack your stuff and read this.” He tosses a glossy brochure onto my antique Queen Anne coffee table.
I take a quick peek at the cover: turquoise water, palm trees, the perfect sunset.
That Arcadia resort looks like a polished fucking lie to me.
“Sure,” I don’t even bother to look at Jay. “I will.”
Cheryl gives me a quick peck on the cheek before walking out. Jay doesn’t feel the need to say goodbye. I screwed up big time, and I need to prove myself before I can show my ass back in this family.
I close the door behind them, leaving Joan and me in the living room. She’s curled up on the sofa, casually scrolling through her phone.
“Did… did Effy say anything to you?”
She looks up. “What do you mean?”
“You know, about me resurrecting from the dead or whatever.”
Joan wraps her arms around me tight and buries her face in my neck. She’s been clinging to me ever since I got out of the hospital.
“No, babe, but I’m meeting her at the art gallery later. Want to come?”
“Nah, I don’t want to be a burden.”
Joan gives a little nod, her nose brushing against my collarbone one last time to sniff me. She pulls away to unlock her phone.
“Look who just texted me.” She shows me her screen. “Alice van der Veen. She’s asking about you. What should I reply?”
“Who’s Alice?”
“Oh my god, you’re such a slut. You and Alice were all over each other at the Amsterdam Summer Festival. You don’t remember?”
I shrug. “Must’ve been the keta.”
Joan groans and smacks my shoulder for dramatic effect. “You’re joking, right? There’s a famous photo of the two of you. It’s been all over the internet you idiot.”
“What photo?”
“Please, babe, don’t make me say it out loud!”
I blink at her. I’m pretty sure there are crickets chirping right now.
She rolls her eyes and cups her hands around my ear, whispering, “The one where she’s, um, giving you a blowie in a portable toilet.”
“Oh, fuck off. Seriously?”
That’s… not my finest work. Jesus Christ, if this isn’t a sign I really need to fix my life, then what is? I feel my face heat as Joan smirks, her fingers flying over her phone.
“Wait. Don’t tell me you erased it from your mind. Let me show you.”
I push her phone away before she can type my name. “I really, really don’t need to see that.”
She raises an eyebrow. “So, what should I tell Alice?”
I pause, the gears in my brain grinding for something clever. “Tell her to meet me at the airport tomorrow. I’ve got time for a little shag before my flight.”
Her fingers hover over the screen. “Time?” she asks, like she’s my personal assistant.
“No, wait!” I laugh. “I think I’d rather have one last shag with Kimmy Kaczynski before I go all clean and celibate.”
Joan narrows her eyes. “So you’re really doing this?”
“Absolutely. I will come back a changed man, you’ll see.”
I’ve got all the best intentions. I have to. If I don’t, next time I’ll end up in a coffin. The fallen musician who overdosed in a ditch, drowned in the canal, or—God forbid—a public toilet at the railway station.
I’m better than that. At least, I want to be. And I will be. I need to do this for Effy.