Chapter 4
Chapter four
Yosh
That sound? It’s called silence. Just the way I like it.
No distractions, no noise. There’s only the sound of the watering system dripping outside my studio and the soft breathing of Anya on the table.
The scent of rosemary from the massage oil fills my nostrils.
This is my safe space from everything that makes me want to rip my hair out.
And let me tell you, I almost did this morning.
Tom McKenna’s treatment plan had been driving me insane. My perfectionism had been eating me alive, deleting draft after draft because I couldn’t stop overthinking every tiny detail. Not even my morning run could clear my head.
So on my way back to Arcadia, I’d stopped by Deep Diver’s place to blow off some steam.
Deep Diver, with his sun-bleached wavy hair and his Bob Ross-meets-Bob Marley way of living, is very good at not asking questions.
We do this a couple of times a week, and he knows the drill: no small talk, no life updates, no feelings.
Just his hips slamming against my ass until my brain turns to mush.
This morning I’d knocked on his door unannounced. I wasn't sure if he would appreciate my surprise visit, but he’d grabbed me by my sweat-soaked shirt and thrown me into his fuck-hammock. The thing serves as his nap nest and BDSM swing.
It was exactly what I needed to stop overthinking, and I didn’t let him stop railing me until every obsessive thought in my head was shushed.
Deep Diver was gasping like a fish on the beach by the time I’d left his apartment. Needless to say, I had a filthy little smile all the way back to the resort.
My thoughts are interrupted by Anya moving on the table.
“Sorry,” she murmurs, adjusting herself.
“No problem, sweetie. Try to stay as still as possible.”
I place the last of the fine acupuncture needles behind her knees, taking a step back, letting my eyes go over the patterns I’ve created.
Yes. This is it. Balance and perfection.
I guide Anya onto her side and work on a few more pressure points with my jade crystals.
I’m about to remove the first needle when there’s a soft knock at the door. Anya flinches, her eyes darting to mine.
“Relax,” I whisper. “I’ll be right back.”
I step out of my studio and pull the door until it’s almost closed. Erin is waiting with her tablet pressed to her chest.
“Calvin and Tom McKenna just arrived. I’m showing them around, then we’ll do the check-in at the lounge. You coming?”
I rake a hand through my hair and look back at Anya through the opening of the door.
“Give me fifteen minutes.”
I slip back inside. Removing the rest of the needles will take five minutes, tops, which gives me just enough time to make myself presentable before heading over.
First impressions are everything, right?
By then, they’ll probably have finished the tour, so it’ll be the perfect moment to make my entrance and meet the man I’ll be guiding one-on-one for the next couple of weeks.
Fifteen minutes later, I step out of my office.
Papers? Check.
Introduction pitch? Check.
I fold my collar.
Shirt without creases? Check.
A few puffs of hairspray so my hair behaves during conversation? Definitely check.
Okay. Time to meet our new guest.
I walk through the meditation garden. When I reach the front desk, I see the bellboys loading a pile of instruments onto a golf cart.
This isn’t the kind of logistical operation we see often around here. I catch glimpses of guitar cases, a mixing panel? There’s also a keyboard, and something smaller. A violin, maybe? Hard to tell with everything packed so neatly and professional. These have to be Tom McKenna’s.
A small smile tugs at my lips as I wave at the bellboys. Music is a way to express emotions, so maybe I can weave it into his treatment plan. Let him play, then ask a couple of questions.
I’m still turning the idea over in my head when I enter the infinity terrace.
The pool shimmers under the midday sun. It’s business as usual: guests sunbathing, swimming, sipping juice, doing therapy, reading.
Sunlight hits my eyes and I narrow them to observe the scene. Erin, Calvin, and Tom McKenna enter the lounge.
I take a moment to observe. Erin and Calvin are—unsurprisingly—the center of attention, loud and laughing like they always are when I see them together.
It’s a bit of a surprising combo, because Erin always thinks one step ahead and Calvin is more or less a himbo.
They are business partners in organizing parties at SeaBreeze, the beach club of Erin’s husband.
Money makes everyone friendly, I know that.
Tom looks uncomfortable in their company. His eyes dart around like he’s stepped into enemy territory.
I can’t help a little laugh. The poor guy is already planning his escape route. They all do this on their first day. I did once too, and now look at me. Somehow I’ve turned into part of the interior.
My eyes settle back on him.
Tom McKenna.
He’s slim, a little muscled, but not too much. He cares about music, probably not sports. Amber curls move wild in the wind, and they are long, not practical at all. But they are beautiful.
He has this look that says he doesn’t care what people think of him.
I don’t buy it.
Actually, I can see right through it. Mister McKenna is trying a little too hard to play it cool.
His shoulders are too tense for someone who’s supposed to not give a damn. He has his arm resting on the armrest, but his fingers won’t stop tapping on the rattan.
He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept properly in months. He also keeps catching his breath.
And those sunglasses are not just a shield from the Caribbean sun. From what I see, he’s just an inch away from breaking.
He reminds me of someone standing too close to the edge of a cliff, wondering what it might feel like to just fall and disappear.
He reminds me of me.
I take a deep breath and walk over. Calvin is the first to spot me, his grin spreading wide as he stands up.
“Yosh, how are you, man? Haven’t seen you around for a while!” He clasps my hand and pulls me into an unwanted bro hug.
“Yeah, I’m mostly here nowadays.” I smile, subtly trying to free myself from his grip. “Just bought a house in Santa Catalina. It needs a major renovation, so I’m staying at the resort for the time being.”
Erin wraps her arms around my shoulders.
“That’s just his excuse. Truth is, he’s a workaholic. If he’s not with our guests, he’s studying or voluntarily covering shifts. I constantly have to remind him that free time is an actual thing.”
“Oh, so that’s why,” Calvin says, but I’m no longer focused on him.
My attention has moved to Tom. He’s staring at me from behind those vintage Clubmasters and I can feel his eyes burning into me. He’s assessing me, dissecting me. Most people look away after a second, but Tom doesn’t. Suddenly I’m the one holding my breath.
What’s the deal with this guy?
I look at Tom.
Tom looks at me.
Calvin and Erin look at me.
Fuck. Right.
I step forward and reach out my hand.
“Hey, Tom, I’m Doctor Yoshiro Aoki,” I say. “I’ll be guiding you during your stay.”
His grip is strong, his hand warm, and that warmth travels up my arm so fast it’s telling my nerves to pay attention. I let go before that feeling makes it past my shoulder.
“We… we have our first session tomorrow morning. It’ll be a chance for us to get to know each other and see how Arcadia can support you. I’m an alternative healer and I study psychology, so I will be able to guide you and refer you to specialists.”
Still nothing from him. No words, no hello, not even a smile.
Calvin steps in. “Jay assumed you would treat him, Erin.”
I blink. Jay is his brother, isn’t he?
Erin jumps in. “Yosh is the best. He’s highly qualified and has experience with complex cases like this. I assure you, Tom is in excellent hands.”
Complex cases.
My face burns like I’ve just been slapped, and it’s the first time I see Tom actually flinch.
Erin should know better. That hurts. For him. For me. For everyone who’s ever been labeled like that and reduced to a diagnosis instead of a person.
Calvin glances down at Tom. “Jay won’t be happy when he finds out.”
Tom’s laugh comes fast and unapologetic. “Fuck Jay. He isn’t here, right?”
He takes off his sunglasses and those eyes… Oh my god. Sapphire blue, bluer than the Caribbean ocean beside us.
There are so many things hiding behind them; pain, exhaustion, and something stubborn that refuses to break.
My breath burns hot in my throat. I take a step backward and I’m grateful for the sudden breeze blowing through my hair.
Calvin throws his hands in the air. “Fine, but I’m not going to be the one telling Jay.”
“He’ll find out. Or not.” Tom smiles as he nods his chin toward me. “I want him.”
“Okay, uh, that’s set,” I hear myself say. “We’ll discuss everything tomorrow.”
Tom nods at me in approval, his eyes locked on me. It’s driving me insane.
Why is he staring? What is he trying to do? It sets off a wave of panic in my chest, and before I fully think it through, I do something I’d never imagined myself doing again: I reach for my phone and discreetly call my own pager. Within seconds, it starts beeping.
“Is it yours?” I ask Erin, feigning confusion as I pat my pocket.
She gives me a weird look. “No, it’s yours.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tom failing to suppress a grin. My body tenses. I shoot him an annoyed look.
“Yes, sorry about that.” I hold up the pager. “You’ll have to excuse me. They need me in the infirmary.”
“It was nice meeting you… Doctor.” Tom lifts his chin, and the tone in his voice makes it clear he knows. And he definitely wants me to know that he knows.
I force a fake smile. “Nice to meet you too, Tom. I look forward to getting to know you better.”
I offer the rest of them an awkward nod. “Erin. Calvin.”
I make my escape. As I walk away, I can still feel Tom’s eyes burning into my back.
Doctor, he said, so sarcastically it might as well have been an insult.
The path under the palm trees feels cooler, at least physically. I let out a long sigh, sliding the pager out of my pocket again as if I actually need to check it.
I catch my reflection in the glass of a door. I look calm, at least on the surface. But beneath that? I’m about to fall apart.
Tom McKenna.
There’s something about him. Eyes work like a mirror to the soul, and his were telling me he’d seen it all.
And they were peeling back my layers. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s when people come too close. I prefer to keep them at a distance, outside my aura. And yet, with one single stare, he cut right through my energy field.
I panicked.
God, what the hell was I thinking? That ridiculous stunt with my pager?
I’ve handled emergencies and chaos without breaking a sweat, but one smirk from him, and I’m fumbling like some amateur.
How did he do that? Maybe it’s because this time it’s not just about my professionalism or my reputation.
There’s more at stake. It makes me wonder, am I actually ready to become head of department?
I push the thought aside and head toward the infirmary.
Let’s see if I can be of use. Work is always a welcome distraction. It gives me something I can control.
To my surprise, there’s actually someone sitting on the edge of the examination table, pressing a blood-soaked towel to her hand.
“What happened?” I ask, rushing to grab a pair of gloves.
“She fell by the pool.” Nurse Shayna is standing by her side. “Cut her thumb on a piece of glass. I was about to stitch it up, but perhaps you can take a look, Doctor?”
I nod and step closer. “I haven’t seen you around before. What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Samira, it’s my first week. God, this is so embarrassing.”
I grin. “First weeks are always epic, Samira. Let’s take a look.”
She removes the towel, blood immediately wells up from the deep cut in her thumb.
“Okay,” I say, inspecting the damage. “It’s not as bad as it looks, but just as Shayna said, you’re going to need a few stitches.”
She nods quickly and looks away from her hand. Shayna prepares the local anaesthetic while I look for the suture.
“It’ll sting for a second, but after that, you won’t feel a thing. Just keep breathing, okay?”
She winces as the anesthetic goes in, her free hand gripping the table.
“You work near the pool often?” I ask, trying to keep her distracted while the anaesthesia kicks in.
“Yes. Sometimes at the front desk. I’m usually not this clumsy.”
“It’s not you. Shards work like a magnet. Seen it a hundred times.”
Felt it a hundred times.
She laughs and it’s enough to make her shoulders lose some tension. It makes my work easier. My hands move quickly as I stitch the wound. I’ve had years of practice in the field, and my fingers know how to close a wound by heart.
My mind, however, can never be trusted. It has this annoying little habit of wandering off.
I tie off the last stitch, trim the thread, and press a bandage over the wound.
“There. You’re all set,” I step back and peel off my gloves. “Keep it clean and dry, and come back in a few days to get the stitches checked.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“Anytime, Samira. Be careful.”
I watch her leave the infirmary. Then my mind goes back to him.
His smug grin, that raw Scottish accent, the way he teased me when he said Doctor after catching me in the act.
I clench my fists, a frustrated groan makes it past my vocal cords.
This is going to be more complicated than I’d thought.