Chapter 6
Chapter six
Yosh
The water is the only place my mind feels free.
When I first came to Avalon, I swam to forget. Now I swim because it’s the only place where remembering feels safe. It’s where the sand won’t explode and nothing sharp can hit me.
Some mornings the ocean brings back his laugh, a sound I keep chasing. Other mornings, there’s nothing at all.
I’m not sure which is worse.
The silence feels like betrayal.
Like he’s slipping further away every time I come up for air.
I dive deeper when it happens. Stay under longer than I should.
Count the seconds in my head until instinct forces me back to the surface. It’s the closest I get to control, deciding when I breathe, when I don’t.
Up here, everything is unpredictable.
Down there, it’s just pressure and white noise.
Sometimes I think I hear him anyway.
I reach for it every time.
It never lasts.
I towel-dry my hair as I take the stairs from the beach up to the terrace.
At least twenty people greet me on my way: guests, security, gardeners, waitstaff.
Apparently, I’m the kind one, which is probably why Marina at the bar makes my morning smoothie exactly the way I like it: coconut water, almond milk, banana, guava, and a pinch of salt to keep my electrolytes in balance after my swim.
It’s already waiting for me at the end of the pool bar.
I step onto the foot rail and lean over the bar, finding Marina with her head in the cooler, restocking juice cans.
“Thanks, sweetheart, I love you.”
“Enjoy your day, Yosh. See you in yoga tonight!”
I blow her a kiss and head to my studio.
My first appointment with Tom McKenna is scheduled in half an hour.
I take a quick shower and get into my uniform. Light, flowing stone-gray linen pants and a sage-green shirt. Subtle, comfortable, stylish. A massive upgrade from the dreadful synthetic gray sacks we used to call uniforms two years ago.
Just thinking about them makes my skin crawl.
Redesign the uniforms was one of the many changes I’ve pushed through since getting my position three years ago.
Changes the board wasn't thrilled with, but honestly, I couldn’t care less.
I know I’m considered an outsider here. The board would rather fire me than let me run the alternative healing department, and my therapist coworkers aren’t exactly my people either.
Not to sound arrogant, but their endless complaints and shallow conversations drain me.
No. I prefer to focus my energy on our guests. Speaking of guests...
Tom should be here any minute.
After blow-drying my hair, I quickly braid it over my shoulder. No loose wavy strands.
I sit down at my desk and open Tom’s file.
The guy has a strong personality, that much is clear to me. I wonder if he’s easy to work with, and if not, how long it will take for him to lower his guard.
Some patients open up right away, and with others it takes weeks, sometimes longer, and that’s where the challenge lies. In those cases, I have to adapt, try different approaches, and create the right environment for them to feel safe. Patience and space. Those are important things to offer.
As the minutes tick by, there’s still no sign of Tom. I sigh, staring at the empty chair in front of me. Not exactly how I pictured our first session. Did something happen? Perhaps he needs more time to settle in. It also wouldn’t be the first time a guest is hesitating to walk into my office.
I check the little clock on my desk, he’s ten minutes late. I’ll better go and check on him.
Most guests have morning activities scheduled, so Arcadia is quiet right now. I only hear the troupial birds whistle from the palm trees and the tic of the sprinklers misting the grass.
I don’t have to go far. I already have a theory about where to find Tom McKenna. Too predictable, I have to say.
My feet lead me to the front desk. Funny to see my instincts were spot on.
Tom is leaning over the counter, fingers lazily playing with one of his curls as he flashes a slow, charming smile.
The girl behind the desk blushes and tries to hide her giggles.
A spark of annoyance bounces around in my chest, mingling with something else I don’t want to name right now. I clear my throat as I approach, making sure he hears me coming.
“Looks like you found a way to pass the time.”
When Tom turns, he looks completely unbothered and unapologetically arrogant. I even get the same flirty smile as he straightens. He knows he’s been caught. And yes, he seems to enjoy that.
“Doctor, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t find your studio and this sweet lady was so helpful explaining the map of this place.” He nods at her, and she immediately looks away.
I don’t acknowledge the excuse or the performance.
“How about we head to my studio now? We’ve already lost a good amount of time.”
“Of course, Doctor.”
He follows me through the meditation garden. I slow down so I can walk beside him. Small things like that can make a difference. Whatever his reason for being here, I want him to feel comfortable.
Back in my practice, I close the door behind us and gesture to the chair on the other side of the desk.
He settles in, and I head to the kitchen to pour us both a glass of ice water. The island’s in the middle of an extended dry season; offering something cold is the least I can do.
It gives me a second to compose myself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past 24 hours, it’s that Tom McKenna loves stirring the pot.
“You can call me Yosh,” I say. “We keep things informal here to make sure everyone feels at ease. That being said, I expect my patients to be on time. Today, I get it, but let’s not make it a habit.”
“Thank you,” he says with British politeness as I hand him the drink. He downs it in one go, ice clinking against the glass as he sets it back on the table. He clears his throat.
“I totally get that, Yosh. And you can call me by my first name, too. Which you already did.”
He pauses, his mouth lifting at one corner. “But let me also be clear. I expect my doctor not to walk out on me. As for yesterday, I totally get that you were, let’s say… a little impressed by me, but let’s not make a habit of that either, shall we?”
The grip around my glass tightens.
Did he just—?
No, I must’ve misheard him. Because he couldn’t have just sat there and implied I walked out on him because I was impressed by him.
A nervous little laugh comes by itself.
“I had a patient waiting for me in the infirmary. It was an emergency.”
“How convenient.”
I exhale through my nose.
He’s testing me, pushing to see where the edge is, and I hate that I can already tell it’s not personal. It’s just what he does when it’s time to talk.
“How about we make this more interesting?”
I arch a brow. “Interesting how?”
“I tell you something about myself, you tell me something about you.”
I shake my head as I organize my papers. “That’s not how this works, Tom.”
“Oh, come on, Doc. This is all about trust, right? A mutual exchange. A connection.”
He lowers his voice in a whisper. “How am I supposed to open up if I don’t know the person I’m talking to?”
I keep my face neutral, but the tension coils low in my spine. And for some reason, that tingly feeling in my tailbone agitates something pleasant in my brain.
I love being challenged like this. The downfall? Dangerously close. He can’t push me out of my role, and there’s also this thing called professional boundaries I simply can’t cross, no matter what.
Don’t go there, Yosh. It won’t end well.
“Once again, Tom, I’m on this side of the table, not you.”
“I see. But you’re a person with a story. Or did you fall like an angel out of the sky with your baggage neatly sorted out?”
I look up. He keeps searching for fragile spots, the little predator. Waiting for a sign of weakness. Where did he learn to hunt like that?
It’s a good thing I’m armed with my own venomous fangs.
“Nice try, McKenna.”
“So what’s your damage, Yosh?”
“Tom…”
“Oh, come on.” He tilts his head, studying me.
“You want me to spill my guts, but I can’t even ask a single question? Are you afraid I’ll actually find out something interesting about you?”
I cross my arms, tilting my chin up. “You’re deflecting.”
“Maybe. But so are you.”
I bite my lip. Unbelievable.
“You’re good,” he says all of a sudden.
“At what?”
“At not giving a damn thing away.”
“Or maybe I know when someone’s flipping the conversation because they don’t want to talk.”
I lean back in my chair and fold my arms. “Are you afraid to lose control?”
For a second, something gleams in those sapphires. A hesitation? But then it’s gone, locked down.
Still, I saw it.
“So, tell me, Tom. What happens when you lose control?”
“I don’t.”
“Ever?”
He keeps his face straight. “Not if I can help it.”
“And when you can’t help it?”
His smirk fades, and his eyes dart away for a fraction of a second. There, a crack.
He exhales through his nose and locks his hands behind his head as he stares at the ceiling. Then he stretches his body, making himself arrogantly comfortable before looking back at me.
“The last time I lost control, someone died.”
Fuck.
That was a confession, and he knows he’s said too much. He also realizes he’s lost this power play, or whatever he was trying to prove.
“You think you’re clever, don’t you? I say one thing, and suddenly I’m bleeding out in your office.”
I nod at him. “Are you?”
And just like that, I’ve gone too far. He flushes red, and the pulse at his temple ticks. His whole body tenses like he’s putting on gloves and gearing up to fight. I’m sure he’s going to go full attack on me now.
“Nice place you got here,” he says. “All this fresh air, the whole healing-vibes thing. Bet it makes you feel like a real savior.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“No? Then what is it about, Yosh?”
“Helping people.”
He hums, fingers tapping against the table. “Or maybe, just maybe, it’s about helping yourself.”
I don’t react. I won’t.
“You sit in your little studio, play the role, ask the questions.”