Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Yosh
The morning sun warms the rain-soaked ground, thickening the air with humidity. It settles over my skin like a soft cashmere blanket.
Breakfast is served on the pool terrace. I spot Tom from a distance, guitar case slung over his shoulder.
He's wrapping a croissant in a napkin and takes a bite.
I can’t help but smile. Is this what it means to be a musician?
That no matter where he goes, music follows? This past week I’ve been trying to see the world through his eyes. I've been trying to understand what drives him, what fuels that restless energy in him. But every time I reach the same conclusion: I’ll never truly know what it’s like to be Tom McKenna.
Heads turn as he passes, conversations pause the moment people notice him.
He adjusts his guitar higher on his shoulder as he greets the security guard with a fist bump.
Then his attention goes to the young women at the front desk.
They call his name in unison, giggling when he thickens his Scottish accent to wish them a wonderful day.
He plays his part like it’s just another act.
But I see past that.
I have seen the depths of him where the world cannot reach. I have floated through his darkest waters and found something pure. But just like all deep waters, there is danger lurking in the unknown, and I am not naive enough to think I can return to the surface unscathed.
The world comes back into focus and I find myself standing just inches behind him.
“Hey, Tom. There you are,” I say, pretending I’ve only just noticed him.
He turns around and I watch the performance slip from his face. His shoulders relax, a real smile taking its place. Tom McKenna fades, leaving just Tom.
“Yosh.”
He pulls me into a hug, his face pressing against my shoulder. I don’t know if it’s instinct or surrender, but my eyes fall shut, inhaling his natural scent.
When I open my eyes, I find the security guard staring, the receptionists whispering. Only then do I realize how questionable this might look.
Tom doesn’t seem to notice. He still smiles at me like I’m some winning lottery ticket.
He backs off a bit and lifts up his guitar case.
“I brought my guitar, hope you don't mind.”
I grab my keys and we head for the parking lot. On our way out, I throw a quick, victorious glance at the front desk.
Call it stupid or even childish, but what can I say? Jealousy has always been one of my biggest downfalls. Years of mindfulness and meditation didn’t erase that.
Tom makes me fall back to my old ways. I recognize that now.
The old ways I buried deep because I nearly spent nine lives being reckless and chaotic.
That’s why I do what I do.
Crystals give me something to hold onto. Yoga gives me balance. Studying challenges me. I need that or things tend to go south pretty quickly.
But that was then. I’m a changed person now, I tell myself.
A knowing smirk tugs my lips. My eyes fly back to Tom.
“I figured wherever you go, your music follows,” I say, unlocking the Gremlin.
Tom looks content as I carefully secure his guitar on the backseat, treating it like the most valuable thing he owns. Considering he hurled his other guitar off a cliff and this is the only one left, there's probably some truth to that.
“I know you're the driver, but would you mind?”
He’s not really asking since he’s already connecting his phone to the music system.
“Sure, I would love to hear some of your music.”
When I get to the driver’s seat, I recognize the Ffhone in his hands.
My eyes linger a bit too long as he scrolls through the device. My smile vanishes, dark clouds clawing their way into my aura.
Act normal. Erin has an Ffhone too, just like half of the world. I take a deep breath to calm myself down.
It works.
I pull out of the parking lot, leaving the glowing hills of West Cove behind as we head for the capital.
Tom fiddles with the settings of the car radio. The volume rises. A female voice as soft and sugary as cotton candy fills the car. It's a catchy pop song, and I listen carefully to the lyrics—she’s seducing someone as an act of revenge.
“You like this song?”
“No, I don’t, but I need to hear it.”
“Why?”
“Wrote and composed it when I was high as fuck. I need to understand why this garbage is topping the UK charts.”
“You functioned using?”
He lets out a dry laugh.
“I wouldn’t call this functioning. Sober me would have never let this crime against ears leave the studio. This is a mainstream disaster. I can do better.”
“Sounds like you've got yourself a hit anyway. Bet she’s already celebrating that chart climb.”
My eyes find their way to the side of his face.
“Who is she?”
He huffs.
“Indy Hamilton. She’s amazing.”
“Hm. She your girlfriend?”
Relationships. The elephant we haven’t named. This would be a gentle way in, but the look he gives shuts me up immediately.
“No, Yosh. She’s a very attractive young lady, but I haven’t slept with her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I snort.
“Why would I? It’s none of my business.”
His face softens.
“Sorry, it’s just... I’m used to the assumption that I sleep with every woman I’m seen with.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“People love to gossip. Usually, they're not wrong. With Indy it’s different. I really like her a lot, so she’s off-limits, and...”
He trails off, clearly waiting for me to ask. I know better, but I do it anyway.
“And what?”
The satisfaction on his face makes me instantly regret I opened this can of trouble.
“And... I don’t sleep with my clients.”
He folds his arms, waiting for a readable reaction. Too bad for him I don’t bite that easy. If he wants to see panic on my face, he’ll have to work harder for it.
I give him nothing. Not even a denial to say I don’t do that either.
Part of me hates that I don’t.
Yesterday, I almost gave in. He was flirting, teasing me, kissing that sensitive spot beneath my ear while the world around us went dark. And for a second, I almost threw my morals off the cliff with the rest of my good sense.
He made my rehearsed self feel useless in the best and worst way, and I wanted more of that. I wanted him.
The last couple of days have been rough, but yesterday finally brought him some sun, and he turned into an explosion of it. I didn’t want that sunshine to leave my space, so I hated it when the storm outside settled.
I shift into fifth gear and look to my right. Tom’s gazing out over the rolling hills ahead. It's only when his Clubmasters slip down his nose that I notice a hint of exhaustion in his eyes. He knows how to cover it up with that restless energy of his, but I notice it anyway.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask, breaking the quietness.
It pulls him from his thoughts.
“Yes… sorry. No, I…”
He exhales.
“No, I didn’t sleep well.”
“Was it the silence?”
He nods, taking off his sunglasses as he rubs his eyes.
“I don’t get it. I felt so good yesterday. For the first time in years, actually. But then last night, the silence came back, hitting me harder than ever. Maybe because I let my guard down, trying to… I don't know…be present, focusing on something that makes me happy.”
I recognize the struggle in his voice. I've been there, and all I can offer is what I've learned along the way, hoping it'll help him somehow.
“It’s okay to feel like this. It's part of the process, trust me.”
He shrugs, I don't think he believes my words. That’s understandable. After so many years of fighting it, he sees no light at the end of the tunnel. In moments like these, it's important to shove my foot in the door.
“Change isn’t easy,” I continue. “The pain you carry has become part of you. It’s not about erasing it, it’s about discovering who you are beyond its grip.
Now that things are changing, your mind is on high alert.
That might be why you panicked the other day, and why a part of you is questioning if you deserve happiness. Does that sound familiar?”
“I hate to admit it, but it does,” he mutters, his eyes stubbornly fixed anywhere but on me.
“You're going to have good- and bad days. You've got to take them as they come. But promise me one thing, Tom.”
My eyes go from the road to the side of his face.
“Promise me you'll never feel guilty about being happy. No matter what that voice in your head whispers, no matter what anyone else might say, you're allowed to be happy. You're enough.”
As soon as the words escape my lips, I’m confronted with the embarrassing act of overkill. Fuck, too sentimental. It makes me cringe internally. My intention was to reassure him, but what came out was nothing more than a projection of my own insecurities.
He knows it, because a second later, his hand covers my arm, gently brushing my skin with his thumb. He doesn’t speak, but he shows me those thousand rays of sunshine with just one simple smile. Reassuring me.
“That was inappropriate,” I whisper softly, pulling my hand from beneath his to shift into fourth gear.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I appreciate you being this open with me, it means a lot.”
He settles back in his seat, closing his eyes.
“You know, Yosh, last week, when Jay and Cheryl sent me off at Arcadia, I swear to God, it felt like my parents were dumping me at daycare. Like, ‘Here, he’s your problem now.’”
He gestures with his hands, his lips somewhere between amusement and bitterness.
I smirk but stay quiet.
“I thought you or Erin would treat me like that too. Like I was some fragile mess to tiptoe around. But from the start, you’ve treated me like someone… I didn’t even know existed anymore. So thank you for that.”
His voice is as soft as a whisper, and I haven’t heard him speaking this small before. He’s getting more comfortable with being vulnerable, and every time it happens, it floors me.
I know these words don’t just come from the man beside me, they come from the boy he used to be. The one who never got the chance to grow up safe.
He’s letting me see him. All of him. That breaks my heart and mends it at the same time.
I want to reach over and take his hand, to pull him over the console, hold him still and whisper that I see him, that I won’t leave.
I don’t. Instead, I look at him and let myself feel the ache and the gravity of the impossible thing blooming between us.
He’s not the only one being changed by this. The universe laid out this path for me for a reason. That’s something I want to hold onto. For now, at least, and see how it all plays out.
I smile faintly and shake my head.
“Fragile mess? You?” I snort. “Come on, McKenna. From what I’ve seen, you’re about as fragile as a hurricane. Besides, fragile messes don’t present themselves the way you do. If you’re not charming people, you’re daring them. It takes something special to pull that off.”
I pause, my grin widens.
“The messy part, though…”
Tom scoffs, and there’s that crooked smirk creeping in that knows exactly where my weaknesses lie.
“Messy?” he echoes. “I prefer… beautifully uncontained, as in... a chaos you can't resist exploring.”
He leans back in his seat, one hand loosely gesturing like he’s lecturing something philosophical. “The kind of chaos that leaves fingerprints on glass, or lips on skin long after they’re gone.”
My mouth opens automatically, but nothing comes out. Shit.
Did he really just say that? My face is on fire.
I laugh, I actually laugh, because he’s done it again, backed me into a corner with nothing but a grin and some well-placed lines.
I’ll admit it, I served it to him on a silver platter. And since I didn’t give him the satisfaction of flustering me earlier, of course he doubled down. And yes, I showed him a hint of panic just now. But I’m done running. If he wants to aim for me, fine. I’ll give him a clean shot.
“You make that sound awfully poetic, McKenna,”
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear without breaking eye contact, ensuring I’ve got those sapphires hooked.
I turn away, knowing he’s lost track of where to look. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying every second of it.
After all his clever, flirty smooth talk, I’ve finally found the one thing that shuts him up.
Me. And damn, it feels good.