Chapter 23 #2
I swear, if looks could kill, I’d be a pile of ashes by now. But just like always, he follows it up with the faintest flicker of a grin.
“And you? What’s your go-to in the morning?”
“European breakfast.”
I can see the gears turning behind his eyes as they dart from side to side before settling somewhere near the floor. Then he reaches for his glass.
“What’s that?” he asks, and I deliberately wait until he's mid-sip before answering that.
“Black coffee and a cigarette, love.”
He nearly chokes, turning away to cough into the crook of his elbow. That pretty angel face is turning full strawberry now.
I can't tell if it was the coffee and cigarette part, or the love at the end that did it. Maybe both. But it sure gave me the satisfaction I craved after that provocative little act by the shower earlier.
He clears his throat and his raspy voice mumbles, “Classy.”
“Old habits,” I say, taking another bite.
“Think those old habits plan on staying old?”
I sense there's more to it. The way he bites his lip and looks away makes it pretty obvious.
“I mean, when you’re back in Amsterdam,” he continues, “How do you see yourself?”
My fingers curl the edges of the paper bag between us. I look down, watch a flake of arepa fall to the ground.
I’ve asked myself the same question more times than I can count.
“I feel like I’m in a good place right now, and I’m not planning on going back to how things were. That version of me… he’s done. Or at least, I’d like him to be.”
“But?”
There’s always a but, isn’t there?
“But honestly, it scares the hell out of me. What if I fail? What if I go back and slip right into my old habits? Like nothing ever changed?”
“A relapse isn’t unusual,” he says quickly.
“It doesn’t mean you’ve failed. Having support helps.
I’m going to get you scheduled with a psychologist on Erin’s team so they can work with you on those thoughts.
How to loosen their grip, so they don’t take things over like they used to do.
Only if you’re up for it, ofcourse. You can continue therapy in Amsterdam, Arcadia has a spa and therapy resort there. ”
“I don’t know… I need to think about it.”
“Talking to someone who understands helps a lot too.”
I smirk, unable to resist.
“That means I’ll need to kidnap you.”
I’m not sure if I’m joking myself, but he doesn’t laugh like I expect.
He doesn’t give me anything at all. He crosses his arms, looking at the tree that is growing out of the shed.
When those warm brown eyes find their way back to me, a new tension rises between us.
Not the usual teasing energy, but the more careful, serious kind.
He parts his lips.
“Who says you need to leave?”
Well, shit. Did that just happen?
Is he asking me to stay? That must’ve been a five-star handjob this morning.
I must give something away—my idiot face, probably—because he plants his hands on the tiles to get up, hesitates, then stays put. Instinct has him scanning for the nearest exit, except there isn’t one. We’re wide out in the open.
The breeze lifts a strand of hair off his forehead, then drops it right back at the side of his face. He swallows.
“I mean…” He clears his throat. “When your trajectory at Arcadia is over, but you don’t feel like going back to Amsterdam yet, why not stay a bit longer on the island? Work on your music. Take your time. There’s no rush.”
Nice save there, and it actually sounds pretty simple. Maybe that’s why I overlooked that possibility.
I’d assumed I’d go back to Amsterdam after Arcadia. At least, that’s what Jay expects.
But what if I stayed a little longer?
Just flirting with the idea makes the pressure in my chest ease.
Maybe not going back at all.
“Perhaps you're right,” I say, feeling more confident about it by the second. “Calvin’s got some projects I could work on. Maybe I’ll extend my sabbatical. Write, record, mess around without any deadlines or pressure.”
Yosh nods, “I think that sounds like a solid plan. You need more time.”
I let that sink in for a bit as I lift my glass to my mouth, letting the water swirl before taking a sip. It mimics my thoughts. Restless first, then settled.
The morning sun is climbing higher in the sky.
I look around the yard, at the house.
It’s a disaster zone, but I guess we’ve got to start somewhere, right?
“So… tell me, what’s the plan for today?”
“We go back to Arcadia. I need to catch up on things.”
“Right. So you can drown in paperwork, and I’ll go sizzling like bacon by the pool.”
I catch the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He knows I’m full of shit but he likes that.
I nudge my foot against his under the table.
“Hear me out. We stay here. There’s still a mountain of things to fix, and I know you’re going to find excuses to avoid it.”
The way his lips twitch tells me he’s fighting a losing battle with himself, then he cracks under my stare.
“Alright, alright. I might have been procrastinating slightly.”
“Slightly?” I echo, nodding at the sagging structure out back. There’s more tree than shed.
“Tell me you’ve got a demolition hammer somewhere. That poor bastard’s been suffocating long enough. We’re freeing that tree today.”
“You’re serious about this?” He watches me with a look that says he’s not quite sure if I’m still joking, or if this is something we’re actually doing.
And I get it. Fixing up your house isn’t exactly something you do with your Arcadia mate. But I’m not that right now. And he’s not that either. Not this weekend.
I might not have all the answers, but whatever this is between us, he needs to know I’m here for him, in the ways that count. And if that tree matters to him, that’s reason enough to give it everything I’ve got today.
“What do you say? Should we break down that shed so we can build something better?”
He rises from his chair, eyes wide with wonder, but that smile is all I wanted to see from him. If he only knew how that makes my day.
He takes my hand and gives it a short squeeze.
“Let’s free that beautiful tree.”
And just like that, we had a plan.
Yosh had bought himself a ruin of a house that would keep him busy for months, maybe years. But I liked that about the place, how unapologetically broken it was. Fixable in ways some things in life just aren’t.
Not long after, we were standing in front of the shed, staring at the tree that had claimed it from the inside out.
It’s was ironic. My own walls had been crumbling all week, and I had a feeling Yosh’s walls were starting to show cracks too.
We work slowly because of the heat. Every fifteen minutes or so, we drop the hammers and collapse into a patchy shade near the house.
By noon, we take a break and go inside.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for the AC to kick in.
We lay down on the cold floor tiles, staring at the ceiling, staring at each other. We talk about all kinds of meaningful and less meaningful things.
Eventually, I grab my phone and play a few tracks I’d produced earlier this year. Unreleased stuff and some half-finished trial and error.
I usually don’t share unfinished tracks unless I trust someone. Jay, Joan, and Calvin had heard them, sure, but most of the time that’s because they are collaborators. This is different.
I tell him about the direction I want to take, the collaborations I'd started, and the itch I couldn’t ignore to create something new.
“I just want to make something that’s really mine,” I confess. “No mainstream pressure. Just something straight out of my fingertips. I’m done hiding behind safe productions.”
Music isn’t really his world, I know that, but he listens and asks me where I see myself going, what inspires me, what scares me about stepping out solo.
And yeah, maybe he doesn’t fully understand my world, but that doesn’t matter. He cares enough to try, and that effort alone makes me feel more seen than any stage spotlight ever has.
Eventually, we go back outside, picking up where we'd left off.
By late afternoon, it's done. The tree glows in the golden hour sunlight, and maybe it is the exhaustion talking, but the branches look grateful.
“Getting its healthy dose of photosynthesis now,” Yosh says, like the tree is getting high on sunshine.
And maybe I am too.
The way he beams at it, so full of wonder and adoration, triggers something chemical in my brain.
That's the moment I realize I'm fucked.
Because that smile is worth chasing. Even if it means breaking my back rebuilding this entire place just to see it again.
We drive back to West Cove, the wind blowing through the open window, my hair flying across my face.
I lean my head against the headrest, listening as Yosh talks about the sea turtles that lay their eggs at Playa Tortuga, and how only a few survive long enough to come back and do the same. His voice fades into the background for a moment as I look ahead.
Mount Camelot appears on the horizon, its dark silhouette rising against the purple and orange sky.
The sun is nearly gone now, but I can still feel its warmth on my skin.
It’s curious how everything feels right. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
I want to stay.
Everything I need is here. The sun, the ocean, the stars at night, and enough space to breathe.
Funny, that sounds like something Yosh would say. I guess spending time with him is starting to rub off on me.
And you know, he was right when he suggested, well, subtly asked me to stay.
Making the decision was easy.
Telling Jay I’m not coming back?
Let’s say I’m not particularly looking forward to that.
He’ll start off supportive, say all the right things, make it sound like he understands. But when that doesn’t work, and he realizes he can’t talk me back into a plane, he will flip like he always does.
He’ll find ways to blame me for everything. Again.
God. I don’t even want to think about it. The shouting, the way he twists everything I say until I barely recognize myself.
It always ends the same, with me giving in and feeling fucking miserable.
I look to my left, and it instantly calms all those fears.
All that shit can wait.
This weekend has been perfect.