Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Yosh
The sun’s a bit of a bastard today, and there isn’t a single cloud in sight. We’re hiking through rough terrain where the trail is more or less subjective.
I know the path. I come here when I need to clear my head, when I want to surround myself with the untouched parts of the island.
Tom’s right there when I glance over my shoulder. His curls, damp with sweat, have turned into loose waves and his shirt is clinging to his body. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t distracting.
If a cactus gets too close or the rocks feel sketchy, I reach back and offer him my hand. Not that he needs it, we both know it’s just an excuse to touch. And yes, we always end up holding hands a little longer than we need to. It all feeds the tension that’s been simmering between us for days now.
“Almost there,” I say, tightening my bun.
The view I wanted to show him opens up in front of us, the ocean fading from turquoise to deep blue beyond the double reef.
I sit down on an old wooden bench at the cliff’s edge,
Tom drops down beside me, breathing hard, but mister McKenna acts like he’s fine.
A bit of exercise like this won’t hurt him.
“Worth the climb?” I ask, brushing the back of my hand over my neck.
“Yeah. You weren’t joking.”
I dig into my backpack, pulling out a small container filled with guava slices. The lid pops off easily, and I hold it out.
“Sweet and juicy,” I grin, referring to the note he left with it.
“Thought you already ate it.”
“Saved it for you. Felt wrong not to share.”
Tom takes a slice. Sunlight hits his freckles, his hair lighting up in a hundred shades of copper and gold.
He’s like the sunset. My sun. And yes, maybe also my downfall.
I take a breath. “We need to talk.”
I’m nervous. He isn’t, which new. He’s been off ever since I picked him up from Calvin’s place this afternoon. Less Tasmanian devil, more… serious.
He reaches out, and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me. Instead, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and smiles, then leans back like nothing happened.
I catch myself staring, lost in the blue of his eyes, and I can’t tell what’s deeper: the ocean or him.
“Okay,” he says, gesturing with his hand. “Let’s talk.”
“Okay. Yes. Right.”
I fumble the folded piece of paper out of my pocket.
“Wait,” he grins. “Did you write a list of bullet points?”
The look on his face. Shit.
“I…no, I mean yes, but not like—” I let out a laugh that comes out a little unhinged.
“It’s not because I can’t remember. I can remember. I remember everything. That’s kind of the problem.”
The paper crumples between my fingers, dangerously close to tearing.
“It’s just…this matters. There’s an order. And I didn’t want to mess up the order, which—God, sorry—does that even make sense?”
He chuckles, wearing that easy smile that tells me he’s enjoying my implosion. My cheeks are burning, my dignity is in shreds.
“I know it’s stupid.” I stare at my knees, then force myself to look at him. “Is it stupid?”
“You’ve seen my studio at Arcadia, Yosh, papers flying everywhere. I write everything down, so no, I don’t think it’s stupid.”
Right. He’s a songwriter, of course he writes things down.
“It’s just that I prefer analog over digital,” I say, “which brings me to my first point. Yesterday. We shouldn’t have done that.”
Tom squints. “You mean the phone sex?”
Seriously, this man is trying to kill me.
“No. I mean the phone, not the sex part. That was…” I cough.
“Tech doesn’t belong in moments like that. Serious conversations. Intimacy. I don’t do smart devices. Ever.”
I offer him a napkin from my backpack. The guava has left sticky juice on both our fingers.
“Friendly advice,” I add. “If you want to keep your music safe, don’t use your phone to record.”
“Kay.” He shrugs, wiping his hands. “I can live with that. Why?”
“I have my reasons.”
He uses the napkin to wipe juice from the corner of his mouth. Slow. Intentional. Full, rosy lips.
“I thought it was hot. Slept like a baby after I shot my load. And you?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”
“So, phone sex was hot. Not doing it again because you have your reasons.” He tilts his head.
“What else is on your list, love?”
His hand lands on my knee, thumb brushing over the thin, dark hairs there.
“I need to apologize,” I say. Meanwhile he’s trying to charm his way in-between my legs.
“I failed you in Arcadia.”
He squints and pulls his hand back.
“You came here to heal. To slow down. And I let my feelings get in the way of that.”
My throat tightens, but I keep going.
“What’s been happening between us is unethical. I need you to know I’ve never done this before. Not once. You’re the only one.”
I keep staring at the ground.
“And for obvious reasons, I need to hand you back to Erin. I’m sorry my actions kept you from getting the support you actually needed.”
Tom exhales. “Nah. It’s me, I put you in that position. I’ve been flirting with you since day one, and all my references say I’m irresistible.”
I shove his shoulder. He nearly loses his balance.
We laugh and he bumps me back.
“It wasn’t fair of me either, Yosh. And you did help me. A lot. I feel better. Things are starting to make sense. I know I’m not there yet, but for the first time in my life, I actually have hope things will be okay.”
I look into his eyes without getting lost. He’s grounding me just as much as I’m grounding him.
“You’ve helped me more than anyone ever has,” he says quietly. “Because you care. You really fucking care.”
He takes both my hands.
“I don’t want you thinking this is all on you. We’re in this together. But if it keeps you out of trouble, I’ll walk away from Arcadia.”
My breath catches.
This is Tom without the deflection. No performance. Just him.
I’m proud of him. Of who he is. Of who he’s becoming. It overwhelms me and suddenly I get the urge to move.
I stand and tug on his hand. “Come on. There’s something else I want to show you.”
We follow the trail along the cliff’s edge. It’s barely a path now—just pale rock and dust, the sea stretched out beside us. A few iguanas lounge on the stones, soaking up the heat, not bothering to look up as we pass.
“My plan was to get you scheduled with a psychologist for trauma therapy,” I say.
“Someone outside Arcadia. If you’re staying with Calvin, you could actually do the work at your own pace.
There’s no pressure to say yes. I just want you to know it’s an option.
And if you ever decide you want it, I can make the call. ”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m not ready to talk about my family. Or my past. Not with anyone else.”
“I get that.”
“I feel better sharing my stuff with you.”
“That’s okay. But you need to understand that talking is all it can be. And if I think you need targeted therapy, I’ll have to refer you.”
He lets the wind answer, It sends an extra dose of guilt into my stomach.
“Hey, I’m not abandoning you. I just need to be clear about what I can and can’t be for you.”
He nods. I can tell he’s not happy. And I already know the next part won’t help either.
“There’s one more thing. We need to cool off. Physically.”
“…Not have sex?”
“Yeah. We need to slow that down for a bit. I know it’s frustrating, but we crossed a line.”
“You think we can do that? After everything?”
I wish I had a better answer. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But it’s necessary.”
He exhales through his nose.
“If it keeps you out of trouble, I’ll do it. But I don’t want to.”
“I don’t want to either.”
He holds my gaze, and we both know we’ve just made a promise we’ll struggle to keep.
“Then what? We pretend we can ignore this?”
“No,” I say. “We don’t ignore it. We just don’t act on it.”
“Fuck it.”
“Fuck it,” I echo.
We stop walking.
“If this has to stay quiet, then I’ll make sure it will. Whatever it takes.”
I don’t answer. If I do, I’ll start justifying things, and I’ve already done enough of that, and I'm planning on doing more.
I squeeze his hand. Hard.
It’s not sweet. It’s just us, fully aware we shouldn’t be doing this… and doing it anyway. With me one-hundred percent to blame.
We walk on in silence for a while, eyes mostly on the ground.
After a few minutes, I glance sideways. “How was the silence last night?”
He grins. Of course, he slept like a baby after our phone filth.
“It came back once, the night before we went surfing. Nothing since. It used to haunt me unless I knocked myself out first.”
He shrugs.
“I think things are actually changing.”
I rest my hand on his shoulder. “I’m really glad to hear that.”
“And it’s not just a feeling. I can see it too. Last night, Calvin and his mates kept pushing drinks at me. I had to defend myself for not drinking.”
He snorts.
“I love the guy, but he’s a wanker after a few drinks. Also, Jay called this morning.”
“Oh?” How did that go?”
“Fucking amazing. He expected me to be wasted already. Told me to stay away from girls at Arc.”
He raises a finger. “Which I absolutely do.”
“Aren’t you a good boy?” I ruffle his curls like he’s my loyal golden retriever.
We laugh. Mine fades away fast.
“I hate how people don’t take you seriously. They should.”
“If only.”
“I’m proud of you, Tom. And I want you to be proud of yourself too. It’s easier to judge than to do what you do every day. People don’t see how much it takes to pick yourself up after a terrible night. They only notice when you fail.”
He smiles, his eyes turning foggy, and that soft, traitorous heart in my chest breaks.
I slide an arm around his shoulders and keep us moving, over the path that looks like the surface of the moon. The sea stays beside us until the trail opens and we reach the spot I’ve been saving.
I slow down and take Tom’s hand. Then I look at him.
Light from the water ripples up onto his skin, like the plasma globe I had on my nightstand as a kid. Electric and blue. I used to press my fingers to the glass and watch the light follow.