Chapter 48
Chapter forty-eight
Yosh
Another bottle of whiskey disappears into the recycling bin, and the room seems to grow louder with every clink of glass.
Heat from the fireplace burns against my cheeks, but it does nothing to loosen the tension locked in my body.
I can’t relax here. My nerves stay wired, tracking every movement, every shift in the room.
I need to get out before the noise in my head drowns everything else out.
I find Tom and place my hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, I’m going to take our luggage to the West House.”
His face tightens with concern. “You okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just…a lot. Loud people.” I’m not going to sugarcoat it. He made me promise not to. “I just need a minute. Stay with your family, I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay. If anything—”
“I’ll call you if I have a sudden craving for pineapple cookies.”
He smiles. I give his shoulder a quick squeeze, then head for the door.
Outside, the cold air hits my face and it feels like a reset. I draw in a deep breath, lungs filling with clean air. As the noises from inside fade, my head finally settles.
Snow blankets everything. I move carefully, unsure what’s solid ground and what might be frozen lake. This is going to be a tricky walk.
I notice a trail of footsteps leading to the West House.
My pulse kicks up. I don’t know if it’s safe, but something tells me to keep going.
I open the cabin door, following a short hallway into the living area.
I stop dead.
The whole front wall is one long oval window with nothing but lake and forest in the panorama. The surface glitters icy-blue, snow-dusted pine trees in the background. I lift up my fingers, touching the glass. It’s so insanely beautiful, looking like something out of a fairytale.
“Heatherfell is a paradise,” a voice says beside me. “A place that shouldn’t exist, and yet here it is, untouched by the rough edges of modern life.”
I nod, taking it in. “I believe paradise is something you build out of everything that broke you. The question is how much of it is real, and how much is the illusion of hope we refuse to let go of.”
Effy’s mouth curves upward. She’s trying to connect with me, her energy pulling at me like a magnet. I sensed it on the trail; standing next to her, it’s stronger. Impossible to ignore.
“Do you love him?”
My head snaps toward her. “S-sorry?”
“Tom. I’ve learned to read his patterns. The details in his body language.”
Her eyes stay unreadable. The way she observes so calmly gives me an odd sense of recognition.
“When he runs a hand through his hair when he’s nervous, it means his thoughts are crawling under his skin. I see how he watches people, what he feels for them.”
She turns back to the lake.
“Joan.” She smiles. “Tom adores her, but she exhausts him. My father keeps him on a leash, always pulling him back. He hates him, yet still seeks his approval. And then there’s you…”
She walks a half-circle around me, those blue eyes stripping me down layer by layer.
“You’re different. He’s not nervous or insecure when you’re close. He looks at you like you’re the safe place he’s been searching for his whole life.”
I swallow, my throat dry. “I don’t think—”
“I think, for the first time, he’s allowed to be himself.”
I can’t believe she’s saying all this so plainly. I’m not sure how to feel.
This young woman is dangerous. Can’t say I’m surprised, she was raised by the mastermind of danger. Effy, Jay’s favorite. Tom told me that once. Not Joan, his biological child.
Evelyn McKenna.
Wait. She called Heatherfell her home. Jay consulted her about me. He called her princess. She and Luca aren’t together; they have an arrangement. Alex is part of it too.
It all makes sense. She runs this place. And she’s obsessed with Tom, which I’m sure is rooted in the pain of missing him.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Fuck. I’m not even two hours inside these gates and I’m already losing my sanity. I don’t think Tom knows she’s leading the pack with Jay. He would’ve told me.
Effy laughs, my expression obviously giving away the realization I just had about her.
“Please, sit down. We should talk.”
I do as she says, taking a seat in the sunken living area. She walks to the open kitchen, the kettle clicks.
“Sencha?”
Fuck, I thought I couldn’t be profiled.
“You have Darjeeling?” I ask. That only makes her laugh more.
“Sencha is my favorite too.”
From that point on, I decide not to fight this—whatever this is—and just listen to what she has to say. Maybe small talk will buy me time while I figure out how to handle this crazy situation where she’s reading me. I read people. That’s my thing. Not the other way around.
“Tom said he and I are staying here in the West House. Is this your place?”
“No,” she says, pouring the teapot. “This is Tom’s house, but since he’s never here, I use it as my atelier and office. It gives me inspiration. I mean, look at the view. I live in the North House with Dad and Janice. Auntie Mary and Sergei live there too.”
The king, the queen, the princess, their servants.
“Eli and Cheryl live in the East House, they’re here on weekends.
The South House is reserved for Joan, Finn, Luca, and Alex, since they only come by for special occasions.
Everyone has their own apartment in the city, just like Tom.
I’m the only one who lives here permanently.
Sometimes I crash at Joan’s in Amsterdam, or Alex and I travel to Munich to support Luca. ”
She comes back with a silver tray, carrying a neat little tea-for-two set. A small teapot, low cups on wide saucers, hand-painted with pink roses. Beautifully antique. Almond cookies on the side. Very British. Very Tom.
She pours the tea and settles back, arms crossed. She gives me a warm smile. Politeness, or a test to see how I’ll respond?
“I’m glad you found your way to Heatherfell. I’ve been expecting you.”
I can’t hide my freaked-out laugh this time. “Expecting me?” I manage.
“I think I was twelve when I figured it would take someone special to drag Tom back home. Patience is a virtue.”
My cheeks flare crimson before I can stop them, which is the last thing I need right now. Effy pretends not to notice, sipping her tea.
I only meant to listen, but the question keeps pushing at the back of my teeth.
“Can I ask you something?”
She sets her cup back on the saucer. “Sure.”
“You explained how Tom acts, how he looks at people. How does he look at you?”
A few seconds pass before her fingers start to tremble. The untouchable confidence Jay’s academy drilled into her fades, and suddenly she looks like nothing more than a hurt nineteen-year-old.
“I wouldn’t know. He… he never looks at me.”
Hearing that and knowing Tom’s side, is a pain I don’t have words for.
I want to hold this girl in my arms, tell her everything Tom told me. That he loves her more than anything in this world. God. All this pain, all this fear poisoning their lives for so many years. They deserve understanding. They deserve closure. They deserve peace.
But it’s not my place to interfere.
“He watches you,” I say quietly. “All the time. Only when he’s sure you won’t notice.”
A tear slides down her cheek. “He does?”
“Yes, sweetie. He does.”
And with that, I’ve already said more than I meant to.
She sighs, folding her hands protectively over her belly. “My due date is three months away, and this whole process of becoming a mom brings up so many painful memories. I just wish things were different.”
I need to be careful with my words. I never thought I’d find myself in a situation this delicate.
“Maybe it’s time for the two of you to sit down and share what you’ve both been carrying for so long. You might find something you’ve been searching for.”
She swallows hard, holding back more tears.
“Yeah, I’d like that. Could you…could you ask if he’s willing to meet after dinner? Here? I just want to get it over with before I lose my nerve.”
“Of course. Right here works. It’s quiet and peaceful. Besides, by then everyone will probably be too drunk to notice we’re gone. I’ve never seen a group of people empty a bottle of whiskey—”
“Scotch,” she interrupts, correcting me. “Whisky without the e.”
I laugh. “Alright. A bottle of Scotch that fast.”
She laughs too, the tension fading.
“So, Tom. Has he really changed? Joan says he has.”
“That’s for you to decide, but I think he’s come a long way.”
A glimmer of hope appears in her blue eyes.
“And to answer your earlier question, yes. I do love Tom, and I’ll look after him the best I can. I hope that’s okay to hear.”
She rolls her eyes. “You must love him a hell of a lot to follow him to Heatherfell. You’ve got my respect for not running for the gates already.”
“I have to admit, I almost did. But I would’ve taken Tom with me, because I’m protecting the peace he’s trying to build.”
Her hand lands on my wrist. “I’ll try to keep Dad off your back, though he’s not going to make it easy on you this weekend.
But listen, Yosh. Even if it doesn’t feel right, try to look at this place from a different perspective.
I know our lifestyle seems questionable.
It might not be what you’d choose, and maybe not what it looks like at first glance, but if you’re really with Tom for the long haul, don’t fight it and don’t run. Ever.”
My eyes narrow. “Because the ones who run get chased down, and the ones who fight get torn apart?”
“And the ones who strengthen the pack become part of it. I like you—I really do. I see potential for all of us. The pack will test you, and I’m sorry for that. Maybe one day you’ll understand why.”
In Effy’s eyes, I see the same rebellion and stubborn hope that keeps Tom standing on his hardest days. They look so much alike, maybe more than they realize. And because of that, I can’t help but love her already. It scares me how instinctively that feeling roots itself in my chest.