I’ve changed.
Holding him against my crazy beating heart feels like a new kind of reality.
I don’t know how, but I’m ready for that. I want it, even if it comes with thesilencesthat haunt him.
Because finding him like that, it wasn’t just this awful day. It wasn’t just me being a fucking wanker.
There’s more, so much more. And he lives with it every day, I see that now.
It’s not something I can fix, but that’s not the point. I’m not even stable enough to save myself half the time. But if he’ll letme, I can stay and make sure he’s not alone when the dark days come.
Chapter twenty-seven
Tom
The first thing I see when I open my eyes is a blinding flash of lime green. This is certainly not my bed.
A sharp, shooting pain kicks in, radiating from my shoulders to the back of my neck. I rub the tight muscles, groaning softly.
Fucking couch.
Yesterday’s memories slowly seep back in. After that insanely good kiss, Yosh started talking about the chaos in the ER and what had happened in the OR where he assisted. He’d explained that even though he’s not a trauma surgeon anymore, he still has privileges at Saint Luna Medical Center for situations like these—a code black.
I listened to the fragments of memories he’d struggled to get in the right order. The breaks between sentences became longer and longer until he fell asleep.
Holding him in my arms had felt good. Like maybe, for once, I could actually be someone’s safe place. And that was new. Ever since losing Chris, I had convinced myself I was anything butsafe. But lying there on the couch with him, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest against my body, had made me question that belief. His warmth was comforting, enough to let sleep take me too. It was almost hypnotic.
My eyes scan the room. I find him bent over his desk, studying and sorting through files. Every now and then he pauses to type something into his laptop, completely unaware that I’m watching.
When I push myself up, I notice the blanket wrapped tightly around me. He bundled me up like a burrito.
My eyes sting a little. Cheryl used to tuck me in like this. Some nights she’d make sure I was strapped in so tight I wouldn’t sneak downstairs later. Not that it ever really worked, but I knew the drill.
I still hear my parents yell at each other, doors slamming. Jay yelled too, trying to get at least one of them out of the house—Dad to the pub, Mum disappearing for days.
A soft click from the kitchen tells me the kettle’s done.
Yosh gets up from the desk. He catches me watching as he walks to his little kitchen.
“Morning, McKenna,” he says warmly, flashing me a soft smile. “Tea?”
I open my mouth to reply, but he’s already pouring two cups, the curling steam reminding me of home.
“I actually don’t know anyone in my life who enjoys drinking tea,” he says, reaching for a spoon. “They’re all coffee people.”
I stretch out the last bit of sleep from my spine and run a hand through my messy hair.
“Drinking tea is basically a religion in my family. Four o’clock sharp, everyone drops what they’re doing for a cuppa.”
He chuckles, placing one of the earth toned ceramic mugs in front of me.
“That actually sounds kind of lovely.”
I wrap my hands around the mug, trying to recognize the aroma.
It’s green tea, obviously. But it smells softer, a little sweet. I’ll let the connoisseur in me out once it hits the perfect drinking temperature.
“Thanks,” I say, meeting his eyes. “And for the record, you do know someone who drinks tea in the morning. I can drink it all day.”
