With his hand on my chest, resting over the onyx and absorbing every beat of my heart, I can already feel a determined heat building beneath my sternum.
Moisture gathers along his lower lashes, and he blinks it away. The need to choose us rises in me.
He just gave me the most important thing in his life. Like, touch it and die important. I wasn’t even allowed to look at it when we first met, and now this onyx is around my neck.
I part my lips because I want to tell him how much this means to me, but anything that comes to mind feels too small, too weak. So instead, I press my hand over his and let the warmth of my skin say what words never could.
Chapter fifty-three
Yosh
The living room of the North House looks like a cringeworthy Christmas musical. We find the family gathered around the fireplace with their instruments, pretending they want to be here while their faces say otherwise.
I have to hand it to them: they’re showpeople. They’ll deliver, even with their hearts broken and minds brainwashed.
Jay approaches us.
Well, he walks straight to his brother, giving me the invisible treatment.
He hands Tom his violin, pointing him to his place in the band. Tom glances over his shoulder at me, asking with those sapphire eyes for permission to go, to listen to Jay, to play along with his family.
A scoff escapes me. Every card we laid bare on the table fifteen minutes ago apparently does’t mean anything anymore.
Now he’s making music with them like they’re one big happy family celebrating the holidays.
It tears me apart because I understand that need for approval from the very people who keep breaking you.
I can feel it standing here and I hate it. Hate them for creating this gravitational pull that even I can’t resist.
We said we’d leave after brunch after one more conversation with Effy. He even joked about leaving with a jar full of pineapple cookies for the road. I’m not sure he remembers that now.
He doesn’t belong here.He belongs with me.
My hands curl into fists. Frustration and fear knot through me like thunder branching under my skin. Deep down, I know this family’s pull is stronger than anything I can offer.
I told myself I could stand up to Jay, that I was the one threat he didn’t see coming, but Jay did see me, and that little surge of arrogance was where I fell. He’d warned me this morning, calmly, about the power of blood. Then I’d gave him what he wanted when I threatened him.
Now I watch Tom laugh like none of it ever happened, and the truth settles in.
Jay was right.
Effy was right too.
Don’t run. Don’t fight the pack. No one wins against this family.
The stubborn part of me still needs to come to terms with that, but I think if I truly love Tom—of course I do—I need to obey the pack for now and trust that maybe, once Effy gains more influence, things might change.
And here’s something even more messed up: the part of me that isn’t stubborn feels a deep connection to her.
I don’t know the how or the why of that, but it’s enough to make me trust her.
Maybe I should write all these absurd thoughts down. When my ass is baking on the warm sand, I can reread them and remind myself Heatherfell wasn’t a collective hallucination.
I let my breath escape slowly. My spine needs to be diamond-hard for the next few hours.
The song ends, hands start clapping on autopilot. The musicians bow to the spectators and the McKennas roar their approval. They are so insanely loud.
Jay gestures for Tom to step forward.
