“Tom arrives in two days. You’ll be working with him one-on-one. The entire treatment is your responsibility as you’ve got the most extensive expertise. Give him what he needs. Detox, needles, or someone who listens and talks with him. Keep me posted on his progress and consult me if you think he needs psychiatric evaluation.”
Erin turns.
“Oh, and Yosh,” she adds with a sly smile. “Good luck. They say he’s a headache.”
Chapter three
Tom
The ten-hour flight went smoothly and I spent most of it asleep. So why does it feel like I’ve been hit by a truck? Probably because Jay’s constant nagging drained what little energy I had left. Saying goodbye to Joan and Finn didn’t help either. And Kimmy? Let’s just say her late-night bon voyage visit almost made me miss my flight. Too bad my departure time wasn’t as flexible as her legs.
But I made it, so whatever lies ahead, I’ll deal with it. And if this Arcadia thing doesn’t work out, I’ll pack my bags and crash at Calvin’s for the vacation I damn well deserve.
I take a deep breath and walk through the sliding doors.
The air is hot and arid, hitting me like a blow dryer. My curls are so going to hate this climate.
I’ll be here for at least a month, so I’d better get used to it.
I scan the crowd for Calvin, he’s nowhere in sight. Typical.
As I pull out my phone to look up his contact details, I spot him weaving through a stream of sunburned tourists. With hiscopper-colored bun, wild grin, and oversized sunglasses—clearly masking last night’s party—he is hard to miss.
“Heyyyy! There’s my favorite wolf!” Calvin’s voice echoes through the hall. A few tourists turn their heads. Fucking great, just what I needed. But damn, I can’t help grinning. I’m here in the Caribbean, and seeing him feels like coming home.
He pulls me into a bear hug, nearly crushing my ribs as he swamps me in his sweat-soaked T-shirt.
“Callie Coconut.” I struggle to breathe in the tropical heat.
“Still your DJ name?”
He snatches the guitar case from my back, swinging it over his shoulder so I can roll the cart with the rest of my instruments.
“Yeah, but I feel like I need a rebrand or something. Not sure it makes sense, though. They’ll probably still call me Callie Coconut in twenty years. That’s island life.”
“Truth.” I smirk. “But hey, if it’s working for you, why change it?”
He gives me a small nod as we roll my luggage through the parking lot.
The sun is brutal.
The asphalt could probably melt the soles off my sneakers, and my freckled arms are already flirting with a shade of pink that promises regret. I should’ve learned my lesson after last year’s Ibiza fiasco when I got sunburned so badly I ended up hospitalized.
“Shade,” I mutter, glancing around. “I need shade fast, or I’ll be a walking sunburn by the time we hit that Arcadia prison.”
Calvin laughs and adjusts his sunglasses. “Welcome to paradise, bro. SPF’s non-negotiable. You can find a bottle of sunscreen in the glove compartment.”
Calvin unlocks the pickup. I slide into the passenger seat, instantly grateful when the AC roars to life. The cracked leather sticks to my back, but it’s cooler than the air outside.
“I’ve got strict orders from Jay to take you straight to Arcadia,” Calvin says, smirking as he pulls out of the airport parking lot.
I don’t even have time to roll my eyes before his smirk grows into a full-blown Cheshire Cat grin.
“But fuck Jay, he’s not here, is he? Where do you want to go?”
I burst out laughing, slapping his hand in a quick high five.
Calvin’s always been the devil on my shoulder, a little too eager to throw rules out the window. And damn, I’ve missed him.
