Chapter 32
It was closer to lunch when Cadi heard the soft thump, thump, thump of tiny feet descending the stairs, accompanied by the whispery drag of a blanket trailing behind.
Tomos appeared, his hair sticking up in wild tufts, his eyes still half-closed with sleep. The dining area, with its sturdy oak six-seater table and the plush fabric sofa in the corner, was bathed in icy winter light streaming through the large windows.
Cadi smiled. "Good morning, puppy."
Tomos let out a vague, sleepy grunt—his way of acknowledging her without actually making the effort to speak. Without opening his eyes, he shuffled toward the sofa and plopped down, cocooning himself in his blanket.
Only the top of his head was visible from where she stood. The winter sunshine bounced off his blond curls like fairy dust.
Cadi let him be. Some mornings, he needed time before he was ready to function.
A few minutes later, though, he resurfaced, dragging his blanket with him as he clambered onto one of the chairs at the kitchen island.
Without speaking, Cadi placed a warm glass of banana milk in front of him.
Tomos blinked blearily at it, then wrapped his small hands around the glass and took a long sip, gulping down half in one go. When he lowered it, a thick milk moustache coated his upper lip.
Cadi bit back a smile.
Tomos smacked his lips and blinked at her sleepily. "Da is sleeping in my room."
Cadi nodded. "Yes."
Tomos frowned slightly. "When did I come back?"
"Uncle Cal brought you back."
Tomos nodded, absorbing the information, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. Then, as if processing the thought again, he murmured, "Dad is sleeping in my bed..."
Cadi arched an eyebrow. "Like Goldilocks?"
Tomos grunted, wrinkling his little nose. "More like Papa Bear. He smells sweaty."
Cadi chuckled. "He just missed you very much."
Tomos blinked at her, still not quite understanding. "Why did he miss me? I was right here."
Cadi hesitated. "He was confused and sad."
Tomos frowned deeper, his lips pressing into a tiny pout. "Why?"
"Sometimes grown-ups make things complicated."
Tomos frowned, his little face screwing up in thought. "Did I do something wrong? To make things compwic-wated?" he asked, his voice lisping slightly on the long word.
Cadi had to stop a minute before answering that. Her heart hurt to hear her child even consider that. She reached out, running a gentle hand over his head. "No, sweetheart. It wasn't anything you did."
Tomos squinted at her. "Was he angry with me?"
"No, puppy."
Tomos pursed his lips, considering. "Was it because I ate all his special cookies?"
Cadi laughed. "No, that wasn't it. Though, you can ask him next time. You know how important his cookies are to Da."
Tomos gave a slow, sleepy nod. "Yeah... okay."
He seemed satisfied for a moment, then his little face turned serious again. "But Mrs. Hughes says you should always shake hands and make up if you have a fight. Talk it out."
Cadi tilted her head. "She's right."
Tomos nodded sagely. "You know, when James's elbow hit me on the nose last game and my nose bled and bled, I was so angry."
"I bet," Cadi murmured.
"But then he said sorry, and I shook his hand. Mrs. Hughes said that's what big boys do."
"She's right," Cadi agreed gently. "But sometimes grown-ups forget."
As she spoke, she heard the faintest creak of the stairs—so soft that she almost missed it.
But she knew.
Gray was coming down.
For such a large man, he was surprisingly light-footed, his movements instinctively quiet.
For a moment, Cadi wondered if that was a hangover from his childhood, when he had to be quiet , not boisterous like a normal kid.
But he didn't enter the kitchen.
He lingered just out of sight, staying hidden, listening.
Cadi could feel him there, could almost picture the way he stood, arms crossed or maybe hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. She didn't turn to look, didn't call him out.
Instead, she focused on Tomos.
The little boy was still deep in thought, lips pursed. "Is it because Nana went to heaven?" he asked suddenly. "Because James said his mummy was sad when his gran went to heaven."
Cadi inhaled softly. She hadn't expected that.
"Yes," she admitted after a moment. "He's sad. He's sad about a lot of things. And sometimes, when people are sad, they behave badly."
Tomos nodded thoughtfully, kicking his little legs under the chair. Then he puffed up his chest slightly. "Well, I'm gonna give him a telling off."
Cadi chuckled. "Or..." she nudged his arm playfully, "you could tell him how you feel."
Tomos mulled it over, then sighed dramatically. "Yeah... but also a telling off. He missed my last game."
Then, his expression shifted. His lips pressed into a pout, brows knitting together as something else surfaced in his sleepy little mind.
Cadi tilted her head. "What's wrong, love?"
Tomos took another sip of milk, then said, "Da made you cry."
Cadi's breath caught.
Tomos's blue eyes, still slightly puffy from sleep, locked onto hers with a quiet intensity.
"I saw you," he added. "When I woke up at night. Your face was all red like a tomato, and your eyes were wet." His fingers toyed with the edge of his blanket. "I don't like it when you cry."
Cadi swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat. "Oh, baby..."
Tomos huffed, a tiny, indignant sound. "So, I am giving him a telling off."
Cadi smiled softly, brushing a hand over his curls. "You can tell him how you feel. That's even more important than a telling off."
Tomos considered that. "Maybe both," he concluded.
Cadi let out a quiet laugh. "We'll see, puppy. We'll see."
She reached out. "Hug?"
Tomos nodded, sliding off the chair and walking straight into her arms. She wrapped him up, pressing a soft kiss to his messy curls, inhaling that subtle, warm little boy scent that was uniquely Tomos.
When she lifted her head, her breath caught.
Gray was standing at the entrance to the kitchen now, no longer hidden in the shadows, watching them.
His expression was unreadable—conflicted and filled with guilt—his emotions warring in his eyes.
Cadi held his gaze for a moment, something silent passing between them.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, without a word, Gray exhaled, his shoulders shifting ever so slightly—like a man who had just been hit with something he wasn't sure how to carry.