Chapter 33
Tomos, still wrapped in his blanket, blinked sleepily and finally noticed Gray standing near the kitchen entrance.
For a moment, he hesitated—just a split second—his blue eyes flickering toward Cadi, as if waiting for direction..
Gray felt the hesitation like a punch to the gut. Tomos was always full-on, bounding toward him without a second thought. But now...
Gray swallowed past the ache, his heart twisting painfully in his chest.
But just as quickly as it came, the moment passed.
Tomos dropped his blanket and padded over to his father, grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the kitchen table with the single-minded determination of a child on a mission. "Come on, Da."
Gray allowed himself to be pulled along, sinking into the chair as Tomos climbed onto the one beside him, blanket and all.
Cadi turned to the stove, reaching for the eggs and bread while setting the coffee to brew. She could hear their hushed conversation behind her, the soft murmur of Tomos's voice filling the room.
"You were being mean," Tomos stated, his little voice tinged with quiet disappointment.
Gray sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Aye, lad, I was."
"You didn't read me my story for days."
Gray flinched. He knew exactly which one. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
His chest tightened. "Mam didn't finish it for ya?"
Tomos shook his head. "She said that story is Da's." His little voice was firm. "She started The Gruffalo instead."
Gray exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. He could see it—Tomos tucked into bed, waiting for him to read, only to fall asleep alone. And Cadi, refusing to take his place, leaving that moment between father and son untouched, unresolved.
He swallowed. "Aye, that's a bad place to stop."
Tomos nodded, his expression serious. "Ya stopped when Aslan was at the Stone Table. When he let the Witch tie him up, and I needed to know what happened next."
Gray felt a pang of guilt deep in his gut.
"I'll finish it for ya tonight, lad. Promise."
Tomos still looked unsure, like he wasn't convinced Gray wouldn't disappear on him again.
"And ya missed me games," Tomos added, as if stacking up his grievances.
Gray nodded, guilt sitting' heavy in his chest. "I did."
"And—" Tomos' tone grew firm— "Mr. Blakesley says making girls cry is bad."
Gray blinked, glancing' over at him. "Blakesley?"
Tomos nodded. "Yeah. When Dillon pushed Martha in PE. But then Martha pushed Dillon back, and he was the one crying." He took a thoughtful pause. "But I don't like it when Mam cries."
Gray's throat felt tight. "Neither do I, lad."
Tomos squinted at him, like he was wondering whether or not to believe him. Then, after a moment, he climbed onto Gray's lap, blanket and all, pressing himself into his father's chest. Gray instinctively wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close.
"Did I ever tell ya 'bout this blanket?" Gray asked softly.
Tomos shook his head, burying' his face into the worn fabric.
"Yer Nan knitted it for me," Gray said, running' a hand over the soft wool. "She made it 'cause I loved Peter Rabbit an' Mr. Tod."
Tomos peeked up at him. "You did?"
Gray nodded. "Aye, I did. She was really nice. But she couldn't stay long enough ta meet ya." His voice softened. "She would've loved ya, lad. She was warm an' always smelled like cinnamon an' lavender. She used ta hum when she knitted, real soft, like she had a song stuck in her bones. If she were here, she'd have made ya somethin' too—maybe a jumper with wee foxes on it."
Tomos' brows furrowed as he thought about it. "I think I'd like that."
Gray smiled sadly. "Aye, she would've too."
Tomos frowned slightly. "Why did she go?"
"Because sometimes, people don't get ta stay as long as we want 'em to," Gray said gently. "An' I've been sad about that for a long time."
Tomos studied him for a moment. "Is that why you were mean?"
Gray sighed. "That's not an excuse for the way I behaved." He kissed the top of Tomos' head. "I was wrong. An' I won't do it again."
Tomos pulled back slightly, his small face serious. "Can you say sorry?"
Gray smiled faintly. "I just did, lad."
Tomos shook his head. "No, say sorry to Mam too."
Gray exhaled, ruffling' his son's hair. "I will. But I have ta give her a long sorry. It might be borin'."
Tomos considered this, then nodded solemnly. "Okay."
"Ya might want to run up an' get ready for rugby club while I do that," Gray suggested.
Tomos' face lit up, an' he wriggled off Gray's lap. As he dashed toward the stairs, Cadi called after him, "Drink the rest of your milk first."
Tomos skidded to a stop, grabbed his glass, an' chugged the last of it before setting' it down with a satisfied clunk.
Then he took the stairs running', his little feet thudding' against the steps. They could hear him moving' around upstairs, pulling his wardrobe open.
Silence settled between them.
Gray got to his feet and walked toward the kitchen island.
Cadi turned toward the stove, reaching for the pan, her back to him.
He hovered behind her, close but hesitant.
It was strange—Gray was always confident, always so sure of himself. But now, he hesitated.
They stood on opposite sides of the kitchen island, Cadi with her back to him.
Wordlessly, she passed him a mug of coffee before going back to the stove.
Gray wrapped his hands around it, his fingers tightening' around the warmth. He looked into the dark liquid for a long moment before finally speaking'.
"So now ya know," he said quietly. It was easier to speak without having her cool eyes on him.
Cadi remained silent.
"I never wanted ya to know," Gray admitted. "But this is so much worse. In some ways... ignorance is bliss."
He exhaled, looking out the window. "Just ta know that the blood running through me veins is tainted..."
He trailed off, shaking' his head.
Cadi stirred the eggs in silence.
Finally, he continued, his voice raw. "I don't remember a lot 'cept bein' scared. David—well, he wouldn't let me call him Da. He was always drinkin', I guess. Sometimes I'd wake up ta hear him hurtin' Mam. She always had a black eye or a bloody nose. I think she took it to protect me."
Cadi inhaled sharply but kept her back to him.
Gray's hands clenched around the coffee mug. "An' then... he started on me."
A muscle twitched in his jaw. "At first, the bruises were only under our clothes. Then there'd be an occasional black eye. An' then, one day, he went too far an' broke me arm."
Cadi swallowed hard.
Gray's voice was quieter now. "Mam took me to the hospital. There was this nice lady doctor. She spoke to Mam, an' we stayed there for a while. The police came. Mam let me tell the truth."
He exhaled shakily. "I never saw any of that family again."
"They tried ta bury it," he murmured, running a hand through his hair. "But it wasn't that easy. A child was involved. An'... I think 'cause we were Catholic, divorce wasn't an option. But they allowed a separation. Mam signed an NDA—she told me she had to—an' they gave her money. A lot of money. Ta keep their name outta the newspapers."
He looked down. "An' then we came here. I was just a little over four at that point."
Then, as if a memory struck him, his throat tightened. He had been angry a few days ago... so angry. He hadn't meant to, but his arm had knocked against her side.
His stomach twisted.
"Cadi..." His voice was rough. "I would never hurt ya."
Cadi paused, her hand stilling on the spatula. "I know."
She turned the eggs slowly, her voice even. "It was an accident."
Gray's jaw tightened. "I still should've been more careful."
Cadi finally glanced over her shoulder. For a moment, she studied him—his furrowed brow, the tight set of his jaw, the way he gripped the kitchen island .
"I know," she repeated, softer this time.
Gray looked troubled, his fingers tightening around the countertop. But he didn't push.
Tomos appeared, fully dressed in his red-an'-black rugby uniform, his boots slung over his shoulder.
"Mom, we'll be late." he whined.
Cadi shook herself, forcing a small smile. "Have your eggs first."
Tomos wrinkled his nose. "No, not eggs."
"Toast then."
Tomos grabbed a slice from the plate, biting' into it. Then, turning to Gray, he eagerly asked, "Will you be here when I get back, Da?"
Gray's heart squeezed.
Cadi hesitated, then looked at Gray. "I have a clinic later this afternoon," she said carefully. "I'll be back soon."
A pause.
Cadi hesitated, then finally turned to look at Gray. "Will you pick Tomos up?"
Gray straightened slightly, hope flashing' in his eyes. "Aye," he said, his voice almost eager. "Aye, of course."
Tomos grinned, stuffing' he rest of his toast in his mouth before racing' toward the door.
Cadi stood still, watching Gray watch Tomos.
Cadi grabbed her bag from the counter, adjusting the strap over her shoulder. Her movements were measured, controlled, but Gray could sense the tension in her body—like she was bracing for something.
She turned to him, her expression unreadable. "Tell me the truth, Gray."
He stiffened. "About what?"
Her gaze didn't waver. "The other women. Vanessa." She exhaled softly, as if steadying herself. "Look me in the eye and tell me."
Gray felt his throat tighten. He deserved this—deserved the doubt, the scrutiny, the weight of all the ways he had failed her.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily before meeting her gaze.
"There's never been anyone else, Cadi. Not once." His voice was rough but steady. "Not in my mind. Not in my heart. Not in any way that matters."
Honesty shone in his eyes, raw and unfiltered.
"I' have been a coward for not telling you the truth. We are the best of friends," he admitted. "I've made a mess of things more times than I can count. But I love ya more than my own life, and I will until my last breath."
Cadi's breath caught, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she believed him.
She nodded once, a small, almost imperceptible motion, before turning toward the door.
Gray didn't stop her.
He just watched her go, hoping—praying—that this wasn't the last time she walked away.