Chapter 37
Gray had taken extended leave from work after speaking with his GP. He hadn't wanted to—had fought against the idea of stepping back from surgery, even for a little while—but deep down, he knew he needed this. They all did.
He had attended his first session with Dr. Sloan that week and had been working with him ever since. It was hard. Harder than he had expected, digging through the past, unearthing things he had locked away so tightly they had begun to rot inside him.
But for once, he wasn't running from it
There were glimpses of light.
Session: The Past That Shaped Him
Gray sat across from Dr. Sloan, arms crossed, his jaw tight. The man was unflappable, watching him with quiet patience.
He looked nothing like the men from his past.
No air of menace. No cruel smirk. Just quiet understanding.
"So," Dr. Sloan began, pen in hand. "Where do you want to start?"
Gray exhaled slowly. "I suppose... the beginning."
The words came reluctantly at first, but soon, the floodgates cracked open.
He spoke about his childhood.
The fear.
The bruises hidden under clothes.
The way his mother would shield him, her body between him and David's fists. How Finn had been just as bad—maybe worse.
How the entire house had been a cage.
Dr. Sloan nodded. "When you think about them—David and Finn—what emotions come up?"
Gray clenched his jaw. His stomach turned.
Anger.
Fear.
A sickening kind of disgust that sat in his chest like a weight, pressing down, filling every empty space.
"They're both dead," he muttered. "One from drinkin' himself into an early grave, the other from cancer." His lips curled. "An' I still feel like they're watchin' me. That I'll never be free of 'em."
Dr. Sloan scribbled something down. "Do you believe that?"
Gray hesitated.
Then, quietly, "Some days... yeah."
Dr. Sloan's voice was calm, measured. "And what do you think they would say to you now, if they were here?"
Gray barked out a humourless laugh. "That I was nothin'. That I was weak. That I'd never measure up to 'em." His hands curled into fists. "An' maybe that's the one thing they'd be right about."
Dr. Sloan looked at him steadily. "Have you ever been afraid that you'd turn into them?"
Gray's throat tightened.
His fingers curled harder against his knees, knuckles white.
The answer sat on his tongue like acid.
But still, it came.
Yes.
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Gray and Cadi had made a promise—to have at least one meal together each day.
Cadi talked about her clinic, her patients, small things about her day that made her feel like herself again.
Tomos had returned to normal, running around the house like a storm of energy, dragging his blanket behind him, yelling about Lightning McQueen and rugby and all things that mattered in his small world.
And then there were the evenings.
Gray had taken to making dinner. At first, there had been mishaps—burnt pasta, undercooked chicken, a lasagna that had collapsed in on itself—but he was getting better.
One night, he made Cadi's favourite—four cheese pasta.
After the meal, Cadi groaned, stretching. "I can feel it settling in my hips."
Gray glanced at Tomos, who was glued to the TV, watching Lightning McQueen race across the screen.
Then, he turned back to Cadi, voice low and teasing. "I look forward to checking if that's true."
Cadi blushed.
Gray gave her an exaggeratedly lascivious look that had her in giggles.
The cloud that had followed him—especially after his mother's death—had begun to lift slowly.
Session: His Mother's Secrets
Dr. Sloan sat across from Gray, calm and steady, letting the weight of the conversation settle before he spoke.
"You've learned a lot recently," he said. "About your mother. Her trauma. The lengths she went to protect you."
Gray exhaled sharply, rubbing his hands over his face, feeling the burn of emotions he wasn't sure how to control.
"I hated her for so long," he admitted, voice rough. "I loved her but I blamed her for not getting out sooner. For staying. For letting herself be treated like that. I thought she was..." His throat worked. "I thought she was weak."
Dr. Sloan didn't respond immediately, allowing the words to sit in the open, to breathe.
Gray clenched his fists. "I was just a kid. I didn't understand. I saw her crying, shaking, unable to get out of bed some days, and I resented her for it." He laughed bitterly. "Christ, I used to pull the covers off her, trying to make her move. Begging her."
His jaw tightened. "And when she didn't? When she just stared at the wall, I'd think—Why doesn't she fight? Why does she let them win?"
Gray swallowed hard, his chest aching with the memory.
"But now I know," he murmured hoarsely. "Now I fucking know."
Dr. Sloan nodded, letting him continue.
"She stayed because of me. Because she had to keep me safe. Because she knew the second she ran, they'd come for us." His voice dropped lower. "She took the hits so they wouldn't touch me. She swallowed the insults so I wouldn't hear them. She let herself be beaten down, so I wouldn't be."
His voice wavered. "She did what needed to be done to be sure they wouldn't follow us. And when she finally left, she made damn sure we were safe."
He swallowed, pressing his knuckles against his lips. "I was angry at the wrong person."
Dr. Sloan studied him. "What would you say to her now, if you could?"
Gray let out a shaky breath, his throat burning. "I'd tell her... I was wrong. That I understand now. And that I'm so fucking sorry."
A heavy silence stretched between them before Gray spoke again, his voice thicker, rawer.
"I miss her." His fingers tightened. "More than I ever let myself admit."
Dr. Sloan's voice was softer now. "What do you miss most?"
Gray exhaled sharply, eyes burning. "Her laugh." His throat bobbed. "It wasn't loud. But it was... real. When she was happy, really happy, it was the softest sound, like she was scared to take up too much space. But when I was little, and I did something stupid, she'd cover her mouth and giggle like she was my age."
A shaky breath. "I miss the way she held me. She smelled like lavender and something warm, something... safe. I used to burrow into her side when I had nightmares. Even after we left, when I was too old for it, she'd let me crawl into her bed sometimes."
His fingers curled into his jeans. "She never stopped looking over her shoulder. Even when she was dying. She still worried about me."
Dr. Sloan leaned forward slightly. "You mentioned she had episodes. That there were days she couldn't get out of bed."
Gray nodded, staring at the floor. "Yeah." His voice was barely above a whisper. "And now I finally get it."
Dr. Sloan stayed silent.
Gray shook his head. "She wasn't weak. She was carrying something too fucking heavy for one person to bear. An entire life of trauma. And no matter how much she loved me, it didn't erase what they did to her."
His jaw clenched, rage coiling inside him, hot and restless. "I feel so fucking angry on her behalf." His hands shook as he ran them through his hair. "I don't even know where to put it. There's no outlet. No justice. She deserved better."
Dr. Sloan let the anger sit, let it burn out without suffocating it. Then he said, "And what about you? Do you think you deserve better, too?"
Gray barked out a rough laugh. "I wouldn't even know what that looks like."
Dr. Sloan tapped his pen against his notepad. "You've been struggling with something else, haven't you?"
Gray exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. "The money."
Dr. Sloan nodded, waiting.
Gray let out a slow, shaky breath. "The money they gave her when she left—millions. In exchange for silence. For keeping my last name. For making sure no scandal touched them."
His teeth clenched. "I hated it. Still do. It's blood money. I never wanted to touch it."
Dr. Sloan was silent, waiting for him to continue.
"But..." Gray exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping. "I want to buy the house."
Dr. Sloan arched a brow. "For yourself?"
Gray let out a hollow chuckle. "For Cadi and Tomos."
Dr. Sloan's lips pressed together in understanding.
"I know what Mam would have wanted," Gray murmured, his voice rough. "She would've wanted me to give them the life she never had. A home that's ours. No debts. No worries." He swallowed hard. "I want to take care of them. I want to make life easier for Cadi in any way I can. That's more important than any pride I have left."
Dr. Sloan gave a slow nod. "Do you think using the money dishonours your mother? Or do you think it's a way to give her sacrifices meaning?"
Gray sat with that for a long time.
Then, finally, he whispered, "I think... it's what she would have wanted."