Chapter 39
The sky was a dull stretch of grey, but the air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp grass and mud—perfect weather for rugby.
Cadi and Gray stood near the sideline, shoulder to shoulder, watching as Tomos darted across the field, grinning wildly, his little legs pumping hard as he tried to evade the other kids.
"Pass it, lad!" Gray called, hands cupped around his mouth.
Tomos ignored him, choosing instead to barrel straight ahead, crashing into a pile of players.
Gray groaned, shaking his head. "Bloody stubborn."
Cadi smirked. "Wonder where he gets that from."
Gray shot her a look but said nothing. He was happier than she had seen him in a long time. It was in the way his shoulders weren't weighed down, the way his eyes weren't clouded with anger. He looked... lighter.
The game ended, and Tomos came running over, mud streaked on his cheeks, panting and beaming. "Did ye see that, Da?"
Gray ruffled his hair. "Aye, I saw ye get tackled 'cause ye wouldn't pass."
Tomos rolled his eyes. "Passin's for backs."
Gray laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "Yer not built like a bloody prop, Tomos."
Cadi stood there, watching them, a warmth curling in her chest.
Later, they drove home with James and Tomos sitting in the back, their heads bent together as they dissected every single play of the match.
"No, no, Tomos, ya should've stepped inside first before goin' for the break."
Tomos frowned. "Nah, I was gonna dummy, but that big fella was in the way."
Gray glanced at Cadi, amused, as the boys carried on like they were seasoned professionals instead of five-year-olds who still struggled to tie their boots properly.
Cadi leaned her head back against the seat, listening to their chatter, and felt... content.
Session: The People He Loves Most
Gray leaned forward, elbows on his knees. This was the hardest part.
"Cadi," he murmured. "An' Tomos."
Dr. Sloan waited.
Gray exhaled, rubbing his hands together, fingers flexing and curling as if he could wring the words out of himself. "I treated 'em both like shite," he admitted. "Let me anger eat me alive. An' I dunno how ta fix it."
Dr. Sloan tapped his pen against his notepad. "You've told me that speaking to Cadi isn't easy for you. That it feels like everything catches in your throat."
Gray let out a breathless laugh. "That's putting it lightly."
Dr. Sloan tilted his head. "Why do you think that is?"
Gray was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice quieter. "Because she's everything."
Dr. Sloan waited.
Gray swallowed, his throat tight. "Cadi was always light." His voice had that faraway quality now, like he was seein' somethin' Dr. Sloan couldn't. "Bright, brilliant, better. She walks into a room, an' she fills it. She doesn't even try—she just is."
He exhaled slowly, shakin' his head. "An' me? I was always the one in the dark. Angry, sharp edges, somethin' broken inside me that I never knew how ta fix."
He ran a hand down his face. "But she was mine. An' I was so fuckin' grateful she chose me. Every damn day, I woke up next ta her an' thought, How the hell did I get this lucky?"
His voice thickened. "I could never see anyone but her. Never."
Dr. Sloan didn't speak. He let the words hang between them, heavy with meaning.
Gray's jaw tightened. "And now she knows what I am. What me blood carries. An' suddenly, I feel I am not enough." His throat worked. "An' I find myself thinking—this is it. This is where she realizes she deserves more."
His hands clenched into fists. "I convinced meself back then that she was cheatin' on me, like me mam cheated on David. That she had already left me in her mind, even if her body was still here."
Dr. Sloan finally spoke. "Did you ever have proof of that?"
Gray's laugh was hollow. "No. An' I fuckin' knew better." His hands clenched. "Cadi would rather cut off her own hand than cheat." His voice cracked. "But I made her feel like she had. I made her feel like I didn't trust her."
Dr. Sloan leaned forward. "You talk about Cadi like she's still your world."
Gray looked up, his eyes dark with pain. "She is."
A beat of silence.
Dr. Sloan tapped his notepad. "And Tomos?"
Gray inhaled sharply, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes for a moment. "The joy of me life."
The words left him raw, like an open wound.
Dr. Sloan waited.
Gray's hands dropped, an' when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. "He's the best thing I've ever done. An' I nearly ruined him."
Dr. Sloan frowned. "What do you mean?"
Gray let out a slow, shaky breath. "Some nights, he asks me if I'm going ta leave him." His voice dropped lower, thick with guilt. "Not in those exact words. But it's there. In the way he asks if I'll be home when he wakes up. In the way he checks that I'll pick him up from school."
His throat tightened. "I made him insecure. I did that. I let me own shite bleed onto him."
Dr. Sloan studied him carefully. "Do you think you can fix it?"
Gray's voice was barely a whisper. "I have to."
A long silence stretched between them before Dr. Sloan finally spoke.
"You've told me that speaking to Cadi isn't easy for you. That it feels like everything catches in your throat."
Gray nodded, his fingers curling against his knees.
"Have you ever considered writing to her instead?"
Gray frowned. "What?"
"If you struggle with face-to-face conversations, write her letters. Say what you can't say out loud." Dr. Sloan leaned forward slightly. "Sometimes, writing lets us process things better. And it gives her time to read it without feeling like she has to respond immediately."
Gray hesitated.
The thought of it felt... foreign. Uncomfortable.
But then he thought of Cadi. Of the way she looked at him sometimes—closed off, unreadable.
An' he thought of Tomos. His little boy. His everythin'.
Slowly, he nodded.