T H E O  G R A Y

“WHERE ARE you going?”

Soph asks as she notices me heading toward the door. She’s towel-drying her hair, stray droplets sliding down her neck and disappearing beneath the collar of her nightwear—a matching flowery top and shorts that fit her perfectly.

I walk back over, gesture toward the towel, and she lets me take it. I start drying her hair gently, the soft scent of her shampoo wrapping around me. “Nowhere. I was just going to check if the door’s locked so I can sleep over.” I pause, looking down at her. “That’s if you want me to.”

Her arms loop around my waist, and she smirks. “You think I’m letting you leave my room?”

I chuckle, setting the towel aside. “Want me to grab the dryer for you?”

She shakes her head. “That’s alright, I can do it.”

She lets go of me and walks to her nightstand, pulling out the dryer and plugging it in. She sits at the edge of the bed and turns it on, the low hum filling the room.

“Do you and Logan still talk?” she asks, patting the bed beside her.

“Yeah.” I sit down, leaning back against the headboard, watching her move the dryer slowly over her hair, the strands catching the light. "But I'll text him later."

I want to spend more time with you.

She hums in acknowledgment. The silence is comfortable, almost heavy in the best way—like we’re wrapped in our own little bubble. Her presence has a way of untangling the knots in my chest. She makes me calm. She makes me breathe.

I reach over and take the dryer from her hand. Before she can turn to look at me, I say, “I’m bored. Let me play with my girlfriend’s beautiful hair.”

She scoffs, but her lips curve, betraying her. She likes it.

Once I’m done, I set the dryer aside, my eyes catching on the brush sitting next to the lamp. I grab it and gently guide her head forward.

“Oh, I can do that,” she says, raising her hand and looking up at me.

I shake my head and turn her face forward again. “Sit still.” My knees press into the bed as I begin brushing her hair, slow and steady, enjoying how impossibly soft it feels between my fingers.

Halfway through, she leans back into me, her shoulders brushing my chest. The subtle weight of her against me makes my heartbeat pick up. I adjust slightly, letting my legs bracket her sides while I keep brushing, my fingertips grazing her neck now and then.

“You always do this,” she says softly.

I raise a brow. “Do what?”

She tilts her head just enough to glance up at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “Taking care of me. Thank you for that.”

My chest tightens. “It’s not a big deal. I love making sure my girl is being taken care of.”

“It is a huge deal,” she says quietly, and before I can respond she twists in place until she can see me and I instinctively shift back, settling on the bed again.

She doesn’t say anything else—just looks at me. Her eyes gleam with so much affection it feels like too much and yet not nearly enough.

“What?” I laugh, trying to keep it light.

“Come here.” She shifts back against the headboard, tucking herself into the corner of it and stretching her arms toward me. “Come.”

“Why?”

“I want to play with your hair.” She pouts, and I can’t help but laugh.

“It’s not funny,” she protests. “I’ve been wanting to touch your hair too.”

“But I thought you already do when I’m asleep.”

Her cheeks heat instantly. “That’s different.”

“It’s not,” I tease, and she groans, rolling her eyes.

“Theodore Gray. Let me play with your hair.”

I laugh again. “Firstly, never use my full name.” I slide closer to her, watching her smile widen with each inch.

“And second?” she prompts when my face is close to hers.

“Secondly…” I pause like I’m weighing something important. “Don’t use the brush. I want to feel your fingers.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes,” I say with a grin. “But if you want to kiss it, that’d be much better.”

She tilts her head, pretending to think. “Hmm… I don’t know if your hair deserves that much attention.”

"It does. It really does."

She laughs under her breath, shaking her head like I’m impossible. Her fingers already sliding into my hair.

“Mhm,” I hum, leaning closer until I can rest my head against her stomach, feeling the soft give of her body beneath me. I shift just enough to make myself comfortable, my head finding the perfect spot as her scent surrounds me.

Her hand sinks deeper into my hair, slow and careful, her nails lightly grazing my scalp. A low sigh escapes me before I can stop it.

“You like that?” she teases, her voice soft.

I close my eyes. “You have no idea.”

“I think I do,” she says, her fingers moving in lazy circles. “You’re almost purring.”

“I don’t purr,” I mumble, but my voice is already thick with how good it feels.

She chuckles, and I feel the sound vibrate through her body under my cheek. She keeps playing with my hair, and I let the world fall away until it’s just her heartbeat under my ear and her touch against my skin.

Her fingers keep taking me to heaven, and I almost groan in satisfaction when they massage the lower part of my hair.

Somehow, this closeness feels even better than the sex we just had in her bathroom. Thank fuck I’d made sure the door was closed, because we were definitely loud—but the water managed to muffle most of it.

Her other hand trails lazily up and down my arm before stopping. Then I feel her touch on my face—light, tracing the slope of my forehead, sliding down to draw little shapes on my eyebrows. It makes me grin without meaning to.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Shhh.” She shushes me like I’m a child she’s tucking in.

Her fingers leave my brows, and then I feel one on my lashes. “You have pretty lashes.”

“Pretty?” I almost snort.

“What? A guy can have some pretty features too.”

“I know that…”

“But?” she prompts, her voice lilting with that teasing edge.

I tilt my head slightly to glance up at her. “But if you keep saying stuff like that, you’re going to ruin my whole masculine reputation.”

She laughs quietly, her fingers brushing over my cheek like she’s not buying it for a second. “Don’t worry, Theo. Your reputation is safe with me.”

Her fingers drift back into my hair, nails grazing my scalp just right. “Besides,” she adds, almost like she’s thinking out loud, “I like your lashes. And your hair. And your nose...”

I grin. “My nose?”

“Mhm.” Her nails scratch lightly at my roots, making my eyes close without permission. “And your eyes. I'm still confused whether its grey or blue or both either way I love it. I love how they shine when you smile. And your lips…”

Her hand trails down to my jaw, her thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, “I love how you kiss me like you don’t want to stop.”

Fuck.

My chest feels tight, in the good way—the way she always manages to do to me without even trying. “You’re going to make me think you’re obsessed, Soph.”

She’s quiet for a moment before saying, “I’ve been obsessed with you before I even knew I was obsessed with you, Theo.”

“Soph…” I try to look up at her, but she pushes my head back down.

“Oh no. You’re not seeing me now.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“I do,” I say, grinning against her. “But you’re cute when you blush.”

She groans at the compliment, which only makes me laugh. We stay like that in comfortable silence until she speaks again.

“Theo…”

“Yes, love?”

“When will you head back to New York?”

My eyes open. New York.

“Why? You wanna chase me away?” I ask, trying to keep it light.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” she sighs, hesitating for a beat before continuing. “I’ve been noticing for the past three weeks the amount of calls you’ve been getting—and you always ignore them. I know it’s not Logan or the guys you’re ignoring… but it’s your, um… you know…”

My parents. They’ve been disturbing the peace I’ve found here with their restless calls. For the past three weeks, I’ve completely forgotten about everything—even hockey—but Coach told us to enjoy the holiday, and the guys are making sure of it.

“I’m sorry,” Soph says quietly, guilt lacing her voice.

I pull away from her and sit up, my hands finding hers. “No, it’s okay. And you’re right. I’m ignoring them… but I guess I can’t keep ignoring them, can I?”

Mum hasn’t called in a few days, which is good, but Dad leaves voice messages that sound more like threats—telling me he wants me to spend the holidays with him.

Not a chance in hell.

“Soph.”

“Yeah?”

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“With you?” she asks instantly.

My heart kicks hard in my chest, and I find myself nodding, releasing a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding. “Yeah, with me.”

She gives it some thought before saying, “Honestly, I really don’t know. Where do you want to go?”

“Everywhere.”

“Everywhere?”

I grin. “Everywhere.”

"Is that even possible?" She says. "Do we even have enough money for that."

We. She said we.

“Babe, I have enough money to take you anywhere.”
I shift back against the pillows, and Soph rests her head on my shoulder. I draw her close, sliding an arm around her waist. My fingers make slow, lazy circles on her thigh as she speaks.

“Okay then,” she says. “But… I’d like to go to Miami first.”

“Miami?” I grin. “You like it that much?”

She nods, and I chuckle. “Then we’ll go to Miami in a few days.”

“Wait—a few days?” She looks up at me, wide-eyed. “I thought we were joking.”

“Joking?” I tuck a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “I’m very serious, baby.”

She frowns a little. “Do you think my parents would allow that?”

“I’ll convince them.” I rub my nose against hers. “Remember, your parents love me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It seems to me that everyone loves you wherever you go.”

I wink. “That’s my effect, isn’t it, love?”

She swats my chest playfully, then lets her head sink back against me for a moment. I’m just settling into the quiet when she mutters something under her breath and pushes herself up slightly.

My brow pull together. “Is there a pro—” The words die in my throat when she leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my hair… then another to my forehead. I freeze in place, caught off guard.

“I forgot to give you that.” She says with a sweet smile. Her voice warm, green eyes soft. I know I’m staring, a little too still, and she notices. Her head tilts, a faint crease forming between her brows.

"What happened?”

I blink. “Uh… oh, nothing—”

She cuts me off again, kissing my nose, then one to each cheek.

“Soph…” My throat goes dry.

“Yeah? You don’t like my kisses?”

A laugh escapes me. “If that ever happens, you can cut my dick off.”Her eyes sparkle with amusement, hearing that and something says she can actually do that.

“You know I love them, but…” I lean in, letting my lips brush hers. “…I’d love it even more if you kissed my mouth.”

“You’re such a flirt,” she giggles, but she kisses me anyway. Slow. Warm. The kind of kiss that’s both heat and softness, passion and ease.

When we finally part, we stay there, noses almost touching, and laugh for no reason at all. Who even needs a reason to laugh anyways? Not us.

The moment shatters when my phone starts ringing in my pocket. I fish it out, frowning at the unfamiliar number before answering. “Hello?”

“Hello. Please, is this Mr. Theo Gray?” a woman’s voice asks.

My smile fades. Soph notices immediately. “Uh… yes. Who’s this?”

“That’s good. I’m Nurse Kat, and your mother asked me to call you.”

“My mother?” I sit up straighter. The grip on phone tightens.“What’s wrong with her?”

“She was in a car accident and has been in the hospital for a few days now.”

A sharp jolt of worry shoots through me. “An accident? Is she okay?”

“She’s stable—just a few wounds. But the reason I’m calling is because she would have been discharged already, except she says she can’t pay the fees. She told us her son would take care of it.”

I close my eyes and exhale. “Yeah, I’m her son. Which hospital?”

“St. Augustin Medical Center.”

“At Willowbrook Avenue?”

“Yes.” I know the place—it’s where Coach went when Jaxon got injured on the rink a while back. “When will we be expecting you?”

“A day or two. I’m not in New York right now—will that be okay?”

“That’ll be fine.”

She sounds relieved. I can’t help wondering what kind of scene my mother caused for the nurse to track me down. If it were something minor, she’d have disappeared without telling me. For her to stay… it must be serious.

After ending the call, I just sit there, staring at nothing. I do worry. God help me, I worry. Because no matter how much she uses me, no matter how she’s turned me into her personal bank, she’s still my mother. And I hate that part of me still cares.

"Is she alright?"

The gentleness in Soph’s voice pulls me back. She’s watching me with concern.

“Yeah,” I say quietly, though my voice doesn’t match the word. She slips her arms around my shoulders, and I wrap mine around her waist, holding her tight. “But I have to leave tomorrow.”

She nods once. “I understand. I’m coming with you.”

I shake my head, pulling back. “No.”

Her brows knit together. “No? Why?”

“Because…” I run a hand over my hair, struggling to find the right words.

“Talk to me, Theo.” Her tone softens. “You said you’d communicate more. Please.”

The truth sits like a stone in my throat, heavy and choking. Fear begins to creep into my head, wrapping cold fingers around my chest. Say it. Just say it, Theo.

“I… I have a guess about why she might have gotten into the accident.”

“Oh? Did the person tell you?” she asks, her brows knitting in concern.

I shake my head. “No.” My voice is rough. “No one told me.”

She tilts her head, studying me. “Then what could have happened?”

I swallow hard, my mind warring with itself. No one knows about the drugs. I’ve never told anyone. Not even Ryan—hell, especially not Ryan. The only person who ever knew was Dad, and he was the one who told me in the first place.

He had to ruin the image I had of my Mother by telling me the truth about her and her addiction.

My heart pounds. I love Soph too much to keep something this big from her, but the fear of losing her is like a blade against my ribs. I want this to last. God, I want us to last. And yet… if she walks away after this—if she hears the truth and decides I’m not worth the baggage—then I’ll understand. It’ll destroy me, but I’ll understand.

Because who would want to stay when they realize how broken my family really is? Who would want to love a man whose mother… is the way she is?

I’m already lucky she’s still with me after seeing my father’s behavior, but my mother’s? That’s a whole different story entirely.

I draw in a slow, unsteady breath. “My mum…” I start, my voice faltering. Soph doesn’t rush me—she just waits, patient and still, her green eyes locked on mine.

Finally, the words tear out of me in a low, almost broken whisper.

“She’s a drug addict.”

And in my head, the desperate plea screams.

Please don’t run. Please don’t pull away from me. Please.

For a second, she doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just… blinks at me like she’s making sure she heard right. The silence stretches, pulling every nerve in me tighter. My stomach knots so hard it’s painful.

I wait for it—for her to lean back, put space between us, pull away like I’ve suddenly become someone she can’t touch. My chest feels heavy, bracing for the kind of rejection you can’t really recover from.

I brace myself from the moment she tells me she can't be with someone whose family is this broken.

But then… she moves in. Her arms slide around me, warm and certain, pulling me into her chest like she’s shielding me from something. I freeze for a moment, confused, and then my shoulders drop as relief crashes through me.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and there’s no pity in her tone—just this steady warmth that makes my throat ache. “I’m sorry you’ve had to carry that alone.”

The relief that hits me is almost dizzying. My hands grip her back like I’m scared she might change her mind. I let out a shaky breath I didn’t even know I was holding. “I didn’t want you to look at me differently,” I murmur.

She pulls back just enough to look at me, her hands still on my face. “I’m not. Not even close.”

"Why?"

She frowns. "Why what?"

"Why aren't you looking at me differently?"

Her eyes narrow, and there’s this sharp flash of irritation—like I just asked the dumbest question in the world. Her hands tighten a little on my face, holding me still. “Theo. Listen to me, and listen real good. Okay?”

I nod.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. You hear me? I’m right here. With you. And I don’t give a shit if your mum is an addict. All I care about is you. Only you.” She leans in until her forehead rests against mine, and I shut my eyes, breathing her in.

“I love you, Theo,” she whispers, her voice fierce in that soft way only she can pull off. “I really, really love you. So please, don’t let whatever thoughts you have tell you otherwise. I love you.”

Her words punch straight through my chest, knocking the air out of me. I’ve been holding onto this ugly, choking fear for so long—this idea that if she ever knew all of me, she’d run. That the shadow of my mum’s choices would be too much for her to want to stay.

But she’s still here. Still touching me. Still loving me.

I open my eyes and she’s right there, so close I can see every fleck of gold in her irises. My throat feels tight, my chest heavier—but in a way that’s almost… freeing.

God, I don’t deserve her. But I’m selfish enough to want her anyway.

I slide my arms around her and pull her closer until she’s practically on top of me. I bury my face in her neck, holding her like she’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart—because right now, she is.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” I murmur against her skin, my voice rough. “But I’m not letting go.”

“You do deserve me,” she says firmly, “And if you dare let me go, I’ll cut your dick off.”

A startled laugh bursts out of me, loud and real. I tilt my head back to look at her. “God, I love you.”

“And I love you more.”

“Well, I love you to infinity and beyond.”

She snorts, laughing at the same time. “What did I say wrong?”

“Is that a reference from Toy Story?”

“Yeah. Buzz Lightning said it.”

Her grin only widens, that soft, beautiful smile that makes my chest ache in the best way. “It’s Buzz Lightyear, Theo. Not Buzz Lightning.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. You knew what I meant.”

She shakes her head, still laughing, then leans down and kisses me—slow, lingering, the kind of kiss that says we’re okay without needing the words.

When she pulls back, her forehead rests against mine again. “Infinity and beyond, huh?”

“Damn right,” I whisper. “And I mean every word.”

"I know you do. Theo." She says softly. "I know you do."