Page 101 of Swim To Me

Grey opens his mouth to speak, but the tea I ordered cuts him off, steam wafting from the spout of the plain, ceramic teapot.

“It’s warm in here,” I say, lifting the pot with one hand, holding the lid closed with the pointer finger from my other hand, and pouring amber liquid into the cup closest to Grey. “But it’s cold and wet outside, so I got tea for the two of us. You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want, I just needed something to warm me up, so…”

Grey simply stares at me, helping fix both of our drinks with the right amount of milk and sugar.

Behind me a child squeals, followed by the loud sound of splashing water. I glance back to the pool, my eyes tracing the constant rhythm of the moving water buoys separating each swimmer’s lane.

“Delilah—”

I look back at Grey, seeing his hand, curled in a relaxed position on the surface. My own hand vibrates to take his, fold our fingers over and feel the pad of his thumb rub over my knuckles the way Grey always does when he holds my hand. My body, my heart, my soul… they’re crying out for him. This man in front of me, recognising him as my own, as mine. But I need to know the unfiltered truth first. Grey knows how I tick – the slightly obsessive planning of things, my hard work ethic, why I struggle to open myself up to love.

I know parts of Grey – his family morals, his love,passion, for all things swimming, the big golden heart he wears on his sleeve – but I don’t know all of it. Not yet.

“If we’re going to work, I need to know everything,” I say. “Will you start from the beginning for me?”

Grey’s eyes, steady and sure, never leave mine while he nods. “I’ve loved swimming, being in the water since I can remember. I showed signs of being good enough to compete from a young age, but I didn’t really give it much thought until I was a teenager. My mum…” Grey’s lids flicker, but he doesn’t look down. “My mum developed breast cancer when I was fourteen.It was sudden, unexpected. One minute she was downstairs, making us breakfast, driving us to school, kissing us goodbye even though we squirmed away too afraid our friends would see us and the next she was lying in a hospital bed looking nothing like herself, white as a sheet, hair shorter each time we went to see her. She was ill for almost two years and we we’re… we we’re lost. Completely. My eldest brother, Noah, he was seventeen when her first lot of chemo began, he helped my dad and took over the role Mum had played. He got his driver’s license just so my brothers and I wouldn’t have to get the bus to school.”

I choke down a too hot mouthful of tea, feeling hot tears prick my water line.

“Grey—”

He shakes his head, his own eyes shiny and I know this is hurting to say aloud. I don’t stop to think for another moment before grabbing his hand and squeezing hard.

“She’s okay now,” he promises, rolling his lips together. “But those years we’re hard for each of us in our own way. I threw myself into the water, it was the only place I could quieten my mind. Mum was so proud to see me competing when she was finally placed in remission, and that feeling; that sensation, of winning, making my family proud, holding the medal or trophy cup… it was addicting. So, I pushed even harder. I competed in the butterfly stroke, honing my skill, my body. My success began to be picked up by the British press and when I was nearly twenty one, I was given a chance to compete in the summer Olympics—”

“Why didn’t I see that? Your face would have been splashed all over the tabloids, surely—”

“There’s an almost five-year age gap between the two of us, Delilah. You would have been sixteen, focused on your exams and…”

My ex hangs in the air between the two of us. At sixteen I would have been buried in a stack of library books, frantically trying to memorise answers to my exam questions, whilst also exploring the beginnings of my relationship with Daniel. Teenage hormones paired with my constant fear of failure had made that chapter of my life whizz by in a flurry of blurry memories.

I swallow, resisting the urge to close my eyes when Grey swipes his thumb across my knuckles sweetly. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Grey laughs lowly. “Anyway, I never made it to the Olympics. I got caught in a freak accident before I could get there.”

Bile rises in my throat, but I push it back with another swig of tea. I know what happened; my curiosity had gotten the better of me on Monday night and I’d ended up searching up Grey’s name again. Before he could get to the Olympics, he’d been caught in a ski lift accident. The British press had turned on him, accusing him of being drunk and high on drugs. It had taken months for the accusations to be nulled and for the hate to die down.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Grey.”

He shrugs as if it doesn’t matter, but I know that move, I know his dream meant the world to him at one point and it’s still a very bitter pill to swallow.

“I tried rehab, ate all the right food, but my ligaments didn’t want to cooperate. They weren’t strong enough, still aren’t. I struggle with the ache sometimes, but warming gel takes the bite away now. I was depressed for months after it happened, and then one day I knew I just had to suck it up. I still loved swimming, so I got my lifeguard safety certificate, learnt how to be a swim teacher, and threw myself into that instead.”

My heart physically aches able to feel the tangible loss of Grey’s dream. I’ve reached my dream to work in a publishing house, I’m still pursuing it but I’m the lucky one because noteverybody gets that. Even people like Grey who deserve the world.

“I meant every word I wrote in my letter, Delilah,” he continues, body less tense than it had been before. “I never meant to keep my past a secret. I’m sorry I did. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I broke your heart and—”

Pushing from my chair, I round the small table, practically falling in Grey’s lap, winding my arms around his neck. I breathe him in, his familiar scent in my nose, the feel of him in my arms… it feels like this is exactly where I’m meant to be in life.

“I’ve missed you.”

I don’t tell him it’s okay because it’s not and we both know it. He shouldn’t have kept it a secret from me, he shouldn’t have taken away my decision to choose us over my hurt. We’ve got things we need to work through – my trust being the main one. But Grey is here now, fighting for us, spilling his guts to me because he trusts me, he wants an us.

So, do I.

Grey’s arms band around my back, his lips pressing a kiss to the juncture of my neck. “I’ve missed you too, gorgeous.”

Unbothered by who could be looking, I softly capture Grey’s lips with mine, feeling him smile, dimples popping, uninhibited.

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