Page 6 of Shattering

"And the unicorn piñata?" Gray asked, eyeing the colorful decoration. "It's not exactly... manly."

Cadi rolled her eyes. "You're hitting it with a stick until it explodes. What's manlier than that?"

Byron considered this. "This is true."

Gray took a bite of cake. Despite all the pink, despite the princess dress and the rules, he had to admit—it wasn't that bad.

Maybe the rules had been worth it after all.

Later that evening, after all the guests had left, Cadi sat cross-legged on the floor with her parents, reopening her presents. Regan just watched from the sofa. The room was quiet now, the remnants of the party scattered around them—deflated balloons, wrapping paper, and the lingering scent of birthday cake.

She unwrapped a few books, some clothes, and a small puzzle set. Then she reached for a neatly wrapped box with Gray's name on the tag.

Inside was a toy doctor set—complete with a tiny stethoscope, a syringe, and a little baby doll.

Cadi gasped in delight. "Gray got me this?"

Her mother smiled. "It looks like he put a lot of thought into it."

Cadi held up the tiny syringe, eyes shining. "I told him I wanted to be a doctor. Like the nice doctor who gave me a lolly and made my throat better."

Her stepfather chuckled. "Seems like Gray listens well."

Cadi hugged the toy set to her chest, her heart warm. She'd have to thank him properly tomorrow.

For now, she was just happy.

Chapter 5

The air was thick with tension, the floodlights burning down onto the damp grass as the teams huddled on their respective sides. It had been a brutal match, neither side giving an inch, but now, with only minutes left on the clock, the score stood at 17-12 in favour of the Wirral Wolves. Gray Callahan rolled his shoulders, his breath coming fast and hard, his muscles burning with exhaustion. This was their last chance.

"We need a try and a conversion," their captain, Tom Davies, said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Gray, you ready?"

Gray nodded, jaw tightening. "Aye."

Cadi stood at the side-lines, arms folded as she watched the scrum form. She wasn't a rugby player, but she knew the game well enough—had watched Gray play for years, seen him grow from an eager, scrappy kid to the powerhouse he was now. He was always so focused, so determined. It was one of the things she loved—liked—about him.

Liked. Just liked.

The ref blew the whistle. The scrum engaged, bodies colliding in a battle of sheer will. Gray anchored his position, pushing with everything he had. At 6 feet 3 inches and still growing with broad shoulders, Gray was an easy one to spot. The ball rolled out, snapped up by Byron, who pivoted and passed it back to Gray in a fluid movement. The defence closed in, the Wolves determined to end the play, but Gray saw the opening—a narrow gap between their flanker and fullback.

He ran.

The world narrowed to the pounding of his feet, the shouts of his teammates, the distant roar of the crowd. A defender lunged, arms outstretched, but Gray sidestepped at the last second, feeling the brush of fingers against his jersey but nothing more. The try line was inches away. With a final burst of speed, he dove forward, slamming the ball down just as bodies crashed into him.

The whistle blew.

A moment of silence, then an eruption of cheers.

Gray gasped for breath, flat on his back in the mud as his teammates hauled him up, clapping him on the back. Tomclutched his head. "Bloody hell, Gray, that was insane. We still need the conversion."

Byron grinned, his front tooth slightly chipped from an earlier tackle. "No pressure, but if you miss, I'm never lettin' you live it down."

Gray shook his head, already focused on the kick. The crowd hushed. He lined up, inhaled sharply, and swung his leg. The ball soared through the air, cutting a perfect arc through the goalposts.

Game won.

The team erupted into celebrations, bodies crashing together in a chaotic mix of joy and exhaustion. Gray felt himself being dragged into hugs and slaps on the back, but his eyes searched instinctively for one person.

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