Page 73 of A Castle in the Sky: Fern & Connor
He was the first to break the silence.
"I should've told you this earlier," he said quietly, rubbing the heel of his palm over his jaw. "But I didn't know how to say it until recently. I just felt less of a man, I guess, needing help from a shrink. But the sessions... they've been helping more than I expected."
Fern straightened from her squat with a piece of yellow chalk in her hand.
He took a slow breath. "My therapist, Rick, said my mum isn't just the drama queen when I called her that. She's narcissistic." His lips flickered in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Turns out that explains a lot."
Fern stayed silent, and he kept going, his voice low, steady.
"And Matilda has the same pattern, just on a jumbo scale." He swallowed past the dryness in his throat. "I kept picking women who wanted a puppet. And becauseof how I grew up, I just... fit myself around their expectations so I didn't upset anyone." He looked away, ashamed for a second.
"He said I'm like someone in a DV cycle," he murmured. "Except mine weren't fists; it was being ignored, then blamed and manipulated. I learned at a young age that being quiet was the easiest route. So, I stayed quiet as an adult, and I didn't even realise I was drowning until... Coral."
The chalk turned into powder in Fern's tight grip. Connor continued, his voice taking a wistful quality, "I used to think pleasing my mum was like winning some kind of lottery. She always seemed embarrassed by me." He gave a humourless laugh. "But it just meant love was a prize I had to earn… a prize she could take back whenever she wanted."
He stood and settled Coral on the rattan sofa. Then he cautiously made his way to Fern, watching her expression, as if bracing himself for rejection. When he gingerly touched her shoulders and ran his palms down her bare skin, goosebumps feathered their path. Her eyes looked impossibly blue.
"It was Rick who finally made me understand," he said. "If I hadn't cut Matilda out, she'd have cut you and Coral instead. And that—" His voice cracked, and he cleared it, tried again. "I guess Coral was my line in the sand. I was the coward who let you take the hits because I knew you were strong enough to push back. But you shouldn't have had to do that. I should have had your back, just like you always had mine. But Coral... Coral is a baby. How could she? It took almost losing everything for me to get that."
A long, trembling silence simmered between them.
Fern realized she had been waiting for this honesty. It felt like something fragile had been placed in her hands—something she hadn't realized she needed to move forward.
Connor bent forward, arms banding around her, giving her lots of time to pull back.
"I know I'm not the man I should've been," he whispered against her cheek. "But I'm not him anymore, either. I'm trying to understand why I let people treat me the way they did and change that. Why did I disappear emotionally when you needed me? Why did I stay scared instead of stepping up? I can only change what I understand."
He pressed a gentle, close-mouthed kiss against her lips. She let him, but didn't kiss him back, even though she wanted to. He finally met her eyes, and there was no defence left, no bravado.
Only sincerity.
And hope.
"I've got a session on Tuesday," he said, unable to disguise the eagerness in his eyes. "Would you… would you come with me? You don't have to say anything; you don't even have to stay the whole time if you don't want to. I just…"
He exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for a while. "I'd just like you there."
Fern's heartbeat fluttered like a trapped bird in her chest.
She wasn't healed. She was rebuilding her trust, and it was a tedious process.
But Connor wasn't asking for forgiveness, only for support. And maybe he was willing to show her those vulnerable parts of him that she never knew existed.
And that's why, despite her misgivings, she said yes.
***
Connor left quietly, but not without the small liberties he allowed himself these days to keep him going.
He brushed past Fern as he stepped out of the living room, the warm graze of his hairy arm against hers lingered like a shadow. He tried his best to be subtle, but he took whatever slivers of skin contact she allowed him. A touch of his fingers against her palm when she handed him Coral's water bottle. His hand steadying her waist when she shifted to the side. The soft sweep of his knuckles against hers as he passed her a toy.
Tiny touches, stolen ones that he gathered and hoarded like contraband.
Earlier, he had carried Coral upstairs, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, and convinced her to have a bath. He had playedLittle Mermaidwith her for a solid hour, and when he finally coaxed her out of the bath, her curls were damp and her cheeks were pink. His palm had cradled her back with such tenderness as he carried her to her princess room, talking to her, tickling her. Watching them together made Fern's heart skip and hop and squeeze. She watched as he tucked her under the duvet, smoothing the blanket the way Coral liked, always tucking the left side first because Coral said it felt "cosy like a burrito."
‘Burrito’ was her new word.
Then he bent and kissed Coral's forehead, lingering just long enough with his heart in his eyes that Fern had to look away.
