Run To Me | BAK sequel

14.

Tom sat up in the bed, his back against the headboard and duvet pooling around his waist.

You'd refused to sleep in the same room as him, telling him you'd prefer to stay in your own and he had been okay with that after a solid twenty minutes of having you under his arm, taking things slow was what he and you had agreed on. You had enjoyed the warmth and the comfort, but didn't want to ruin a good thing by taking it too fast or push your boundaries any further.

So instead you had collapsed in your own bed with a smile on your face, sheets pulled beneath your arms as the wheels in your brain ran at a fast pace. Your fingers ghosted over your lips with a cheeky smile, nose wrinkling remembering what had happened earlier and you had a moment of peace after a series of unfortunate events.

But there was another body in Toms' bed and it was one much littler then his, buried beneath the duvet that ended at her shoulders. Little hands stuck out of the blanket, limp fingers resting on the comforter only centimetres away and brown curls scattered around the perimeter. Rosie's lips were open agape as she slept despite Toms consistent rolling around during the night and even rustling now as he scrolled through his laptop, glasses resting on his nose. He found it funny that she had slept on her front, face smooshed into the bed.

The laptop rested on his lap, pictures and files open on the screen as he pieced things together. He had the details from the planted drugs, the hit and run attempt and the fact that your father had been poisoned. They were all of the negative, bone-chilling events that had occurred on the last few weeks that he didn't want to look at, but his anger fueled him. Everything was quite literally in front of his eyes like pieces of a puzzle that for some reason, just weren't fitting together and it frustrated him to no end.

Rosie stirred as she began to wake up and Tom looked away from the screen, every detail he'd read imprinted in his brain still as he directed his gaze to the mumbling child and he closes the screen, deciding the dark and gruesome business can come later. His girl had been shield from it for far too long and he wasn't about to change that.

"Hey, princess." His voice was hoarse as he spoke, throat dry.

She peaks an eye open, confused by her surroundings before she finds Tom and smiles, squinting her eyes as she tries to adjust to the light. It was something he'd never thought he'd see- his daughter was one thing but seeing her so tired, drawn between staying awake and falling back to sleep was another. There were many things he was yet to see as a new father and he didn't know whether he should be nervous or excited- probably both.

"Hi." Rosie mumbles.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Good." She murmurs, sitting up in the nightgown. Rosie looks around with messy hair and confused glances. She finds Tess, bouncing out of the sheets to pet the dog. "Was warm."

Tom was torn between work and doing something with Rosie and he knew he should've continued racking his brain to try and find out who was behind all of this but it was like staring at a blank wall, as if his mind was just a cloud of dust and nothing was making sense to him and it hadn't for a while now. The mobster shoved his laptop to the side, reading the bedside table clock that read seven twenty-seven. He knew that Rosie was a ball of energy, forever bouncing off of the walls and that he had to keep her busy to allow you to sleep longer, but he had a perfect idea.

"How about you and me go make Mommy breakfast?"

-

You creep down the hallway, nearly out of breath after climbing down the masses of stairs, following the giggles that led you straight to the kitchen. To get there it took at least three minutes and in your half awake - half asleep state, you wished he owned an elevator. But the mobster never really used his kitchen, nor the living room so why would he need on?