It Was Only Supposed to Be Business

Recovery

"I'm alright, Tommy…Why are you here?" I questioned, remembering the open wound in my shoulder. How much more would the world test me before I reached my breaking point? I had been through hell and back, and yet, my nightmare never seemed to fade. Either I was cursed or dealt a bad set of cards.  

"Tommy?" I exhaled, noticing his unusual behaviour. Instead of meeting my eyes or answering my question, he stared at the floor, playing with his glass. Since the day we met, Tommy and I communicated with our eyes. It was alarming when I called his name again and received nothing in return. 

When I moved as if I were going to get up, Tommy's eyes met mine. I tricked him, but I could now see the chagrin and guilt painted in his hazy orbs. He was right. The eyes were the window to the soul.

"I let you take a bullet," Tommy sighed as bitterness rolled off his tongue. I knew he blamed himself for my injuries and pain, but it wasn't his fault. Sooner or later, I would come into danger. 

For a moment, we sat in silence, but we talked for what seemed like hours. His soul spoke my language, which was enough for me to know that he was ashamed, frustrated, and enraged with himself. When I began to use my words to tell him he wasn't at fault; it was as if I pulled the pin on a grenade. Instantly, the chopping sound of smashed glass erupted at my bedside as Tommy jolted from his chair. His jacket flapped behind him like the wings of a furious bat. I had never seen him so provoked. It was clear that the only thing he could see was red.  

"I let you take a fuckin' bullet!" Tommy cursed as his face twisted with vexation, and rage sprouted from his mouth faster than lava surging from a volcano. As I watched him furrow his brows and beat himself up, I knew his outrage was pointless. I only hoped I could explain that to him. 

"Thomas, I'm alive. I'm alive because of you!" Putting the words in my mouth made me realize that, yes, Thomas was the reason my heart was still beating and air was in my lungs. He was the reason I wasn't reshot or left to bleed out. He was my saving grace. 

"You saved me, Tommy," I added, reaching for his hands. My eyes and face were soft- grateful and joyous. Light tears lined my waterline, and a gentle smile crept onto my lips. As I watched him slowly come down from his rush of hostility and hate, the only thing I wanted to do was touch his lips with mine. I longed to kiss the man who saved my life. 

"I don't know how I can ever thank you for saving me," with a sweet smile, I tugged on his hands, pulling him onto my bed. My shoulder ached as I reached for his cheek, but it was worth it. Touching him- feeling him, grounded us. It brought us to reality and let us emerge ourselves in each other. 

"Without you, Thomas, I'd be dead or dead inside." It was true. I would have lived in a torture chamber stuck with Charles Darcy. I would have lost my zest for life and my quench to live through my passions. I would have been a caged animal with no free will, no self-purpose and no spirit. 

As my eyes beamed at Tommy, I brought him closer to me- so close that I inhaled the blend of herbs and spices from the whiskey he had been drinking. Soon enough, the aroma of whiskey turned to taste, and the mix of herbs and spices trailed along my lips and tongue. The kiss we shared, organic and passionate, was almost overstimulating. I kissed him with all I had to give- my gratitude, fondness and love. My head painted a picture of our kiss, where two bodies met with a thrash of colours- reds, yellows, pinks and blues. The colours gushed from their swollen chests and heads, meeting and flowing into one another. When my shoulder recovered, painting our kiss would be the first thing I did. 

While kissing him, my hands simmered along his arms, eager to feel the man who did so much for me. Regardless of the growing pain in my shoulder, I skimmed my fingertips along him until my index finger fell into a sharp curve- a curve impossible to be human. 

"Did you use it, Thomas?" I questioned, referring to the pistol nested inside his jacket and tucked under his arm. 

"No…I didn't need to." A part of my heart was relieved, yet the other half was left in despair. I expected whoever shot me to dwell in the same hell I was experiencing.

As uncertainty brewed in my face, Thomas pulled his peaked cap out of his pocket and gently laid it on my lap. "This hat, Adeline, can cause more suffering than a bullet, and it brought a lot of well-deserved hurt to a man last night…" with those words, the air filled with an ominous aura. I knew Tommy was not someone you wanted to mess with when he was pissed off. I was certain the bastard got what he deserved.

"Listen, Adeline," Tommy whispered as he crept over the bed. "Charlie and Johnny Dogs sent Charles Darcy a fuckin' important message last night." My heart fell into the pit of my stomach, and my palms sweat with anticipation. If Tommy killed Charles, I would have married him right then.  

"What was the message?" I demanded, eager to know.

"It was his brother who shot you last night. You remember Charles's fuckin' brother?" 

"Oh…" 

"Right… well, I got the lads to drop his bruised, broken, bloody and blinded fuckin' brother off at his office… Charles had a pleasant surprise." When Tommy revealed what happened under the moon, I sank into my bed and let my whole body melt into my pillows. It was as if I could finally relax and heal. No one would come looking for me or attempt to capture me after what Tommy did to Charles's brother. No one in their right mind would subject themselves to that kind of abuse. Once my shoulder healed, I would be as free as a bird. I could fly wherever I desired.

Hiii!

It's been a long while. More to come soon :)