✓ | GOLDEN LIAR ↠ Thomas Shelby.

33.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

               HE WOULDN'T LEAVE HER. . . not now, not ever. That was what Tommy decided as he watched her slumber, just four hours before she was due to be discharged. When the nurses came in at five and demanded that he leave, he point―blank refused, instead choosing to settle back in that uncomfortable little metal chair and pull a cigarette from his pocket.

"I'm not leaving my wife, nurse," Tommy had told them. "I said I'd stay with her in sickness and in health. . . now, I'm not religious like some, but I'm not going against that."

So they left him without another word, and he blew out his exhaustion through the bitter smoke as his gaze fell on the blonde―haired girl before him; her chest rose and fell in gentle, measured breaths with her heart beating in sync. Any remnants of the bullet that had pierced her skin were gone now, fading excruciatingly slowly into a scar of light pink tissue, just two inches to the left of her breast. Not the only reminder of their wedding day, but certainly the most prominent one. 

When she finally awoke, he was gone, wandering the halls of the hospital as he tried in vain to find the man who could register her leaving the building for good. Tommy wasn't one for asking, though, not in the current mood that he was in, and that was why he was forced to return to Felicity's room in angry defeat. . . anger that quickly dispersed at the sight of the now―conscious girl who was sitting up in bed, making quiet conversation with a gentle doctor who's snow―white hair was as neat as anything. 

Tommy stormed over with his usual confidence and brash actions, taking to the other side of his wife as he faced the older man with a cold stance. "Are yer here to say we can go, then?" He asked as he enveloped Felicity's hand in his palms, almost startling at how warm it was in contrast to his own. 

The doctor nodded. "Just as soon as you sign these papers."

Felicity smiled, taking the wad of forms and pen from him before Tommy could snatch them up first. "We'll only be a moment."

She signed them quickly before handing them to the raven―haired man beside her, letting him skim over the words with a look of impatience in his eyes that he was barely managing to keep at bay. Once finished, Tommy folded them over one another so to hand them back to the doctor, who took them with a tentative 'thank you'. 

"You're free to go now, Miss Woods."

"Shelby."

The doctor turned back to Tommy, startled. "Pardon?"

"It's Mrs Shelby," he snapped impatiently, although at the sight of Felicity's parted lips, Tommy did attempt to tone down his annoyance ever so slightly. "It says so on the registration we gave you when we admitted her."

The wispy―haired man frowned, flicked back through the papers, and frowned even deeper. "See, we have that down here," he said, his eyes meeting Tommy's once more. "But a Mr. . . John Woods, I think? He came in the day after and said there'd been a mistake, that she was a Woods after all." 

Tommy could have yelled, or shouted, or grabbed the man and let this fresh wave of annoyance and anger flood through his fingertips. He didn't, however, and instead he clenched and unclenched his fists as his breathing rattled. "I told you, on the day we arrived, that the only visitors for Felicity Shelby would be my fucking family," he said, not trying very hard to keep his breaths measured and calm. "Didn't I tell you that?"