If I Can't Have you

(32) Meeting Arlo

"Logan visited...again," Jemima says, as she sat in the snug with the brothers and Max.

The mention of his name, created a slight animosity in the room, Tommy halting as he went to take a drag from his cigarette.

"Are you okay?" Max asks, and she nods, "I told him to leave and then Evander threw him out."

"Evander?" Arthur questions.

Max looks befuddled, "I feel like there is a lot to unpack here. What did Logan want? What did Evander want?"

"Logan wanted to know if I cheated on him with Tommy," Jemima informs, "and Evander wants a second chance... he also has a son that he'd like for me to meet."

"Who is Evander?" Arthur asks, as Johns hand clenches around his glass, "her father."

"That man is asking for a bullet to be put in his skull," Tommy says.

"Evander or Logan?" Max jokes, and Tommy shrugs, finally inhaling the smoke from his cigarette, "depends what mood I'm in."

The realisation that Tommy would happily kill for her settled into Jemima as she looks at him. Usually, with anyone but him, that would absolutely terrify her. She would've hated it because of her stand on violence. But with him, it felt different, for some reason it made her feel safe.

"Is it bad that I want to meet my brother?" Jemima asks.

"No - he hasn't done anything to you, you're intrigued, that's normal," John assures, sensing that she was in a self-doubting mood.

"I don't want a relationship with him," Jemima says.

"And you don't have to have one," Max tells her, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"But what if he makes my relationship with my brother conditional? It's both or neither of them? Then what?" Jemima questions.

"Then we'll knock some sense into him," Tommy responds, "hard."

"You won't be doing anything with that arm of yours," Jemima reminds him.

"This arm is not my shooting one," Tommy counters, raising his eyebrows cheekily at her, with a smile.

"Watching you two flirt is sickening," John groans.

"You have no leg to stand on when it comes to that shit, you and Esmé have your tongues in each others throats everywhere, every other second," Max scoffs.

-

"Tommy?" Jemima whispers, hearing grunts of pain from beside her. She turns over to look at him, noting that he was physically shaking, extremely sweaty, mumbling under his breath.

"Tom, wake up," Jemima says, placing her hands either side of his face, "you're alright, Tom. Wake up for me, sweetheart."

"No- don't!" Tommy mutters, hyperventilating in his sleep.

"Thomas," Jemima says, pleadingly, her voice raising slightly, as she gently caresses his cheeks.

Tommys hands come up to hers, holding onto them, as his eyes quickly open.

"You're alright," Jemima says softly, and recognition crosses over his face, "I'm sorry."

"None of that," Jemima replies, "don't apologise for this."

He moves his hands from her wrists to her waist, holding her close to him, crying against her shoulder, as she drops a kiss to his temple, soothingly rubbing his back.

"It was like I was back there," Tommy tries to explain, choking on his words, drawing in the comfort of her, feeling as though her arms were the only thing holding him together.