Kimber's Daughter - Tommy Shelby x Reader Fan Fic

Chapter 68

A/n: a huge thanks to @erinkelly619 for requesting this chapter, it feels like the perfect time for it in this story. And thank you guys for every vote and comment, if it wasn't for you this story probably would have just stayed in my head forever. I love you all and I'm so glad you're enjoying Tommy and Kimber ❤️

Tommy's POV:

Tommy hadn't meant to tell his brothers about the baby. But he'd found himself unable to hide his grin as they set up the whiskey shipments, unable to push it from his head and focus on work like usual. He knew this lovesick feeling would pass — he couldn't let it continue much longer, because in this line of work, he had to keep his head. If he didn't, someone would die.

And now it could be Kimber. Or their child.

But he allowed himself this one small moment. One flicker of a flame lighting a cigarette, one glance at his brother's distracted faces.

"I'm gonna be a dad," he said.

Arthur and John froze in their movements. From the corner of his eye, Tommy saw Michael slow his own walk as he carried crates from this room to the other. But he didn't say anything. Didn't have a chance, as Arthur sprung into action, clapping Tommy on the back and pulling him in for a hug.

"Best news I've heard all year," Arthur exclaimed.

"Knew you had it in you," John said, shaking his brother's hand.

But Tommy was acutely aware of the stiffness in Michael's shoulders, the way he avoided any further eye contact as they worked, and left without saying goodbye once his portion was done. Tommy finished his own work and frowned the whole drive home, oblivious to John's sage advice on parenting, deep in thought.

He needed to speak with his cousin. That much was clear. And though the boy was a newcomer — Tommy certainly didn't have the same relationship with him that he had with his brothers, the complete openness that only came after thirty years and fighting a war together, where any disagreement over bloody books or horses could never be enough to shatter their bond — Michael was part of the family. Did that mean Thomas trusted him? Fuck, no.

But it did mean he needed the boy on an even keel. If any resentment built up, if disagreements occurred or words remained unsaid, Michael could very quickly become a liability. Not just to Tommy, but to the Peaky Blinders at large.

To Tommy's wife. To his child.

"Michael," Tommy said, entering the Small Heath home that had become headquarters for business. "A drink. Down the Garrison."

Michael had no choice but to obey. Tommy led them to the pub, grabbed a bottle of whiskey for the table, and sat in the private room. He poured and drank before saying a word. His head was threatening to get cloudy, his grip on his emotions threatening to slip. Whiskey helped with that.

"I want to thank you for everything you've done for my wife," Tommy said. "I know how much you helped her try to save the business. You helped her when I couldn't. And for that, I'm grateful."

Michael's expression stayed glum. "I didn't do it for you."

"I'm aware of that." Tommy finished the last dregs of brown liquid before pouring himself some more. "You haven't done a thing for me since the day you met her, have you?"

Michael glanced at his cousin before answering. "She could have loved me, you know," he said. "If we'd had more time. She almost said as much."

Tommy ignored the flames of jealousy, the clenching in his navel. It wasn't that he considered Michael to be a threat, it was that the boy had hit a nerve. A weakness of Tommy's. That he should have left Kimber alone, let her fall in love with someone more suitable.

But the worry disappeared as quickly as it came. That someone wouldn't be Michael. In fact, Tommy thought, there wouldn't be a man on earth good enough to live up to his wife. And yet, he was the lucky bastard who got to fall asleep beside her each night.

"My wife is a clever woman, and sure of what she wants. If she wanted to be with you, there isn't a man alive that could have stopped her. Myself included," Tommy answered coolly.

"You ruined her," Michael said quietly. "You damaged her beyond repair. You didn't see her, not in those early days. And rather than comfort her, you sent me to spy on her."

That's where he was wrong. Tommy remembered all too well how broken she had been after Inspector Campbell took her father away. Her hollow eyes, the gut-wrenching way her voice had shaken. He stared at Michael, arranging his face into one hardened mask, but inside he was turmoil. He would never forgive himself. He would spend the rest of his life loving her more than he ever knew was possible, and praying it would come close to enough to heal her of what he'd done.

"She was in danger. She still is." As always, Tommy severed the connection between translating his  true thoughts to words. He had full power over what he chose to say. His feelings were private. Nobody needed to know those, least of all Michael.

"Maybe not, if I'd been able to bring the fucking bodyguard back," Michael replied.

"She needed you. Not the bodyguard." Tommy inclined his head. "And once you've arranged the business transfers, you can go back and get him."

"Why don't you do it?" Michael asked, almost sneered. "You're married to her, after all."

"Exactly," he answered in his cool, threatening voice. "I'm married to her. I'm the one holding her each night, keeping the nightmares at bay while she screams. She never remembers in the morning. I'd like to keep it that way." Tommy stubbed his cigarette out in the crystal ashtray. "You say you love her? Do your bit."

Michael's cheeks flushed. "I never said that."

Tommy leaned back in his seat. "Then don't go. My wife's a busy woman, she'll have work to keep you in England. I'll send another man to find Grubs and hand him over."

Tommy could see him turning the words over in his head.

"Look, Michael. You're a good kid. And you're one of us now. Not to mention, you're a bloody good accountant to my wife."

Michael sighed in defeat, recognising Tommy's almost fatherly tone. "I never had a chance, did I?" He said glumly.

Tommy ignored the question. Ruminating on the past wouldn't help either of them. "You'll find yourself a nice lady. Ask Arthur to introduce you to a few," Tommy said. "This feeling will pass."

"Would it have passed for you?" Michael asked. "If I'd been the one to marry her?"

Tommy thought before speaking carefully. "My mother used to tell us stories when we were young. Her favourite was the story of how we find a home. She said we have no claim on physical land. No right to any. And even owning land is only for show, because one day some lord or government official will show up to take it back. She said we each have to make our home with another person. She told me I had to find a woman, and when I met her I would know, because I would feel a peace and belonging unlike anything else. And until I found her I would only know emptiness and regret and remorse. Maybe that's why she killed herself." Tommy let out a sharp breath. "Certainly didn't find that peace in my dad. But she knew it existed for me. And I never believed her... until I met Kimber. And now she's having my child."

He stood to his feet. A dull expression of acceptance passed across Michael's face. He finally understood. It had been only the narrowest glimpse into the depth of Tommy's feelings for his wife, but the fact he'd offered a glimpse at all spoke volumes.

"You'll find your home, Michael," Tommy said before leaving. "But I'm afraid it's not my wife. She's mine."

And he left, already anxious to get back to the farm, already missing Mrs Shelby.