Run To Me | BAK sequel

17.

Warnings: Smut is sort of hinted at but it doesn't surpass R13

You didn't know how long you'd been staring out of the bedroom window but it must have been a while. Because for a moment you swore you were able to see the trees and the blue sky and the pool and the shed that held the spa, then the next you were staring into absolute darkness. Apart from the stars illuminating the sky, of course.

It was beautiful, really, and if you didn't have a hundred and one thoughts racing through your head then you would have been able to watch the sun set and stars come out, trees disappearing behind shadows and birds cats crawling along the fence of the house. It was something you would have liked Rosie to see, only she had fallen asleep an hour ago. You had, however, come inside not too long ago, finding that it grew cold in less then a few minutes and soon you had begun shivering, bottom lip quivering as you tried and failed to adjust.

You were conflicted and it wasn't about whether or not you were going to stay with Tom because you didn't need to think very long about that to come to a conclusion. You were young when you first met Tom, just reaching young adulthood. You were learning the ropes while Tom already had the weight of the world resting on his own two shoulders, relied on by hundreds and keeping his family and mob afloat. You were still experiencing what it was like to be out of school, learning to drive and even looking for a job.

You were thrust into the real world overnight, over one piece of paper in fact and Tom, well he was thrust into the world of marriage and given more responsibility then he felt he could handle. But he never admit that out loud. Five years later you were still head over heels and one would go as far as in love for the same man, your sun, moon and all of the stars currently underneath one roof.

Because you didn't have your dad anymore, nor your mother, or a best friend and yes– the loneliness was isolation was real. Actually, Rosie was your best friend, the small girl with a love for her pet goldfish and other sea creatures.

Tom, however, had spent the last three hours in a heated meeting with his brothers as they discussed their best options. He'd listened as Harry told him the plans, despite the urge to reach across the table and strangle the younger boy. Despite this, Tom had been itching to get back to you and Rosie, only praying that he hadn't screwed things up when they were only getting started.

He had rehearsed what he wanted to say ten times over, only hoping that you'd been sitting there watching a movie with your daughter or maybe taking a relaxing bath instead of stressing yourself out, thinking up every possibility at once. But Tom had grown to know you well enough by now, realising that you were probably more panicked then he was.

The door creaks open and Tom pads in quietly, closing the door with a gentle thud. He finds your figure immediately, hunching over the vanity on the other side of the room and debates leaving, wondering if it were too soon to talk to you. After all, it had only been three hours since the dinner incident. But still, he stands and opens his mouth a few times almost lip a fish.

"Where's Rosie?" He finds himself asking, half expecting the girl to be fast asleep in the California king-sized bed, thumb in mouth. But the bed was still neatly made, not a wrinkle to diminish the look.

"In bed, she was tired." You murmur, looking down at your hands. You didn't feel nervous anymore.

You didn't look up at Tom who stood awkwardly, instead, you looked at the hair brush that had a crack in the back from the time Rosie threw it against a wall, then there was the fact that you only had one hair tie left because she had stolen them all for her own knots.

"That's fair." Tom shrugs his shoulders, eyes casting downwards towards the floorboards. They were a nice, darkish brown contrasting with the walls well. Tom internally groaned knowing that he was distracting himself with the floorboards of all things. "Look, Y/N–"