7

Needless to say, staying away from the prison while my hand healed worked out perfectly. I was able to do what I wanted, while also giving myself the time to rehabilitate. My middle finger and ring finger were still indisposed, but this morning I woke up and took off my splint to see them slightly bend. I didn't feel any pain as my fingers bent inwards, I was healing. And I was going to be okay.

"You're looking lots better," Francis tells me as I help him put on his shirt. "Alene, You've always been a quick healer. I remember when you were a child and you fell off that damned bike in the park."

"Grandad that was Gabby." I murmur.

"Oh Christ, was it?" He laughs nervously. "I'm getting old, Alene."

"I know." I press my lips together. "There you are," putting my hands over his white shirt, I pull back and admire how well of a fit the button up is.

During my time on personal leave from work, Granddad Francis and I have been shopping a lot. Going to the market to buy him clothes and shoes. I went shopping for myself as well. Bought some flowers for the house, some new scrubs for work.

The kettle on the stove begins to whistle. It's been approximately two weeks, and I'm beginning to finally miss work. But I'm useless to the nursing world with broken fingers. Not to mention, I took these personal days off in hopes of distancing my heart from Tommy Shelby. I wish I could say I don't lay awake at night thinking of him.

"Where are we going today, Alene?" Fran croak.

"Ummm," I walk into the kitchen and begin preparing our tea. Francis likes rose, I prefer the company of peppermint. "I don't know, I was thinking we could go into town and buy some more flowers."

"You've got to learn to keep 'em alive, lassy!" Is what he barks.

We're the perfect duo, that old tit and me. I put his tea bag in, with a swirl of honey before heading back to the living room baring two cups. I set his down on the table before going back to the kitchen for mine.

He adds, breathy. "Not just get new ones! I wonder what you'll do to me when I'm wilting away." He scoffs.

I chuckle, throwing my head back to respond, "I'll go to the store to find another Francis to call grandad! Tossin' you to the curb too!"

He laughs. I laugh. And then there is a knock at the door.

"You expecting someone?" I ask, knowing well enough that Francis never has guests. I head towards the door, looking into the peephole. "Who is it?" I call.

"Ah, um, it's me. Tommy."

"Fuck." I chirp.

"Who?!" Francis yells, trying to get up.

"Granddad why don't you go to your room?" I calmly suggest.

"No! I want to have my tea here, listening to the radio!" He protests.

I want to die. "Christ Almighty!" I unlock the door and watch as Francis watches me. I slide through the small hole, stepping into the hallway. I look up and lock eyes with Tommy. Fuck. I. Want. To Die.

"Hi, Alene."

"What do you want?" I ask, already folding my arms over my chest.

"I ah,"

He's better. Only baring a cloth slink, he looks better. He looks great.

"What?"

"I thought I'd stop by, I was leaving for Small Health."

I raise an eyebrow. "That's really great to hear, Tommy, I'm so happy for you." I try to be as serious as possible, but I am far too sarcastic for that. "But What is really like for you to do is fuck off."

There is a short silence, one where he puts his hands into his pockets, he raises an eyebrow. "You goin' to let me inside?"

"What?" I ask. "No!"

He laughs, nodding. "Right, then. Do you have a guest over? Is that it?"

"That's none of your business."

"I miss you." He offers me.

"I don't care!" I get offensive, stepping back against my door. I hook my hand around the door knob, wanting to escape. "Now, I'd really like to get inside."

He steps forward. "Me too."

"Tommy." I sigh, staring up at him. "Please, just leave me alone."

"I can't." He shakes his head. "Come with me, back to Small Heath, back to Birmingham."

My lips part, my eyes widen. I blink. Holy fucking shit. What! "What?"

"About what I said, it's all true. I am not good for you but I can protect you-"

I roll my eyes. "Like how you protected your wife?" That came out wrong. Shit.

He steps back, taken away by my harsh words.

"I-I'm sorry, okay?" I run my hand through my hair, "I didn't mean to say that."

"What did you mean? That I couldn't save her? Because it's true. I couldn't." He spits. "Fuck."

I lick my bottom lip, "I'm sorry, that was rude and uncalled for."

"I deserved it." He pushes his hair away from his face, he exhales, studying me. "You look, wonderful as always."

I smile small. "So do you."

"Alene, if I can go back and take back the things I said-"

I shake my head. "You were just trying to protect me."

"But it's too late for that now."

"What?" I grow concerned and confused.

He takes a step towards me and takes my hands in his. We stand before each other, face to face, closer than ever.

"You set my world on fire. And I know that sounds strange, and odd but I haven't been able to rest with you in my head constantly."

His words somehow melt my heart. Setting my mind to his body, I want to kiss those lips again. Feel his embrace. His hands are warm to touch.

I give them a squeeze, "We can't make this work."

He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine. "We can try. That's all I'm asking. Tell me you don't feel this too. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you don't feel this."

"Thomas, I-" of course I feel this. Ever since we kissed that first night I've felt this undeniable gravitation to him. It's helpless, but also fiercely passionate. I haven't felt this way about another since my ex-husband.

"You want this as bad as I do," He inches down, tilting his head. "I can feel it." I can see his eyes shut, I close mine too.

I almost feel his lips against mine too before the door to my house opens and Francis in his loud old man voice goes:

"Alene! What the fuck!"