Bancroft - Peaky Blinders Reverse Harem x Reader

Chapter 49

John waits for me like he somehow knew I'd be back today.

I wonder if maybe he did. If maybe there is a connection between us all stronger than I'd ever anticipated.

Either way, he doesn't look happy about it.

He stands in the hallway with his arms folded across his chest, chewing a toothpick with a heavy frown. He says nothing as I enter.

"Hello, John," I say quietly.

He doesn't speak, but I can feel the anger and hurt emanating from him — I can feel him demand an explanation, demand me not to scurry away to my room and avoid this conversation, as my human instinct is screaming at me to do.

I take a deep breath. I'm better than that now. And if I want the happiness that only John can bring me in my life, I need to earn it back.

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "I'm not going to make excuses for why I did what I did. I was scared, and I was a coward."

"You didn't even say goodbye." His voice is hollow. "You could have fucking called."

I nod. "I know. I just... I couldn't bear knowing you'd hate me."

He scoffs unhappily but says nothing.

"It's fine if you do," I tell him. I clasp my hands together. "I think I deserve it. But I'm not going anywhere again. So it's going to make things very awkward with us both living here."

"Got bored back at the castle?" He mutters.

It's bad enough to hear Tommy say it, but to know John thinks so little of me now causes a stabbing pain in my throat.

"I had to see my mother for who she really is," I say. "And now I've put her in prison."

"Seriously?" He asks, so surprised he forgets to be angry for a moment before tensing his shoulders once more.

"I missed you as soon as I left," I say. "It nearly broke me. I tried to come back sooner but... I knew I needed to close a chapter. I owe you that much."

He inhales deeply and then sighs. "I suppose Tommy's going to punish you enough for the rest of us," he says.

"If he can even look at me."

"Yeah," John agrees.

Then he softens, just a fraction. He pulls me in and hugs me, holding me close to him, his face resting in my hair. He's still tense. Still unforgiving. But...

"You broke my heart," he says quietly.

"I never meant to," I whisper.

He thinks for a moment. "I know."

We pull away, and he rests his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Have you eaten lunch?" I ask.

"Barely had fucking breakfast," he rolls his eyes. "Arthur burnt the toast."

"Need me to go to the butcher?" I ask, lifting my trunk to carry it to my room.

He looks me in the eye. "Take the coins from the food jar and get enough for everyone."

I can see he expects me to argue. He wants me to kick up a fuss once more, and refuse to take a penny of their money. Refuse to let them care for me in any way. But the urge is gone. I'm not my mother. I don't need to prove that to them. I never did.

"Okay," I say. "I hope you're hungry for sandwiches."

John walks away, back towards his office to continue working. But before I can take the stairs, he stops and calls out to me.

"Bancroft?" He looks me up and down. "I'm fucking proud of you."

I can't help but smile.

It's not perfect, but it's a start.

***

It takes me over twenty minutes by foot to find a patch of buttercups that evening, as the sun lowers to dusk. And then another twenty back again. But it's worth it — I stop by the tobacco shop on my way back, and when I reach the house, I have everything I need.

Tommy and Arthur are still out working, and Michael's at his mum's for the night. I slip into Tommy's bedroom — everything's neat, straightened, as I've come to expect from him.

And so I take my time and extra care pouring his glass of whiskey, knowing he prefers it to water. I'm careful not to spill a drop as I set it on his nightstand. Beside it, I place a pack of his favourite cigarettes. And then the dozen or so buttercups, carefully tying the twine, brushing away any frays that come loose.

And a Trojan condom. I pull out a fountain pen and write on it: Lizzie. I need him to know that I know. That I'm not going to torture him for it.

I need him to know, if he wants to be with her, I won't try and stop him.

I place it all so neatly I'm tempted to use a ruler to double check things are straight, but decide it'll have to do. As much as I long to see Arthur, we've never communicated in flowers and condoms before, and so I'll have to wait until morning to speak with him. To speak with them both.

"Goodnight, John," I tell him on the landing, as he comes up to use the bathroom.

He hugs me again, holds me close once more. "If I wake up in the morning and you're gone, I'm hunting you down myself," he threatens.

"You'll be disappointed when I'm still here, then."

"We'll see." He kisses the top of my head.

I climb into my bed, and realise I'd forgotten how perfect it is. The mattress is perfectly firm, the sheets crisp and warm, lightly scented with lavender soap. I inhale deeply, and I am home.

I fall asleep.