Ghosts of Our Past | Thomas Shelby

A Broken Promise: Part Three

Author's Note:

As an important note for this chapter, there is Tommy Shelby smut within this part. This is intended for mature audiences only.

Please enjoy. ;)

xxA

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Ghosts of Our Past, A Broken Promise: Part Three

"Antonina."

I couldn't make sense of it.

My world had turned upside down again.

The man that tortured my dreams and haunted my heart was sitting before me, saving me from my nightmares as he had saved me so many years ago. It had been nearly two years, but it felt like a lifetime had passed before me.

I couldn't remember how to speak. We sat glued, searching one another's eyes for what felt like another lifetime.

I was conflicted. I wanted to be mad at him. I wanted to shout every foul thing that I could ever think of in Polish, Russian, and English at him. The logical side of my brain told me to smack him to America and back for what he did to me. I wanted to throw him out the window and tell him to fuck off straight to hell. I felt the anger flash through me. If looks could kill, he would have died a thousand deaths before me.

Searching his face, I realized that in my absence, he likely had. He had grown so much older in the two years that I was away from Small Heath. Exhaustion was etched into the skin next to his ever gorgeous blue eyes, like erosion on the world's most beautiful monument. His irises were an ocean filled with pain and longing.

It seemed unrighteous that a man like Tommy had to go through this much anxiety.

Despite my rationale, my heart broke for him. It broke for myself.

Suddenly, my anger dissipated. I was unsure how to proceed.

So I did what I had always done with Tommy Shelby during our first encounters.

I became overwhelmed with emotion. It was as if the flood of emotions from the previous two years had broken down the walls of my soul.

I began to cry, in a way that only matched the deepest agony in a person's soul.

The strangled sobs escaped from my throat. I tried to speak, but everything came out unintelligibly.

It didn't sound like any other language, but anguish.

He didn't skip a beat in comforting me. He grabbed me into his arms, murmuring whispered reassurances through my hair.

"Toni, it is okay, it will be okay. I am here."

For how long, I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him that his word meant nothing to me, but I didn't dare break the moment.

For the first time since 1919, I felt almost whole again. It made no sense, and yet, it did.

So I let myself believe that he would never leave me. He held me, even as I stopped crying. He stroked my hair, breathing in my scent.

I was ashamed at how quickly I had fallen to pieces in front of him. I had been imagining this moment for two years. There was so much that I had wanted to say to him. How strong that I wanted to be, to show him that I was okay without him.

But I couldn't find the right words, because I had missed him so much. I had been only existing without him.

Deep in my rage, the love for him never dissipated.

Truth be told, I was too tired to fight with him. I was too tired to send him away. My soul was on the edge of collapse at the thought of him leaving. Despite my pride, I needed him to keep from losing myself again in the grief.