CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
RAGE OR DESIRE?
( trigger warning: implied sexual references )

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LOVE WAS A PRIVILEGE, or so the poets said. Maybe Helen was a cynic, for the sonnets of love that sang to her heart, damning her like the pomegranate that confined the great Persephone to fearsome Hades' dominion, were a sacrilegious fallacy. They were a shackle around each wrist. A noose around her neck. A rope she could feel pulling tighter with every forsaken breath.

Helen visited God often after the kiss she shared with Tommy. Desperate, she warred with an agony unfortunately familiar in those long days that followed. Tommy disappeared, off somewhere with Johnny Dogs where she couldn't reach him. Almost like he wanted to punish her, to stamp on her olive branch with discontent, he took Charlie along with him. Helen was alone, stuck in the darkest dregs of misery that the taste of him had left behind. The wooden pew felt like stone. Her knees were bruised beneath the skirts of her dress. No amount of prayer satiated the memory of him. God didn't answer from where he stared down at her in judgement, and eventually Helen stopped searching for His justification.

She waited for Tommy to return, knowing that she'd cave the second those blue eyes locked on hers. She wasn't stupid enough to admit it, but she'd do anything to feel his mouth on hers once again, even if he only wanted them to fuck and nothing more. She could do that. She wasn't about to complain if it meant this desire of hers would fade into the background for even a second.

Almost like he could read her mind (or maybe he simply knew she'd need some time to yearn for him), he visited her on the fourth night. James had been put to bed hours ago, and the last Helen had checked in on him, he was fast asleep comfortably with his bear tucked in beside him. There were no signs of a nightmare in the soft crease of his eyebrows. He was content, unlike his mother; she stayed awake long into the night, late enough to be alert when a heavy hand knocked on her door at the stroke of midnight. She didn't have to think before reaching for her gun and marching downstairs. Risking a peek through the curtains, her heart seized, blood roaring in her ears when those wretched blue eyes immediately sought her out.

"You have blood on your shirt," she commented as she stared at the faint red stains on his white-button down. Tommy's gaze never left her own, too busy drinking in her body beneath her nightgown to notice the flash of concern that came and went from her expression. He was smoking a cigarette, idle as the midnight shadows curled around him. "What happened?"

He was silent for a moment. "Just business."

"Business," she mused, voice soft. She took a step back, a silent invitation for him to proceed into the privacy of her living room. The door clicked shut behind him. He watched, shrugging off his coat, as she laid her gun on the mantle. "And what are you doing here?"

The corner of his mouth curved upward in amusement. "Taking a break from business."

Helen swallowed thickly, turning back around in time for him to step closer. There was only a sliver of space between them now, and a question in his eyes. Would she step away?

"I thought about you while you were gone," she whispered, breathing in the smoke on his lips with a sigh. Tommy said nothing at first, leaning past her to drop his cigarette into her ashtray. Helen instinctively pushed herself into him, forehead grazing his own. Her treacherous heart was hammering now. Just one more inch and she'd kiss him again, taste him. She could put her mind to rest.

But for how long?

"I thought about what I'd do when I saw you again."

"And what conclusion did you come to?" he asked, curling his index finger beneath her chin in anticipation.

Helen hesitated, fearing the moment she'd speak her desires into existence. He raised an eyebrow, deciding to test for himself what decisions she'd made in his absence. He kissed her once, bruising, like he'd forgotten everything gentle in the world. He knew the instant she caved into his touch that the ball was in his court.

"I won't be your whore," she warned as he laid her back on the couch. The cushions were soft against her back, welcoming, tantalisingly different to the rough wood of a church bench.

Tommy's smirk was weak, if not a little sad before he crushed his mouth to hers again, smothering the words he spoke into her lips. "Everyone's a whore, Helen. We just sell different parts of ourselves."

"I mean it, Thomas."

He pulled back again, holding her jaw in his hands like he was holding the world on the tips of his fingers. "I know you do," he conceded. "So you're not my whore. Am I allowed to fuck you now or should we stop and chat over tea first?"

Helen glared as he huffed out a laugh and sealed their fate with one last kiss. Helen would wake in the morning, alone once again, in that same spot. Dreaming of that glorious sound and wondering if she'd ever heard it at all. If it wasn't for the black coat he left over her body, she'd be sure that she had.

There was a note on the mantle beside her gun. As she inhaled her morning cigarette and pushed her naked arms through the sleeves of his coat, she plucked up the piece of paper curiously, if not a little cautious.

Nel,

Bring James to Arrow House today for lunch. Charlie's excited to see him.

Tommy.

Helen allowed herself a smile in spite of the simplicity of it. Maybe the olive branch wasn't nearly as broken as she'd thought.

"James," she called up the stairs to where her son's bedroom door was still closed. "Are you awake, my boy? We have a big day ahead of us!"

For the first time that week, she felt weightless. There were no berating whispers in her head, not a twinge of heaviness in her chest. She welcomed the silence with tentative hope, a feeling that endured and strengthened once she'd woken James and gotten them both ready for the day.

Arrow House seemed lighter somehow, if that was possible, when their car pulled into the long driveway about two hours later. The curtains were pulled back. There was a gardener knelt in the dirt beside the door, plucking up weeds between puffs on a cigar. He stared at Helen and James curiously, dipping his chin to Helen when she caught his gaze. He made sure to look away when Tommy greeted them in the entryway.

"Were you waiting for us?" she asked, pleased when Tommy faltered at her question, his brows furrowing over fresh eyes.

"'Course not," he grunted, retreating inside and beckoning for them to follow. "Charlie spotted you from his playroom window, was shouting up a storm when he realised there was another boy close to his age here."

"May I go play, Mama?" James asked, hearing the word playroom and forgetting everything else.

It didn't matter to James that Charlie Shelby was a bit younger than him. James could talk more than enough for the both of them. They also understood each other, far more than they'd be able to comprehend right now. One father gone. One mother. Their remaining parents were empty shells clinging to each other for some kind of sign that life wasn't entirely meaningless. By this, it was inevitable that James Godfrey and Charlie Shelby would be fast friends.

"Well, this is Mr Shelby's house, James," Helen murmured with a soft squeeze of his hand. "Don't forget your manners."

James turned to Tommy with big eyes. Tommy smiled down at him, ruffling his hair almost fondly. "'Course he can. Frances, why don't you take James upstairs to join Charlie in the playroom."

"Right away, Mr Shelby," Frances, one of his junior maids from what Helen remembered, nodded and dutifully took the little boy's hand from his mother's.

Helen and Tommy watched the two of them disappear upstairs.

"I have your coat," Helen said, suddenly unsure what else there was to say.

Tommy glanced down at the familiar black wool folded over her arms. She looked decadent today in a pale blue dress that matched the sky. Her blonde hair fell naturally past her shoulders, allowing Tommy the opportunity to curl one of the front pieces around his finger, pulling slightly to elicit a gasp past her pale pink lips.

"Keep it," he said, drawing away. "Wouldn't be the first coat of mine you've stolen, eh?"

Helen smiled, holding the coat close to her chest. "Is Ada in?" she wondered... hoped... that they were alone. Not that she wouldn't mind seeing Ada. Just not now, when she was chasing the feeling of oblivion once more. "Or is she out on business too?"

Tommy's smirk was harsh in comparison to her smile. He drew the coat from her arms, discarding it over the back of an armchair, his hands reaching for her without question.

"Ada won't be back til after dinner," he whispered before capturing her mouth in his.

"Shame."

"Is it?" he grunted, to which Helen huffed out a laugh and gently smacked his shoulder.

"Yes," she said, resisting him for a second as his head fell to her shoulder in search of bared skin. "I would've liked to have seen her."

"Stay until dinner then."

Helen paused. Suddenly, the heat of Tommy's proximity felt scalding. "I'm not sure that's wise."

"Why not?" Helen gritted her teeth, unsure how to answer with his voice now void of emotion. For a moment, he'd once again retreated somewhere where she couldn't follow, leaving her struggling to draw him back out to her. "You told me you don't want to be my whore, Helen."

"And I meant it," she whispered, steeling herself.

Tommy's shrug was dismissive now. "I didn't invite you here just to fuck. If our sons are to be friends, there's no reason we shouldn't be either."

"Friends," Helen couldn't help but laugh. Tommy's smirk returned too, filling Helen with relief. At least the tension was gone; if not for good, then at least for now. "If this is what friendship entails with you, then I very much hope we'll be good friends."

She spent the afternoon in his room, leaving talk of friendship in the foyer where it remained until they came up for air long after dinner time. The sun was down, the sky a dark purple outside Tommy's window. Helen finished a cigarette over the open ledge while Tommy stood beside her, brows furrowed at the starless sky.

"I hope the boys had fun," she said, more to fill the silence as she stared down at the car she'd soon have to drive back home. "Would Frances or Mary have already given them tea?"

Tommy nodded, putting out his own cigarette before buttoning up the last few buttons of his shirt. "I'm going to find Ada," he said, voice rough and fading as he stepped away from her. "Go back to bed. I'll get Frances to fix you up a tea tray and bring it to you."

"I probably should be going," she declared. Her breath hitched as Tommy paused to frown back at her.

"It's late," he started to shake his head, but Helen's mind was already made up.

"I can't, Thomas," she whispered.

"Why not?"

She refused to waver at the clear challenge in his question. "I have Church in the morning," she told him instead. "It's Sunday."

"Church," he scoffed in clear disbelief. "You've been spending too much time with Polly. Alright then. Charlie's playroom is the one at the end of the hallway on the right. Find me before you both go."

He left before she could say anything, and Helen couldn't determine if he was upset with her or not. There he goes, again. Where she couldn't find him.

"James." Softly, she knocked on the door Tommy had pointed out, pushing it open when she didn't receive an answer. Her bleary-eyed boy was sitting with Karl and one of Tommy's maids. This one, she didn't recognise, but she offered Helen a kind smile from where she was nursing Charlie to sleep. "There's my boy! Are you ready to go home?"

James nodded sleepily. "I'm tired, Mama."

"Then let's go, love. Say goodbye to Karl and Charlie."

A few moments later, she had James on her hip with his arms around her neck, his soft snores pressed into the fabric of her dress. She descended the stairs into the living room cautiously, careful to make her presence known with the click of her heels as the last of Tommy and Ada's conversation faded.

"Nel," Ada wasn't surprised in the slightest to see her. She must've known James was in the playroom. From there, it wasn't hard to put the pieces together. "Tired, is he?"

Helen's sheepish smile quickly became something fond. "Yes, poor thing. Karl's in a similar state. Charlie's already long asleep."

"You'll have to bring him around more often," Ada insisted, flicking a glance at her brother's tense back that faced them as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Let me know in advance when you're coming next time. I'll make sure I'm here."

She met Tommy's eyes head-on as he glowered at her. Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to turn to Helen. "I'll walk you out."

"Thank you," she murmured, nodding at Ada. She pretended not to notice Tommy grab his coat from the couch as he headed for the door. "Goodnight, Ada."

"Goodnight, Nel."

The quiet evening greeted them as Tommy lead the way outside to Helen's car. He helped her situate James in the passenger seat, then tucked his coat around him before shutting the door. Helen watched him, a hand on her stomach, sighing against the inevitable dread that teased the corners of her conscience.

"No business tonight?" she asked, taking in the folded sleeves of his shirt. He was so at ease, so... himself that it almost hurt.

He shook his head. "Tomorrow."

"When will I see you again?"

He paused, clearly contemplating what she wanted him to say. At last, he replied with a hand cupping the side of her face, "Whenever you want."

She nodded, stepping away. "Goodnight, Tommy."

"Goodnight, Nellie."

He watched her car retreat down the driveway. Helen's gaze remained firmly locked on the rear-view mirror. The darkness swallowed him whole as it always did, and Helen had to fight with everything in her not to turn and stay in his bed that night.

As a lover would. As a friend would not.

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A/N: I've had next to no inspo for this (or my Alfie Solomons fic) but this beautiful gif by lionessoftheseas definitely changed that. Like, just look at it. Isn't it stunning??

On another note, I'm working on another playlist for this book, because I have so many new song recs that just give me Tommy and Nellie vibes. Little sneak peak; Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey and Nightcall by London Grammar. What do you guys think? Do you have any suggestions? Let me know!

As always, thank you for reading, and here's hoping I'll have this act finished by the end of the year (if my inspo sticks around lol.)