Back to You, page 24
Gypsy. The word still plagued me, bouncing around in my head with the same fear in the man’s voice. Their reactions didn’t connect with what was being done to me. Something about the whole thing just felt off.
And then there was the threat of the men accusing me of murder. It didn’t matter that it was self-defense. This was a time when the court would take the man’s side on the account that I was “asking for it.” Hell, they still did that even in the twenty-first century.
“That’s not all that I fear,” Thomas said, drumming his fingers on the table.
My head snapped up. “What else could there be? I killed the one man.” Bile rose up my throat at that admission, and I had to keep myself from swaying. I’d never forgive myself for what I’d done. I’d always question if I could have done it differently.
Thomas sighed, finally meeting my glare. “There are two dead men in that ally, whether ye killed both or not. And ye helped—” He cut over to Shay. He didn’t have to say it. I helped someone of the ‘wrong’ race. Bile rose to my mouth. “Ye helped your friend. Everyone will be out for blood after this. Ye can’t sing there anymore, and Billy will surely be looking for ye.”
I held back tears when Michael agreed. I couldn’t let them know how much I loved singing there.
Shay rubbed her hands over her face, clearly upset. “I’m so sorry,” she moaned. “I just wanted to see you sing there once. I didn’t mean for—”
“It’s not your fault,” I said, reaching over to grab her hand. “Don’t ever apologize for other people’s hate. That’s on them. All of this is on them. You know I’d want you there.” I glared at Michael as he scowled at the table. What did he have to be angry about?
Shay just shrugged, not meeting my eyes.
Thomas and Michael had an equal mind of me leaving the city, but it was unthinkable. I refused to leave Shay and wouldn’t bring her on the road to God-knows-where while she was halfway through a pregnancy, no matter how much she agreed to the plan. The danger was too great.
Their next idea would be to hide me somewhere else, but with that came problems of its own. I’d have to hide until Shay was well enough after she had the baby. That would be for five months at the very least, which didn’t even guarantee the time it’d take to actually find our way home.
After a long silence, each of us lost in our thoughts, a mischievous glint appeared in Shay’s eyes. I knew that look, and it scared the hell out of me every time I saw it.
“What?” I asked hesitantly.
“They’d be looking for a pretty singer.” We stared at her like she had lost her mind.
“Yeah, so…”
“What if you dressed like a man?” It was like a veil lifted, revealing many new possibilities I hadn’t thought of before. “You used to wear pants all the time. It couldn’t be much different now.”
I straightened, my lips curling into a smile. “And I could have so much more freedom.”
Thomas scoffed, his eyes roaming down my body. “No one could mistake ye for a man,” he said.
“They would if the clothes were big enough, and I bound my breasts,” I said excitedly. The two men looked uncomfortable with that fact. “I can cut my hair or wear it under a hat. I bet I could look like a young man!”
Shay smiled.
“I wouldn’t have to do it forever. Just long enough to figure out a way to find my family.”
“Ye face is as smooth as a wean’s arse,” Michael drawled.
“A lot of teenage boys don’t have stubble on their face yet.”
They argued long and hard, not believing I could pull it off. Nonetheless, my mind was already made up, and my new disguise was born.
I could no longer stay at Rose’s or work at the bakery, which left me homeless, nearly broke, and overwhelmed with a desperation I hadn’t felt since my first week here.
Michael tapped the table. “Tommy boy isn’t going to like it,” he said. “Maybe not even ye, but it’s all I can think of.”
“What?” Thomas and I asked at the same time.
Michael smiled. “Ye work for me. There’s room to sleep at me place.”
I felt my facelift as well. “Deal,” I said, holding out my hand.
“Absolutely not!” Thomas snapped, pushing my hand away. “Are ye forgetting your men know the lass?”
Michael shrugged. “Not as a young lad. But if it soothes your bosom, I can hand her solo jobs.”
I watched them quarrel, my head turning back and forth as they volleyed their disputes.
“Then she can work under ye,” Michael admitted, leaning back in the chair, his hands relaxed behind his head while his icy eyes danced.
I held my breath, glancing at Thomas under my lashes. I might like that job.
Thomas glared, scowling at his brother but not refusing. “Fine,” he grated out, surprising us all. “Only with me, and if I’m not around, with someone ye trust. And she’s not staying in your cesspit of depravity. She’ll stay with me. Ma and Da shouldn’t mind as long as we bring in the extra coin.”
My heart accelerated, and a flush spread over my body, but no one was paying attention.
I was going to live with Thomas.
Thomas held back as Mikey went down the street, and Shay went back inside.
It seemed Mikey’s deception was forgiven when he saved her at the saloon. He showed up when he needed to, but the words he had said before had left a scar on her heart. I knew my friend, and though she told him he was forgiven, she would carry that pain with her forever. Not that Mikey cared, anyway…
The streetlamp burned softly, throwing a warm glow across Thomas’ face as shadows danced against his sharp angles.
Before he could speak, I swallowed around a lump in my throat and started in. “I know you don’t care much about me.” He looked at me sharply, anger flashing. I wasn’t expecting that and had to look at my feet, so I could say what was in my heart. “But tonight. To think about how that man almost—” tears fell as my throat constricted. Thomas wrapped his hand around my head, pulling me into an embrace and remarkably drawing away some of the pain. “That man almost took something from me. I’m not the whore you think I am.”
“I never thought that.” He pulled back to look at my face. “I knew from my first glimpse what ye were.”
“But you—”
“I don’t care to admit it, gypsy—” The word fell across me as a caress and sent shivers down my spine. “—But I’ve known a lot of slags, and ye aren’t one of them.”
I gave a wet laugh, ignoring the flame of jealousy, and wiped my face. My eyes dropped to his neck shyly. “I’m a virgin,” I whispered, unsure why I was admitting this to him. Maybe it was more for me. Perhaps if I said it enough, I could get past this night. Or maybe I wanted him to be….
No, I stopped that thought in its tracks before it could take hold. It would hurt too much when I had to leave.
His arms tightened around me. “I’d never forget our night together, lass. Ye didn’t come out and say it outright, but it was clear ye were out of your element.”
“It was that obvious?” I cringed, remembering how nervous I was that night.
Thomas grabbed my face, his big palms taking up both sides, carefully avoiding the bruises. “I notice everything about ye.” His thumb circled my cheek, making me close my eyes as my body buzzed. “Ye are perfect in every way.”
My eyes popped open in surprise. “I know nothing could come from this,” I said breathlessly, feeling time run out. “I know I have to leave, and you are probably going to enlist, but—”
He searched my eyes, waiting for what I would say next. Words failed me, so I let my eyes drop to his lips instead. He didn’t move so long that I almost pulled away, embarrassed by my admission. Then slowly, so slowly that I held my breath in anticipation, he lowered his head until his warm lips pressed gently against mine.
The electricity that shot through me had me gasping, parting my mouth just a fraction, but enough to allow Thomas to slip his tongue along my bottom lip and inside.
I groaned, rising on my tiptoes to get closer, running my fingers through his hair to bring his face closer to mine. That was all the encouragement he needed to deepen the kiss, growling into my mouth as he pushed me against the wall, cradling the back of my head with his large hand.
His other hand never strayed far from my waist, but my body craved for him to explore. I could feel it in the strain of his muscles, the way his body shook against mine, that he was holding back. That he was giving my body the affection and tenderness that it needed. After all that had happened, my body didn’t need rough, and Thomas knew it.
I almost couldn’t believe that I was in his arms. That he wanted me. There were so many other women that he could have. So many other women that weren’t complicated. Women who wouldn’t throw his life into a complete shit-storm.
Our kiss slowed, his lips leaving soft trails across my cheekbones and down my jaw as I savored the taste of whiskey he’d left behind. I tilted my head to the side, giving him more access to my neck. My eyes fluttered closed as heat bloomed in my belly.
This. This was what I’d been missing.
He stopped, placed both hands on the building behind me, and hung his head, his whiskered cheek resting against mine as he gained control of his breathing.
I took a step forward, wrapping my arms around Thomas as I rested my head on his chest. I inhaled deeply, locking his masculine scent in my memory for later. “You got your shirt back,” I said, not remembering how that happened. “Sorry about that.”
“Ye didn’t seem to be disappointed earlier.” His chest rumbled with his laughter.
I was grateful he couldn’t see my cheeks flame as I slapped his good shoulder. He caught my wrist, holding it to him, and we stood like that for a while, content to be within each other’s arms. My heart slowed to a steady rhythm. My body relaxed.
“Why were you at the saloon?” I finally broke the silence.
“I’ve been to watch ye plenty of times.”
“What?” I said, pulling back to see his face. “Why didn’t I see you then?”
Thomas looked down at me, emerald eyes creased in regret. I wanted to reach up, run my hand through his whiskers, and ease every worry line on his face.
“Ye are plannin’ to leave, gypsy.” I watched his Adam’s Apple bob up and down as he swallowed, fascinated by the strong muscles weaving through his neck. His accent came out thicker than I’ve ever heard it with the rise of his emotions. “And I’m fightin’ in this war. Everythin’ in me tells me to flee. To stay away from ye.”
My chest felt like it was caving in, and the tears I’d been holding back fell over. His thumbs brushed them away. Thomas watched his skin trace mine as if in awe. “But at the same time, I cannot keep away, and I don’t know why. Ye aren’t like all the others.”
A small breath escaped from my lips. “Like it’s not even our choice? Like no matter what we do, no matter what way we turn, the world still finds a way to bring me back to you.” I paused, shocked that I had let that spill from my lips. “I’m sorry—”
“Aye,” he said on an exhale, eyes filled with an emotion so strong that it shot straight to my core. “Just like that.”
Chapter twenty-six
Thomas & Emilia
August 1861
Emilia had been walking around town in her ridiculous trousers, hair pushed up in a cap for a fortnight, yet Thomas still couldn’t look away. She had adapted well to her new role, quickly adapting to the lookout position and wearing man’s clothing as if it were a second skin. Emilia—Eamonn, he had to remember to call her—was smart and could stick to the shadows when needed, watching for anything suspicious as they made their deals. She even fooled the others with her terrible Irish accent.
The thought brought a sad smile to his lips as they walked the deck, listening to the ocean lap softly against the ships around them. Somewhere in the distance, a seagull called.
“How long has Mikey been doing this?” she asked, peaking up from under her cap. She looked absurd, yet Thomas still found it almost impossible to keep his hands off her.
If it weren’t for his family staying in the same room at night, he might have lost control weeks ago.
Thomas pocketed the money he’d been counting from the deal they’d just made.
“Five years, maybe,” Thomas said with a sigh.
Emilia’s eyes widened. “And he’s already this high up?”
Thomas shrugged, turning his gaze to the sky’s deep purple and trailing it to the bright oranges of the sunset. Of course, she’d be impressed by his brother’s connections. Mikey was persistent, if nothing else. “Our parents brought us here for a better life. I told ye our sisters died on the ship, aye?” Thomas could feel her stare and nod, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “The conditions—” He shook his head. “Ye can imagine what hundreds of bodies on a ship can be like. A lack of food and sickness sweeping through us—”
Emilia grabbed his hand and gave it a light squeeze, quickly withdrawing it before anyone walking by could see.
“It was hell. And when we finally arrived, there was no housing to be found. So we spent our first years living in shanties. Our da was turned away from every job.” Thomas balled his fists, wanting to hit something. Those first years were the hardest he ever had to endure. “Long story short: We had nothing but our small family and what was on our backs. I was big enough to scare the shite out of the bullies, but I couldn’t always be there for Mikey. Eventually, he used his wit and his feckin’ rebellious nature to find ways to survive.” Thomas shrugged and watched understanding fill her deep brown eyes. No judgment to be found. “The weight of what we had to endure at such a young age made him nasty.”
“He’s not nasty.” She looked about as surprised by her response as he was. “I mean, he’s an asshole, and he says some awful stuff.” She paused, pursing her lips as they left the dock and started walking through the city. “But I think it’s an act. Obviously not the whole bad-boy, gang part, but…”
Thomas hung his head. She had known his brother briefly and had already deduced what he knew all along. Not even Hiram could see past the charade, and he’d known Mikey for nearly fifteen years.
“Am I stupid for thinking that?” She looked so sad that Thomas reached for her cheek. His hand quickly fell, remembering they were in public.
“Nay, la—” he caught himself, internally cursing for the near slip. “I think ye have gotten a glimpse of what most don’t see of me deartháir.”
She looked away towards the people walking the streets rather than at him. Her following words sent a dart through his chest.
“He helped me. It may have been a deal, but he didn’t have to help me. Especially with the training.”
Thomas’s muscles strained with guilt. “It should’ve been me.”
“What?”
He turned to her then, not caring about the curses from those who had to walk around them. “I should have trained ye. I should’ve believed ye. Or, the very least, not pushed ye away.” His knuckles nearly split from clenching his fists so hard. “Ye never would have the need to work at Billy’s. I can assure ye that.”
The look of surprise on her face was nothing compared to the shock of her next words. “I liked working there.”
Thomas had to turn and start walking again to hide his expression. Jealousy was a new emotion when it came to a woman. He felt it plenty of times, bordering resentment when it came to their housing and the jobs that were turned away because he was Irish. Or every time a damn nativist turned up their nose at him as if the ground they walked on was feckin’ gold.
But this. This was different.
Women were easy to attain and even easier to leave. So why did the thought of turning her away all those months ago feel like shrapnel to his abdomen? Why couldn’t he purge the thought of her? The way that she moved. How her face lit up at the most mundane things. Her singing is thick like honey and just as sweet. And yet, just enough spice mixed in that sent her from unique to feckin’ spectacular. There was nothing about her that didn’t affect him.
“Miss the lads?” he asked sharper than he intended.
To his surprise, she snorted. “Not really. I love performing, though. Music has always been an escape for me.” Her fake accent slipped, betraying her emotions. “It could be a room full of women for all I care, as long as they find enjoyment in what I’m doing.”
“I’m sorry ye had to stop.” And he meant it. Thomas rubbed his tightening chest.
The silence extended as they turned down another street, heading towards North Street.
“Why does your brother pretend to be racist?” Emilia blurted.
“What makes ye ask?” His brother had done questionable acts concerning the darker race, and Thomas wasn’t sure why. It seemed Mikey was set out on tearing everyone down like—Thomas paused, considering. He shook his head and let out a sigh of exasperation.
“He treats Shay awful one moment and then seems to care for her in the next.” She shrugged, oblivious to his inner turmoil.
“Me brother tears people down because that was done to us when we came here. I think it’s his way of evening the score.”
“Doesn’t make it right,” she scoffed. “It’s not their fault people treated him shitty.”
“Aye, but look around,” Thomas said, eyes scanning the people passing them. Of the apparent segregation. “If it’s what ye grew up believing, it’s hard not to see it differently.”
“You did.”
“I had Hiram.” He looked away, a wave of shame overwhelming him. “Ye don’t know the things I did, lass.” His stomach rolled as the last word came out in a whisper. “I may not have made the same choices as Mikey, but I still have done many things that I’m ashamed of.”
