The sound of the front door opening jolted me from my quiet daze. I'd been sitting on the sofa with Tommy, our knees just brushing, the cassette now sitting on the table like a fragile secret.
"Emma? Love? You here?" Mum's voice floated in from the hallway, warm, but distracted — the sound of plastic bags shifting and keys clinking.
"In here," I called softly.
A moment later Mum appeared in the doorway, arms full of shopping bags. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Tommy sitting there. Her eyebrows shot up, but it wasn't the tight, suspicious look I had expected — it was surprise, softened by something else.
"Oh," she said slowly, glancing between us. "Tommy."
"Hello, Mrs Rivers," Tommy said, quickly standing, his voice polite but steady. "I… I hope it's okay I'm here. I just wanted to see Emma."
Mum set the bags down on the counter, still looking at him. I braced myself for a sharp word, a questioning glance, but instead Mum's expression softened further.
"Well," she said finally, "it's nice to see you again. You've come at just the right time — I'm making shepherd's pie. Will you stay for tea?"
Tommy blinked, then smiled a little, almost shyly. "If you're sure. Let me help."
"You can peel the potatoes then," Mum said briskly, a little glint in her eyes. "Come on."
I watched as Tommy followed Mum into the kitchen, rolling his sleeves up automatically. I could hear them moving around — Mum giving him instructions, Tommy laughing under his breath. It was strange and familiar all at once; Tommy in our kitchen like he belonged there.
The back door opened a little while later. Dad's heavy steps and the jangle of his work keys filled the hallway.
"Smells good in here," Dad said as he stepped into the kitchen. He glanced up, and then his gaze landed on Tommy. His smile froze.
"Evening, Mr Rivers" Tommy said quietly, standing a little straighter.
Ben looked at Mum, then at me, then back at Tommy. His eyes sharpened, protective instinct flaring. "Tommy," he said slowly. "Could I have a word with you? Outside?"
Tommy's jaw tensed but he nodded. "Of course, sir."
I felt my stomach twist as the two of them stepped out into the small back garden. I hovered by the window, but I was unable to hear their words; so I watched Dad's body language — the folded arms, the measured tone. I watched Tommy stand his ground, his hands loose at his sides, but his shoulders squared.
After a few minutes, I saw Dad's expression shift. The tension eased, his arms uncrossed. He nodded once, then again. And then, to my astonishment, he reached out and shook Tommy's hand firmly.
When they came back inside, Tommy's cheeks were slightly flushed, but his eyes were steady. Dad clapped him once on the shoulder before heading upstairs to change out of his work clothes.
I met Tommy's eyes immediately. "Are you okay?" I whispered, my heart still pounding.
He gave a small, tired smile. "Yeah. He grilled me, but I get it. He just wants to keep you safe."
"What did you tell him?"
Tommy drew in a breath and stepped closer, lowering his voice. "The truth. That I'm not just passing through."
My brows knitted. "What do you mean?"
His hands found mine, warm and certain. "I wanted to be here for you. I… I've sorted everything. I've moved here. I've got a job nearby. I'm not going back home — I'm staying so I can be with you."
My eyes widened further, disbelief mingling with the emotions I had tried to contain. "You… you've left home?" I breathed.
"I have," he said, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. "Aunt Stephanie helped me. Everything's in place. I've rented a room near the café — the one we went to for lunch. They've given me a job there. I'm here now, Emma. I'm staying."
I blinked rapidly, trying to process his words. My hands trembled slightly in his, and a tear escaped despite my best effort to blink it away. "I… I don't know what to say." My voice was barely above a whisper. "I thought… I never thought... I didn't… I didn't know you..."
"I'd do anything for you," he said softly. "I can't stand being away from you. Not for another day, not for another hour. It kills me that I couldn't protect you."
I laughed softly through my tears, a shaky, incredulous sound. "You've… you've really done this? You're really here? You're really… staying?"
He grinned, the relief and joy in him spilling over. "Always. I'm yours, Emma. Every moment, every day. No more letters. No more waiting. I'll be right here."
I let out a shaky breath and pressed my forehead against his chest, wrapping my arms around him. "I didn't think… I didn't think this could happen."
"Me neither," he admitted softly, holding me close, his lips brushing the top of my head. "But it has. And it's just the beginning."
I pulled back slightly, still holding his hands. "What about your parents? And finishing A-levels and…"
He cupped my face, letting his thumbs brush my cheeks. "Shh, I've planned everything. I'll tell you all about it later."
I felt the warmth and safety I'd craved for months. My chest tightened with relief, love, and a quiet awe at the lengths he had gone to.
"I can't believe you've done this… for me," I whispered.
He kissed my forehead, softly, reverently. "I'd do anything for you, go anywhere, no matter what."
I closed my eyes, leaning into him, and felt the ache in my chest begin to ease. The world outside could wait; here, in his arms, in this quiet moment, everything finally felt right.
A clatter from the kitchen made us both turn. Mum's voice floated in: "Potatoes are ready for mashing!"
I laughed quietly, wiping my eyes. Tommy squeezed my hand once before letting go.
We joined Mum in the kitchen, and a few minutes later Dad came down, clean and in a fresh shirt. The eight of us sat at the table together — Emma, Tommy, my parents, Teddy, the twins and Zoey.
Jessica tried to spoon peas onto Zoey's plate and ended up scattering them across the table; Zoey shrieked with laughter; Mum rolled her eyes, but smiled. I'd never seen her so laid back.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I found myself smiling too — a real smile, not the brittle one I'd worn for weeks. Tommy sat next to me, his shoulders relaxed, his laughter soft and real.
I felt something I hadn't dared to feel since the night everything changed.
I felt safe. I felt happy. I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could start to breathe again.