Request: Question x tom davidson from walker indepence?
Summary: After leaving your home in Boston for a new life, a ghost from the past rolls into the same place and you can't shake the feelings you once had for him.
A/N: First time writing Tom Davidson or Walker Independence so hopefully did it some justice.
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✰ Does it feel like everything's just like, second best after that meteor strike? ✰
You’d chosen Independence and a job at Hagan’s Hotel because it seemed like a safe haven from your past life. As far away as you could afford to go. Somewhere that didn’t remind you of Boston or the east coast. Somewhere small and quiet and easy to hide in.
And then, three weeks into your new life a familiar face walked into the bar, a gold star shining against his black clothing and you felt the bottom of your stomach drop out. Maybe part of you should have known that running in the same direction he’d gone would have eventually led you onto the same path but you’d been hopeful when you moved out west that there was no chance you’d ever see the man again.
Hagan’s was still something of a safe haven from the long arm of the law and the ache that always pulled at your heart when you saw him. If you just went to all the places he didn’t go, then you’d never have to have the conversation you’d always thought you wanted to have. You’d never have to wonder why he left (or at least you could tell yourself it had nothing to do with you).
But peace never lasts, especially not when you know it’s running thin, “I knew it was only a matter of time,” you mentioned when Tom stepped up to the bar as you were working. He’d kept himself distant too, using Kate as a go-between. But the boxing match had been invigorating and the near-death shoot out a few days earlier had him thinking that maybe it was time he set down all the baggage that was keeping him away from you.
“Before I came over here?” He asked, taking the drink you mixed him. A few people bumped passed him, congratulating the sheriff for the win.
You hummed, contemplating what you wanted to say. It was true that you’d been waiting for him to finally come over and talk to you but after watching him in the ring tonight, it was another thought, one that surprised you, that was winning out. You’d always been prepared to feel nothing but longing for him and maybe there was still a piece of you that wished things had been different between you but then you’d seen the way he looked at Abby.
“Before you moved on.” You replied, casting your gaze over his shoulder. The mysterious stranger from Boston, coincidentally, was standing near the piano chatting with Kate.
“I don’t-” He began to say, looking almost guilty (whether about actually moving on or just being found out, you weren’t sure).
“It’s alright,” you lied, “like I said, I knew it was only a matter of time Tom.”
“What are you doing in Independence?” He asked, changing the subject abruptly. “Thought you were engaged to that broker from Philadelphia. Heard from your sister that you were planning on moving down there.”
“I’ve been here longer than you have...when’d you hear anything about me?” You replied, searching his eyes for any hint of an answer. You knew he’d never be straight with you about things but you couldn’t help being caught off guard by his admission. It was after he left that your family had introduced you to the Philadelphian. “Keeping tabs?”
“Came up in conversation.”
“Course it did.” You rolled your eyes, unable to keep your guard up as you leaned closer to him, “You really screwed me over Tom.”
“How’s that?” He challenged, taking a sip of his drink, “far as I remember, you were moving on the moment I left. Now you’re telling me about moving on as if I’m doing something wrong? So what if after all this time I’m not still waiting on you.”
You faked a smile as someone came up behind Tom, clapping his shoulder and telling how impressive the fight was before offering to buy him a drink. You obliged, pouring the whiskey for him as the other man congratulated him again and finally moved on.
Patron gone, you could speak freely, “I think you’re remembering things wrong. It was you that left...trust me, I’ll never forget waking up that morning alone.”
Tom hesitated in his response, giving you time to walk away, grabbing drinks for someone else that had approached the bar, making small talk with a regular. By the time you looked back again, he was gone. The half empty glass of whiskey sitting on the bar and no sign of the sheriff in the weening crowd. You clutched the dish rag in your hand until you felt your knuckles turning white and heard Kate call your name, asking if you were alright. She was a keen observer and you almost wondered if asking her where Tom went would be a good idea. No doubt she knew but then she’d want to know why you needed to. And then you knew she’d pry, in that way she did that didn’t even feel like prying at all.
As the bar started to thin out to closing, just the few stragglers that never knew when to call it quits and the actual guests of the hotel were left in the lobby, you passed the towel to someone else and excused yourself from serving drinks. It was getting later than you liked to be out but you weren’t done having a conversation with Tom. You’d both spent more than a month avoiding each other in a town as small as a block in Boston but he’d ended that when he approached you in the bar. Now you needed to know what he wanted to say because otherwise you were certain you would burst.
Your mother always said it was the not knowing that killed a man and you supposed that was true about you as well.
So, dark already settled in, you headed out to Tom’s dwelling, a lantern glowing in the window of the little house. He was home then, at least. It was hell walking the distance at night but you supposed you should’ve been thankful that no prying eyes could see you. The gossip would've been hell if they could. Might still be hell.
“Tom,” you called out after knocking on the door and receiving no immediate answer. “I know you’re in there...can we talk?”
The door swung open, Tom crowding the door way as he leaned against the frame, “what’s there to talk about? What’s left?”
You weren’t really sure how to answer that. Honestly, what else could either of you say about what happened between you in Boston. All you knew was that he had finally started talking to you and you were terrified that he would stop. That’d you have to watch him with that Abby Walker or someone else in town that caught his eye and you’d be wishing it was you. Knowing that every man you’d been with came second to him, even after all this time.
“I...” you paused, shook your head, tried to regroup. Tried to leave all the nonsense and bullshit out at the door and be honest with him, “I just wanna keep talking. I don’t want to stop hearing your voice.”
For a beat, neither of you moved, just standing there in the doorway of his cabin staring at each other until finally he stepped to the side, just enough that you could slip passed him. So you did, and the door closed after you, latch locking it into place, keeping you and Tom from the rest of Independence, if only for the night.
