10. Blair
10
BLAIR
I 'm elbow-deep in an engine when Matt calls out that there's mail. I grunt, not really caring. I run a business. We get mail. It's probably just another bill or junk flyer. But when he brings over a thick envelope, my stomach drops. I know exactly who it's from before I even see the return address.
I thought we were done with this shit. It's been over six months since those guys came around. I thought I finally got through to them.
I thought it was done.
Wiping my hands on a rag, I tear it open. The fancy letterhead of Brash Group stares back at me, along with a number that makes my vision blur: five million dollars. For my garage. My life's work.
Rage boils up inside me, hot and familiar. I storm into my office and slam the papers down on my desk. That motherfucker. The nerve of him. Why can't he just stay gone?
I march back out to the Chevy I was working on, determined to lose myself in the familiar rhythm of repairs. But my hands shake as I reach for a wrench. My mind keeps drifting back to that number: five million dollars. It's more money than I've ever seen in my life. More than enough to set Max up for college, to pay off Maggie's medical bills, to...
No. I can't think like that. This isn't about the money. It's about Ransom Kyle thinking he can control my life again.
I try to focus on the car, but after dropping the same bolt for the third time, I know it's useless. The rage is consuming me, clouding my thoughts. I can't work like this. Can't think straight with Ransom's offer hanging over me.
"Screw it," I mutter, grabbing the paperwork from my office. "Matt, I'll be back later!"
I don't wait for a response as I storm out of the garage. I need to clear my head, need to get away from the temptation of that offer. But even as I walk, Ransom's face floats in my mind. The memory of his smile, of his promises, of the future we once dreamed of together. It doesn't matter how often I tell myself we were just kids, that it's all in my head; I can't truly believe it.
God, I hate him. I hate that he still has this power over me. That after all these years, he can still make me feel like this—angry, confused, torn. Part of me wants to march right up to him and tell him exactly where he can shove his offer. But another part...the small broken part, isn't ready to see him. Not now, maybe not ever.
I take the front steps of the house two at a time, then throw the door open,my blood boiling. Maggie's sitting at her desk in the corner of the living room, focused on her computer screen, but she looks up as I slam the door.
"Whoa, what's got you all fired up?" she asks, pushing her glasses up her nose. She's still gaunt. Still frail. But since stopping chemo, there's a little bit of color in her cheeks. There's even a fuzz of new hair growing on the top of her head. Looking at her, if you didn't know her, you'd think she's getting better.
You'd be dead fucking wrong.
I throw the envelope on her desk. "Ransom Kyle, that's what. He won't fucking quit."
Maggie's penciled-in eyebrows shoot up as she pulls out the papers. "Five million dollars? Holy shit, Blair."
"I know, right? It's completely insane." I pace back and forth, my hands clenched into fists. "It's been six months since the last offer. I thought he finally got the hint. I thought he would quit. And now that!"
Maggie leans back in her chair, studying me. "Okay, devil's advocate here. What if you did accept?"
I stop in my tracks, staring at her. "What?"
"Let's play this out," she says, holding up her hands. "Five million is a lot of money. What could you do with that kind of cash?"
I open my mouth to argue, but then pause. The anger that's been driving me starts to ebb, replaced by a hesitant curiosity. "I... I don't know. I've never really thought about it."
Maggie's eyes light up. "You have a winning lottery ticket right here. You won’t
make this much money if you worked for the next fifty years. So think about it. What have you always wanted to do? What if you traveled? You, me, and Max. We could see the world, all those places we used to dream about in high school."
Despite myself, I feel a smile tugging at my lips. "Remember when we said we'd backpack through Europe?" She's right. We talked about travelling all the time. Or more specifically, she did. And I nodded, and researched, and dreamed with her because that's what friends do. Not because I was interested in staring at some dusty remains of the lives people lived a thousand years ago.
"Exactly!" Maggie grins. "We could do that now. Paris, Rome, Barcelona..."
For a moment, I let myself get caught up in the daydream. I can almost see us there—Maggie and Max exploring the Colosseum or staring up at the Eiffel Tower. But reality crashes in pretty damn quickly. Her doctors are here. Our support system, everything that matters, is here.
What the fuck do I care if I have millions in the bank if my best friend is gone? She's the one who wanted adventure, not me.
And fuck if I'll let her die somewhere across the world, in some fucking hotel room surrounded by strangers. She still gets winded walking the two blocks to town. She’s not in any shape to go anywhere.
Which of course she’ll deny. So I give her a bit of my truth.
"It sounds nice," I admit. "But Mags, I'm happy here. I love my garage. Every day, I go to work, and I'm surrounded by people who know me, who accept me for who I am. My work is important. Why is it wrong to want to stay and just be me?"
Maggie's smile fades. "It's not wrong, Blair. But your dad always wanted you to travel, to see the world beyond Badger Falls."
I shake my head, sitting down next to her. "Dad always wanted more than this town. That's why he left for Chicago when he finished high school. But I'm not him, Mags. I don't think he ever understood that. I like this town. I like that my family's been here for generations."
"No, you're not him," Maggie concedes. "But he wanted you to have opportunities."
"I have opportunities here," I insist. "My life is massive, Mags. It's filled with a whole town full of people who care about me, who understand me. Do you know how rare that is for someone like me?" Dad never liked putting labels on people, on me, but it was pretty clear I was different, right from when I was a child. But here, nobody gives a shit. I can just be me.
Maggie reaches out, squeezing my hand. "I do know. And I get it, Blair. I really do. Your garage isn't just a business; it's your home."
I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat. "It's where I feel safe, where I can be myself without worrying about... everything else."
"But what about Max?" Maggie asks softly. "Don't you want him to see the world?"
I look at her, really look at her—the lines of fatigue around her eyes, the pallor of her skin. A wave of understanding washes over me. "This isn't just about the garage or Ransom, is it? You're worried about Max's future."
Maggie's eyes fill with tears. "I just want to know he'll be okay, that he'll have opportunities and adventures."
I pull her into a hug, feeling her thin frame shake against mine. "Max will have all of that, Mags. I promise. I'm not a millionaire, but he'll have a good life. I'll make sure of it. Besides, he's too fucking nuts to have anything but an amazing life. And right now, he needs this town too."
She nods against my shoulder. "You're right. Especially when I'm gone; they'll wrap him up with love."
"I wish you'd stop talking like that. Cancer sometimes just disappears."
She pulls back, lips tight. "Don't do that. Please. The doctors were pretty clear that there wasn't much hope left. And I can't…I just can't let myself spend the time I have left wishing for something different. I can't. I have to be here with my son. I have to prepare him for when I'm… gone."
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard, I taste blood. Why wouldn't you keep trying, even if the chance was slim? I don't understand it at all, but I'm not willing to fight with her again. The last time I did that, she didn't speak to me for three days. I felt like a ghost in my own home, and my brain went to some very dark places. I can't go there again.
Taking the thick stack of papers from her hand, I stare down at them with more than a little hatred in my heart. "How do I get him to stop?"
Maggie lets out a relieved breath, and a little wash of resentment flows through me. Life is hard sometimes, I get that. I don't get quitting. But if Ransom taught me anything, it's that trying to change a mind that's made up is a good way to make yourself feel like a pathetic fool.
Though the fear of losing Maggie might trump the fear of feeling pathetic. But today, I can't go there.
"Well, you've tried several creative options, and it hasn't made any difference. I think you're going to have to go nuclear."
"What does that mean?"
"You're going to have to go see him."
My stomach flips, making me regret that egg salad sandwich at lunch. "Not a chance." I sigh, rubbing my temples. "Mags, I can't just go see him. That's... that's not an option."
Maggie leans forward, her eyes bright with excitement. "Why not? Blair, I've been doing some research. Did you know he's become quite the success story? I found some articles about him online, and?—"
"Stop," I cut her off, holding up a hand. "I don't want to know. I've spent years avoiding any information about him. I don't need to start now."
"But Blair, you should see him. He looks... well, he looks good. Really good."
I groan, covering my face with my hands. "Maggie, please. I don't care what he looks like or how successful he is. That's not the point." She doesn't need to know that I looked him up or that I stared at the picture of him on that website for too fucking long.
Or that I’ve searched him up a few other times. There’s lots of pictures of him, but not a lot of personal information.
She reaches out, gently pulling my hands away from my face. "I know, sweetie. But maybe... maybe it's time to let go of the past. You were both just kids back then."
"No," I say firmly, standing up and pacing the room. "It's not about forgiving the past. Ransom doesn't want anything to do with me. He's only doing this because Dad asked him to."
Maggie's brow furrows. "Your dad? How do you know that?"
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "There was a sticky note. Stuck to one of the offers last year. Ransom said Dad had approached him about buying the garage."
"And you didn't question that?"
I shrug, feeling a twinge of guilt. "With everything going on with your illness... I just didn't have the energy to wonder why Dad would do that."
That’s a lie, and it’s not. Maggie’s my priority, but it didn’t stop me from laying in bed wondering what they could possibly have talked about.
And wondering why Dad wouldn’t have talked to me about it. It feels off. But the only way I’d get an answer is if I talked to Ransom, and that’s not something I’m ever going to do. Besides, I’m sure I wouldn’t get past the front door. I’d have to be a fuck of a lot wealthier to be allowed anywhere near him.
Maggie nods, understanding in her eyes. "Well, what about hiring a lawyer? We could file a cease and desist."
I let out a bitter laugh. "With what money, Mags? We don't have the kind of cash Ransom does. It'd be like bringing a plastic spoon to a gunfight."
She taps her chin thoughtfully. "What about going to the media? A story about a billionaire bullying a small business owner could be pretty effective."
I shift uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. The thought of causing trouble for Ransom, of dragging his name through the mud, makes my stomach churn. But I can't tell Maggie that. I can't admit that despite everything, I still care about what happens to him.
"I don't know, Mags. That seems... extreme."
She opens her mouth to argue, but I hold up a hand, cutting her off. A thought's forming in my mind, a potential solution that doesn't involve confronting Ransom or causing a media circus.
"I have an idea," I say slowly, the plan taking shape in my head.