15. Ransom
15
RANSOM
I push through the door of the coffee shop, the bell above tinkling softly. The aroma of freshly ground beans and baked goods hits me. The building hasn't changed much in twenty years—same worn wooden floors, same mismatched tables and chairs, same chalkboard menu behind the counter. But in my time, this was an ice cream parlor, busy all summer long and dead the rest of the year.
Judging by the lines of people, half the town is in here today. And the amazing smells make me think it's going to be worth the wait.
Sunlight streams through the large front windows, highlighting the dust motes floating in the air. A few locals occupy tables, nursing steaming mugs and chatting in low voices. Their conversations paused briefly as I entered, curious eyes flickering my way before returning to their discussions. I can't tell if some of them are looking because they recognize me or if they're looking because I'm a new face. I threw on the white t-shirt, hoodie, and track pants that were in my gym bag. It's not the outfit I would have chosen for today, but it's better than the suit. I would stick right the fuck out in that this morning.
For the fiftieth time in the last sixteen hours, I mentally kick my own ass for leaving the city without a suitcase or, you know, a fucking plan.
I glance towards Blair's garage across the square. The urge to march over there and confront her is strong, but I've learned patience in the decades we've been apart, last night's poorly planned trip here notwithstanding. I need to play this smart.
The man in front of me steps away from the counter, and a woman with curly red hair and a warm smile greets me. "Welcome to Frannie's! What can I get for you today?"
I scan the menu, settling on a simple black coffee. "Just a large coffee, please."
She nods, grabbing a cup. "Anything else? Our blueberry muffins are fresh out of the oven."
"Only a crazy person would turn down a hot blueberry muffin. I'll take two."
She grins and rings up my order, her eyes meeting mine. "That'll be $10.50. Can I get a name for the order?"
"Ransom," I say, handing over a twenty.
Her eyes widen, recognition dawning. "Ransom? Oh. Wow. Okay. I've heard about you! I'm Frannie. You probably won't remember me. I was pretty young when you left."
I nod, trying to place her. It's no use. I didn't pay much attention to the younger kids. Then, toward the end, I only had eyes for Blair. "Right, Frannie. Good to see you." She hands me my change, and I drop all of it into the tip jar. "I'm sorry I don't remember you."
She leans forward, lowering her voice. "That's okay. Honestly, I don't remember you either, but people this morning… you know what? Never mind." Her cheeks fill with color, and I mentally fill in what she was about to say. People talk. Everywhere, but especially in small towns. And especially when you’re staying with the town’s biggest gossip. Did she run around town telling everyone I’m here, or is there some sort of phone tree? "Anyway, what brings you back to Badger Falls after all this time?"
There it is, the opening I was looking for. The best way to counteract a little gossip is by giving people something else to talk about. I need to steer the narrative here. "Actually, I'm here to make amends. I didn't leave town on the best terms."
Frannie's eyebrows raise. "That's an understatement. If I remember the rumors correctly, you left with a bang. Or, more specifically, a smash."
I nod, echoes of the shattering glass ringing in my ears. "Yeah, that's pretty much how it happened. It's not something I'm proud of. My next stop is the grocery store. I have some apologies to make."
Her expression softens. "That's good, I guess."
"It's long overdue. I've got a lot to make up for in this town."
Frannie hands me my coffee and a paper bag with my muffins, her smile warm. "Well, I think it's great you're trying to make things right. Not many people would bother after all this time."
I take a sip, the bitter liquid grounding me. "Better late than never, right?"
She nods, then glances at the line forming behind me. "Well, it was great seeing you, Ransom. Don't be a stranger, okay?"
I raise my cup in a mock salute. "You got it, Frannie. Take care."
I push open the door, stepping back into the sunlight. The grocery store is just down the block, but I'm not ready to go in there yet. For all I know, Angie's family moved on. Someone else could be running it.
I cross the street, waiting for a single car to pass, then sit on the bench in the square, the same bench I sat on with Blair that horrible night all those years ago. And straight ahead, across the square, is Blair's garage.
Main Street's unusually quiet in the early morning light. The lack of traffic is a stark contrast to the hum of Chicago that I'm used to, but also to the way things used to be here. This was always a small town, but it didn't used to be this dead. Only the occasional car rolls by, its engine noise barely disturbing the quiet.
Digging a muffin out of the bag, I bite into it, and holy shit, it's good. Better than good. Amazing. Warm, buttery, with bursts of tangy blueberries. I have to force myself to slow down, savoring each bite. The second one sits in the bag, tempting me. Back home, it wouldn't last five minutes. One of my brothers would've swiped it by now, whining about how they were about to starve to death. But today, on this bench, it's all mine.
Thoughts of walking it over to Blair and offering it to her flash through my mind, but other than my suit, this is the only outfit I have, and blueberry would be a bitch to get out of the fabric.
She’d definitely throw it at me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fish it out, seeing Cara's name flash on the screen. Shit. I knew I'd have to deal with this sooner or later.
"Hey, Cara," I answer, trying to sound casual.
"Ransom, where the hell are you?" Her voice crackles through the speaker, a mix of concern and irritation. "I've got people asking questions, and your calendar's a mess. What's going on?"
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Everything's fine, Cara. I just needed to take care of something."
"Take care of what? And where? You're not in Chicago, are you? This connection fucking sucks."
"I can't really get into it right now," I say, watching a truck pull up to the garage. It looks identical to the truck Robert had all those years ago. Is that Blair behind the wheel? Fuck, yes it is. The sun glints on her dark hair, giving it a slight red halo. Look over here. See me. She doesn't, and the wave of disappointment washing over me makes it really fucking clear that my feelings for her are fucked. What does it say about me that I'd wanted her to look at me, even if that meant another ugly confrontation?
"Look, I need you to clear my calendar for the day. Tell everyone I'm out of town on personal business." Really fucking personal.
"Personal business? Ransom, what's going on? You never take off like this without?—"
"Cara," I cut her off, my tone firm but gentle. "I promise I'll explain everything when I get back. For now, I need you to trust me, okay?"
There's a pause on the other end, then a resigned sigh. "Fine. But you owe me big time for this, Kyle."
"I know, I know. Oh, and one more thing," I add, remembering. "Can you swing by the penthouse and put out some food for the hamster?"
"The what?"
"The hamster. At home. There's a bag of food and some fruit and veggies in the fridge."
Another pause. "You're still feeding that hamster?"
"I'm not going to let it fucking starve. Make sure you put some grapes out. She likes grapes."
"She likes grapes," she echoes. "Jesus, Ransom. You're lucky I love you," Cara grumbles. "Fine. I'll feed your contraband rodent. But when you get back, we're having a long talk about all of this."
"Thanks, Cara. You're the best."
I hang up, my chest tight as I slip my phone back into my pocket. The truck reverses out of the garage, and I get a brief glimpse of Blair's profile. She's focused on the road ahead, her jaw clenched with determination—a look I know all too well. I stand frozen, my hands curling into fists as the truck pulls away, my feet suddenly rooted to the spot. This feeling is foreign. Knowing what to do, having a plan is kind of my thing. But with her? I still have no fucking idea what I'm supposed to do.
I have no fucking idea what I want to do.
Last night, I should've followed my instincts, thrown her over my shoulder caveman-style, and made her listen. I could have explained to her why I left and made her forgive me.I could've kissed her senseless until she forgot why she was mad at me in the first place. I could've?—
Shaking my head, I force myself to take a steadying breath. I know those are just fantasies. I'm never going to tell her the real reason I left. I won't risk hurting her memories of Robert.
And it feels wrong to throw him under the fucking bus. He's not here to defend himself. I know he did what he did because he thought it was the right thing to do.
I'm still not sure if he was right.
Besides, I'm here to fulfill a promise, not get Blair back. There are too many years and too much hurt between us. I know that.
I just have to get through to her.
The problem is, I can't seem to get clear on what I want to get through to her about. Am I here to force her to sell that garage, or am I here for me?