16. Ransom
16
RANSOM
T he bell over the door jingles as I push open the door to the grocery store. The familiar scent of produce and cleaning supplies hits me, bringing back a flood of memories. I spent twenty hours a week here before I left town. Before I can fully step inside, a voice cuts through the air like a knife.
"What the hell are you doing in here?"
I freeze, my hand still on the door. Angela's standing behind the counter, her eyes blazing with fury. She looks different from how I remember her in high school—older, of course, but also worn out. She was always smiling back then, always bouncing when she walked. We worked here, together, for almost a year. She was a friend.
Now, her eyes are hard.
And I can't fucking blame her.
"Angie, I came to apologize."
Her laugh is bitter, devoid of any real humor. "Apologize? To who, Ransom? My dad? Because he's dead."
This fucking sucks. Her dad was a good guy. The best, really. He took a chance and gave me a job, despite some of the shit I pulled when I first moved to town. And he never held it against me. A clean slate, he said. I got to start fresh with him. "What? I... I didn't know. I'm so sorry, Angie. Your mom?"
"Gone," she snaps.
I swallow hard, guilt twisting in my stomach. I knew this wouldn't be a pleasant conversation, but I didn't expect to still feel so bad about what I did to her family. I made amends with her father years ago. Or at least I tried. I could have tried harder, I know. I could have come back and spoken to him in person. But I couldn't risk it. Not then. "Can we talk? Outside, maybe?"
Angela's eyes narrow, suspicion written all over her face. "Why should I give you the time of day?"
Valid question. And I don't have an answer for her. This apology is selfish. I know that. It's about making me feel better and a little bit about changing the way Angie feels about me. I'm used to people liking me, or at least not being outwardly hostile. It's amazing how much ass-kissing you can get used to. My ass gets kissed a lot, thanks to the size of my bank account. But most of those people don't matter to me. Angie does. Or at least she used to. "Please. Just five minutes."
She stares at me for a long moment, probably trying to decide if she can physically shove me out of the store, then sighs. "Fine. Five minutes." She turns to a young employee restocking shelves. "Cover the checkout, will you?"
We step out the back door into the alley. The moment it closes behind us, Angela whirls on me.
"Do you have any idea what you did to us?" she hisses. "That rock you threw through our window? It cost us nearly two grand to replace. Two grand! And after everything my dad did for you?"
I wince, remembering that night all too clearly. "I know, I?—"
"No, you don't know," she cuts me off. "My dad supported you. He gave you a job when no one else would. And how did you repay him? By trying to destroy our business. You broke his heart."
The worst part is, she's right. Mr. Harding had given me a chance when I didn't deserve one. And I'd thrown it back in his face. I needed to make an impact with my exit, and it sure as fuck looks like I accomplished it. It doesn't matter that I made it right years later. It took me a long time to save up the money to pay him back, but I did it. I mailed him an anonymous envelope of cash with an 'I'm sorry' sticky note inside. I didn't put my name, but I always assumed he knew who it came from, and why.
"I'm sorry," I say, knowing how inadequate the words are. "I was in a bad place back then." Not a lie, but another half-truth. I didn't do it because I was in a bad place. It was part of the plan. A necessary, but very shitty part.
Angela's laugh is harsh. "A bad place? That's your excuse? Lots of people had it bad. Hell, I was struggling. But we didn't go around smashing windows, fucking with people's livelihoods."
I flinch at her words, memories of that night threatening to overwhelm me. I want to explain, to tell her why I did what I did, but I won't. If I ever tell the truth of that night, it'll be to Blair and no one else.
"I know sorry doesn't cut it," I say instead. "But I am. More than you know."
Angie's eyes search my face, looking for something. I'm not sure if she finds it or not. "Why are you really here, Ransom? After all this time? Does Blair know you're here?"
"So many questions."
Angie just raises her brow and crosses her arms, looking like she's got nowhere else she needs to be.
I lean against the brick wall of the alley, my mind drifting back to the Angie I knew in high school. She was always kind, always smiling. Nothing like the hardened woman standing before me now. A pang of guilt hits me as I realize I played a part in that transformation.
"Hey, Angie," I say softly, "do you remember our first date? For ice cream at Scoops?"
Her stern expression falters for a moment, a flicker of something softer passing across her face. "Yeah, I do," she admits, her voice losing some of its edge. "We laughed a lot that day."
I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. "We did. You got that ridiculous sundae with every topping they had."
"You ended up eating most of it," she adds, a ghost of a smile on her face. But then her expression hardens again. "I also remember Blair walking in."
My breath catches in my throat. I'd forgotten that part.
Angie continues, her voice tinged with old hurt. "You completely forgot what you were saying mid-sentence. Spent more time watching Blair than talking to me." She shakes her head. "I knew right then there wouldn't be a second date. It was so clear you were over the moon for her."
I wince, remembering how oblivious I'd been to Angie's feelings. "I'm sorry, Angie. I was a stupid kid."
"Yeah, you were," she agrees, but there's less venom in her voice now. "We all were, I guess."
I lean my head back against the brick wall, closing my eyes for a moment. When I open them, Angie's still watching me, her expression a mix of curiosity and lingering anger.
"I never got her out of my head. Not ever," I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "Even after I left, even after all these years... she's always been there."
Her eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across her face. "You're still hung up on her? After all this time?"
I nod, feeling exposed but unable to stop now that I've started. I haven't spoken about her with anyone who actually knows her since I left. Telling my brothers about her wasn't the same.
There's something about being here and talking to people who knew me then that's given me a case of verbal diarrhea. "I tried to fucking stop. I did. But there's no one like her. But we were kids. It can't be real." All shit I've told myself over and over. All shit I almost believe.
"So that's why you're back," Angie says, realization dawning in her eyes. "You're here for Blair."
I run a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up inside me. "Yes. No. I don't know. I came back to make things right, to fulfill a promise I made to Robert before he died."
My voice trails off, and I struggle to find the right words. How do I explain the rush of emotions I felt when I saw Blair again? The way my heart raced, the way everything else faded into the background?
Angie's watching me closely, her earlier hostility replaced by something that looks almost like pity. "You know she hates you, right? After what you did..."
"I know," I interrupt, the pain in my chest sharp and familiar. "She made that very clear last night."
Her eyes widen, making her look like a cartoon character. "Wait. You've already seen her?"
"Yeah, last night. My car ended up in a ditch just outside town."
Angie's eyebrows shoot up. "And Blair helped you out?"
"More like she was forced to," I admit. "I didn't exactly get a warm welcome."
"How did that go?"
"Pretty sure she thought about beating me to death with a wrench."
Angie bursts out laughing, the sound echoing off the alley walls. It's the first genuine laugh I've heard from her since I arrived. "That sounds about right," she says, wiping a tear from her eye.
As her laughter fades, Angie's expression grows serious again. She looks at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. "Listen, Ransom," she says, her voice softer now. "Blair's dealing with a lot right now. And maybe... maybe if you're not sure what you're doing in town, or what you really want, you should just go. Leave Blair in peace."
I want to argue, to defend my presence here, but the truth is, I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing. I came back to fulfill a promise to Robert, yes, but seeing Blair again has stirred up feelings I thought I'd buried long ago.
I lean back against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment. Angie's right—it's not fair of me to stir shit up if I'm not clear on what I want. But the thought of leaving, of walking away from her again, makes my chest ache.
"I hear you, Angie," I say finally, opening my eyes to meet her gaze. "But I can't just leave. Not yet."
I think about Blair's face when she saw me last night, the mix of shock, anger, and something else I couldn't quite place. I think about the way my heart raced just being near her again, even with all the tension between us.
"I know I hurt her," I continue, my voice low. "I hurt a lot of people when I left. But I need to try to make things right. Even if she hates me forever, I need her to know the truth." I'm an idiot. Didn't I just decide I'm not sharing the truth with Blair? Isn't it going to hurt her more than help?
Get your shit together Kyle!
Angie's watching me closely, her expression unreadable. "And what truth is that, Ransom?"
I hesitate, the words catching in my throat. How do I explain the mess of emotions swirling inside me? The regret, the longing, the desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance to fix what I broke all those years ago?
"That I never stopped caring about her," I say finally. "That leaving her was the biggest mistake of my life."
Angie's eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across her face. For a moment, I think she's going to argue, to tell me I'm being selfish or stupid. But instead, she just sighs.
"You're playing with fire, Ransom," she warns. "Blair's not the same girl you left behind. She's been through a lot."
I nod, understanding the weight of her words. "I know. And I don't expect anything from her. I just... I need to try to make it better."
"So what, you're going to hang around here and just… wait her out? Or do you have a plan?"
"I'm working on it."
Angie snorts and grabs the handle of the door. "You might want to make sure your affairs are in order before you go see her again. Leave a note or something for where we should ship the body."