25. Blair
25
BLAIR
I stare at the transmission in front of me, but my mind keeps drifting to the coffee shop where I left Maggie with Ransom. My wrench slips, and I curse under my breath.
"You okay over there?" Matt glances up from the oil change he's working on.
"Fine." I wipe my hands on a shop rag. "Just distracted."
"Wouldn't have anything to do with a certain visitor in town, would it?"
I shoot Matt a look that makes him raise his hands in surrender and return to his work. Nosy asshole. Not that I blame him. I'm not myself.
If I'm honest, I haven't been myself in over a year. Not since that first offer came through and shattered the peace I'd found. The last fifteen years, I didn't think of him every day. And sometimes, when I did, I could think of those good moments instead of the way everything ended. But now, the past is coming back to haunt me and it’s fucking with my head. The talk last night was supposed to help. Forgiveness was supposed to help.
But it didn't. Not the way I expected, anyway. I thought I could put him in the past. But instead, allowing myself to sit with him, to actually look at him without the wash of anger that colored my vision was a fucking mistake.
He's changed. So have I. It's been a quarter of a fucking century, which is depressing when you think about it. But the years have been good to Ransom. The gray streaking his hair and beard was a surprise. He's forty now, not the kid I remember; I get that. But fuck if I was prepared for the impact of grown-up Ransom. I had to physically hold myself back from running my fingers along those silver strands.
We had so many plans. We talked about a future. We should have been together when that first silver strand appeared. Was he thirty, or did it appear recently? Would he have blamed that first strand on me? I can picture it so fucking clearly. Him wrapping me up, laughing down at me, teasing me that it's my fault.
I never found that. Not with anyone. Physical connection is all good, but a man I trusted as much as I trusted him? Never happened.
Probably never will.
And I thought I was okay with that.
"B?" My head comes up, spotting Adam at the entrance of the garage, paper bag in hand. His blue Badger Falls Fire t-shirt is stretched tight across his chest. His smile is easy, warm, and familiar.
Why can't I love him?
"Thought you might be hungry." He holds up the bag. "Turkey and Swiss, no mayo, extra mustard."
"Matt, I'm taking twenty." I wait for Matt's grunt, then follow Adam outside, where we settle on the wooden bench on the side of the building. The sun hits my face just perfectly, and I close my eyes, giving myself a second to enjoy the warmth and peace of the moment. Adam's shoulder presses against mine, familiar and steady. Finally, when I've breathed in enough peace, I unwrap my sandwich.
We eat in comfortable silence. That's what I like about Adam. There's no pressure to fill the quiet spaces. He gets it.
"Heard Ransom Kyle's back in town," Adam says finally, wadding up his wrapper.
I take another bite, chewing slowly. "Yeah."
"You doing okay with that?"
I shrug. "It is what it is."
Adam nods, not pushing for more. He stretches his long legs out in front of him, leans against the siding, and laces his fingers over his hard stomach.
"It's so fucking inconvenient! Why couldn't I fall in love with you?" I blurt, staring at him, the last bite of my sandwich clutched in my fingers. "You're objectively hot. You're kind. You're really fucking convenient."
Adam's eyes are on me, calm and steady. He's always like that. Nothing seems to bother him, nothing angers him or surprises him. The only time I see anything other than calm is in the dark of his bedroom.
There, I get heat. Sometimes laughter too.
"I sometimes ask myself the same question," he admits. "We'd be good together. Hell, we still could be."
"You don't love me either."
"I love you. You're one of my favorite people."
"But you don't want to write me love letters and scream my name from the top of a cliff."
There's a little twitch at the corner of his lips that he lets grow into a small smile. "No, I guess I don't. And you don't want to gossip about me to your friends and write my name in little hearts in your notebook."
"That's dumb. I don't use notebooks. And I have better things to talk to my friends about." Hearing the words out loud makes me cringe. True, but not kind. If the words are true, but not kind, I'm supposed to keep them to myself or think of a nice way to say it. That was Dad's rule.
As usual, it's a rule I forgot.
Thankfully, Adam just laughs. He's known me long enough that he's not bothered by my bluntness. "I wondered, you know."
"Wondered what?"
"If the two of us could be something permanent. We get along well. The sex is fantastic. And I like you. That's more than a lot of people have, I suppose."
"It's been years, and there's still no…"
"Spark," he offers, gazing down the driveway. "Which is pretty fucking disappointing."
"Is this the part where we make a pact to get married if we're both single when we're fifty?"
He grunts, shaking his head. "You watch too many movies. Though, that's not the worst idea I've ever heard."
I grunt back and pop the last of my sandwich in my mouth. I suppose it isn't. I can't picture living in Maggie's house by myself. Yeah, the kid will be there, but I'll have no one to talk about all the things that worry me. No one to complain to. No one to gossip with.
Maybe Adam couldn't be that person for me, but maybe being married to my friend would be better than being alone.
"Want to come over tonight? I'll cook." He's looking at me expectantly. It's an offer he's made dozens of times.
The invitation hangs in the air. Any other time, I'd say yes without hesitation. Our arrangement has always been simple—good food, better sex, no complications. But everything's different now, and that's so annoying.
"I should probably stay with Maggie tonight." The excuse sounds weak even to my ears.
"Sure, no problem." Adam doesn't seem bothered, but his eyes study my face. "Rain check?"
Before I can answer, a shadow falls across us. Ransom stands there, jaw clenched, glaring at Adam like he wants to punch him. The temperature seems to drop ten degrees.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ransom's voice is tight, eyes locked on Adam.
"I live here, genius. Have for years," Adam says with a small smirk. I haven’t seen that look on his face in a long time.
Oh, fuck. This is not going to be good.
Ransom's jaw starts twitching as he looks between Adam and me. "Don't do that. Don't play fucking games. We're too old. Are you two together?"
Adam rises slowly, his casual demeanor replaced with something harder. The two men size each other up, and I feel the old tension crackling between them. Ransom’s taller, but Adam, a fireman is objectively more muscular. Both men are strong and fierce. Any fight between them would go very badly, for both of them.
"I don't see how that's any of your business. You're a visitor. You're just passing through, right? Why the fuck do you deserve to know anything about anyone in this town?"
Ransom turns to me, eyes stormy. "Him, Blair? Seriously? Fucking Adam?"
I get it. Adam was an asshole when we were in high school—an asshole I went on a date with. A date that ended with Ransom's bloody knuckles and my foot in Adam's balls.
A night that ended with Ransom's lips on mine.
It was the beginning of the end.
I step between them, my hands raised, and Adam immediately growls and nudges me back. Protective asshole. I don't know this new Ransom, but I do know that he would never hurt me.
Not physically, anyway.
"Back off, Ransom. Adam's not who he was in high school."
"People don't change that much," Ransom growls.
"You don't really believe that, do you?" I cross my arms. "While you were gone building your empire, some of us stayed here and grew up. Adam served three tours. He's one of our best firefighters now."
Adam remains quiet, but I can feel the tension in his stance behind me. After that night, he'd tormented Ransom relentlessly in high school—calling him foster freak, starting fights, trying to make his life hell. But that Adam was long gone. In his place is a quieter, more thoughtful man. A man who's lived through horrors he won't talk about.
"It's fine, Blair." Adam's voice is steady. "I get it. I was an absolute shit back then." He faces Ransom directly. "The people that matter to me know who I am now. I don't give a fuck what you think of me."
Ransom's fists clench and unclench at his sides. "You made my life hell."
"Yeah, I did." Adam nods. "I was angry and messed up. The military straightened me out, showed me what really matters." He picks up his lunch wrapper. "And I guess you're still the same asshole that threw a brick through the grocery window—the asshole that took every good thing this town did for you and shit all over it."
Ransom sways once, the words hitting him like physical blows. Adam doesn't wait for a reply.
"I should head back to the station." Adam touches my shoulder briefly. "Let me know about that rain check."
I watch him walk away, his back straight, ignoring Ransom's glare. The Adam who'd returned from deployment had been different—the cocky swagger replaced by a quiet confidence, the meanness burned away by whatever he'd seen over there.
"Blair," Ransom says, scowling at me.
I turn back to Ransom, my jaw tight. "Don't start."
"What's going on with you and him?" His voice has that edge I remember too well.
"Why is that any of your business?" I cross my arms. "Do you expect me to account for every relationship I've had in twenty-five years? Should I make you a spreadsheet? Do you think you have any right to that information? Do you want to give me a list of every woman you've been with?"
The sarcasm hits its mark. Ransom's face flushes, and he runs a hand through his hair—a gesture so familiar it makes my chest ache just for a second. "You're right. I'm sorry." He takes a breath. "I actually came to tell you I took Maggie home. She was getting tired."
My anger deflates. "Thanks."
"She… she doesn't look good," he says, making my heart shudder in my chest. He sees the panic on my face and holds up a hand. "I'm sorry. I mean she's not worse, but God, she's wasting away." He steps closer. "She said she's not getting treatment, that the doctors can't do any more for her. How are you handling her decision to stop treatment?"
The question hits like a sucker punch. My hands shake. "How do you think I'm handling it?"
Don't break. Don't break. Don't break.
"I hate it," I whisper. "But I can't force her to keep fighting. You didn't see what the chemo did to her last time."
"So she could be getting treatment. There's a chance? Because I know some specialists in Chicago—top oncologists. They could assess her case tomorrow?—"
I throw my hand up in front of his face, stopping his words. "We've been to the city, Ransom. I drove her to every appointment. Sat there while doctor after doctor said the same thing—there's no miracle cure."
"Then we look outside the country. There are experimental treatments?—"
A harsh laugh escapes me. "With what money? In case you hadn't noticed, I run a small-town garage. I'm not exactly rolling in international medical treatment funds."
Ransom looks like I slapped him. "I would pay. Of course, I would pay."
"No." I shake my head hard, unwilling to let even a little bit of hope in. "Don't do that. Don't give me hope." My voice cracks. "I've worked so damn hard to accept this. To be strong for her and Max. Because that's what she wants. I can't hope again. I can't spend the time she has left arguing with her or being bitter. I just can't."
Taking a long, shuddering breath, I give him the truth I couldn't give Maggie. "If I thought I could convince her to try anything, I would have signed that paperwork and taken your five million dollars. But I've tried. And I fucking failed." My lungs are tight; I can't get enough breath.
"Blair-" He reaches for me, and I slide back from his hands.
"Don't." I step back. "Please. Just don't."
Ransom drags his hands through his hair, frustration rolling off him in waves. "I get it. I do. But it feels wrong to just... give up."
"You think I haven't said that to her? Begged her?" My voice cracks. "She's done fighting. The treatments make her so sick she can't even hold Max. Can't read to him or play with him. And that's killing her faster than the cancer."
His eyes soften. "Max. That's her kid, right? She mentioned him."
"Yeah." Despite everything, thinking about Max brings a smile to my face. "He's six. Smart as hell, but has no filter. Like, zero. He told Mrs. Winston her face looked like a raisin last week."
Ransom barks out a surprised laugh. "Bet that went over well."
"She gave him extra cookies. Said honesty deserved rewards." I shake my head. "This town, I swear."
"You help raise him?"
"Yeah. Maggie had a hard pregnancy. Then I stayed to make sure she had help. Then I didn't leave because it was fun to be around them." I cross my arms. "And now, I can't leave because someone needs to be there when..." I can't finish the sentence.
"When Maggie can't be." Ransom's voice is gentle. "He sounds like a great kid. I'm looking forward to meeting him."
"Max is at school right now. Won't be out for hours." I check my watch. "Speaking of time, shouldn't you be heading back to Chicago? Your family must be missing you."
Ransom's eyes search my face, and I force myself to meet his gaze steadily.
"Last night," he says, his voice rough. "When you said you forgave me. Was that real? Or were you just trying to get rid of me?"
My throat tightens. "It was real. Twenty-five years is too long to carry that kind of anger."
"Just like that, you've let it go?"
It wasn't just anything. It was the hardest thing I've had to do. But it was the right thing to do. Because despite all the other shit pressing down on me, I feel just a little bit lighter. "Mostly. I'm trying anyway. It was more than half our lives ago. We're totally different people."
He nods, looking thoughtful, his dark eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that makes my stomach clench. "Good. That's good. So you won't mind me having dinner with you guys. I'll be there at six. Is there anything I should bring?"
"Wait. What?" The words come out sharper than I intended, my carefully maintained composure slipping.
"Maggie invited me to dinner. To meet Max." He says it so casually, like it's the most natural thing in the world, like he hasn't been gone for a quarter century.
"You're staying longer?" I hate how my voice catches. And the way his gaze sharpens, like he's spotted a crack.
"I really want to meet Maggie's son. I'd like to spend a little time with them both. And with you." He takes a step closer, and I resist the urge to back away. "I appreciate your forgiveness. More than you can know. But I'd like to get to know you again, Blair."
"Why?" The question comes out barely above a whisper, but it echoes in the space between us like a shout. The rest of the world has disappeared, my ears all static-y. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready for him.
"Because there hasn't been a day in twenty-five years that I haven't thought about you. And now that I'm here, I can't just walk away again. I need..." His voice trails off, heavy with unspoken words.
"Closure," I finish for him, my tone flat. "You want to put a pretty bow on the past." I cross my arms over my chest, wishing my heart would stop pounding so erratically.
"I wouldn't say it like that. But I guess you're not wrong."
"And then you'll go?"
Does the man never blink? He just watches, and watches. Finally, the corner of his lips tilt. "I'll leave when it's time." He backs up, eyes still on me. "See you at six, Blair." Then he waves and jogs away.
I'll leave when it's time. "What the fuck does that mean?" I yell after him. He doesn't answer.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Guess I'm having dinner with the man who broke my heart.