26. Ransom
26
RANSOM
I shift from foot to foot on Maggie's front porch, my heart doing that weird skip-thump thing it's been doing since I got back to Badger Falls. The doorbell echoes inside, followed by the thunder of small feet. How do the littlest people have the loudest footsteps?
The door swings open to reveal a kid in what looks like a superhero costume crossed with pajamas crossed with... is that a tutu? His face and hands are smeared with something brown.
"Who the hell are you?" He plants his hands on his hips, blocking the doorway like a tiny bouncer.
"Max!" Maggie's voice carries from somewhere inside.
"I'm Ransom. I'm a friend of your mom's."
He narrows his eyes. "Are you the guy from Chicago that Aunt Blair's all mad about?"
"Max Jones!" Maggie appears behind him, but she's grinning.
"What? That's what you said." He turns back to me. "Do you really have bajillions of dollars?"
"I... well, I'm not really sure how much a bajillion is. But yeah, I have a lot. How'd you know about that?"
"Mom watches those shows about rich people. And she told Aunt Blair that you're richer than them." He leans forward, dropping his voice. "Do you really have a helicopter?"
"Maxwell, let the poor man in." Maggie gently nudges him aside. "Sorry, he's been watching reality TV again."
"No, it's..." I step inside, trying not to stare at how thin Maggie looks in her oversized sweater, how it hangs off her shoulders like a blanket. My chest tightens at the sight. "It's fine. And yeah, I have a helicopter, buddy. Use it for business mostly."
"Can I come see it?" Max bounces on his toes, leaving chocolate handprints on his tutu. The sparkly fabric is covered in what looks like a mix of glitter and crumbs. "I promise I won't break anything. Well, probably won't. Like ninety percent sure."
Gotta appreciate his honesty. He sounds a lot like my brothers.
"Max, go wash up for dinner." Maggie points toward what I assume is the bathroom, and I catch the slight tremor in her hand before she quickly drops it. "And change out of that... whatever that outfit is. You're getting crumbs everywhere."
"I'm a chocolate ninja ballerina astronaut." He rolls his eyes like this should be obvious, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Duh. It's a very important job. Someone has to do space ballet missions."
It's the 'duh' that gets me. I cover my mouth and cough to cover the laugh. Maggie shoots me a glare, but I get it. Laughing at shit like that is a guarantee you're going to get more of the attitude, and I don't want to make her life harder. If it was Mia, though? I wouldn't bother hiding it. And if her attitude gets worse, oh well. That's Colton's job. "That's actually pretty creative. The world definitely needs more ninja ballerina astronauts. Especially ones who like chocolate."
"See? He gets it." Max shoots his mom a look of pure six-year-old vindication before racing off down the hall, leaving a trail of glitter in his wake. The sparkles catch the light like tiny stars on the hardwood floor.
"He is something else." I follow Maggie into the kitchen, where amazing smells are coming from the oven.
"That he is." She sinks into a chair at the kitchen table. "Blair should be home soon. She got caught up at the garage."
My stomach does that flip thing again at Blair's name, but I shove it aside. "What can I help with? Are you sure I can't take you guys to the diner instead?"
She shakes her head. "Everything's done. All I did was turn the oven on. Our neighbors have kept the freezer filled with casseroles for the last six months. So I don't have to worry about cooking if…"
"If you're having a bad day."
"Exactly. Blair cooks too sometimes. She makes a mean Shepherd's Pie."
"Just like Robert."
"Yep. Anything she knows how to cook, she learned from him. Comforting, filling, and in a casserole dish."
"I remember." And I do. Robert had the same ten recipes on rotation. If we wanted to change things up, he'd throw a new vegetable in or do chicken instead of beef. But that was it.
Honestly, I didn't mind the predictability of it. The year before I moved in with Robert and Blair was full of chaos, and knowing exactly what was coming was a comfort.
"Robert was always predictable. Same wake-up time, same choices for breakfast. Home from the garage by 5:30 and dinner on the table by 6:30."
Maggie's smile is soft and a little sad. "Blair's the same. They lived together for so long, his habits became hers."
"It's strange," I say, tracing a pattern on Maggie's wooden table. "I always pictured her... different. Living somewhere else, maybe. With a family of her own."
"You mean not following in Robert's footsteps?"
"Yeah. I guess." I rub my jaw, the words coming slow. "Sometimes I wonder if she stays because it's all she knows. If she's just... stuck here."
Maggie's laugh catches me off guard. "Oh, Ransom. That's not Blair at all."
"But the routine, the garage, everything exactly like Robert?—"
"Stop underestimating her." Maggie leans forward, her eyes bright despite the dark circles under them. "Blair went to college, you know. Is still going, actually. She's got degrees in science and engineering. She did most of it at night online, after working a full day at the garage."
A weird mix of pride and frustration wells up. "I didn't know that."
"She's here because this is where she wanted to be. The routine? That's not her being stuck—it's her being Blair. She loves the predictability, yes. But she's also a devourer of information. She's always tinkering, building, and creating something in the garage. And she mentors a few kids every week, teaching them about cars."
My chest feels tight. "I didn't know any of that."
"Of course you didn't. You've been seeing what you expected to see." Maggie's voice is gentle but firm. "Blair isn't trapped here. She's thriving. The garage isn't a chain around her neck—it's her kingdom. And she runs it exactly how she wants to."
"She told me she loved it here. That she's happy."
"She is. She loved Robert deeply," Maggie says. "But that's not why she stays. She stays because this life—this town, that garage, these people—it's what makes her happy. Truly, deeply happy."
I stare at my hands on Maggie's kitchen table, everything clicking into place. This whole year, I'd been telling myself Blair was stuck here, that she needed saving, that maybe one day she'd want something different.
But she doesn't. She never did.
Blair's built exactly the life she wants. While I was out there creating my empire, she was building her own—brick by brick, degree by degree, student by student.
"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my hair.
"Language!" Max's voice pipes up from the hallway.
"Sorry, buddy," I yell back, though I'm not sure he's the guy to be policing my language. Maggie's shoulders are shaking, her hand pressed to her mouth.
My mind's racing. If I want Blair—and God help me, I do—I can't expect her to bend. This is her home, her life, built exactly how she wants it. The garage isn't just a business; it's her legacy. Robert's legacy.
My brothers need me in Chicago. The company needs me there. But Blair... Blair needs to be here.
I'm going to have to figure out how to bridge that gap. How to keep my family whole while building something new here. Because walking away from Blair again? That's not happening.
I've spent twenty-five years trying to forget her. Twenty-five years building walls around that part of my heart. And in a matter of days, she's torn them all down.
So yeah, I'm going to have to get creative. Find a way to make this work. Because leaving isn't an option anymore.
Max waves his fork, flinging bits of noodle as he tells us about his day.
"And then Jimmy just whipped it out and started peeing!" Max's eyes go wide. "Right there on the playground!"
Blair raises an eyebrow. "And you used Jason as a shield?"
"Well, yeah. Better him than me." Max shrugs, shoveling another forkful into his mouth.
"Why didn't you both just run?" Maggie's trying not to laugh, but failing.
Max pauses, fork halfway to his mouth. "Huh. That would've been smart."
"Tactical retreat." Blair nods sagely. "Always a valid strategy."
"Next time someone tries to pee on me, I'm running." Max says this like it's a common occurrence.
Blair catches my eye across the table, and for a second I see the hint of a smile. It hits me how natural she is with Max. There's none of that forced cheerfulness adults usually use with kids. She just... talks to him. Like he's a person who happens to be smaller.
"Maybe we avoid getting peed on altogether?" Maggie smooths Max's wild hair. "And use our words instead?"
"Mom." Max rolls his eyes. "Jimmy doesn't listen to words. He's like a tiny drunk person."
"Drunk person?" I mouth at Blair. She just rolls her eyes.
"He's not wrong." Blair reaches for her water. "He's a lot like his dad, Kurt, was in third grade."
"Oh god. He peed in the corner of the classroom," Maggie says, groaning.
"Yep. That corner stunk for the rest of the year." Blair turns to Max. "See? Every grade has one kid who makes questionable choices. And sometimes, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
Maggie shoots them both a look. "We're not encouraging this."
"Course not." Blair winks at Max when Maggie turns away.
It's like watching a perfectly balanced system. Maggie keeps them grounded, while Blair and Max bounce off each other like pinballs. They're a family, in their own weird way.
Just like me and my brothers.
"Do you have any kids?" Max asks me, licking casserole sauce off his spoon.
"Nope. But I've got the cutest niece and nephew on the planet." I pull out my phone. "Want to see?"
"Yeah! What're their names?"
"Mia and Noah. Noah’s one, and Mia's almost five."
"What grade is she in?"
"She's going into kindergarten this fall."
Max sighs and pops his chin into his hand. "Kindergarten was good. We had snacks and naps. And a great big dress-up box. I like dressing up."
"Dressing up is fun. It's fun to pretend. That's why even grown-ups love Halloween."
"I was Spider-Man at Halloween!" Max bounces in his chair. "What'd she dress up as?"
"A Minion. Actually, we all dressed up as minions."
Max's eyes go huge. "No way! The yellow guys from that movie?"
"Yep. Complete with goggles and overalls."
"I wanna see!" Max scrambles around the table and climbs right into my lap without hesitation. I adjust to make room for him, pulling up the Halloween photos.
"That's my brother Colton," I point to the screen. "And that's Nick and Maverick..."
"Why's that one screaming?" Max points at a photo of Colton mid-freakout. Of course I took pictures.
"There were fake rats on the lawn of that house. He's scared of small furry things."
"But he's huge!" Max giggles. "He looks like a giant yellow banana!"
"Right? That's what I told him.”
I'm aware of Blair and Maggie watching us, can feel their eyes as Max and I scroll through more pictures. He asks about every single person, wanting to know their names, their favorite foods, if they like Spider-Man.
"Who's the baby?" He points at Noah.
"That's Noah, my nephew. He's just about walking now. He's still pretty wobbly."
"He's tiny." Max zooms in with his sticky fingers. "But his head is huge! He tips over, huh?"
I drop my forehead on the top of Max's smelly head and laugh. "He does. A lot. But that's all part of learning to walk. I bet you fell over a lot when you were learning."
He scoffs and flicks to the next picture. "Ohh. That's a big tree."
"It is. Fifteen feet."
"That's all your family?"
"Yeah, it is."
"Can I see?" Maggie asks softly. I hand her the phone, and she smiles, looking down at it.
"That's the only picture I have that everyone's in. Everyone was all over the place at Christmas. And the kids… hell, the adults were on sugar highs, so pinning them down was tough."
"Where was this taken?"
"My penthouse."
"What's a penthouse?" Max asks, snatching the phone back, staring down at it.
"It's like a big house, but on the top of a building."
"Does it have grass?" he asks me, frowning.
"No, we don't have grass. But we do have a pool on the roof."
"Cool! Could the wind pick you up and throw you out of the pool?"
I can actually feel my eyes bulging out of my head. "Ah… no. That doesn't happen."
"Huh," he mutters, handing the phone back to his mom, sliding off my lap and wandering to the fridge. He pulls it open, grabs a yogurt, takes the spoon he used at supper off the table, then goes to the living room. "I'm gonna watch my shows."
Maggie and I trade a look when the music of a popular survival show comes on. She just rolls her eyes. "I give up. If he's gotta watch those shows, I'd rather that one than the housewives."
"Good call." Not that I actually know what housewives she's talking about.
Maggie's gaze falls to my phone in her hand. It vibrates like it's been doing on and off all evening, and her eyes widen. She drops her head in her hand with a choked laugh and hands the phone to me.
My family text thread is blowing up.
I glance down at my phone, and groan.
NICK: Which of you fuckers ate my pizza? I'm going to come down there and shove a shoe up your ass.
COLTON: Where did you leave it?
NICK: What do you mean where? In my fucking kitchen.
MAVERICK: Which kitchen?
NICK: My kitchen for fuck's sake.
COLTON: So touchy. It's a reasonable question. We have many kitchens. It could be in mine, or in Jonas's or?—
JONAS: I saw a concerning report about pizza-related food poisoning on Channel 7.
COLTON: Nick's.
KADE: Not helping, Jonas.
COLTON: or Kade's.
JONAS: Did you know 1 in 6 Americans get food poisoning annually?
MICAH: Remember France? Those snails?
COLTON: Oh god, don't remind me.
NICK: CAN WE FOCUS ON MY PIZZA?
MAVERICK: Those weren't snails, bro, those were slugs
COLTON: WHAT?
MAVERICK: They're the same thing.
KADE: Those slimy fuckers? I'm gonna puke
COLTON: I'm gonna be sick.
NICK: Guys, seriously about my pizza.
JONAS: Symptoms of food poisoning include nausea, vomiting...
NICK: JONAS, I STG.
MAVERICK: Hey, remember when Declan ate that street meat in Thailand?
KADE: He destroyed that bathroom.
NICK: I am conducting a SERIOUS INVESTIGATION here!
COLTON: Still processing the slug thing.
NICK: Can someone check the security cameras?
JONAS: Studies show 68% of food theft occurs within families.
NICK: ...that's not a real statistic.
JONAS: It could be.
MAVERICK: Guys, I ate it.
NICK: FINALLY!
MAVERICK: Sorry, was hungry after court.
COLTON: Wait, so about those slugs...
JONAS: Fun fact: slugs contain parasites that?—
COLTON: STOP!
I shake my head, putting my phone face down. "My brothers are idiots."
Then I pick it back up and type out a message:
Slugs have 27,000 teeth
then laugh when it keeps vibrating. I flick it to silent, then look up and meet Blair's questioning gaze.
I don't try to explain; I just hand her my phone with the chat open and watch her lips curve into a smile.
It’s not the wide, loving smile I remember, but it's a start.
"Are they always like this?" she asks, handing me back my phone.
"Pretty much." I tuck the phone in my pocket. "We're a bunch of kids when we're together. This chat is a reflection of that most of the time."
"And you raised them?"
"Sort of. They were all pretty tough by the time we found each other, but I tried to be there for them. To be the kind of person Robert was. That my dad was."
"But you were just a kid too."
"I stopped being a kid the day I left here, Blair."
Her lips press together tightly, a storm of emotions in her eyes. Finally, she asks the question she's been asking all along. The one I wasn't willing to answer.
"Why did you go?"
She sits there, shoulders curved inward, and I see that seventeen-year-old girl again. The one who believed in me when no one else did. The one who saw past my anger and my pain. The one I destroyed to protect.
And I realize I have a choice to make.
All this time, I've been protecting Robert's memory.
Protecting Blair's memories of him.
But maybe, the truth is what she needs. Even if she can never love me again. Even if it's been too long. Maybe she deserves to know exactly what I did.
And why I did it.
"Can we go for a drive?"