32. Blair
32
BLAIR
I quietly close the front door and lean against it, my mind a freaking tornado of confusion after everything that happened in the last hour. Maggie steps out of the kitchen, her thin frame wrapped in her favorite cardigan. One look at my face, and her eyes narrow.
"What happened?"
"Nothing." I shake my head. I am such a liar. "I just need some air." Peeking to make sure Ransom's car's gone, I open the door.
The wooden steps of the porch creak under my weight as I sink down. The night air carries the scent of Mrs. Peterson's jasmine from next door. Stars peek through gaps in the clouds, but I barely notice them.
Dad knew. All this time, he knew.
A lot later, the door opens and Maggie's footsteps shuffle across the boards. She presses a glass into my hand. The smell hits me just before I throw it back. The whiskey burns down my throat, warming my chest.
"Talk to me." Maggie lowers herself next to me, wrapping her cardigan tighter. She knows me so well. She knows that sometimes I need to sit and stew before I'm ready to talk.
She always makes me talk.
I've learned over the years that I might as well save myself her hounding and just get it out of the way.
"Dad made him leave." The words taste bitter. "He told Ransom to break up with me, to make it cruel so I wouldn't follow."
"Wait. What?"
"Because of our age difference. He was afraid I'd get in trouble." My fingers tighten around the glass. "I was nearly an adult. And it would be illegal for us to be together. To have sex."
"Oh honey." Her hand lands on my back, softly stroking. It's comforting and familiar.
"Dad drove him away himself after Ransom broke that window at the store." The memory of that day hits fresh. "He set the whole thing up."
"Jesus,” she breathes. “And he never told you." She gets up, then comes back less than a minute later with the whiskey bottle and tops me up.
“Thank you.” I take another sip. "All these years, I thought—" My voice cracks. "I was so angry at him, Mags. For leaving like that, for saying those things. And Dad knew. He watched me hurt and never said a word." For years. Years! That's the part that hurts the most.
"Your dad loved you."
"Did he? Because this feels like control, not love." The whiskey can't wash away the betrayal lodged in my throat. "Twenty-five years, Mags. We lost twenty-five years because Dad decided he knew what was best for me."
"Maybe it wasn't the worst thing." Maggie's voice stays gentle. "You two were like gasoline and matches back then."
"Don't." I shoot her a warning look.
"Remember when you skipped my birthday party because Ransom wanted to go camping?"
"That's not fair." It's true. We camped out in the back of the truck. We spent more of the night talking and did a lot of making out. But it was still innocent. And it was a great night.
But I still feel like a bit of an asshole for missing her eighteenth. Things between Ransom and I were still new, still so intense. And yeah, I chose the guy over my best friend. I’m not sure I could have made any other choice back then.
"What about nearly failing your chemistry final because you guys stayed up all night stargazing?"
"I still passed." The whiskey glass clinks as I set it down harder than necessary.
"Barely. My point is, when you were with him, nothing else existed. Not friends, not school, not?—"
"So what? We were teenagers. That's what teenagers do." Hasn’t she been trying to shove me toward Ransom? Now suddenly, she thinks it was a problem back then? I don’t understand her.
Maggie shook her head. "Not like that. You two were different. Intense. Like you were both drowning and the other person was air."
Air. Yeah, that sounds right. That’s how I felt about him back then. And tonight, when his lips touched mine, it all came rushing back.
Why is that so bad? Why is she suddenly on Dad’s side? "Are you trying to justify what Dad did?" The betrayal burns worse than the whiskey.
"I'm not. What Robert did was wrong. He should have told you the truth or allowed you the chance to fix things. But Blair—would you have gotten your engineering degree if Ransom had stayed? Would you have taken over the garage? Become this amazing, independent woman who built her own life?"
"You don't know that I wouldn't have."
"You're right, I don't. But I watched you back then. You would have followed him anywhere."
"Would that have been so bad? We could–" I stop, the words catching in my throat as memories flood back. The way I used to plan my entire day around seeing him, how we'd daydream about our futures. Back then, I would have followed him anywhere. My fingers trace the rim of the whiskey glass as the truth settles heavily in my chest. Even now, years later, some small part of me knows I would have thrown everything away just to stay in his orbit.
"Than what? Than being here? Running your own business? Being Max's second mom?" Her voice stayed steady, refusing to rise to my anger. "Your life matters, Blair. The person you've become matters."
The fight drained out of me. "I know." Dad depended on me more and more over the years. We were close, maybe too close. And somewhere, deep in the corner of my mind, I wonder if he was so afraid of losing me, he jumped at the chance to send Ransom away. Because if Ransom and I had been together, and he wanted to leave Badger Falls, I would have gone with him in a heartbeat.
"I get it now." Maggie's voice cut through the darkness. "Why Robert did what he did. As a parent, you'll do anything to protect your child."
The words hit like a slap in the face. That’s rich, coming from her. "Like you're protecting Max by giving up?"
"Blair—"
"No." I pulled my hand away. "You don't get to lecture me about protection when you won't even fight."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it? You're abandoning him. Abandoning me." My voice cracked.
"I'm dying, Blair. There's a difference between giving up and accepting reality."
"Reality? The reality is you're choosing to leave us." The fear and the anger crawl up my throat. I want to scream at her, and tell her how selfish I think she is. But I don’t.
"Don't you dare." Maggie's voice turned sharp. "I have fought this thing twice. I've spent years being sick, being tired, missing moments with my son because I was too busy throwing up from chemo. I can't believe you're bringing this up again. You said you understood. Were you lying?"
She’s always been stubborn. And when we fight about the big stuff, which doesn’t happen often, she has this way of distancing herself that scares the shit out of me. She gets cold.
In the past, I could handle a little cold. And eventually, she’d come around.
But we don’t have the luxury of time. And I can’t spend the time she has left with her angry at me. I can’t lose her yet. Not like that.
"I'm sorry." The words tumbled out. "I didn't mean—please don't?—"
"Don't what?" she snaps.
"Don't kick me out. I can't—" My breath comes hard and fast. This is her house. Her family. I don't have a right to be here.
Maggie's breath catches, and her arms wrap around me. "Oh honey, no. Never. You are my family. I love you, and I'd never do that to you, no matter how much you piss me off."
"I'm scared." The admission felt like glass in my mouth. Scared of losing you. Scared of life after. Scared of my feelings.
"I know." She stroked my hair. "But this isn't about running away or fear. It's about giving Max whatever time I have left, where he can actually have his mom. Not some ghost in a hospital bed."
I press my face into her shoulder. "I shouldn't have said those things."
"You're allowed to be angry. I'm angry too." Her voice softened. "But I need you to understand—this isn't giving up. This is choosing how I want to spend my last chapter."
"I hate this chapter."
"Me too." She squeezes me tighter. "But I'm not going anywhere yet. And you'll always be Max's Auntie Blair. That won't change."
I lean against Maggie's shoulder, emotionally drained. "He told me he loves me."
"What?" Maggie jerks back so fast I nearly topple over. "Ransom Kyle said what now?"
"That he's always loved me. Never stopped." My fingers trace patterns on the wooden step. "Says every relationship since has fallen short."
"Holy shit. He just went for it, huh?" Maggie grabs my arm. "And do you believe him? I mean, that's a big thing to say after twenty-five years apart."
"I don't know." But the way my stomach clenches up makes it clear I have some sort of feeling about it. Can't tell if it's a good or a bad feeling yet. It's funny how, at the beginning, they can feel the same. "He seemed really sure."
"And? What happened next?"
Heat creeps up my neck. "We might have kissed."
"Might have?" Maggie's eyebrows shoot up. "Either you did or you didn't."
"Fine. We did." I can still feel the press of his lips, the way his hands cupped my face. "It was..."
"Was what? Don't leave me hanging here."
"Different than when we were kids. More intense. Like touching a live wire."
"Well damn." Maggie fans herself. "Have you seen him? That silver at his temples? Those shoulders? Girl, if I wasn't already taken by death?—"
"Stop it." I shove her shoulder. "That's not funny."
"Who's being funny? I'm just saying, if I had a bucket list?—"
"Maggie Jones!"
"What? He got hot. Like, really hot. Distinguished daddy hot."
"I will push you off this porch."
She cackles. "Look at you getting all territorial. Someone's still got feelings."
"I do not?—"
"Please. You just about broke my arm when I mentioned his shoulders."
"Did not."
"Did too. Face it, Blair McKenna. You've still got it bad for Ransom Kyle."
I groan and drop my head in my hands. "This isn't happening."
"Oh, it's definitely happening. And from where I'm sitting, it's about damn time."
"You just finished telling me we were too intense together! You’re giving me fucking whiplash! What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I watched you stew over that boy for years. And now he's back, looking like a whole snack?—"
"I'm going inside now."
"Running away just proves my point!" she calls after me as I stand.
"I'm not running. I'm preserving your life, because if you say 'snack' one more time?—"
"Fine, fine." She holds up her hands in surrender, but her eyes dance with mischief. "But admit it—the kiss was good."
I pause at the door, fighting a smile. "It was better than good."
"Ha! I knew it!"
"Shut up."
"Never." She grins. "Now help me up. My dying ass needs tea, and you need to tell me everything."