54. Blair
54
BLAIR
TWO YEARS LATER
I slouch deeper into my chair, watching John and Zach square off over food.
"You can't serve fancy finger food at a car show," John growls, arms crossed over his massive chest. "People want real food."
Zach adjusts his silk tie, looking personally offended. "Sliders aren't fancy. They're miniature burgers."
"That's what I'm saying. Why make them tiny? Just serve normal-sized burgers!"
"Because tiny food is trendy?—"
"We're in Badger Falls. Nobody gives a fuck about trends. I see at least one mullet a day here."
I take a long sip of my Shirley Temple, hiding my smile as Maggie drops into the chair next to me. Her hair, now brushing her shoulders, grew back in a riot of curls. Not sure how that happens. Either way, she hasn't quite figured out how to style them, so she either looks like she's just come in from a storm, or they're pulled back into a tight ponytail. Tonight, it's the storm-ravaged look.
"What did I miss?" She grabs my drink and takes a swig, wincing.
"Why the hell do you steal my drink if you hate it so much? You do it every damn time."
She grins, cheeks pink and full. "Because it's convenient. Now fill me in."
"John and Zach are fighting about sliders versus burgers." I lean closer, keeping my voice low. "My money's on John. He's got that vein popping in his forehead."
"The one that shows up right before he starts dropping f-bombs?"
"That's the one."
"These fuckin' tiny foods are bullshit!" John throws his hands up. "These are car people. They don't want your yuppity shit. They want beer and burgers and maybe something sweet. That's it. Stop overcomplicating shit!"
"Called it." I grin at Maggie. "I don't know why they do this. This is the third year. You'd think this shit would be settled by now."
She drops her chin in her palm with a laugh that fills my chest with warmth. Two years ago, I sat in a hospital room watching her fade away. Now here she is, alive and vibrant, rolling her eyes at our town's most entertaining odd couple.
Well, one of them. These clashes over the the car show have been going on for years.
"Should we tell them Sarah's already ordered regular burgers and hot dogs?" Maggie whispers.
"Nah." I wave at Sarah for another round. "This is way more fun."
"You're evil." She bumps my shoulder. "It's my favorite thing about you."
Up front, Zach's now presenting a PowerPoint on the benefits of small-plate dining while John looks ready to flip the projector table. Tom, Angie, Mark, and a few other business owners are sitting back, sipping their drinks, heads bobbing back and forth as the men argue.
I'm not sure what I expected when Ransom's family said they were settling here, but it wasn't this. I didn't realize they were going to get so involved in everything. But that first year, literally the very next meeting of our unofficial revitalization committee, Zach showed up. He said his marketing expertise would get our first festival off the ground. John showed up to the first weekend meeting we had, and it snowballed from there. They have opinions and have no problems fighting it out. Though they only physically fought once, and that was only a little slap fight. Really nothing in the grand scheme of things.
"Do you think there's anything else we have to get done here? Or can we skip out?" Maggie asks, yawning. There's a little thread of worry that tries to unfurl in my chest when I see how tired she is, but I don't let it take root. She's healthy. Everyone gets tired. And she's been putting long hours in at work.
She is fine.
Cancer free.
Thank fuck.
"You ready?" I ask Maggie, jerking my head toward the door.
She nods, slipping her arm through mine as we sneak out. Behind us, John's voice rises. "Who the fuck serves tiny quiche at a car show?"
The night air wraps around us, crisp and clean. Stars wink overhead as we amble down Main Street.
"I need to grab something from the office real quick." Maggie tugs me toward the renovated storefront where she works. It started out as just a space away from the compound for my brothers-in-law, but it's morphed into an unofficial Brash Group satellite office. They need more space. I could see them wanting to build something in their area soon, but for now, this space gets them away from the kids and the dogs so they can focus but still be close to home.
And it's the perfect place for Maggie to do her graphic design work. After she was finally healthy again, she wanted to get out of the house and be around people.
"When are you going to drop the whole contractor thing and just accept a full-time job?"
"Hey, I like having my own clients." She fumbles with her keys. "Even if most of my work is for the Brash Group now."
"Zach's not pressuring you to go full-time?"
"Only every damn day." She disappears inside, emerging moments later with a manila folder.
We turn toward her house, our arms linked again. "Want to come over tonight?” I ask. “We could watch that new murder documentary."
"Can't. But..." She gives me a sly look. "Would you keep Max? Maybe do a sleepover?"
I groan dramatically. "Again? You're killing me."
"You love it."
"Maybe." I might grumble about it, but being the fun aunt is exactly what I wanted. No full-time mom duties, just spoiling and returning. And summer break means I get to do a lot of spoiling. And honestly, he's at the compound most of the time, hanging with Mia and a few other kids from town. They're a pack of half-wild wolves most of the summer. Between the woods, the go-carts, the BMX track, the pool with a full-time lifeguard, and the half-pipe, it's a damn summer camp.
"Just don't give him too much sugar this time."
"I make no promises. What happens at Auntie Blair's stays at Auntie Blair's."
"Blair McKenna, I swear?—"
"La la la, can't hear you." I skip ahead a few steps. "Max and I have a sacred pact. No snitching on sugar consumption."
"You're impossible." But she's laughing, and that's all that matters. She's here. She's healthy. She can give me as much shit as she wants.
We pause at Maggie's gate, the familiar creak of the hinges bringing back a flood of memories. Two years ago, this was home. And for a while, Ransom's home too. He and I fixed those steps together. To be fair, I fixed them, and he was my assistant. The best, most handsome assistant ever.
"You okay?" Maggie squeezes my arm.
"Yeah, just..." I gesture vaguely at the house. "Sometimes I miss living here."
"You literally live a ten-minute walk away."
"I know." The porch light flickers on automatically, illuminating the wind chimes I made. "It's different though." Moving in with Ransom was exciting. And after a bumpy first week, it's just gotten better and better. But leaving this place? That was harder than I expected. "I wanted you to come with us, you know. There's plenty of room."
"Blair." Her voice carries that gentle warning tone she uses when I'm being ridiculous. "I need my own space. And you needed yours with Ransom."
She's right, of course. Doesn't stop me from wanting my best friend closer. Ransom would've been all for it too. In his mind, there is no such thing as too close. And the house is big enough for all of us, that's for sure. There are some rooms in our house I've never even been in. It's ridiculous, but I'm not going to complain because I love that he's here. I love that they're all here.
"I know, I know." I kick at a dandelion pushing through a crack in the sidewalk. "I just miss having you down the hall sometimes."
"Well, you're about to have Max down the hall for the night. That's almost the same thing. Now scoot. Get out of here. Your man should be home soon, right?"
"Right."
I pull her into a tight hug before she can head inside. She feels solid in my arms, warm and real. Not like those days in the hospital when she felt like she might float away. Her curls tickle my nose, smelling of the coconut shampoo she's used since high school.
"You're getting mushy on me again," she mumbles into my shoulder.
"Deal with it." I squeeze harder. There were months when I couldn't hug her at all. When the treatments made her skin hurt so bad that even the lightest touch caused pain. When tubes and wires got in the way. When I thought each hug might be our last.
But here she is. Strong. Healthy. Cancer-free for over a year now.
"I love you, you know that?" I press a kiss to her temple.
"I know." She pulls back, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I love you too. Now go home before we both start crying on the front lawn."
"Wouldn’t be the first time."
"And it probably won't be the last." She wipes at her eyes. "But not tonight. Tonight you're going to go home to that ridiculous house your ridiculous husband built, and I'm going to climb into a bubble bath with a big glass of wine."
"Ok. I'll send your kid home in the morning."
"Perfect." She heads up the steps, pausing at the door. "Blair?"
"Yeah?"
Her smile turns into a smirk. "Try not to make too much noise when my kid's in your house. He told me you and Ransom were wrestling in the backyard in the middle of the night last week during the sleepover."
Heat floods my cheeks. "That was definitely Ransom's fault. He was wearing those shorts."
"The grey ones?" Maggie waggles her eyebrows.
"You know the ones." I fan my face dramatically. "He knows what he's doing when he wears those."
"At least someone's getting some backyard action." She sighs wistfully. "I miss wrestling."
"Maybe you need a wrestling partner of your own."
"Already on it." She winks. "That's what the bath is for. Got a few prospects lined up on my phone. Time to do some... research."
"Maggie Jones!" I gasp in mock horror. "What would the church ladies say?"
"Probably to save them some screenshots." She cackles, heading inside. "Night, Blair."
"Night, you shameless hussy."
I stroll down the sidewalk, enjoying the chorus of crickets and the soft glow of porch lights. Three houses down, I climb the steps to find Nan and Connie already settled in their rocking chairs.
"Evening, ladies," I settle into the empty rocker between them. "Beautiful night."
"Indeed it is," Connie agrees, her silver hair gleaming in the lamplight. "Though I hear some nights are more beautiful than others, particularly for backyard activities."
Nan snorts into her sweet tea.
I groan, slumping in my chair. "Does everyone know about that?"
"Voices carry, dear," Nan pats my knee. "No need to be embarrassed."
"Oh, don't be shy, dear. My Arthur and I destroyed my prize-winning rose garden one summer night. Complete disaster. Crushed every single bloom." Connie sighs dreamily. "It was worth it, though. Those thorns left marks for weeks."
"Connie!" I peek through my fingers, shocked and yet totally not. These ladies have lived.
"What? I was young once. And very flexible." She rocks contentedly. "I was hosting the garden club the next day. I had to tell them a deer got in."
Nan's shoulders shake with silent laughter. "At least you had privacy. George and I nearly scarred poor Cadence for life. She was about sixteen, came down to do laundry..." She trails off, fanning herself. "Let's just say the spin cycle has its uses."
"Nan!" My voice hits a pitch I didn't know was possible.
"What? The vibrations were quite..." She wiggles her eyebrows. "Therapeutic."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this."
"Oh please." Connie waves her hand dismissively. "You're not the first young couple to get caught up in the moment. Fornicate! All night. Every night. It keeps you limber, and it's great for your relationship. My Arthur didn't even look at another woman during our marriage because he knew he could park the car in my garage any time he wanted."
"I'll remember that." God, how can they still embarrass me? They seem to take pleasure in it. When these two get together, shit’s getting inappropriate.
I glance at Connie, who's been a fixture on this porch lately. "You're spending a lot of time here lately. Not that we're complaining."
"The helicopter makes it easy." She reaches down to scratch behind her dachshund's ears as they stir from their corner nest.
The dogs, both a little deaf, trot over, stubby tails wagging. I lean down to give them both attention, earning happy snuffles and wet kisses. Ransom would bring her any time, and he does. But Connie’s rich enough to have her own. I don’t know why that still surprises me. Maybe because I caught her drunk as a skunk on moonshine last weekend. It just doesn't seem like something a billionaire would be doing.
Of course there were about seven other billionaires just as drunk as she was around that fire, so what the hell do I know?
"It's nice here." Connie's voice grows soft, thoughtful. "All the young people, the energy. Makes me feel alive again." She smooths the silk scarf around her neck. "The city can be... lonely. My grandsons, they're good boys, but they're scattered. Singapore, Dubai, London... They call, but it's not the same as having family close."
The wistfulness in her tone tugs at my heart. I know that feeling. I used to have it all the time. Wishing people I loved would be here.
I don’t feel that way anymore.
"Well, you've got plenty of family right here." I reach over and squeeze her hand. "Even if none of us are actually related."
"Blood's overrated anyway," Nan adds, lifting her glass in a toast. "Found family's just as good. Better sometimes, since you get to pick them yourself."
"You're absolutely right."
I spot John trudging up the street, his broad shoulders hunched as he mutters under his breath. His steps slow as he reaches Nan's porch.
"Evening, ladies." He nods to Connie and Nan, then turns to me. "Heading home?"
"Yeah." I push up from the rocker. "Night, Nan, Connie. Thanks for the entertainment."
"Anytime, dear." Connie winks. "Remember what I said about the garage."
I feel my cheeks heat as I hurry down the steps to join John on the sidewalk. We fall into an easy rhythm, walking side by side in the cool evening air.
"So how'd the great food fight end up?"
John's jaw tightens. "Fucking compromise. Zach's gonna set up some fancy-ass appetizer booth. Tiny quiche and shit."
I press my lips together, fighting back a laugh at his grumpy expression.
"Don't even start," he growls, catching my expression. "I saw you sneaking out."
"Smart move on my part." I bump his shoulder with mine. "So, how are you doing?"
He shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets.
I grab his arm, pulling him to a stop under a streetlight. "Not going to work every day’s a bit of an adjustment, I know. Are you regretting it?"
His stormy eyes meet mine, uncertainty written across his features. "Abby goes to work every day. Even if she works from home, she does. And I sit on my ass."
"Stop that." I poke him in the chest. "You’re retired. Yeah, you’re a little young, but I don’t think she would judge you. She could stop working too, if she wanted. She knows you guys have plenty of money."
"Yeah, we got money, but people need a reason to get up in the fucking morning."
"Are you bored? I thought with the committees and the kids you wouldn’t miss the restaurant. Are you sorry you sold it?"
He scowls. "Maybe. I liked feeling useful. And I like cooking."
"I know you do. You do it very well. My ass can vouch for it."
That gets a grin. But it fades quickly. "A man should provide for his family."
"Right. Roof over their heads, food on the table, and a little money to buy a castle or two. I think you’re good."
He side-eyes me, then pulls me into a walk again. "You’re kind of a pain in the ass, you know? Can’t a man just wallow every once in a while?"
"Forgive me. My bad. Continue wallowing."
"You fuckin’ ruined it."
Laughing, I nudge him with a shoulder. I didn’t realize how much I’d come to love all my brothers-in-law. They’re all so different, all of them so caring, I feel pretty lucky to have them in my life.
"Do you think you might like to start something up in town?"
"Nah. I didn’t like being the boss. I liked being in charge in the kitchen, but running a business is a fucking pain in the ass."
A conversation I had with Macy last week pops into my head. "You know, I was talking to Macy at the diner. Her Mom and Dad are getting tired. They’re talking about stepping away from the diner. They’ve owned it for over thirty years. Macy wants to keep it running, but she’s going to need someone to replace her dad in the kitchen. Would you ever consider doing something like that?"
He scowls, stopping, staring at his feet. "I don’t know if I want to work every day. I like being home when Abby’s home."
"Well, maybe pop in and chat with her. Maybe you guys can work something out."
He grunts and plants his hands on his hips. "I’ll think about it."
"You do that."
There’s a whistle from somewhere on the property, and John jogs off, giving me a wave.
The gravel crunches under my boots as I follow the winding path toward home. No fences mar the landscape—just carefully planned security systems that let the kids roam freely. The BMX track looms ahead, dirt jumps casting long shadows in the fading light. Squeals and shouts echo from that direction as the evening crew gets in their last runs.
"Higher, Uncle Colton!" Max's voice carries across the property. I smile, knowing he's probably getting launched off the half-pipe again. That kid has no fear.
The sky stretches endlessly above me, painted in brilliant oranges and pinks. I scan for the familiar shape of Ransom's helicopter—he's been gone a couple of days this time. Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life now: living in this ridiculous compound with this ridiculous family, married to the boy who broke my heart and then spent twenty-five years becoming the exact man I always knew he could be.
More laughter rings out, followed by the distinctive whoop that means someone just landed a trick. I pause to watch the kids racing their bikes around the track, their silhouettes backlit by the setting sun. Mia leads the pack, her pink helmet glinting as she takes the turns with the confidence of someone who practically grew up on two wheels.
A distant thrum catches my attention and I tilt my head back, searching the painted sky. There—right on schedule, coming in from the east. My heart does that silly little flutter it always does when I spot him coming home.