Chapter Five #3
Ransom and I exchanged a look.
June patted my hand. "Now you two sit tight. Let me get your orders in." She slid back out of the booth. "What'll it be?"
"Chicken fried steak for me," I said. "Well done, please."
"Burger for me, medium," Ransom added.
After she bustled away, Ransom pulled out his phone. "Brooke's jealous. She's made that clear. But would she actually try to hurt you?"
"Depends how desperate she is." I thought about the cutting remarks, the barely concealed anger. "She went to LA expecting to be a star. Came back broke and teaching high school drama. That's got to sting."
"What about Darcy?" Ransom scrolled through his phone. "June mentioned she's always filming for her social media."
"Apparently she’s building her portfolio or something—wants to work in film eventually.
" I wrapped my fingers around my water glass, the condensation cool against my palms. "What if she caught something on camera that the police missed when they reviewed the theater's security footage? Background details we didn't notice."
"Good thinking." He typed in her name. "If she's documenting everything for her portfolio, she might have angles the security cameras didn't catch."
We spent the next few minutes watching her behind-the-scenes videos. She'd posted dozens over the past few weeks—cast members running lines, Vivian directing, set construction, costume fittings. The videos had decent production value, creative perspectives, good editing.
"Wait." Ransom paused on one. "Look at the timestamp on this video from Saturday. The night of the mirror message."
I leaned across the table to see better. The video showed the stage, cast members in the middle of the spirit summoning scene. Time stamp: 7:43 PM.
"The power went out around 7:45," I said. "The message was written while we were in the dark."
"Right. So where's the video of what happened during the blackout? Where's the aftermath?" He scrolled further. "The next video isn't until Sunday afternoon. Huge gap."
"That's strange," I said slowly. Ransom frowned.
June returned with our food. The chicken fried steak looked delicious—golden crust, creamy gravy, exactly how I liked it. My stomach rumbled. I'd been too nervous to eat much today, and suddenly I was starving.
I cut into the meat, lifted the first bite to my mouth—
And immediately spit it back onto my plate.
"Rainey?" Ransom was half out of his seat. "What's wrong?"
I couldn't speak, just pointed at my plate. The steak I'd cut into was completely raw inside—bloody, cold, wrong. My stomach lurched. The bite I'd swallowed wanted to come back up. I grabbed my water glass with shaking hands and drained it.
June rushed over, her face pale with mortification. "Oh honey, I am so sorry! I don't—that shouldn't—" She whisked the plate away. "Let me get you something else right away. Mac and cheese, fresh from the kitchen, and some hot rolls. Dinner's on the house, both of you."
She returned quickly with a steaming plate of comfort food. I managed to eat, though my appetite had disappeared.
"Could be a kitchen mistake," Ransom said quietly, watching me. "But after today..."
He didn't need to finish. After the curtain rod, after Mason showing up at my house, everything felt like a threat.
He reached across the table. "Let's think this through. Who would want to scare you off this production?"
I forced myself to focus. To think. "Mason. He's been at the theater for every incident. Won't take no for an answer. Shows up at my house uninvited."
"Brooke." Ransom squeezed my hand. "Jealous about the role. Desperate. Broke. June said she was arguing with the director about deserving recognition."
"What about Dee Dee Crenshaw?" I added. "She’s a real estate agent who keeps pressuring Gran to sell the shop. She made some comments about 'accidents' happening to old buildings."
Ransom frowned. "That could be considered a threat."
"Maybe. But these incidents are all aimed at me, not Gran or Midnight Curiosities." I thought about Saturday morning. "And there's Laurel Hayes—she's the librarian, plays the fortune teller in the show. She had this... vision, I guess? Went into a trance and said 'betrayal wears a familiar face.'"
"You think she knows something?"
I shook my head. "Laurel's always been a bit of a misfit, but I think she was just trying to warn me, not scare me off."
We sat there, fingers linked across the table, trying to make sense of it all. The mac and cheese was comfort food—warm and filling—and slowly my appetite returned. Ransom ate his burger, both of us quiet, lost in thought.
By the time we finished, exhaustion had settled deep in my bones.
June waved us off when we tried to thank her again. "No charge tonight, honey. I'm just so sorry about that steak."
Outside, our footsteps echoed on the empty sidewalk as we walked to Ransom's truck. He opened the passenger door for me before climbing in on his side. But instead of starting the engine, he turned to face me.
"Come home with me."
My pulse jumped. "To the ranch?"
"To your house. To mine. I don't care where, as long as you're not alone tonight." His hand found my thigh in the dim interior and squeezed. "Please, Rainey. Especially after today—I need to know you're safe. I can’t risk losing you again."
The vulnerability underneath his words made my defenses crumble. This wasn't just desire talking—though I could see that too, in the way his eyes darkened when they dropped to my mouth. This was fear. Real fear that what we’d just begun to re-discover could disappear for good.
I nodded. "Stay with me tonight."
The drive back to Maple Street took less than five minutes, but it felt like forever. Ransom's hand stayed on my thigh the whole way, solid and real. When we pulled up to my cottage, he killed the engine but didn't immediately move.
"You're sure?" he asked. "About this? About us? I don’t want you to feel pressured—regardless of what we’ve already shared this week."
I thought about Gran's words. About Josiah saying you never get over your first love. About second chances being rare and precious.
I thought about the last five years—the emptiness, the wondering, the way I'd convinced myself I was fine when I'd really just been existing.
I thought about Tuesday night in the theater, about feeling alive again for the first time since he'd left.
"I'm sure," I said. "Are you?"
Instead of answering, he got out and came around to open my door. His hands spanned my waist as he lifted me down, then slid up to cup my face.
"You've had my heart since the moment I first laid eyes on you, Rainey Bell," he said, his voice rough. "Never stopped being yours."
"Then take me inside," I whispered. "And show me."
We barely made it to the bedroom.
After the day we'd had—I needed this. Needed him. Needed to feel alive and safe and real.
Ransom seemed to feel the same desperate edge. We kissed our way down the hall, stumbling, hands everywhere. He pinned me against the wall outside my bedroom, his body holding mine there, and I could feel how much he wanted this too. Wanted me.
"Rainey—" His words came out unsteady.
"Don't talk." I pulled his mouth back to mine. "Just—please—"
He understood. His hands slid under my thighs, lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and we were moving again, through my bedroom door. We stripped each other with fumbling urgency, buttons popping, articles of clothing hitting the floor in a flurry of fabric.
When we finally made it to my bed, both of us bare and breathless, he hovered over me. The bedside lamp cast warm light across us, catching in his dark eyes.
"Wait." I touched his face, traced the line of his jaw. "I need to say something first."
His hands stilled on my hips. "Okay."
"The other night was incredible." I ran my fingers through his hair. "But tonight, I want us to slow down. I want to memorize everything. Because I'm choosing this, Ransom. Choosing us. And I need you to know that."
His expression changed—heat and tenderness mixing until I had to look away or I'd start crying. "Then let me memorize you too. This moment."
What started desperate turned deliberate. He kissed me slowly, thoroughly, like he had all the time in the world. His touch traced every curve—my waist, my hips, the sensitive spot behind my knee that made me giggle.
"Can’t get you out of my head," he murmured against my skin.
"Ransom—" His name came out breathless.
He settled between my thighs, the weight of him right, and when he finally pushed inside me, white heat burst behind my eyelids. The stretch, the fullness made me cry out.
"Okay?" he asked, pausing.
"Yes." I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulled him deeper. "Don't stop."
He didn't. He moved with deliberate purpose, deep and steady, watching my face as I matched his rhythm, rising to meet him, and we found that place we'd always fit together—moving as one.
"You feel so damn good," he rasped. "So good for me."
"Faster," I breathed. "I need—"
He knew what I needed. His pace increased, driving into me harder now. Somewhere behind us, wood knocked against plaster. His hand slid between us, fingers finding where we were joined, circling with the right pressure.
I was close, so close—
"Look at me," he commanded. "Want to see you."
I forced my eyes open, met his gaze, and the intensity there pushed me over. I came apart, crying out his name, my body clenching around him. He followed a heartbeat later, groaning as he emptied himself inside me, his face buried in my neck.
We stayed like that for a long moment, hearts racing together, foreheads touching. Finally, he rolled us to our sides, still joined, pulling the quilt over us.
"Stay," I whispered. "All night."
"All night," he agreed. "And tomorrow night. And every night after if you'll have me."
I traced patterns on his chest, felt his heartbeat slow beneath my palm. "Is this real? Are we really doing this?"
"We're really doing this." He pressed his lips to my brow. "No more ghosting. No more disappearing. I'm here, Rainey. I'm staying."
I snuggled closer, let my eyes drift closed. In his arms, with his heart beating against mine, the fear finally faded. The uncertainty, the sabotage—none of it mattered in this moment. We'd figure it out together.
"I love you," I murmured, already half asleep.
"Love you too, baby." His arms tightened around me. "Sleep. I've got you."
And for the first time in five years, I did. I slept deeply and dreamlessly, his heartbeat steady under my ear. Strong. Solid. Here.
He was here, and he wasn’t leaving.
My lover had finally come home.