Page 123 of Ransom

"Dinosaurs are extinct. Duh." He rolls his eyes. "Plus, they'd just step over it. Their legs are too long. You need something human-sized."

"Smart thinking."

"I watch a lot of Discovery Channel when Mom's sleeping." He leans in close. "Don't tell Blair. She thinks I only watch cartoons."

Cartoons and reality TV. "Your secret's safe with me."

"MAGGIE!" Blair's scream pierces through the house, raw with fear and devastation.

Max's shovel hits the ground with a thud. My heart stops.

Oh God. Please no.

39

BLAIR

Isink deeper into the plush waiting room chair, my mind still reeling from the chaos of the past hours. The memory of finding Maggie on her bedroom floor floods back—her skin so pale, so still. My scream brought Ransom charging through the door like a force of nature. He took control when I couldn't, when my hands shook too hard to even dial 911.

His family materialized out of nowhere, efficient and organized like a well-oiled machine. They carried her to the square and lifted Maggie with such care onto that massive tour bus. Evie, the nurse, never left Maggie's side, monitoring vitals and speaking in calm, measured tones that somehow cut through my panic.

The life flight transfer plays on repeat in my head—watching them take her away across that field, feeling so helpless. Now here we sit in this ridiculously fancy private waiting room in a hospital in the middle of the city. The walls are some soft shade of blue that's probably meant to be soothing, but all I can focus on is the steady tick of the clock on the wall.

I glance over at Max in the corner. He's sprawled on the floor with Mia and two mountain-sized men—Colton and Maverick, Ithink. They're building something with Legos that appeared as if by magic, along with coloring books, tablets, and enough snacks to feed an army. Max's laugh rings out, and my chest tightens. He has no idea how serious this is. Or maybe he does know, but thankfully is still easily distracted.

Ransom's hand brushes my shoulder, and I realize I'm bouncing my leg again. He doesn't say anything, just sits beside me, solid and present. His family has formed a protective circle around us, handling everything from coffee runs to paperwork. I haven't had to think about a single detail.

I've spent years being the one who takes care of everything and everyone. Now I'm surrounded by strangers who move like a synchronized team, anticipating needs before I even realize it. It's overwhelming.

And somehow exactly what Max and I need.

Ransom's hand moves in slow circles on my back, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. My eyes snap up to see a doctor in blue scrubs walking toward us, chart in hand.

"Ms. McKenna?" His voice is gentle. "Could we speak privately?"

I push to my feet, my fingers somehow tangled with Ransom's. The thought of letting go makes my chest tight, so I don't even try, just tug him up. "I need him,” I squeak. Ransom’s fingers tighten around mine.

The doctor nods and leads us to a small alcove away from the others. The sounds of Max's laughter and Lego clicking fade into background noise.

"The tests show a severe electrolyte imbalance," the doctor explains, his words careful and measured. "It's affecting her heart rhythm."

My throat closes up. "Is this..." I squeeze Ransom's hand harder. "Is she dying? Is this the end?"

Ransom's thumb brushes across my knuckles, and I realize I'm trembling. The fluorescent lights suddenly seem too bright, too harsh. The doctor's face blurs as tears fill my eyes.

"I need to know," I whisper. "I need to know how much time..."

The doctor's expression softens. "We're getting her stabilized. The fluids and electrolytes we're giving her should help her feel much better."

"But?" My voice cracks.

"There are decisions that will need to be made." He holds up his hand as I open my mouth. "Not today, though. Right now, everyone needs rest. A good night's sleep will help us tackle the harder conversations tomorrow."

Ransom's thumb traces circles on my palm. The gentle motion anchors me as my mind races.

"How far has it spread?" The words taste like ash. "The cancer—how much worse is it?"

"We're running several tests over the next few hours. That will give us a complete picture of her current condition."

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