Page 125 of Ransom

"I have plenty of room for the both of you. Janey and Jonas packed your things. They're downstairs in my car."

I have a vague memory of Ransom's car behind us on the road. I couldn't tell you who was driving. "I can't just?—"

"Yes, you can." His thumb brushes my cheek. "Let me take care of you both. Just for tonight."

"But what about—" I don't even know what I'm worried about. I can't pull all of the swirling thoughts into an objection. All I know is going home with Ransom seems like my least simple option, but it's also the only thing I want right now.

I want him.

"Evie's going to help coordinate things here. She works downstairs in the emergency room. She knows her way around this place and will take good care of Maggie. They'll get her settled in her room, and you and Max can go see her, then we'll go home."

I shake my head. "I should be handling all this. I need to?—"

"You need to breathe. That's all." Ransom's hands frame my face. "You don't have to figure everything out right now. Let me help."

The fight drains out of me. "I don't know how."

"Start by saying yes." His eyes hold mine. "Come home with me tonight."

I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. "Okay."

Ransom's lips brush mine, gentle and sweet. It's not the kind of kiss that sets my blood on fire, but rather one that wraps around me like a warm blanket. His forehead rests against mine for a moment before he takes my hand and guides me back to the waiting room.

Max looks up from his Legos, waving as John appears carrying two large shopping bags. The massive man with the jagged scar moves with surprising grace, setting everything on the low coffee table and starting to pull out take-out containers, plates, and utensils.

"I wasn't sure what to make." John's voice is gruff but kind. "So I made a bit of everything."

The containers reveal mac and cheese, chicken fingers, roasted veggies, lasagna, and what looks like homemade potato wedges. Max's eyes light up as he abandons his building project.

"This is awesome!" Max digs in with the kind of enthusiasm only a six-year-old with a bottomless pit of a stomach can.

John shuffles his feet. "Cooking's the only thing I know how to do right. Figured the kid needed to eat."

I manage a small smile. "Thank you."

My stomach turns at the thought of food, but I force myself to take a few bites of mac and cheese. It's actually delicious—creamy and perfectly seasoned. Still, swallowing each bite is work.

Nick and Bree approach, hand in hand.

"We're heading to Ransom's place," Bree says softly. "We'll get everything set up for you guys."

"You don't have to?—"

Nick cuts me off with a gentle smile. "Let us help, Blair. That's what family does."

The word "family" catches in my chest. I watch them leave, wondering what it would be like to think of these strangers as something more than just Ransom's people. Wondering what it would be like to be part of their family.

Evie'sgentle hand guides me into the sterile hospital room. The steady beep of monitors fills the air.

"The IV is just giving her fluids and electrolytes." Evie points to each machine in turn. "This monitors her heart rate; this one's for blood pressure. Everything's stable now."

I nod numbly, my eyes fixed on Maggie's still form.

"Take as long as you need. I'll go get Max." Evie squeezes my shoulder before slipping out. She's kind. More than kind. Soothing. Was she born like that, or is that just a nurse thing? I don't really know, or care, but thinking about Evie is easier than letting myself look at Maggie's still form.

Finally, I gather what little emotional strength I have left and sink into the chair beside the bed, taking Maggie's limp hand in mine. Her skin feels paper-thin.

"I hate you so much right now." My voice breaks. "You promised we'd have more time. You promised you wouldn't give up."

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