Page 153 of Ransom

But I don't fucking cry.

"Who is he? Why is he crying? Is he getting snot on your coveralls?"

The voice startles me enough that I pull back, nearly falling over the stool I was sitting on. Stumbling over it, I put my back to the counter and stare at the girl. She's dressed in loose faded jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Her long dark hair is in a braid, and she's wearing a heavy man's watch on her wrist. She's got a black backpack over one shoulder. She's older. Maybe a few years older than me. High school age.

"I'm not fucking crying," I snarl, clenching my hands into fists to stop myself from rubbing at my cheeks. They're not wet; I know they're not, but the way she said it makes me want to check.

She doesn't seem bothered by the way I talk to her. She just tilts her head, staring at me. Then, without looking away, she speaks again. "Dad. Why is that boy crying?"

"I'm not fucking crying!" I've never hit a girl, but something about her makes me wish I could. My dad would be so fucking disappointed in me if I did. That's the only reason I stop myself.

"This is Ransom. He's going to be staying with us for a while. Ransom, this is my daughter, Blair."

Blair. I knew a guy named Blair back in my old neighborhood. Hoping to hurt her, I say, "Blair's a boy's name,"and put all the disgust I carry for myself into the words. Maybe making her cry will fix some of what I'm feeling.

"Yep," she says, voice level, almost bored. She turns to her dad. "I'm going to change; then I'll come down and help you with that Chevy." As she walks past her dad, she stops, leaning into him for a second as he runs his hand over her braid, giving it a little tug. They smile at each other, and I hate them both. Because in both their smiles is something I destroyed a year ago.

Family.

"You do that with them."

Blinking, I try to clear away the memories of that day and focus on the room. It's the first good memory I have of that time in my life, so I tuck it back in the little pocket at the front of my mind. My eyes meet Janey's.

"I do what?" I ask her softly. She's looking comfortable and clear-eyed for the first time today. Her all-day sickness seems to be easing up. She’s four months along, so hopefully it’s nearly over. It’s only supposed to last the first trimester, right?

Her smile is soft, which in and of itself is a little surprising. Janey is sweet and so very intuitive when it comes to people, but she's also traveled a hard road, and I expected her to look at me with a little more harshness. A little more judgment maybe. But I don't see anything.

"I noticed it with Jonas first, but you do it to all of them. You cup your hand around their necks and pull them into you. You don't do it with any of us," she says, waving at the women. "Just them. And now the ‘why’ makes a little more sense. Did you start doing it consciously?"

I have to think about it for a minute before I can give her an answer. "I remember how it felt when Robert did it that first time. It felt…"

"Supportive," Kade supplies.

Maverick nods. "Like you're seen."

"Loved," Micah says.

"Like you're home."

That last one, in Jonas's clear, firm tone, is the one that breaks me. My chest tightens, and I need to press the palms of my hands to my eyes. "Yeah," I say, breath shuddering. "Just like that."

47

COLTON

Ilook around the gym at our shell-shocked family scattered across exercise mats and weight benches. Everyone's processing what Ransom just shared—the devastating truth he's carried alone for almost three decades.

My brother sits with his shoulders hunched, hands hanging between his knees. His eyes are fixed on some distant point on the floor. The confident facade he works so hard to maintain has crumbled, leaving that scared eleven-year-old kid who lost everything.

"Fuck you, brother." The words burst out of me before I can stop them.

Ransom's head snaps up, eyes wide for a split second before his expression shutters. His jaw tightens as he braces for rejection—I know that look. He's expecting us to turn our backs, to judge him the way he's judged himself all these years.

"Fuck you for not sharing that with us years ago. For not giving us a chance to be there for you." My voice cracks. "You've carried this alone all these years when you had a whole family right here who loves you and wants to support you."

Nick nods from his spot against the wall. "You're our brother, man. Through everything."

"Always have been," Maverick adds quietly.

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