Page 157 of Ransom

We'll focus on making sure our family stays tight.

And if we’re going to the country, I need to find myself some overalls.

48

BLAIR

Igrip the steering wheel tighter as my truck rumbles down Main Street toward McKenna's. The memory of Sunday night keeps replaying in my head—Ransom's sleek black helicopter waiting on the hospital roof like something out of a movie, its blades slicing through the Chicago night.

Max had pressed his face against the window the whole flight, pointing at the twinkling lights below while Maggie dozed against my shoulder. As soon as she was released from the hospital, all she wanted was to go home. I can't blame her. She wants to be somewhere familiar. She wants Max back in his routine. And so that evening we followed a tight-lipped Ransom to the roof.

Maybe I was a little tight-lipped too. I wanted to spend more time with Ransom, and with his family. It was really nice having them all around. They all cared so much for me and Max. They all asked about Maggie. It felt good.

And he was too quiet before we left. I fucked things up and I didn’t get a chance to fix it before he flew us home.

"That was totally awesome!" Max had shouted as we touched down in the high school football field, his eyes wide with excitement.

Ransom helped Maggie down, his hand steady under her elbow. Then he carried our bags to Mr. Johnson's truck without being asked. The thoughtfulness of it all made my chest ache.

"You sure you don't want to stay?" I'd asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. The football field lights cast harsh shadows across his face.

"Got an early meeting tomorrow. There are some things at the office I need to take care of." He'd shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "Besides, you three need time to settle back in."

I didn't argue, even though part of me wanted to. Wanted to tell him to skip the meeting, to stay, to... what? Choose me. It was a foolish thought. Of course he had to go. He's responsible for God knows how many employees. He can't just up and leave all that.

So instead of asking him to stay, I'd pressed a kiss to his cheek, then watched him climb back into that sleek helicopter, Max waving frantically beside me until it disappeared into the night sky. The roar of the rotors faded, leaving us in the empty silence of a small-town Sunday night.

My truck hits a pothole, jolting me back to the present. That's the problem with Ransom Kyle—he swoops in with grand gestures and private helicopters, then vanishes back to his real life in Chicago. Meanwhile my real life is dealing with check engine lights and transmission fluid leaks, and trying to figure out how to help Maggie fight a battle she might not want to win.

But he was right. We needed time to settle in. Max took Monday off school, and he and Maggie stayed home and cuddled all day. But he went Tuesday, and yesterday, if a little reluctantly. I think he’s worried about Maggie dying while he’sat school. I wish I could tell him not to worry, but we both know that I can’t. It’s not like he’s freaking out over some imaginary monster in his closet. His mom is sick. She is dying.

There’s no denying that.

Thankfully, this morning, he seemed more like himself. He needs the distraction of school and his friend. He needs the break.

I turn into the garage parking lot, killing the engine. The "McKenna's Auto" sign creaks in the morning breeze—the same sign my grandpa hung sixty years ago. This is my real life. It's a good life. It is. I shouldn't want more. I don't need more.

But I do. I want the man with the chocolate eyes and the silver streaks at the temple. The man that looks at me like I'm the only person he wants to look at for the rest of his life.

And holy crap, admitting that is terrifying.

I slam the truck door and get almost to the shop when I freeze mid-step. Like I just conjured him up, Ransom's leaning against the garage wall, a coffee cup steaming in his hand. He's wearing faded blue coveralls withBrash Autoemblazoned across the chest, and that smile—God, that smile makes my knees weak. He's got that look on his face, the one that's just for me. The one I'm starting to believe means forever.

My keys jangle as they slip through my fingers, hitting the gravel with a soft clink. "What are you—" I clear my throat, trying to sound normal. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to work." He takes a sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving mine. The morning sun catches the silver threading through his dark hair.

"Work?" The word comes out higher than I intended. I bend down to snatch my keys, using the moment to compose myself. "You have a multi-million dollar company to run."

"I got everything handled over the last few days. Then I passed off anything important." He pushes off the wall, closingthe distance between us. "I figured you could use an extra pair of hands around here. Especially since Matt's away."

He looks so good. Where the hell did he get those coveralls? Would it be wrong to kiss him? To apologize for having my head up my ass that night in his apartment? The day kind of came at me, and I said some stuff I wish I hadn't. I planned to wait up for him, to apologize, but I crashed. Then the next morning Maggie called, and it was all a rush of activity. We never got to talk.

Wait. What did he say?"Matt's not away."

He just grins. "Maybe you should check your messages."

Patting my pockets, I pull out my phone and yeah, there it is. "Got plans with my sister. Your guy will cover for me."

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