Page 177 of Ransom

My phone buzzes, and I roll over and I grab it with a groan. "It's Maggie." I sit up, clutching the sheet. "She wants us both to come over."

Ransom's arm tightens around my waist. "Now?"

"Yeah." Whew. My heart's racing. Her message is short and sweet. No emojis, no hint of how she's feeling. "God, what if she's still mad? Do you think she was serious about making me pack up my stuff?"

"Hey." He kisses my shoulder. "One step at a time."

We shower quickly, though Ransom tries to distract me with wandering hands. I swat him away. "Focus. This is important."

"I am focused." He grins. "On you."

"Maggie's waiting." But I can't help smiling. And the satisfied look on his face tells me that was the whole point. He wanted me distracted. And my mind off all of the worst case scenarios playing through my head.

Outside, the morning air is crisp. Ransom takes my hand as we walk, his thumb rubbing circles on my palm. It's a calculated decision. She can’t kick me out if I don’t have my truck. It’s not like I can carry all my stuff, right?

"This has to be good. She wouldn't call us over just to yell again, would she?" I squeeze his fingers.

"No, love, I don't think she would."

I stop, staring up at his face. Those features are so familiar and so precious to me. "She's my best friend, Ransom. She held my hand at Dad's funeral. She's been there for everything, and I can't lose her, especially not like this. Not angry."

Ransom pulls me close, kissing my forehead. "Then let's go fix it."

A few doors down from the house, Max zooms past us on his bike, wearing his red helmet.

"Where are you headed, buddy?" I call out.

"Adventure!" He skids to a stop, gravel crunching under his tires. "I'm gonna find buried treasure in Mrs. Peterson's yard."

"Stay where I can hear you if you shout, okay? And watch for cars."

Max rolls his eyes. "I know, I know. I'm not a baby."

"And don't dig up Mrs. Peterson's flower beds again."

"That was one time!" He throws his hands up. "And I replanted them."

"Upside down," I laugh.

"The roots needed sun." He pedals in a wobbly circle around us. "They were probably happier that way."

"Sure they were. Now scoot, but be careful!"

“Yes, Mom,” he says with every ounce of sarcasm his six-year-old body can muster. Then he sticks his tongue out and races off down the sidewalk.

Ransom chuckles beside me. "Look at you being all parental."

"What? No, I just?—"

"You absolutely did. Complete with the 'watch for cars' and everything." He bumps my shoulder. "You're good at it, you know. The mom stuff."

"I'm not trying to replace Maggie."

"Of course not. But you can still be there for him. You already are." He gestures toward Max's retreating figure. "That kid knows you've got his back. And you're clearly ready to handle whatever comes."

His confidence in me makes that band around my chest a little looser. I pull him down for a long kiss.

"What was that for?" he asks against my lips.

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