Page 19 of Ransom

I shake my head, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "I didn't put anything aside, Mags. You're family."

"But you could have been married by now and had your own family," she insists.

I imagined that once, when I was young and very stupid. But dreams, and people, change. "Trust me, I'm living exactly the life I planned. Marriage and kids aren't in the cards for me."

Maggie's quiet for a moment, picking at a loose thread on her sweater. "I always imagined you and Ransom would end uptogether," she says softly. "I had this whole big life planned out for you two in my head."

I feel my chest tighten at the mention of his name. "Maggie, don't?—"

"I know, I know," she says quickly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought him up. Besides, it's ancient history. Do you think things might develop between you and Adam?"

Adam. I absently press my finger between the stitches of the knitted blanket on the back of the couch. "I don't think so. It's just physical. We both need company sometimes."

"He's a good guy."

"He is a good guy. But he's got his own issues. It works between us because it's simple. He doesn't get butthurt when I don't want to get together. I like that."

"So it's not a real connection then?"

"What we do together is very real, Mags, and very sweaty."

She snorts and rests her cheek on the back of the couch. "He is hot, that's for sure. All those muscles. Whew!"

"So many muscles," I mumble, happy to think of Adam instead of Ransom for once. Adam is a brilliant distraction. He's uncomplicated.

No, that's not right. He's complicated and twisty as fuck, but we're not. We're easy, simple, and no pressure. I need that in my life.

We sit in silence for a while, the only sound the ticking of the old clock on the mantel.

"Blair, I think it's time."

"Time for what?" I ask, though I have a sinking feeling I already know.

She tugs the scarf off and runs a hand over her thinning hair. "To shave my head. It's getting too patchy. Might as well get it over with."

I nod, remembering the first time we did this, back when we were teenagers. It wasn't about cancer back then. It was all Maggie's stupid idea. And half the fault of the bottle of peach schnapps we stole from her mom's liquor stash. "At least this time we don't have to sneak the clippers out of your dad's bathroom," I say, trying to lighten the mood.

Maggie chuckles. "God, remember how we almost got caught? Dad came home early and we had to hide all the hair we'd swept up."

"How long did you wear that hat before he noticed?" I ask, grinning at the memory of her pink knit beanie.

"Three weeks," she says, scrunching up her face. "I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. Why did I think that would look cool with half my head shaved?"

"Because you were sixteen and a dumbass."

She sighs. "Yeah, there is that."

The second time she shaved her head, during her second cancer fight, she did it herself. Just walked out of the bathroom one day like it was no big deal.

I get up and head to the bathroom, returning with the electric clippers. "No schnapps this time, I'm afraid," I say, pulling out a kitchen chair. "But I think there's some wine in the fridge if you want."

Maggie shakes her head and pushes off the couch with a groan. "Nah, let's just do it. But maybe put on some music? For old times' sake?"

I pull out my phone and queue up some '90s pop hits—our go-to playlist back in high school. As the familiar beats fill the room, I plug in the clippers and Maggie sits in the chair.

"You ready?" I ask, standing behind her.

Maggie takes a deep breath. "As I'll ever be."

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