Page 41 of Ransom

I pull my knees to my chest, feeling small in the big, empty garage. But it's not as comforting as it usually is. It's home, more than any house. It's my sanctuary. It's what I've chosen.

And now he's back to ruin everything. Even if he turns around and leaves like I told him to, it's still ruined. Because I can't lie to myself anymore. I can't pretend he doesn't matter anymore.

And that little traitorous corner of my heart is whispering,What if? What if he's changed?What if it was all a mistake? What if he really did love me?

My heart is a fucking fool.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. It doesn't matter what I feel. He made his choice years ago. I've made mine every day since.

My thoughts are spinning out of control, and I need a distraction. Without really thinking about it, I find myself walking the few blocks to O'Malley's, the local bar. It's a Thursday night, but there's not much to do in this town, so everyone seems to gather at the bar. Even the sewing circle from the church meets here.

As I push open the heavy wooden door, the familiar smell of beer and fries washes over me. The low hum of conversation fills the air, and I spot a group of familiar faces gathered around a large table in the corner. There's music, but not loud enough to drown out the conversation. Because this might be a bar, but most people come here for the community, not the booze. Well, except for a few die-hards bellied up to the bar. But even those folks are part of the community and come here to be a part of things in their own way. I trade nods with a few other people as I make my way over to the group.

"Blair!" Angie calls out, waving me over. "We were just talking about you!"

I slide into an empty chair, grateful for the company. "Well, fuck. Why?"

Angie snorts and pours me a beer from the jug on the table. "Relax. It's nothing bad. We've been talking, and I figured someone should call you to be a part of it all. And you just waltz right in, like you know we needed you."

"It's fate," I say dryly, taking a sip of the beer. It's already flat. The bubbles are the only good thing about beer, so I stick out my tongue and breathe the taste away, then shove it toward Mike sitting on my other side. He shakes his head at me.

"Why the fuck do you even give her beer, Angie? You know she doesn't like it."

Angie just shrugs and leans back in her chair, yelling out to the bartender. "Sarah, can you bring Blair her usual?"

"Yep," Sarah yells back as she pops the tops off the six bottles lined up on the bar. She makes it look so easy and cool. Everything about Sarah is cool, from the tattoos lining her arms to the earrings that go all the way up her ear.

"Maybe I should get my ears pierced."

Angie winces. "Honey, I'm not sure that's a great idea. You remember how it went last time?"

"Yeah. But I didn't mean to punch him. And I'm older now. I could handle it."

Tom, the science teacher/football coach from the high school, chokes and pounds on his chest. "Wasn't that just last year?"

"Yeah," I say, staring at him. "Like I said, I'm older now." Tom shuts up, but he's got a look on his face that makes me want to twist his nipple.

Angie reaches out and pats my hand. "Yeah, you are, honey. I'm sure it'll go better this time. But you're going to have to find someone else to do it. Pretty sure that guy put a picture of your face up in his shop with a big red line through it."

"I wouldn't want to go back there anyway. He probably had a ton of health violations."

Angie just rolls her eyes. "Sure, honey. We'll go somewhere else. You let me know when, and I'll be there." She says it in a patronizing way, like she's just humoring me.

I glare at her, but she just raises an eyebrow, unfazed. "You're annoying. Why are we friends?"

"I ask myself that very thing all the time. The only answer I can come up with? Because this is a small town, and there just aren't that many options."

"Make sense," I mutter as I thank the waitress who delivers my drink. I take a long sip through the straw and sigh. "That's more like it."

Mike groans. "My teeth hurt just looking at that."

I take another long draw of my Shirley Temple and show him my teeth. "Good thing I'm not interested in sharing."

"Did you hear about the Johnsons?" Erin asks, her voice tinged with sadness. "They're moving to the city next month. Said there's just not enough opportunity here for their kids."

A collective sigh ripples through the group. It's a story we've heard too many times lately. It’s not a new story either. Dad spouted the same stuff. I guess it’s true. If you’re not farming, or own some sort of business serving farmers, it’s a grind. I do okay, but not everyone has. It feels like ever year, a few more stores get boarded up.

"That's the third family this year," Mike grumbles, running a hand through his dark hair.

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