Page 44 of Ransom

Her expression softens. "That's good, I guess."

"It's long overdue. I've got a lot to make up for in this town."

Frannie hands me my coffee and a paper bag with my muffins, her smile warm. "Well, I think it's great you're trying to make things right. Not many people would bother after all this time."

I take a sip, the bitter liquid grounding me. "Better late than never, right?"

She nods, then glances at the line forming behind me. "Well, it was great seeing you, Ransom. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

I raise my cup in a mock salute. "You got it, Frannie. Take care."

I push open the door, stepping back into the sunlight. The grocery store is just down the block, but I'm not ready to go in there yet. For all I know, Angie's family moved on. Someone else could be running it.

I cross the street, waiting for a single car to pass, then sit on the bench in the square, the same bench I sat on with Blair thathorrible night all those years ago. And straight ahead, across the square, is Blair's garage.

Main Street's unusually quiet in the early morning light. The lack of traffic is a stark contrast to the hum of Chicago that I'm used to, but also to the way things used to be here. This was always a small town, but it didn't used to be this dead. Only the occasional car rolls by, its engine noise barely disturbing the quiet.

Digging a muffin out of the bag, I bite into it, and holy shit, it's good. Better than good. Amazing. Warm, buttery, with bursts of tangy blueberries. I have to force myself to slow down, savoring each bite. The second one sits in the bag, tempting me. Back home, it wouldn't last five minutes. One of my brothers would've swiped it by now, whining about how they were about to starve to death. But today, on this bench, it's all mine.

Thoughts of walking it over to Blair and offering it to her flash through my mind, but other than my suit, this is the only outfit I have, and blueberry would be a bitch to get out of the fabric.

She’d definitely throw it at me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fish it out, seeing Cara's name flash on the screen. Shit. I knew I'd have to deal with this sooner or later.

"Hey, Cara," I answer, trying to sound casual.

"Ransom, where the hell are you?" Her voice crackles through the speaker, a mix of concern and irritation. "I've got people asking questions, and your calendar's a mess. What's going on?"

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Everything's fine, Cara. I just needed to take care of something."

"Take care of what? And where? You're not in Chicago, are you? This connection fucking sucks."

"I can't really get into it right now," I say, watching a truck pull up to the garage. It looks identical to the truck Robert had all those years ago. Is that Blair behind the wheel? Fuck, yes it is. The sun glints on her dark hair, giving it a slight red halo.Look over here. See me.She doesn't, and the wave of disappointment washing over me makes it really fucking clear that my feelings for her are fucked. What does it say about me that I'd wanted her to look at me, even if that meant another ugly confrontation?

"Look, I need you to clear my calendar for the day. Tell everyone I'm out of town on personal business." Really fucking personal.

"Personal business? Ransom, what's going on? You never take off like this without?—"

"Cara," I cut her off, my tone firm but gentle. "I promise I'll explain everything when I get back. For now, I need you to trust me, okay?"

There's a pause on the other end, then a resigned sigh. "Fine. But you owe me big time for this, Kyle."

"I know, I know. Oh, and one more thing," I add, remembering. "Can you swing by the penthouse and put out some food for the hamster?"

"The what?"

"The hamster. At home. There's a bag of food and some fruit and veggies in the fridge."

Another pause. "You're still feeding that hamster?"

"I'm not going to let it fucking starve. Make sure you put some grapes out. She likes grapes."

"She likes grapes," she echoes. "Jesus, Ransom. You're lucky I love you," Cara grumbles. "Fine. I'll feed your contraband rodent. But when you get back, we're having a long talk about all of this."

"Thanks, Cara. You're the best."

I hang up, my chest tight as I slip my phone back into my pocket. The truck reverses out of the garage, and I get a brief glimpse of Blair's profile. She's focused on the road ahead, her jaw clenched with determination—a look I know all too well. I stand frozen, my hands curling into fists as the truck pulls away, my feet suddenly rooted to the spot. This feeling is foreign. Knowing what to do, having a plan is kind of my thing. But with her? I still have no fucking idea what I'm supposed to do.

---