Page 48 of Ransom

"Feel?" I scoff. "I don't feel anything. It's been twenty-five years." I am a liar, and I'm going to hell. That's how it works, right? I don't know. I don't go to church. Maybe I should start. It could help with all the lying I'm suddenly doing. Though if you're lying to yourself, maybe it's okay?

"Exactly," Maggie says, perching on a nearby stool. "Twenty-five years of unresolved history. That's gotta stir up something."

I busy myself organizing tools, avoiding her gaze. "It's ancient history, Mags."

"Is it, though?" She leans forward, her voice softening. "Blair, honey, I've known you since we were kids. I can see it in your eyes. You are so full of shit."

I whirl around, frustration bubbling up. "What do you want me to say? That seeing him turned my world upside down? That I'm secretly pining for my long-lost love?"

Maggie doesn't flinch at my outburst. Instead, she reaches out, taking my grease-stained hand in hers. "I want you to be honest with yourself. And with me."

The fight drains out of me. I slump against the workbench, suddenly exhausted. "I don't know how I feel, Mags. It's... complicated." I'm so sick of thinking about him. Of remembering. I don't want to talk about— "It's like... seeing a ghost. Part of me wants to scream at him, make him feel all the pain he caused. Another part... God, another part of me remembers how it felt when things were good between us." And they were so, so good. I'd never met anyone who got me like he did. Who saw past the outside and really loved me.

That's the problem, though. I was delusional. He didn't love me. At least not the way I thought he did.

Maggie nods, encouraging me to continue. And apparently, I’m incapable of shutting up.

"But it's been so long," I say, shaking my head. "We were kids. We're different people now. Whatever we had... it's gone. And I don't recognize the man he's become. There's nothing left of the Ransom I loved."

"Is it gone, though? How can you really know that?" Maggie asks gently. "Maybe there's a reason he's back. Maybe there's still a chance?—"

I cut her off with a harsh laugh. "A chance? Mags, be serious. We're not lovesick teenagers anymore."

"No," she agrees, "but that doesn't mean second chances don't exist. Blair, I just... I want you to be happy."

The sincerity in her voice makes my throat tight. "I am happy," I insist, but it sounds weak even to my own ears. What does that even mean, happy? I like my life. I love the people in it. Why can't that be enough?

Maggie gives me a look that says she's not buying it. "You're content, sure. But when was the last time you really let yourself feel something? To take a risk?"

I fidget with a wrench, avoiding her gaze. "I feel a lot of things. But I can't afford to take risks, Mags. I've got the garage, and you, and Max to think about..."

"And those are important," she says softly. "But so are you, Blair. Your happiness matters, too. I don't want you using my illness as an excuse to avoid your own life."

A year ago, I would have yelled, told her she was a delusional bitch. She would have yelled back at me and told me I'm a fucking hermit, and then we'd both move on with our day. But things with her feel too fragile. She feels too fragile. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I need something, but there's one thing I know for sure, Maggie. My happy ever after is never going to be with Ransom. Even if... even if there was still something there, which there isn't... It's too complicated. Too much has happened." Too many razor-sharp words have been spoken.

I don’t have any blood left to give him.

Maggie looks like she wants to argue, but thankfully lets it drop. She's so determined to get life wrapped up in a pretty bow, in case this is it. I understand the need, but fuck if I can arrange my life to make her happy. Even if I could, I wouldn't.

That's the thing about being in my forties. I've figured out what I love. I've found my place. And I'm not willing to change that for anyone, not even Maggie.

Maggie gives me a tired smile and pulls me into a hug. Conscious of how frail she is, I squeeze back.

"Life is complicated, sweetie," she murmurs. "But sometimes, the most worthwhile things are. I'm not saying you need to run into his arms or anything. Just... don't shut the door completely, okay? Give yourself permission to feel whatever you're feeling."

I pull back. "When did you get your fucking psychology degree?"

She grins, a shadow of her old mischievous self shining through. "Shut up. I'm wise. Cancer does that to a person. Makes them realize what's important and what isn't."

"Wise? Is that what you're calling it now?" More like nosy and overbearing. "I've missed this," I admit. "Us, talking like this. With everything going on..."

Maggie's smile turns bittersweet. "I know. Me too. Which is why I'm not going to let you sweep this shit under the rug. You've been my rock through all of this. Let me return the favor, okay?"

I nod, choking back the deep pit of despair I feel every time I think about her not being here and whisper, "Okay, you interfering cow. I'll keep an open mind."

She squeezes my hand one last time before heading towards the door. "That's all I ask. Oh, and Blair?"

"Yeah?"

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