Page 55 of Ransom

Gross imagery. But damn effective. "I hadn't really thought of it like that." So many times I wondered what my life would have been like if Dad had stayed in the city, or if Ransom had never left, but in all my imaginings, I never pictured myself as worse off.

"But you're okay?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. Despite the hurt and pain between us, I want him to be good. Yeah, a few times over the last twenty years I wished he'd have to deal with male pattern baldness or jock itch, but I never wanted him to be really hurt or upset.

And that pissed me off for a long time. Hating someone and not caring what happens to them is easier than still having feelings.

"I'm okay," he confirms. "Are you?"

I nod, still not meeting his eyes. "I am. I have my work, my friends. It's a good life." It's the truth. And it's not. Because I have friends, but Maggie's not doing well. It's really fucking obvious, and she's going to be gone soon, unless there's a miracle.

I'm not above begging God for a miracle if it means I get more years with her.

And that Max gets to keep his mom.

Ransom shifts again, and I can almost feel him reaching out. I tense, and he seems to think better of it. "I'm glad," he says softly. "You deserve that, Blair."

We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. Words likewhy did you destroy me before you leftandwhy didn't you come back?Finally, I stand up, needing to put some physical distance between us. "I'm going to go back inside. I have a few things to wrap up."

Ransom rises too, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Right, of course. Thanks for... this. For talking to me."

I nod, taking a step back. "Take care of yourself, Ransom."

As I turn to leave, his voice stops me. "Blair?" I pause, not turning around. "I hope you know, I really am sorry. For everything. For every single thing I said that hurt you. It wasn't about you. I just… I'm sorry."

I close my eyes, willing away the sudden sting of tears. "I know," I say softly, though I'm not sure I really do. How can saying those things to me not really be about me? "I know. It's enough now, Ran. It's enough. It's time for both of us to let the past go." Turning, I take a few steps, but it feels wrong. Unfinished.

I let myself turn back and really look at him. At the silver at his temples. At the lines etched into the skin around his eyes. At the wide, strong set of his shoulders. And I give him the words I need to say. The ones that will set me free.

I hope.

"I forgive you." His body shudders, and I take a step backward. "Go back to your life, Ransom. We're good." Then I turn and walk away, hoping I can leave Ransom and the weight of our past behind me.

Maybe one day, I'll be able to sit there again, with someone I love. Someone I can have a future with.

It's a nice idea.

I let myself daydream about it all the way back to the garage, and I don't look back once.

And it's one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

20

NICK

"What a fucking— Wait. Ran?" I turn in a full circle, like he might be hiding or some shit, but he doesn't jump out and yell 'surprise, motherfucker.' His desk is clear, the office is dark, and it's obvious he's gone, which is suspicious as fuck. He's always here unless he has to be out of town, but we're always in the know. He never leaves without telling us where he's going and when he'll be back.

"Where's Ransom?" Maverick asks, stopping in Ransom's doorway.

"I have no fucking idea."

We exchange a glance, both realizing how off this feels. Ransom's always here, always working. It's like walking into your kitchen and finding the fridge gone.

"After-work drinks?" Maverick suggests half-heartedly. But without Ransom?

"Feels wrong, man. Where the hell is he? His calendar says he's supposed to be here, right?"

"Yeah, there's nothing on there."

Mav's brow is furrowed in confusion, and I'm sure my face is a mask of 'what the fuck.' Because seriously, what the fuck?

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