Page 75 of Ransom

But it didn't. Not the way I expected, anyway. I thought I could put him in the past. But instead, allowing myself to sitwith him, to actually look at him without the wash of anger that colored my vision was a fucking mistake.

He's changed. So have I. It's been a quarter of a fucking century, which is depressing when you think about it. But the years have been good to Ransom. The gray streaking his hair and beard was a surprise. He's forty now, not the kid I remember; I get that. But fuck if I was prepared for the impact of grown-up Ransom. I had to physically hold myself back from running my fingers along those silver strands.

We had so many plans. We talked about a future. We should have been together when that first silver strand appeared. Was he thirty, or did it appear recently? Would he have blamed that first strand on me? I can picture it so fucking clearly. Him wrapping me up, laughing down at me, teasing me that it's my fault.

I never found that. Not with anyone. Physical connection is all good, but a man I trusted as much as I trusted him? Never happened.

Probably never will.

And I thought I was okay with that.

"B?" My head comes up, spotting Adam at the entrance of the garage, paper bag in hand. His blue Badger Falls Fire t-shirt is stretched tight across his chest. His smile is easy, warm, and familiar.

Why can't I love him?

"Thought you might be hungry." He holds up the bag. "Turkey and Swiss, no mayo, extra mustard."

"Matt, I'm taking twenty." I wait for Matt's grunt, then follow Adam outside, where we settle on the wooden bench on the side of the building. The sun hits my face just perfectly, and I close my eyes, giving myself a second to enjoy the warmth and peace of the moment. Adam's shoulder presses against mine, familiarand steady. Finally, when I've breathed in enough peace, I unwrap my sandwich.

We eat in comfortable silence. That's what I like about Adam. There's no pressure to fill the quiet spaces. He gets it.

"Heard Ransom Kyle's back in town," Adam says finally, wadding up his wrapper.

I take another bite, chewing slowly. "Yeah."

"You doing okay with that?"

I shrug. "It is what it is."

Adam nods, not pushing for more. He stretches his long legs out in front of him, leans against the siding, and laces his fingers over his hard stomach.

"It's so fucking inconvenient! Why couldn't I fall in love with you?" I blurt, staring at him, the last bite of my sandwich clutched in my fingers. "You're objectively hot. You're kind. You're really fucking convenient."

Adam's eyes are on me, calm and steady. He's always like that. Nothing seems to bother him, nothing angers him or surprises him. The only time I see anything other than calm is in the dark of his bedroom.

There, I get heat. Sometimes laughter too.

"I sometimes ask myself the same question," he admits. "We'd be good together. Hell, we still could be."

"You don't love me either."

"I love you. You're one of my favorite people."

"But you don't want to write me love letters and scream my name from the top of a cliff."

There's a little twitch at the corner of his lips that he lets grow into a small smile. "No, I guess I don't. And you don't want to gossip about me to your friends and write my name in little hearts in your notebook."

"That's dumb. I don't use notebooks. And I have better things to talk to my friends about." Hearing the words out loud makesme cringe. True, but not kind. If the words are true, but not kind, I'm supposed to keep them to myself or think of a nice way to say it. That was Dad's rule.

As usual, it's a rule I forgot.

Thankfully, Adam just laughs. He's known me long enough that he's not bothered by my bluntness. "I wondered, you know."

"Wondered what?"

"If the two of us could be something permanent. We get along well. The sex is fantastic. And I like you. That's more than a lot of people have, I suppose."

"It's been years, and there's still no…"

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