Page 92 of Ransom

"I know your heart hasn't changed. You don't hate someone for twenty-five years without love still being there. They're two sides of a coin." His voice stays quiet, certain. "My heart's yours, Blair. Always has been."

"How can you be so sure?" I turn back to face him, anger and confusion tangling in my chest. "How can you just stand there and say these things like they're simple?"

"Because they are simple." He closes the distance between us, slow and deliberate. "I've loved you since I was fifteen years old. That's never changed. Even when I tried to stop, even when I thought I should."

The certainty in his voice makes my knees weak. I grip the tree trunk again, bark rough under my fingers. "I can't—this is too much. Dad's lies, you being here, Maggie being sick..." My breath comes faster; the air feels thinner. "I can't process all of this at once."

"Then don't." He stops an arm's length away. "Just breathe."

My heart hammers against my ribs as I stare at him. Twenty-five years of hurt and anger battle with that tiny spark of hope his words ignite.

"You can't just walk back into my life and say these things." I push away from the tree, pacing. "You have this whole deal in Chicago. Your brothers, your business?—"

"Blair—"

"No, let me finish." I spin to face him. "I saw the articles about you. Your company is huge. It's not just the garages;it's auto parts and real estate and god knows what else." My throat tightens. "That's who you are now. You're money and big business. And I'm just?—"

"Just what?"

"A small town mechanic." The words taste bitter. "I fix engines and change oil and argue with suppliers about part costs." I suddenly feel small, my life unimportant, and I hate it. I’ve always believed that everyone has a valuable part to play, but standing here, looking at him, I’m having a hard time believing it.

And I should nurple myself for that. It’s stupid, and not who I am.

Stupid feelings.

"You're not just anything." He steps closer. "You built something here, too. This whole town depends on you."

"Exactly." I rake my fingers through my hair. "I can't leave. And you can't stay. So what's the point of any of this?"

"Who says I can't stay?"

He says it so casually, like it would be so simple to do. And for a second, I buy in.Why couldn’t he stay?I can picture it now. The Billionaire working in my garage, getting his hands dirty.

I can’t picture it. It’s crazy.

"Your whole life is in Chicago."

"My brothers are in Chicago." He catches my arm as I try to move past him. "The business runs itself most days. And there’s this amazing thing now called the internet. And video calls. Those are amazing.”

That spark of hope flares brighter. I crush it down. "Stop. Just stop making it sound so simple."

"It could be."

"Nothing about this is simple." I jerk away from his touch. "You have board meetings and charity galas and probably houses all over the world.”

"I have a secret hamster."

The random statement stops me cold. "What?"

"Yeah, I live in a penthouse. And I spend most of my alone time on a couch watching movies with a free-roaming hamster. I named her Chester." His lips twitch. "I don't actually know if it's a girl or a boy. It seemed rude to check, but she has excellent manners, so I’m thinking girl.”

A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. "You're impossible."

"I'm honest." His eyes hold mine. "I love you. Everything else is just details."

His casual use of 'details' sets off warning bells. I've heard that tone before — when he's trying to convince himself of something.

"You don't believe that." I search his face. "The way you said 'details' — you're not sure this could work either."

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