Page 105 of Ransom

"We convinced her to move in with us. My brother Colton was struck dumb the second he laid eyes on Evie's picture. Then Mia, Evie's daughter, knocked him on his ass. He had been fixing up one of the extra apartments we have in the building for them, before he even met her by the way, so when she finally agreed to it, we had her moved in within hours."

"So suddenly, three of your brothers were in love, all in a matter of…?"

"A few months. It was fast, but it was so fucking obvious that it was perfect. And Mia, Evie's little girl? She's fucking delicious. All curly black hair and a lisp that I hope she never loses. Adorable."

"So I'm starting to get the picture here. Mia and hamsters?"

"Yep. It took a while for Evie to trust us, but finally, she let us babysit while Colton took her on a date. And we decided to go for ice cream. There was a pet store next door."

"And you bought a hamster."

He winces and fixes his gaze somewhere on my forehead. "Nope. We bought about a hundred of them."

I laugh my way through the rest of the story. The hamster house, his brother's fear of little furry things resulting in him being piggybacked out of the apartment, the hunt for the missing hamsters.

"God. So when you said they were a lot of work, you really meantallof you are a lot of work. Because you gotta admit, you're a bit of an instigator. Do you think it's the money?"

He cocks his head to the side. "How do you mean?"

"I mean, an average person would walk in there and worry about the cost of the hamster, supplies, vet bills, and maybe walk out with one or two. You guys don't have any financial guardrails. You're like kids with an unlimited budget in a toy store."

He scratches at his eyebrow, looking sheepish. "You might have a point."

"You think?"

Macy saunters over, coffee pot in hand. "You two ready to order?"

"Pancakes," Ransom and I say in unison. We lock eyes and share a smile. This isn’t our first time in this diner.

"Some things never change," I say, remembering countless Saturday mornings spent right here. Dad was usually with us, but he'd end up wandering off to one of the other tables to hang with a friend, and it would just be Ransom and me, across the table from each other, talking about everything.

That stopped a few weeks before Ransom left. Dad didn't leave us alone at the booth anymore. We still went, but it felt different.

All these little moments from that time start to make a lot more sense now. The family movie marathons straight to bedtime. Encouraging me to go out with friends.

Dad was trying to keep us apart, and doing a pretty good job of it most of the time.

"Extra crispy bacon for me," Ransom adds. "And extra butter for her." Why does him remembering how I like my pancakes make my chest feel tight?

"You got it. Coffee?" Macy asks.

"Please," I hold up my mug. As Macy pours, I study Ransom's face. The sharp angles have gotten harder, but his eyes still crinkle the same way when he smiles. He's looking out the window, watching a truck drive by, Mr. Peterson at the wheel.

"Remember that time you tried to teach me to drive stick?"

"Oh god, poor Mr. Peterson's fence." I cover my face. "Dad was so mad."

"He made me repaint the whole thing."

"You deserved it! You gunned it straight through his garden."

"I got distracted." His laugh is deeper now, richer. The teenage boy I knew is still there, but layered with confidence and ease. The weight of proving himself seems lifted. "You were wearing that white blouse, and two of the buttons had slipped. I was trying to get a look."

My mouth drops open for a second. "Oh my god. That makes so much more sense." Laughing, I add a bunch of cream to my coffee. "So tell me about this hamster house you built?"

"It's a repurposed dollhouse, complete with tiny elevators and a rooftop pool." His eyes dance with mischief.

"You're full of shit."