Page 106 of Ransom

"Maybe about the pool." He winks and takes a sip of coffee. "But the elevators work. Jonas designed a lever system with hand cranks."

Grinning, he tells me more about the hamsters and the kids, his whole face lit with joy. Time flies, and suddenly Macy is back with our food. The pancakes are perfect golden brown, steam rising. Mine are gleaming with butter. Yum. I slide the syrup over.

"Still drowning them in syrup, I see," he comments as I pour.

"Life's too short for dry pancakes." If I gave any kind of shit about calories, maybe I’d change my ways, but I burn everything I eat off. I’ve been two hundred pounds for the last twenty years, despite my syrup addiction.

We fall into easy conversation between bites. The anger I carried is barely a memory. This man isn't the boy who broke my heart. He's someone new—someone who builds hamster mansions and raises lost boys into good men.

Someone I could easily love.

Maybe I already do.

"What?" he asks, catching me staring.

"Nothing. Just... it's nice. Getting to know you again."

The warmth between us shifts as Ransom's expression turns serious. He sets down his fork and meets my eyes.

"Blair, I need to thank you." I open my mouth to…I don't know what. Stop him maybe, but the little shake of his head is enough to shut me up. "Twenty-five years is a long time to carry guilt. To wonder if I made the biggest mistake of my life. And yeah, maybe things worked out. Maybe I built something good. But there's always been this hole."

My throat tightens. The sincerity in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes—it's almost too much.

"When you forgave me the other day, it was big. I needed your forgiveness more than I even realized. But sitting here now, talking like this?" He shakes his head. "It's everything. And I know we have a lot to figure out. I know Chicago and Badger Falls aren't exactly next door. But just having you willing to try? To see where this goes?" His hand slides across the table, not quite touching mine. "Thank you."

I stare at his hand, remembering all the times it held mine when we were young.

"I'm afraid you're just fucking with me. I don't know if my heart's safe with you. Or if I want to try again," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. Because what else can I say when he's laid himself bare like this? It’s the truth. Maybe not all of the truth, but it’s the part that’s holding me back. The part he needs to understand.

His hand retreats from the table, and I’m angry at myself. Why didn’t I grab it? I wanted to. But I didn’t let myself.

"I get it," he says softly. "The kid I was? He was a fucking mess. Angry. Scared. Ready to burn down the world." He takes a slow breath. "But that's not who I am anymore."

"How can I be sure?"

"Because I spent twenty-five years building something good. Something real. I learned how to be there for people. How to stick around when things get hard." His blue eyes hold mine. "I'm not asking for promises, Blair. I'm just asking for time."

"Time?"

"Yeah. Time to talk. To figure out who we are now." He gestures between us. "Like this. Pancakes and coffee. Stories about hamsters and your weird obsession with putting way too much syrup on everything."

I can't help but laugh. "I do not use too much syrup."

"Your pancakes are swimming."

"They're happy pancakes."

His smile reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners. "See? This is what I want. Just... moments. No pressure. No expectations. Just us getting to know each other again."

The simplicity of his request catches me off guard. No grand gestures. No desperate pleas. Just... time.

"You'd be okay with that? Just... hanging out?"

"More than okay." He leans back, relaxed. "Besides, I have twenty-five years of stories about my disaster brothers to share. Like the time Nick tried to teach Jonas to surf."

"How'd that go?"

"Let's just say there was a helicopter involved."