“Ransom told me about that,” Taylor said.
“Maybe one day you’ll get the recipe yourself.” She winked at me, not so subtly, and I could’ve killed her if I didn’t love her so damn much.
I’d absolutely thought about my future with Taylor, and I knew she’d thought about a future with me. We’d talked about it on more than one occasion, and though we’d never specifically discussed the M-word, it was clear we both saw the other when we closed our eyes and imagined our lives years from now.
But now that might all change with all this shit with Brad. Brody had texted twice yesterday to say that Xander was working on hacking into the autopsy results.
Of course he hadn’t been so explicit. It had all been in Brode Code, a language I’d learned to decipher even before it’d become a legal necessity. Luckily, I was fairly sure no one else could crack it except maybe Sophia and Aamee.
Unsure of what a proper reaction to Melissa’s comment would be, I tried to smile enough to make her feel like there was a chance her prediction might become a reality but not enough to freak out Taylor, who looked just as uncertain about the situation as I did. I was thankful we seemed to be on the same page.
“Tour starts at exactly eleven,” Matt said, breaking the awkward moment. “Make sure you have your tickets in hand and meet me out front.”
It was already ten thirty, which meant I’d have to get ready soon, so I finished up breakfast quickly and headed upstairs to take a shower. At some point, I realized that Taylor hadn’t questioned what the tour was that Matt had mentioned, which meant that one of them—or both—had already discussed the plan with her and she’d agreed to it, but no one had told me. Assholes, I thought with a soft laugh.
It took me about twenty minutes to get showered and dressed, and I was back downstairs and ready to go. I could see through the kitchen window that they were already outside, so I headed out there as well. As I approached them, I noticed Matt had something in hand that he was showing Taylor.
I jogged up to them. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”
“Taylor found Buddy’s tag in the yard,” Matt said. “I didn’t even realize he was missing it. I’ll have to get another ring for it, though, because I don’t know where that is.”
“Did you check to see if it’s on his collar?” I asked.
“Actually no,” Matt said. Then he disappeared inside. A minute or so later, he emerged from the house with Buddy on a leash. “You were right. It was on there the whole time.”
“Why do you have him with you?” Melissa asked. “We’re about to leave.”
“Yeah, Buddy’s coming with us. He wants to tour the town too.”
Melissa rolled her eyes but looked like she couldn’t help but smile. “Hasn’t he toured it enough all the times he’s escaped?”
I could remember at least five times that Buddy had gotten out in the short time I’d lived with the Holts. One time he slipped through a rail in the fence that we hadn’t even realized was broken, and a few other times he’d run out the front door when we came home. It was why everyone had started parking in the back, off the gravel alley that ran behind our block of houses. If we went in the back, we’d have the enclosed porch as a buffer to stop him from getting out.
“I don’t think Taylor wants Buddy’s breath all over her during the drive,” Melissa said.
“It’s really okay,” Taylor told her, but I couldn’t be sure if she’d said that to be polite or if she really didn’t care.
It didn’t seem to matter, though, because Matt already had the trunk open and was putting Buddy’s ramp up so he could walk into the SUV. “See? It’s fine.”
I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the most relaxing ride we’d ever had, but since nothing about this trip had been easy, it seemed like a fitting decision to take Buddy.
T A Y L O R
I’d spent the better part of the past hour in the car next to Ransom, with Matt and Melissa in the front stopping at various locations to give me an explanation about why that particular place was important. They’d shown me the diner where Ransom had bussed tables his junior year of high school when he’d first moved in with the Holts, and they’d driven the route that Ransom used to jog every morning during the football off-season to stay in shape.
Buddy seemed more excited to be on the tour than anyone else in the car, his tongue dangling out of his hot mouth behind me. Occasionally he tried to climb over the seat to sit in the back with us, but Ransom was able to keep him in place. For an old dog, he clearly had more than a spark of ambition left in him.
When we arrived at the high school Ransom had graduated from, I saw the nostalgia settle on his face. Matt pulled into the back lot so we could look at the football field.
“It hasn’t changed,” Ransom said, surprised. “I thought they were gonna redo it. Wasn’t there talk of putting in lights and a snack bar and all that?”
“There was talk,” Melissa said, “but not much more than that. The people in this town weren’t about to let their taxes go up just so some kids could have a nicer place to play a game.”
I’d imagined that football in this town, like a lot of southern towns, was more than a big deal, but that sentiment must’ve skipped their town, which seemed to care more about paying raised taxes than making sure the local high school had what it needed to be competitive.
Ransom stared out the window, his face within an inch or so of the glass like he couldn’t quite get close enough.
“Do you wanna get out and walk around?” I asked him.
Ransom turned toward me, and I knew his answer before he said it. I doubted he realized the effect that being in his old town—at his old high school—would have on him, but it was clear from his eyes that the place pulled at his emotions.
“Yeah. Okay. You wanna come?”
Of course I wanted to come, but only if he didn’t want the time to himself. “If it’s okay with you.”
He’d already unbuckled his seat belt and grabbed the door handle. A few seconds later, he was out of the car, motioning for me to follow him, so I did.
“Can we meet you guys at Sully’s in forty-five minutes or so?” he asked Matt and Melissa. “It’ll be nice to walk over.”
Matt gave him a firm smile, but Melissa’s looked more sentimental. My guess was they were both glad Ransom was taking the time to appreciate the place he’d been gone from for so long.
“See ya in a bit,” Matt said.
Ransom closed the door and watched the SUV drive away before turning to face the football field. “It’s weird,” he said, “being back here like this. So much has changed for me, but looking at this…it’s like the place is frozen in time.”
I thought a lot of small towns were probably like that. Other than some minor changes—maybe some trees that had been cut down or planted or a house that had been painted—places like this weren’t known for their transformations.
Other than acknowledging his comment with a “Really?” I didn’t say anything else. And he didn’t respond to my question, probably because it was a rhetorical one.
He looked toward the football field and then to the worn metal bleachers before grabbing my hand and walking toward them. Though I didn’t need it, he helped me up the few steps to the first level and then up to the top so we had a full view of the field and the surrounding area.
We sat quietly, both of us taking in the scenery around us. Ransom’s gaze locked on two boys who’d just arrived at the field and began tossing a football to each other. I watched them for a little while too, until my interest in their game of catch waned and my attention was drawn to the neighborhood beyond the field.
The school was nestled among rows of small homes with yards enclosed by mismatched fences. Driveways were in desperate need of repaving or consisted of only gravel. A group of kids playing hockey in a side street moved their nets when cars approached, and the drivers waved to them as they passed. Neighbors chatted from across the street, their rakes resting under thei
r arms during their break from the yardwork.
It looked like a comfortable place to grow up, so drastically different from my childhood, where people focused so intently on their own lives and careers that they often came and went without so much as a wave. Not because they were rude but because they didn’t notice what was happening beyond their immediate line of sight.
Everything seemed to move slower here. People walked leisurely, played hard, and worked to live instead of the other way around. Or at least that’s how it seemed.
“You okay?” I asked when I noticed Ransom looking lost in thought. His eyes seemed fixed on an imaginary point somewhere ahead of him.
“Yeah.” He took a moment to break from his trance or whatever had been pulling his attention elsewhere. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“That was like…not at all convincing.” I knew it had been an emotional few days—an emotional few weeks, if I were being honest—and asking Ransom if he was okay was probably one of the most naïve questions I’d ever had for him. But still, I wanted to know how I could help, because even though there was probably nothing I could do, it was important to me that he knew the offer was there. “Is there anything I can do?”
“I guess I’m just taking all of it in, ya know?”
I nodded. I understood as much as someone who’d never been in Ransom’s position could.
“It’s weird being back. But it’s a good weird.” Breaking eye contact, he let his head fall toward the metal below his feet. He rubbed at a piece of dirt with the toe of his boot as he spoke. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so I guess I just wanna commit all of it to memory. The feel of the bleachers under me.” He rubbed his hands over the edge, massaging his palms on the metal like the motion relaxed him. Maybe it did. “The smell of burning leaves and Melissa’s apple pie candles she always burns this time of year.”
“You can come back.”
Drawing in a quick breath, he snapped his head up to look out at the field again. I saw his exhale more than heard it, a heavy breath that came out in a visible cloud as it moved through the cool air.
“I hope so.”
“Well, you can control that,” I told him. “I’m sure Matt and Melissa are gonna miss the hell out of you when you leave.”
The silence that followed didn’t quite match the noise I knew was in his head. Knowing he would speak again when he was ready, I remained quiet, allowing him to take whatever time he needed to compose his thoughts.
I looked out over the field again, watching the two boys toss the ball to each other and then try to run past the one who’d just thrown it without getting tackled.
“I’m gonna come clean,” Ransom said. “When we get back. I have to. I can’t continue living my life like I didn’t take someone else’s.”
I’d known Ransom would end up here. I just thought the path to that destination would’ve taken a little longer.
“I know,” I said quietly.
I saw him turn toward me suddenly. “You’re not gonna try to stop me?”
“Should I?”
“What kind of question is that?” He almost sounded annoyed by my response, and part of me wondered if he’d worked himself up in preparation for a battle he’d never have to fight—like a gladiator emerging from the tunnel, sword raised, only to realize his opponent was completely unarmed. “I’ve thought a lot about this.”
“I know that too.”
“How do you know that?” he asked, sounding more curious this time.
“Because I know you, Ransom. You’re too good a man to run from something you know you should face.”
He laughed sharply, sounding almost disgusted. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m this good guy who’s taking the high road.”
“You are.”
“Good guys don’t kill people.”
It had to be the loudest we’d ever spoken about what had happened with Brad, and it almost felt good to put it out into the air and see what the universe would do with it.
“It was an accident. You were protecting me. I’ll make sure everyone knows that. This is my fault too.”
“I had other options than beating him so badly he couldn’t survive it.”
“You didn’t know that would happen. Neither of us did, or we wouldn’t have left.”
Shaking his head at me slowly, he looked almost disappointed. “That doesn’t change the fact that it happened.”
“No,” I agreed. “It doesn’t. But it changes whether you deserve whatever will happen to you because of it.”
“I don’t get it. You aren’t gonna stop me from turning myself in, but you’re telling me I’m still a good person and I don’t deserve to be punished?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess that’s exactly what I’m saying. I’ll support whatever you want to do because I support you.” Ransom didn’t say anything to that, at least not before I added, “Brad’s family’s having a vigil for him in his hometown.”
“How do you know that?”
“Sophia told me this morning.”
“So…why are you telling me about it? I might feel like I need to take responsibility for what I did, but I sure as hell don’t want to talk to Brad’s family about it or hear them say what a great guy he was. Because he wasn’t,” Ransom said firmly. “He was stalking you, threatening you, hurting you. I’d never deliberately take someone’s life, but I can’t pretend the world isn’t better without him in it.”
“Whose world?”
“What?”
“Whose world is better without him in it?”
“Yours,” he said. “Ours. Everyone’s. Jesus, this isn’t helping, Taylor.”
“I’m sorry. I just… I talked to Melissa this morning. Or she talked to me, I guess. She told me about Emily and how it was difficult to lose a child, but she had a friend she’d met in her bereavement group whose daughter went missing—”
“I know this story,” he said. “It’s horrible, but Grace was an innocent child. Emily was innocent. They were good people. Brad wasn’t, so if you’re about to compare that piece of shit to Emily or Grace—”
“I’m not,” I cut in. “There’s no comparison obviously. Not between Emily and Brad. I would never. But their families—their parents. All I’m saying is someone loved Brad. People cared about him. He was someone’s son, someone’s brother, someone’s friend. And those people are grieving just like Melissa and Matt grieved. Just like you did. Grace’s family never got the closure your family did, and it made it that much harder.”
“Brad’s family knows what happened to him, and when I turn myself in, they’ll know who did it. That’s all the closure they need, and that’s all I’m prepared to give.”
“What about closure for me?” I’d said it so softly, I wondered if my words had gotten swept away with the breeze. I couldn’t look Ransom in the eye as I said it, so I retreated inside myself like a turtle pulling itself into its shell. I didn’t exactly know why I didn’t want to face Ransom. And the more I thought about it, the clearer it became to me that maybe it was more that I didn’t want him to see me.
I felt his eyes on me even though I couldn’t see them, and it made me want to crawl further inside.
“I never thought of that,” he told me.
At his words, I managed to lift my head up to face him. His sunglasses shielded him from revealing any emotion I would’ve likely seen in his eyes, so I noticed his other features instead. He had more than a five o’clock shadow from yesterday, which I typically loved. It made him look less refined and a bit older than his twenty-four years. But today, his facial hair, which was darker than the light strands on his head, seemed to make him appear more worn out.
I had no doubts he’d been considering this decision for longer than he’d ever admit, and I was sure it had taken its toll on him. He’d probably been anxious about discussing it with me, and I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t want him to go to jail, but I’d also realized that living with that guilt would be more crippling to h
im than spending time in prison. At least mentally.
He didn’t say anything afterward, and neither did I. I gave him time for his thoughts to marinate, both of us sitting on metal that stung our skin through our jeans.
Eventually he added, “So…what? We just show up to an event memorializing the person I killed so we can give our condolences?”
I hesitated, hoping that as time passed, Ransom’s description of the situation would sound less ridiculous.
When it didn’t, I finally said, “I think so.”
We sat a while longer, and I couldn’t be sure if Ransom felt relieved he’d been honest with me about wanting to confess. Hell, I couldn’t be sure I’d done the right thing myself, because the more I convinced myself that the reason I wanted to attend Brad’s service was because Brad’s family deserved to hear the truth from us, the less convinced I actually became.
Like Ransom, I wanted to do the right thing because doing the right thing made me feel good in a situation that otherwise felt awful for everyone involved.
“We’d be taking the high road,” I said. “The one less traveled. Robert Frost would’ve been proud.” I only vaguely remembered the poem, but I had vivid memories of Mrs. Luvwell getting irritated when most of us misinterpreted the meaning.
Ransom laughed—one of those sounds that’s released more out of frustration than humor.
“So you do know who Robert Frost is.”
Then I laughed. “I’d forgotten all about that poem. But then I helped my boyfriend escape manslaughter charges by fleeing the state, and it all came flooding back. Maybe I have more of an appreciation for poetry than I ever gave myself credit for. I wonder if it’s too late to change my major,” I joked.
“No way!” Ransom slung his arm over my shoulder and pulled me against him. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have in my corner right now than a future lawyer.”
Chapter Nineteen
Let's Not & Say We Did (The Love Game Book 5) Page 18