Freed (20 page)

“Oh, honey. It’s not that cold out, and look—I’m all covered up.” We reach the top of the stairs, and I can now see around Ransom to the frail, but obviously happy, woman before us. Ransom sets our suitcases down and puts his hands on his hips, sizing her up.

Her eyes dart to mine, and a smile overtakes her gentle features. Even sick, she’s beautiful. “You must be Denver. Can you believe my son? Ordering me about?” she jokes. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

“Yeah, I can, actually. He’s quite bossy,” I quip. Understatement of the year.

She doesn’t hold back her laugh. Even though it’s heartfelt, it’s still delicate. “I like her already, Johnny.”

Oh my God! That’s the cutest thing ever. Ransom gives me a knowing look. “Don’t even think about it,” he drawls.

“I wouldn’t dare,” I protest. His look says he knows better. I’m distracted from teasing him when I get a whiff of something pungent—something unmistakably illegal. My eyes widen as I look back to Ms. Ransom with a joint poised at her lips.

Ransom’s gaze follows mine. He just laughs. “Finally getting to smoke it legally, I see.”

“The lengths I’d go to, huh?” she wheezes out the words with a puff of smoke. “Totally not worth it,” she says to me with a wink.

Ransom moves to sit beside her on the lounger, and I notice she really is all bundled up. Her head is wrapped in a long scarf and covered with a beanie. Her fuzzy lounge pants peek out from under an equally fuzzy robe. Even her slippers are furry. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was a woman of leisure.

Leaning in, Ransom kisses her on the forehead. “You look beautiful. You’ve got some color in your cheeks.”

She runs her free hand over his head. “It was looking forward to seeing you and meeting your girl that did it. I’ve been on top of the world.”

Ransom just hums.

“You know you can let your hair grow back out, son. Look,” she preens and pulls back her head coverings to show us the downy, new growth on her head. “It’s growing back in. It’s going to be dark brown now. Just like yours. Now we’ll have something in common looks-wise.”

For a woman on the cusp of losing her life, she has a remarkable outlook. I admire her immediately.

“I’ve let it grow a little since I last saw you.” He flips a hand toward me. “Anyway, Mom, this is Denver Dempsey,” he says formally.

Her hazel eyes float back to mine. “Denver, it seems I jumped the gun a bit. But it is a pleasure to meet you,” she says, stubbing out the blunt. “I feel like I already know you, as much as Ransom has told me, and of course, after watching all those videos of you ride.”

“You watched me?” I ask in surprise.

“Oh, sure. Ransom has you all queued up on his laptop, don’t you honey?” she asks oh-so-innocently.

Shaking his head, he grins at her. “Is that what this visit is going to be like? A personal challenge to see exactly how badly you can embarrass me in front of my girlfriend?”

She shakes her head vehemently. “Now, Johnny, what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t break out the baby pictures and tell the embarrassing story or two?” She winks at me.

“Well, I’m all for it, Ms. Ransom. Your son gives me very little ammunition in that department.”

“Ah, we’ll fix that for sure, and call me Karen, please.”

After we make small talk about school and the goings-on around town, we make our way inside to get settled. When Ransom leads me to his bedroom, I ask where I’ll be sleeping.

“With me, of course,” he states.

“Ransom, I’m not sleeping with you.”

“And why not?”

“This is your mother’s home. That would be disrespectful.”

“My mom knows I wouldn’t mess around in her home. She trusts me.”

“Do I trust myself? That’s the question.”

“Well, even if I would let you sleep away from me, there are only two bedrooms. So, you’re stuck with me, baby.”

That doesn’t sound bad. Not at all. Which is why this is a bad idea. “Ransom—” I begin to protest.

He silences me with a kiss until I’m writhing against him, begging for mercy. “Shh … it’ll be fine. I’m going to get some dinner started. You get comfortable.”

Emerging from the bathroom, I hear Ransom and his mom talking quietly about her meds and prognosis. Ransom seems to be well educated on the topic, speaking to her as an equal would, and not necessarily how a son would. I wonder if it’s always been that way between them, or if Karen’s illness forced her son into growing up too soon. I can’t imagine Ransom ever being anything other than the strong-willed, mature man that he is, so it’s probably the former.

When I enter the kitchen, Karen directs her beaming smile from him to me. It’s such a foreign feeling, and tears threaten immediately. I swallow hard, return her smile, and focus my attention on Ransom’s back. “Whatcha making?” I ask playfully.

“Just heating up some lasagna that one of mom’s friend’s sent over.”

“Yes,” Karen interjects, “just get sick, and you never have to cook again. I have enough casseroles to last us a lifetime.”

Ransom looks over his shoulder at her, and his smile is vulnerable. “I’m just happy you’re gonna be around a lifetime.”

“Me too, son. Me too,” Karen sighs. “So, tell me all about yourself, Denver.” My eyes widen, and I squirm in my chair. “Oh, now, none of that. Ransom’s already warned me you don’t like talking about yourself.”
So says the person who knows all my darkest, deepest secrets.
“Don’t make me play the cancer card,” Karen cajoles.

I laugh and immediately launch into the shortest retelling of my life possible, not giving any more than I would give someone on the street. But, like mother like son, she digs and asks all the pertinent questions. It’s not long before I’m leaning back in my chair, dinner having long been over, and me having done most of the talking.

“How about we give her a break for the night, Mom?” Ransom finally interjects. “She’ll be here all week.” He winks at me.

“All right. All right. I can take a hint, but I can’t help it if I want to know everything about the girl who’s captured my son’s attention.”

Ransom rolls his eyes playfully and moves to clear the table. “You cooked … or heated. I’ll clean,” I volunteer, nodding my head toward his mom.

He lifts his chin knowingly and helps his mom from the table. “Well, it looks like I have an escort,” Karen grins. “Good night, Denver.”

“Night, Karen,” I call.

I have a few dishes piled in the sink to rinse when Ransom returns, and he slides next to me to take care of them. We work in silence for a while, and a foreign feeling steals over me. Having never really known it personally, I still recognize it.
Peace.
Having dinner with two people who’ve come to care about me in such a short time; quietly doing chores with someone who accepts me flaws and all; and seeing someone appreciate all that life has to offer, even though she’s not had an easy go of it, is a exhilarating combination. I just wish it didn’t feel temporary, like—one wrong move, and it all ends.

Turning toward Ransom, I rest my hip on the counter and swallow my nerves. He mirrors my stance, an all-knowing look on his face. Reaching out, I run my fingertips over his cheekbone for a moment before Ransom angles his mouth to press a tender kiss on my palm. “I’ve never known this. Not without waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve had brief moments, but if this is what your life was like growing up, I hope you know how fortunate you were. Even with the cancer scare and absentee father—which I know was not easy—I’m completely in awe of how peaceful your home is, how loving your mom is, and how full of life you both are.” I hesitate for a moment, knowing how vulnerable this will make me to him, but my trust of him overrides that fear. “Just a few hours with you and your mom … it’s been amazing, and I’m so grateful.”

Ransom gives me a small smile, kissing me on the forehead and murmuring about making me feel happy. When he pulls back, his look is pensive. “I’ll tell you about what went down with my father soon. I don’t want to ruin our night, but it wasn’t pretty. The thing about Karen is, even though she’s had hardships and trials, she always put me first. She struggled with the role that my father had put her in, but when push came to shove and things got unhealthy for her and then for me, she ended that. I could see that it hurt her, not being able to be with him on his terms, but she made the right decision for me. Eventually, though, she was happier. It opened her up to a new relationship—a more loving one. If she hadn’t done that for me, she would’ve been stuck.”

Ransom fingers a lock of my hair before tucking it behind my ear and running his fingertips down my neck. His gentle touch makes me shiver. “I think that’s what you do for people you love. You put them first, and when they see that, they return the favor.” He shrugs. “You both end up on top.”

I have a fleeting pang of guilt, since I’d had someone do that for me once upon a time. Unfortunately, I didn’t return the favor, and we all know how disastrously that had ended. Trying to focus on something positive, I ask, “Your mom’s in a relationship now?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just know she fell in love after my dad, but then she broke things off when she got sick. I could tell from little things she said that the guy wasn’t happy, but he respected her decision. She’s needed full-time help since then, which my aunt has given her. I guess she didn’t want that kind of pressure on a new relationship. Even though it didn’t work out, it gives me hope that my father didn’t mess up her forever.”

He turns back and finishes drying a few dishes while I let the water out and wipe down the counters.

Once we’re through, he slides close to me and wraps his arms around my waist. I lay my head on his chest, pulling him tight against me. Letting my eyes close, I relax against him, and his cool scent and strong presence envelope me. His slow, steady heartbeat becomes my soundtrack to the peace we’ve found.

“You do that for me, you know.” I whisper after a minute or two.

“What’s that?”

“Put me first.”

Ransom’s hand comes up and cups my chin, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. They burn with a new intensity. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was going to ask me if I wanted to play. Having been spoiled over the last few weeks, I wonder how we will get through the week without it. My guess is that Ransom will delight in it, since he gets off on delayed gratification so much.

“Of course, I do,” he says simply, rescuing me from my wayward thoughts. I appreciate it, since now’s not the time to get worked up. Then, just as simply, he adds, “I love you.”

My head jerks back of its own accord, before I hear Ransom’s rushed, “
Whoa!”
And, if my head wasn’t already reeling with what he just admitted, I would laugh at being treated like a spooked horse. As it is now, I feel like I’m experiencing a panic attack. My breath is short, my pulse is ringing in my ears, and all I want to do is escape.

“Denver, open your eyes,” he commands.

My eyes are closed? When did that happen?

“Come on, baby.”

I shake my head, trying to get my bearings.

“You had to have known. I don’t think I’ve been that good at hiding it, although I admit I’ve tried to dial it back, waiting for you to be ready. You’re ready, little fighter. Now, open your eyes.”

I blink my eyes open, but Ransom remains a blur before me, like he’s at the end of a tunnel cloaked in night.

“Hi,” he whispers with a grin.

“Hi,” I respond without thinking.

“You’re OK,” he reassures me. “This doesn’t really change anything, since I’ve loved you for a long time now. I knew you were going to panic, but your need to know overrides that. You have to trust me to know what you need and to give it to you. Understand?” I nod against his hands. I don’t know how, but he manages to give me one of those amused, slanted grins that I adore. “I’m gonna be pissed if you say it back to me before you’re ready. So, go ahead and clear that guilt from your mind.”

Without anymore fuss, Ransom leads me back to his bathroom, and we get ready for bed. I’d brought my most suitable pajamas, so after he slips into his room, I don those and quickly join him under the covers.

I curl up against his chest, fitting myself against him. His throws his arm around my waist, his hand coming to rest on my stomach. Planting a kiss on the top of my head, he mumbles a good night. I can’t let it go at that. I may not be ready to say the words themselves, but the sentiment burns bright and steady—blindingly so—and he deserves to know about it.

Propping myself up against his chest, I kiss him chastely before saying, “Ransom, I’m here. You’re not alone in this.” I may not be able to say those words, but I can make him understand I feel them. “You found places in me that were hurting—some places I didn’t even
realize
were damaged—and you have set me on the path to healing them.”

Planting my open mouth against his heart, I wish the love I feel would just effervesce and overflow from me and into him. Breathing in deeply and looking up at him, I continue, “You’ve shown me how to cope, how to channel my strength, and how to repair myself. I can’t imagine not being with you, but I know I’m a work in progress. Wanting you … needing you … doesn’t take the edge off my fear. Sometimes the intensity of what I feel for you makes me more insecure and less confident. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. I’m working on that. So hard.” My words are becoming muddled with emotion, but I rush on, having to get it out, needing him to understand. “When you gave me those words, I wanted so badly to give them back. And I’m so sor—”

His lips stifle my apology in that most gentle way, adoring me with his mouth. He pushes in gently, and his love for me is evident in his kiss. I can only hope mine is too. “No apologies. Not for that.” His words ghost against my ear. “When you’re ready—not a minute before. Have you forgotten how patient I can be?” I feel the smile in his voice, and knowing what he’s referring to with that last statement, makes me tremble. He settles me against him, tucking me in tight.

I run over our conversation in the kitchen again, trying to figure out exactly how my thoughts became like the aftermath of a train wreck and left me feeling like I’d imploded upon impact. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d wanted to say them myself, but another thought plowed into that one too quickly for me to glimpse it at the time. Once the pieces shift into place, I feel like I’ve just lied to Ransom for the first time, and guilt burns deep in my belly. Telling him I’d thought of Greer in that moment might be honest, but that’s not all it would be. Crushing. It would crush him, and if lying about that protects Ransom, then lie I will. How could I ever tell him that it felt wrong for me to tell him I love him, when I had never even given Greer those words he’d craved, more than that—
deserved
? As convoluted as it may be, I feel like that would have been betraying Greer, and we may be over, but like Ransom said, once you have those feelings, they don’t just go away. All I can hope for is that those feelings will fade with time, and my love for Ransom will continue to bloom, overshadowing the other love I feel. More than anything, Ransom deserves an undivided heart, and until that’s what I can give him, I’ll have to keep all that to myself.