Thick & Thin (Thin Love, #3)(54)
“Still?” I whispered when she nodded. “He hasn’t been walking around?”
“Yeah, he can walk now. Koa says he’s just being a punk then I told Koa that he was a lolo punk and he won’t talk to me now.”
It was hard not to laugh at her. Especially when she led me into the room and Mack shot her brother a rude hand gesture through the back glass doors as the boy bounced a ball against the side of the house. The insults she and Koa threw at each other were colorful and they were freakin’ adorable doing it, but I had to remind myself that I was an adult, that it wasn’t exactly proper to encourage those insults.
“Well, maybe you ought to just stay away from him, cheri.” She didn’t seem to agree with that suggestion, but when Ransom sat up, looking at me as he leaned his elbows on his knees, Mack let it go, squeezing my hand as she disappeared out onto the patio.
Ransom watched me walk into the room. I didn’t speak or acknowledge him at all until I sat across from him, easing onto the love seat with my expression neutral. Let him look. I’d put in the effort because I wanted a reaction—a skirt that was a little shorter than I would normally wear in the fall, heels I knew made my calve muscles flex when I walked. He loved my legs, always told me so and I wanted him watching. By how low his gaze moved over my body, my gut told me my efforts had paid off.
“So,” he started, relaxing against the sofa. “You decided to come back.”
“I wanted to check on you.” My voice was even, hid the small irritation I felt at how casual he was being.
“That right?” A small head tilt and Ransom leaned further back, stretching out his arms along the back of the sofa.
“Despite your protests,” I shook my head when he grinned, “worrying about you will always be part of my life. No need to attempt the bata dissing again.”
He considered me, gaze back on my legs, at the opened toe peep hole on my shoes, to the red polish on my toes nails before he worked his attention back up my body, stopping at my mouth. “I was a bastard, wasn’t I?”
“Wi.”
Around us, the house seemed to come to life again. No one seemed to care that we were making attempts at civility. Mack followed Koa back inside, both of them ignoring us as they flew up the stairs bickering at one another. The music wafting from Keira’s studio—strings and the slow whine of a steel guitar lowered, replaced by Keira’s muted voice and Cass’s response that I couldn’t quite make out. With Ransom watching me and me returning that long gaze, Cass appeared from the hallway, but didn’t speak. We disregarded him completely, continuing to watch each other like some stubborn game of chicken without a sound, without paying any attention to the slam of Keira’s studio door and her hurried ascent up the stairs.
The activity in the lake house was nothing new. There was always commotion, there was always background noise. Over the years we’d learned to ignore it. Now it seemed that Ransom and I were still good at the practice, as good as we were at silently daring the other to break.
I won this round with another slammed door sounding upstairs and Cass’s pickup cranking up outside. The noise seemed to break Ransom and he blinked, dipping his head to run his long fingers through his hair.
“Shit, nani.” He managed to get up from the sofa with little effort, as though there was no issue with his ankle at all, but I noticed the mild limp as he walked closer to sit in front of me on the coffee table. He waited just a few seconds before he spoke, watching my eyes, looking for something he didn’t seem willing to ask me outright. And then, Ransom exhaled, rubbing his neck before he leaned forward. “I just…I couldn’t stand your pity.”
“Pity?” What an incredible idiot. “Is that what the problem was?” I sat up, making him lean back when I poked his shoulder. “Ala de traka! You incredible orto! Pity? As if I would ever pity you.” Frustrated, I stood, walking around the table he sat on, not hiding the scowl on my face, not letting him utter a word as I fussed. “When, Ransom, in all the time you’ve known me, have I ever pitied you? When have I ever treated you as anything other than what you deserved? Eh?” I poked him again and finally he stood, grabbing hold on my finger.
“Never,” he admitted. He didn’t release me, came too near me and I had to fight the instinct to pull that face closer to mine.
“Wi. Never.” I stepped back, reminding myself that I had wanted a resolution, not a repeat of what had happened the day after Ethan proposed. So I retreated, trying to ignore how my heart sped, how he followed me, stood right behind me as I walked toward the patio doors. “Pity,” I mumbled, head shaking as I tried to tamp down my anger.
“Makamae,” voice low, sweet, the small plea in that word went straight to my heart, “I was in a bad place. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
And just like that, he was forgiven. Not because of his apology. Not because of that smile that melted my heart. Forgiveness for Ransom was never too far out of hand simply because he was who he was, and when he stood behind me, lazily stroking his hand down my neck, to my shoulder, I recalled how effortless it was to love him. How a single touch from him could undo me. With Ransom standing behind me, whispering apologies I knew he meant against my skin, there was no point in trying to prove Ethan wrong. My feelings for Ransom had not changed in the months I’d been with Ethan. If I was being honest, I knew they likely would never change at all.