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But that was a lie. Yesterday at the pool, Liv kept wondering if Kristina could have ended up like Molly someday, with a house, a husband, and a couple of kids. If they would have spent afternoons together at the pool, chatting, and watching the kids play.
And when Molly had given Liv advice about Jeremiah, it felt sisterly. Molly was so earnest, so down-to-earth, and in that moment, Liv had been caught between gratitude for Molly’s friendship and guilt for manipulating her.
She knew it wasn’t healthy. And yet she felt powerless to do anything to change course. She was a speeding train hurtling down the wrong track, brakes malfunctioning, ready to crash and burn.
“Okay, okay.” Oliver’s voice softened. “I’m just worried this isn’t going to end well. For you.”
She bit her lip, wondering if she should tell him what she’d done yesterday. On a whim, she’d searched for physical therapy jobs in Durango. A local clinic was looking for a new PT with experience in running biomechanics. A perfect job, but it’d force her to put down roots, build a reputation and a clientele. Something she’d always avoided.
It would also allow her to stay in Durango indefinitely, so she’d sent in her resume.
No, she decided. She wasn’t ready to tell Oliver about that yet.
“I have to go,” she said, standing. “Time for my run.”
On screen, Oliver looked at her, eyes narrowing. “What are you wearing?”
“I needed some new running clothes.” Liv shrugged, trying for nonchalant. They weren’t fancy, but they fit her curves and didn’t yet have the sour funk of all her other workout clothes. But of course Oliver had noticed. He was more observant than Liv gave him credit for.
She wasn’t ready to tell Oliver why she’d bought them, either.
“By the way,” she said, changing the subject. “Remember how you said you’d borrow a car so you could open Kristina’s safe deposit box? How’s that going, huh? Oh, wait—let me guess: you haven’t done it.”
Oliver huffed. “I’m working on it. But—”
“We’re running out of time,” Liv said, cutting him off. “We have maybe five or six weeks before the state opens it and confiscates everything. Let me know when you have a car. Love you!”
She shut the laptop resolutely and headed to the kitchen to make herself a preworkout snack.
As Liv had told Molly, Jeremiah had continued running with her nearly every morning, sparks crackling between them—at least, Liv thought so. She had no idea how things felt on his side. He seemed to like being around her. Laughing at her, teasing her, pushing her harder and faster than anyone she’d ever run with. But she wondered, as Molly had suggested, if he needed a little encouragement.
So yesterday morning, Saturday morning, she’d invited him inside after their run, trying not to be self-conscious about being sweaty and smelling terrible. He was also sweaty, but he smelled fantastic: masculine, warm, woodsy.
She made each of them a smoothie, then sat next to him at her kitchen island. Their forearms were only about a half inch apart, so when he teased her about something, she knocked her forearm into his. Trying for casual, although it wasn’t casual to her. It felt calculated, serious.
And then he reached over with his index finger and hooked it around hers, and pretty soon they were full-on holding hands, both of them grinning into their smoothies. She had expected something else to happen then—a kiss, or more—but he finished his smoothie, gave her hand a squeeze, and said, “Run tomorrow morning?” just like he had every morning all week, and she said, “Yep.”
Today, Sunday morning, she didn’t know what to expect. But she’d worn the new running clothes, just in case.
She was standing barefoot in her kitchen when she heard a knock on her door. Jeremiah had never knocked before, just waited on the doorstep or caught up with her along the way.
“Come on in,” she called, and soon after he walked into her kitchen, looking tan and lean in his shorts and shirt. Her stomach flipped over.
“Got anything to eat?” Jeremiah said.
“Good morning to you, too.” She smiled and motioned to the cupboards behind her. “Make yourself at home.”
He opened a cupboard and peered inside, frowning. “A loaf of bread, three bananas, and a jar of peanut butter. That’s it? Sad.”
She shrugged and came up next to him, reaching for the bread and peanut butter, allowing her body to graze against his. When she popped a slice of bread in her toaster, he added another slice for himself, his arm brushing hers.
Then they stood in silence, eyes focused on the toaster as if it held the secret to everlasting life, tension building between them until Liv thought she would collapse from it.
“Got any honey?” he asked when the toast popped up, and she pointed to the cupboard above her head, not wanting to meet his eyes. Her heart was beating too fast, her chest tight from the nearness of him as he reached over her to grab the honey. She could smell him, the clean scent of his shirt, and her skin prickled. She remembered the day before, his palm pressed against hers as they held hands, and she turned to meet his eyes.
His gaze dropped to her lips, and she took a step away. He took a step toward her, close enough that she backed up into the cabinet behind her. He placed one hand on either side of her, trapping her. A flirty, smirking expression played on his face.
“What’s up?” she said, trying to pretend like she felt nothing. That her body wasn’t responding, heating up, her heart rate quickening.
