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That stung, but she knew how this must seem to him. He had opened up to her, that night in the valley under the stars. He’d admitted this scared him, and now he thought she was pushing him away.
“This isn’t how I wanted this to end,” she said, wishing she could say so much more.
He still didn’t look at her. “So you expected it to end.”
“No, I—I hoped it wouldn’t,” she said, stumbling over her words. “I was looking at another job here, actually, thinking I would stay and see where things went between us, but...” She trailed off, not able to explain for fear of giving away too much.
“Instead you’re running away.”
“No, I—”
He turned and faced her, eyes blazing with frustration. “That’s what you do, Liv. Right? You never stay long in one place so you don’t have to get involved with anyone. You’d rather go live in some bland apartment than deal with an actual, real relationship.”
“I need to go home,” she said. Oliver would be on his way to Pittsburgh soon, and she figured she’d head that direction.
Jeremiah seemed even more frustrated by her response. “You’d rather be in fucking Pennsylvania than with me?”
Liv blinked. “I never told you I was from Pennsylvania.”
Jeremiah paused, a fraction too long. “Yes, you did. The first time I met you.”
She never would have said that. A whisper of fear crept up her spine. “I said I was from California. You said I didn’t look like a California girl.”
“You must have mentioned it another time. I don’t know—that’s not the point, Liv. The point is—”
“How do you know where I’m from?” The fear grew, and she stared at him, willing him to answer her, to explain, but his eyes slid away. “Jeremiah,” she said. “Tell me.”
He put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head, the heat of his frustration cooling. “Fine. If you want to do this, let’s do this. I know quite a few things about you. Olivia Barrett. Younger half-sister to Kristina Casillas.”
“How...” Her heart dropped into her gut.
“How do I know? I recognized you the first time I saw you.”
“At the coffee shop?”
“No,” he said, a slight scoff in his voice. “I never would have noticed you there.”
Of course not—someone like Jeremiah would never notice someone like her, would never voluntarily seek her out and make conversation with her.
Then she realized where he must have seen her, and it all fell into place. “You were at the Wander Far office when I stopped by looking for Scott.”
He dipped his chin. “Someone comes in asking questions about my best friend—where he’s from, his work schedule—I take notice. It made me nervous.”
His best friend. Her heart dropped further. “You said you weren’t friends with Scott.”
“I lied.”
The magnitude of that sank in, like a slow-moving bullet toward her spine, piercing new layers of bone and tissue. He had been faking it all these weeks, every kiss, every touch. Laughing at her, pretending to care about her. Her stomach twisted.
“When did you know I was Kristina’s sister?” she managed, just above a whisper. “I’ve never seen you before.”
“That’s true—but I’ve seen you.” His face settled into hard lines. “Your little face in your bedroom window, watching Scott. Listening to everything he said to your grandmother.”
“What? Where were you?”
“In Scott’s car. I was with him the entire night.”
His words were a hard kick to the gut—not just the pain of impact, the surprising shock of it, but the nausea that followed. The sense that all her organs had been displaced, suddenly and violently.
