Page 39 of The Followers

“Who knows?” The words came out harsher than she intended, and she softened them with a smile. “We haven’t spoken in years.”

“And your dad?”

“Never met him.”

He fell silent, the laughter dissolving from his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. Better off not knowing, considering the type of men my mom tended to go for.”

“Any siblings?”

“Younger brother, older sister.”

“Middle child—interesting. I wouldn’t have guessed.” He leaned back and studied her. “You struck me as an oldest child, a rule-follower, someone who looked out for the younger ones. Like you were forced to grow up too fast.”

Something about the way he said those words, or maybe the intensity in his gaze, made Liv feel as if he could see right through her. The feeling was disorienting, and she wanted the attention off her past. She nudged him with her shoulder. “I’d bet twenty bucks you’re a youngest child.”

“You are correct,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I have an older brother and sister. Are you close to your siblings?”

“My brother, yes. We talk almost every day—either on the phone or FaceTime, and we text constantly. My sister—” She cleared her throat. “She died when I was seventeen.”

She forced herself to take another sip of wine. This was way, way too much information for a first date.

But Jeremiah didn’t seem alarmed, or annoyed, or sorry for her. He just studied her face. “What was she like? Your sister?”

No one had asked her about Kristina in years. Sometimes Liv wondered if anyone but her or Oliver ever spoke her name at all. Gran had never liked talking about Kristina. It won’t bring her back, she’d always say. Liv didn’t know how to capture her sister in words, the fierce love Kristina had for her younger siblings—and her baby—but also the darkness she’d carried around with her near the end. Darkness Liv hadn’t fully recognized at the time.

“She always remembered our birthdays,” Liv said in a quiet voice. “Our mom wasn’t very reliable, but my sister made sure we had something to open.”

It sounded trite, saying it out loud, and she didn’t expect him to understand. But another memory blossomed and rushed out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“And when my brother came out, officially, at the age of fifteen, Kristina was great.”

Gran had barely acknowledged Oliver’s announcement, saying only, Don’t expect me to stick a rainbow flag in my yard. Liv had wanted to shake her, to make her see how nervous Oliver was, how much he needed reassurance that he was still loved and accepted. Kristina’s response had been completely different.

“She had us both over, decorated her whole apartment in rainbow colors, and made us matching rainbow shirts and a giant rainbow cake. It was cheesy, way over the top, but my brother went home smiling that night.”

“She sounds wonderful. I’m sorry you lost her.”

His words sent a stab of guilt through her chest. If Liv had just called Kristina that night to warn her about Sam, instead of going back to sleep...

Shaking it off, she turned the conversation back to him. “Are you close to your brother and sister?”

“My sister, yes. But my brother and I had a falling out a few years ago. I did something stupid, and he can’t get over it.”

He said the words flippantly, so she raised an eyebrow and grinned at him. “Let me guess. It was about a girl.”

She expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. His eyes cut away from hers, and his face took on a darker expression. “Something like that. We haven’t spoken in years. I know it’s not the same as you losing your sister—not at all—but sometimes it feels like it would be easier if...” He glanced up, cheeks flushing. “I don’t mean it like that. I just mean—”

“If he were dead, at least there’d be a good reason why he won’t talk to you,” she finished. She felt the same way about her mother, who’d been out of prison for seven years but had never once reached out to Liv. Good riddance, she’d tell herself. And yet she lived with the ache of abandonment every day.

Jeremiah nodded. “Exactly.”

After that, he steered the talk back to lighter subjects. Soon Liv was laughing as he told her about the time, growing up, when he’d caught a baby muskrat in a stream using a fishing net. The terrified muskrat had scampered up his arm and into his hair while he shrieked and ran in circles until his older sister finally extracted the rodent.

Liv relaxed, enjoying the conversation, the food, and the wine. Watching Jeremiah’s face in the fading light, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks and his smile flashed when he laughed.

“So,” he said, after draining his glass. “Was this worth changing clothes for?”

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