Page 64 of The Followers

“That’s definitely him.” And he was clearly not as serious about her as she was about him, given that he hadn’t even told his friend about her.

Swiftly she analyzed her interactions with Jeremiah, from the first date to the past week, when things had turned more serious. Everything they had done together had been private, just the two of them. She’d thought he understood she didn’t like being around crowds, that he enjoyed being alone with her. Maybe he just didn’t care enough to introduce her to anyone else.

“Liv?” Molly said, pulling her back to reality. “I’m sure he’s just being a guy. They don’t talk about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”

But that wasn’t all Liv worried about—she had dug herself into an even deeper hole than she’d realized. Not only had she befriended Molly, but she was also dating Scott’s business partner. How good of friends were they? And how much did Jeremiah know about Scott’s past?

“Tell me,” Molly said, and Liv could hear the smile in her voice. “What are you and Miah up to tonight?”

Liv held the phone tighter against her ear and talked quietly so Jeremiah wouldn’t hear. “He’s taking me camping with him.”

“Wow.” Molly sounded impressed. “I’ve never heard of him doing something like that with a girl. I think he likes you a lot.”

“Well, I’m worried he doesn’t, or that it’s going to be too weird when he finds out we know each other. You know how guys are—they don’t want things to be complicated. And you and I are friends, and he and Scott are friends...”

It could ruin everything. Her newly hatched plan to stay in Durango was crashing to the floor. If things didn’t work out with Jeremiah, it could get awkward. It could get awkward even now, actually.

Then she thought of one of Molly’s videos from a couple months back, about how we self-sabotage when things are going well, always anticipating that they’re going to fall apart. Liv remembered rolling her eyes when her coworker showed the video to her at lunch, but now she realized the truth in Molly’s words. Like Oliver pointed out, Liv had a bad habit of expecting the worst-case scenario.

“We spend a lot of time preparing for things to not work out,” Molly had said, aiming her wide brown eyes right at the camera. “But what if it does? Are you prepared for that beautiful possibility?”

For an instant Liv allowed herself the hope, the beautiful possibility: staying in Durango, keeping Ella, keeping Molly, keeping Jeremiah, too. Maybe. Maybe it would work out.

thirty-two

Is it indecent? The amount of time I spend talking about myself? Sometimes I wonder if any of this matters. If any of this is worth anything, or if I’m just deluding myself.

—@InvincibleMollySullivan

live video, deleted the next morning

The barbecue had gone well, even though Liv and Miah hadn’t come. Molly was delighted they were seeing each other. She didn’t know Jeremiah well—he and Scott weren’t close friends, their only connection was the business they shared, and per Scott, he was kind of a loner. But that probably made him a good match for Liv. Plenty of other people had come, the backyard filled with neighbors and friends eating hamburgers and brats and drinking beers, kids running and laughing. Scott had played the agreeable host, chatting by the grill. By the end of the evening he had seemed tired, strain settling around his eyes and mouth, but he stayed at her side, smiling, until the last guest left. Then they worked together to get everything cleaned up and the girls to bed.

After, she pulled him into their bedroom and showed him—slowly, fiercely, then tenderly—how much she appreciated him.

“Thank you for tonight,” she said as they lay in bed afterward.

“You’re an amazing hostess,” Scott said, turning on his side and facing her. “It was a great party. And you’re right—it’s good for us to get to know the neighbors.”

“I appreciate it. I know it’s not your thing.” She could tell this evening had taken something out of him. An emotionally demanding night for an introvert.

“Anything for you,” he murmured, his eyes drifting closed.

He was bare-chested, and Molly ran her fingers along his chest. The lighter skin usually covered by his life vest made a stark contrast to the dark tan of his massive arms and shoulders. She still found it difficult to believe a man this beautiful could be real, that she had the right to touch his skin, explore his body.

She ran a finger down a long, thin scar just below his right collarbone from a broken bone in college. She traced his shoulder, up to his jaw, brushing his sandy hair out of his face. Then she ran her fingers down his arm to where his hand lay, palm-up, on the bed between them.

Scott had a small tattoo on his inside forearm, just above the wrist. It was a cross, no more than an inch long. She’d seen it before, of course, but had never paid much attention to it. Now she leaned closer, studying his skin. There was a tiny rose at the center of the cross.

A tingle of awareness shot up her spine. She had seen the same thing in Scott’s safe—the gold necklace with the broken clasp. This was why it had seemed familiar: it was the same design as Scott’s tattoo. And it had been missing the second time she’d looked, along with the extra birth certificate for Gabriela Jane Casillas.

In a rush, she remembered the envelopes in her drawer, the letters from the Ohio Office of Vital Records. She’d forgotten about them—or maybe she’d forgotten on purpose. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to think about them or what they might reveal about her husband.

She sat up in bed, but hesitated. Part of her wanted to close her eyes and curl up against Scott again. She could go back to sleep and stay blissfully ignorant—there was no reason to go digging into his past. It was over and done with.

And yet, she couldn’t shake the nagging sense that something was wrong. Something she shouldn’t ignore anymore.

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