Chapter 6 #2
“Did you know I invited her to the wedding? Is that why you didn’t show? Because you were worried she’d be there? She wasn’t, by the way.”
Jeremiah and I are getting married on June 1st in Clifton Forge, Montana.
There’d been no reply.
I’d invited my sister because she was my sister.
I’d texted the number that had been hers in high school—ironically, on the phone Jeremiah had bought her.
He should have remembered it. But maybe it wasn’t her number anymore, I wasn’t sure.
She’d never texted me back, not after the wedding text or any of the others I’d sent her over the years.
I hadn’t spoken to my sister in ten years. My parents the same. The day I’d left Chicago, I’d promised myself that this new life, my life, would be of my own making. I’d been eighteen years old and the only way I’d been strong enough to start fresh had been by cutting them out.
I’d refused to live in fear.
Not a day had gone by that I’d missed my parents. Not once had I regretted leaving without so much as a goodbye.
But Scarlett, she was different.
I thought of her often. I hoped, with all my heart, she’d freed herself and found happiness. I hoped she’d found someone to love her, like I’d once believed Jeremiah loved me.
Or maybe Jeremiah had been in love with Scarlett all those years.
Maybe I had been the stand-in. Maybe, when it had come time to make a real commitment, he hadn’t been able to say my name instead of hers.
“Do you love her?” I whispered. “Still?”
He didn’t answer, which was Jeremiah’s way of saying yes.
“Why did you even propose in the first place?” I wanted to scream. Why? “We were good as friends. Why?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me. Please,” I begged. “Do this one thing for me. Tell me so I can put it behind me. You owe me that and you know it.”
“I don’t know. Things were crazy back then. You left. Scarlett and I broke up. I went on with my life. Then I wanted to see how you were doing.”
Jeremiah had left Chicago five years after I’d made my escape. He’d shown up in Clifton Forge one day and I’d been shocked. He’d told me he’d needed some space from his parents—their cold shoulders and dismissive waves. Though given that he hadn’t worked, clearly they hadn’t dismissed his wallet.
None of the reasons had mattered because it had been so good to see him and have that connection to the past. Jeremiah had been a constant source of light in my life as a teenager. He’d been in love with Scarlett, but he’d been my friend. My only true friend.
Then the boy who’d been my friend and my savior had become the man I’d loved.
“Why did you leave Chicago?” No matter how many times I’d asked, Jeremiah had never given me a straight answer. He’d been bored. He’d been ready for a change. “Was it because of Scarlett? You said you two had been done a long time. Is that true?”
“She cut me out of her life, Presley. Just like you did. Except I knew if I came to see you, you wouldn’t slam the door in my face.”
“Then why do you want to talk to her now?”
“Just give me her number and we can be done with this.”
This. Us.
We’d been done since June first.
And we’d probably been doomed from the start.
“Goodbye, Jeremiah.” I ended the call on the steering wheel’s control, then dove for my purse. My hands trembled as I dug out my phone and maneuvered through my contacts, pulling up his name. My finger hovered over the screen for a split second before I tapped Block.
This had never been about me. It had always been Scarlett.
Jeremiah and Scarlett.
How many times had I said their names paired together? How many times had I told myself that if she really loved him, she would have left ten years ago too?
A tear slipped from my eye. A pathetic, broken tear.
He loved her, after all this time.
He couldn’t marry me when he loved my twin sister.
Not a soul in Clifton Forge knew that Jeremiah had been Scarlett’s. Not a living soul, that is.
When I’d shown up in Clifton Forge, I’d been eighteen with no credit cards and a pay-by-the-minute cell phone number.
I’d had a car that I’d bought with the money I’d hidden away in my room since I was sixteen.
It had cost two thousand dollars and I hadn’t known if it would survive the trip from Chicago to Montana.
It had. I’d driven to this small town where a garage owner had taken a risk by hiring a barely legal adult after a phone interview where I’d promised to make coffee and learn.
Draven Slater had saved my life.
He’d given me the means to break free from my parents.
I never spoke about them, my parents or my sister. Draven had been the only person to know that Jeremiah had made it possible for me to leave Chicago.
That car? Jeremiah had found it. He’d bought it with my cash so my parents wouldn’t know. That phone? Jeremiah had given it to me. He’d given the same kind to Scarlett.
He’d tried so hard to get her out, but she’d refused.
I’d left her behind.
Were these tears, this humiliation, my punishment? Was this the universe’s way of reminding me that I should never have left her in the first place? Or was this my punishment for taking what was hers? Except Scarlett had given him up. Maybe she’d clued into the real Jeremiah long before I had.
I dried my cheeks and swallowed the lump in my throat, then I put the Jeep in drive and eased onto the road.
No matter how things had unraveled at the end, I missed my sister.
There were days when I was so alone, like now, and wished I could tell her about my day. I wished I could have one of her hugs.
The guys at the garage were always teasing me for being a hugger, but I had nothing on Scarlett. Her hugs had been magical. They’d saved me on the horrific days. They’d kept my world from turning black.
I turned right onto my quiet cul-de-sac, expecting to see a neighborhood kid riding their bike or the little girl across the street playing in her splash pool like she did every evening, her mother watching on from the front steps.
Instead, a huge yellow moving truck was parked in front of the house next door, blocking the view to my driveway.
It had sold? When? Had the owners finally given up and decided to rent it instead?
The neighbor’s house had been for sale for months. I’d contemplated buying it myself, before Jeremiah had moved to Ashton. I didn’t want to be a lifelong renter and I loved my tiny street.
Damn. I’d missed my chance. The yellow home, bright and cheery, now belonged to someone else.
My spirits plummeted as I pulled into the driveway.
Normally, I’d go over and introduce myself, but I wasn’t in the mood.
I didn’t need to fake a smile right now.
I was going to go inside, unload my groceries and order a pizza.
Screw cooking.
I went to the back of the Jeep and looped the handles of the paper bags over my palms. Footsteps echoed next door as I collected my groceries, a guy climbing into the driver’s seat of the moving van.
“Miss.” He tipped an invisible hat.
I was always miss. No matter that I was probably five or six years older than that kid, I was a miss. People saw me as a child.
I ignored him and finished loading up my bags. My hands were full, and I had to close the Jeep with an elbow as the truck pulled away, its diesel engine rumbling through the whole block. It took three steps for me to notice my new neighbor.
He stood at the top of his stairs. Four stairs, to be exact, identical to the four that led to the small porch of my own front door. Our homes were identical from the outside, except for the color. Mine was a pale blue so light it was practically white. His was the color of a fluffy baby chick.
Shaw lifted a hand. “Hey, neighbor.”