He looked at the return address, frowning. “This is next door to my dad’s house. How do you know the Olliviers?”

I breathed out a laugh, my eyes filling with tears. “Next door?”

“Yeah,” Taylor said, handing back the envelope.

I pulled out a photograph and offered it to him. He looked it over—a four-by-six picture of a young girl standing on a sidewalk, leaning against her brother, Austin. Her waist-length platinum-blonde hair was pinned away from her face, her enormous green eyes peering up at the camera over a shy smile. Austin hugged her to him, proud and protective, like a big brother should be.

Taylor handed it back to me. “Those are Shane and Liza’s kids. How do you know them?”

I shook my head and wiped a tear that had escaped down my cheek. “It’s not important. What is important is that you believe my reason for wanting to get to Eakins has nothing to do with your brother.”

“Falyn, it’s not that I don’t believe you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck again. “It’s just … Shane and Liza are neighbors and family friends. They’ve been through a lot.”

“I get it,” I said softly, trying to quell the frustration welling up inside of me. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Taylor’s face seemed to be weighed down with guilt. He started to reach out to me but didn’t. “Just … give me a second. I thought you were undercover or something, to get info on my brother. This is a lot to wrap my head around.” He hesitated. “What do you plan to do?”

“I …” I took a deep breath. “I’m not really sure. I don’t want to cause their family any more pain. I just know I want to start over, and I can’t do that unless my story with that family ends.”

Taylor blanched and then looked away. “You don’t have to say anymore. It’s all starting to make sense now—why you don’t drive, why you’ve started all over here, away from your family.”

“Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong,” I said, shaking my head. I put the envelope and picture away in the shoebox and closed the lid.

Taylor watched me and then touched my cheek. I recoiled.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling his hand back. His eyes gave away his frustration—not with me, but with himself.

“You’d be doing me a huge favor, and I’m willing to do almost anything to get to Eakins.”

He sighed, unable to hide his disappointment. “You have priorities. I can appreciate that. God knows I’ve left plenty of girls behind because of what I wanted.”

“Which was what?”

His mouth pulled to one side. “To be the hero.”

“Look, I haven’t been honest with you. I wish I had been, now that I know you.”

“Now that you know me?” he repeated.