Salome’s POV
“You are still here, following me, just to prove you do not belong?”
Jeremiah Shawn did not look up from his phone immediately. He stood in the damp shade of a sprawling oak tree, his profile as sharp as a blade. He looked perfectly composed, unlike me. My palms were sweaty, and my heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I felt like an interloper caught in a place where the air was too expensive to breathe.
I stopped a few feet away and pressed my hand to my forehead. My skin felt clammy. I felt like a genuine i***t. Why had I chased him down? To beg? To explain?
Jeremiah finally clicked his phone shut. He turned his gaze toward me. His eyes were cold, flickering with a brief, unreadable spark as they swept over my borrowed, ill-fitting golf clothes.
I forced my
